26 July 2006

As a kid my dad would take my brother and i places. To Bunnings or the tip, to pick things up from his mate's places etc. Also, sometimes, if we were really good... he'd take us somewhere remotely kid-related. Like the movies, or to Science Works, the footy, or something like that. So we'd go, have a great day and be in the car on the way home raving and carrying like... well... excited children. And WITHOUT FAIL my dad would always make the comment.. there's no such thing as a free lunch! And before we knew it, we'd back back home mowing the lawn or something.

Anyway, today i proved my dad wrong when i landed myself a free lunch.
Quite by accident, i ordered my lunch from one of the cafe's near work and simply forgot to pay for it. I was too busy yakking away... the girl who gave me my sandwhich must have assumed that i'd paid the guy when i ordered. And let me just say that I'M NOT LOSING ANY SLEEP OVER IT. Small out-burst...but i think i deserve the lunch given the amount of money i spend in that shop every other day of the week.

Yes, so the whole incident was rather lucky, as it allowed me the luxury, this evening before pay day, to be able to afford something better for dinner than vegemite on toast. And thus, a truly gourmet meal was born. Moroccan chicken.

mid-week nostalgia
on Saturday night i was home enjoying a quiet drink while writing stupid comments on people's blogs (sorry if you got one!) and at around midnight my sister and three of her friends burst into my house and into my room and ask if i wanted to 'go out'. they were wearing high school uniforms having just attended a fancy dress 21st birthday. the whole situation was so beautifully random i couldn't say no.
so i got into the backseat of a car, with my sister and her high school friend who was looking very familiar in her high school uniform, while a nineteen year old boy looking very comfortable in his high school uniform rode shotgun (19 year old boys seem to be a theme in my life a the moment) and an investment banker dressed as a high school boy drove. and we headed on into the city.
they wanted to go to CLUB A* but got a few texts from friends saying it was impossible so nineteen year old piped up and said we should go to CLUB B** instead. so we did. stupidly. as we walked into the place my sister's comment summed up the scene pretty nicely, "Geez, I didn't realise it was 'come as your favourite piece of meat' night." there was a lot of titties on display and we all looked very out of place (although the school uniforms worked slightly better than my jeans).
so it was pretty tragic and horrible and we had to drink through the pain... and the most memorable part of the evening was sitting near the bar and a guy tapping me on the shoulder. i turn to look at him, "Yes?"
he says, "Take this." and he hands me a shoe.
i take the shoe.
he says, "Throw it away."
me, "Why?"
he says, "It's a joke. Do it. It's our mates but he doesn't need it. So throw it!"
so i threw the shoe away, down the stairs and onto the dance floor. i then turned further around to see his mate's reaction and see... a guy sitting in a wheelchair looking kind of amused but also kind of annoyed.

and i must admit i really don't know what the appropriate response is in this situation.

* GPOs (i've never been here... and i never want to, do i?)

** Billboards... gah! gah! save me!

25 July 2006

damn the man!

the man is trying to screw me out of $50! a week! i arrive at work last night to receive a message from the big boss saying that i'm only rostered to work FIVE hours on Sunday so could i stop working EIGHT because they are no longer going to pay me for EIGHT. accompanying this message is a photocopy of my roster which, indeed, says my rostered shift on Sunday is only FIVE hours long.

but i look at this roster and think SDKJFOWEJFODJFSLKDJFFLJKAOEU!!!! i never agreed to that. but yes, that is my signature at the bottom of the page. and then i think SDKFJOWEJFOSDJ OQWE and remember...

ten weeks ago i came into work during the day to speak to my boss about my new roster. she asked me to work an extra Saturday a month and i agreed. but when she brings out my new roster to sign i notice she has cut an hour off my Monday night shift. i complain, saying i agreed to take extra shifts, not have any of my other shifts cut. she tries to convince me to cut Monday. i say no. eventually she agrees to leave Monday as is and before my eyes writes out a new roster for me. i carefully look at Monday nights shift making sure it is how i want it and then sign it. done.

but it turns out while she put the hour back onto the Monday shift she also changed my Sunday shift taking off THREE HOURS. and i didn't notice because i was looking too closely at Monday and we never even discussed Sunday.

and i've been working EIGHT hour shifts on Sunday for the past ten weeks and nobody says anything to me until now.

and and and it's not fair!

so here are my options:

a.) ask boss for my three hours back when she gets back from holidays next week (and if this doesn't work then...)
b.) go to union and complain i was tricked into signing a roster with less hours
c.) fall into a deep depression and sue over something
c.) take the passive aggressive approach and call in sick for the next two months, thereby using up all my sick hours. and after two months i'll quit
d.) passive aggressive approach again, just work really slow and crap and stupid and then quit (am looking for fulltime job anyway now that i've mostly finished uni)

24 July 2006

Hallelujah, thank the lord for the greedy tax-man and self funded eductation!

Thought i would check out what my tax bill might be this year, being as i seem to get a tax bill every freakin' year... and then put off lodging said tax return until after i get back from holidays.

Turns out though, that this may very well be the best day of my life. Seems that paying for that course i am blundering my way blindly through is worth a refund! Enough of a refund, so as i actually get a tax refund this year!

I am delighted, needless to say. And the tax return has been lodged pronto, so i will get some of that money back before i leave.

Thank cripes.

PS. Dreadfully sorry 'bout the boring tax blog tonight, but the day has been quite uneventful. I didn't go to see Lisa for her birthday and am now in the dog-house. Oh well.
PPS. Emo must be due back soon, shoudn't he? How long does Spendor go for these days..? And when does uni go back. Sheesh.. this kid..

23 July 2006

So i guess the angsty Emo might be affecting us here at Dot'n'Mars HQ... Me with my "i'm important too!" la la.. and Dot with the down-sizing of all her worldly possessions.
Free Spirit
That's right, you heard it. Dot has been down-sizing. I doubt it will get to the extent of only owning two garbage bags and one blue, red and white stripey bag full of things like Emo... but it's good to see the hoarder of anything with 'sentimental value' get rid of a thing or two. Yesterday it was on, and she did very well to get rid of about five bags of clothes.

I guess because Dot has pretty much lived in the same place her entire life... it has been easy for her to stash stuff. Whereas i have moved around a fair bit, so i cull frequently!

Anyway, i noticed yesterday as i was helping Dot decide what was worth keeping and what she should get rid of, that she was wearing a new pink top, and i said to her...
"Where'd you get that top?"
"Oh, my sister gave it to me", she replied
"That was nice of her"
"Yeah, she was throwing it out. I pulled it out of one of her bags she was giving to the op shop.."
"Do you see the irony in this situation?"
Pause... "S'pose..."

Ah Dot, god love 'er.
St Kilda, i am at a cross-roads in my life. I can't decide if i heart you, or if i hate you. In the past i loved you. I loved you, i loved you, i loved you. I came to you every weekend, at every opportunity and we had a wonderfully functional relationship. But then something happened. Things went sour. You stopped communicating, and suddenly you started charging me to get into pubs which were once free. You started to hang out with your new preppy friends, who wore trendy clothes and had their hair cut into an urban mullet. I used to like driving down your dimly lit back streets playing 'Spotto The Hooker' with my friends... cause however, poor, unemployed and ugly i was... there was usually someone worse off than me. You provided me with that. You kept me going. The final nail in your coffin though, was the day you shut Joey's down. And so i began to see other suburbs. And you were dead to me.

But then today... something happened...

I came back to you. The sun was shining, i was in a good mood and you fed me a reasonably priced lunch. Things were looking up for our relationship. I was in good company, your quirky 'second-hand' shops (where you dig the good stuff out of the St Vinnie's bin and then put at 250% mark-up on it) amused me once again. And to top if all off... someone gave me a FREE chocolate and banana crepe. I was sold. St Kilda, you were back.

But then... i was looking in a sort of art gallery thing that happened to sell a bit of jewelery and i saw a ring i wanted. It was $15... i umm'd and aah'd over it, and finally decided it was a go-er. I went up to pay, and the desk monkey said i couldn't pay for it on my card as they didn't accept EFPOS transactions under $20.

What the fuck, everyone knows the limit is $10 (sometimes $12 in a 7/11 or something)... Fucking St Kilda, i thought. And left.

So while the FREE chocolate banana crepe was superb... the no eftpos under $20 has really pissed me off.

And i just don't know how i feel anymore...

22 July 2006

Well, finally after weeks of dedicated, uninterupted blogging... it happened. I missed a night. Hope you weren't all too worried about me being dead/having a life and ditching the internerd. Neither likely to happen any time soon.

Not much interesting stuff happened last night (that i can remember)... i am the greatest improver in the Jager-bomb stakes. Last week it took me about a minute (even though people EXAGGERATED and were calling me the 7 minute girl... it definitely wasn't that long!)... and this week my best time was about 4 seconds. Impressed? If skulling Jagers at 25 wont find me a husband... i don't know what will.

Needless to say, it took me a few practices to get down from 1 minute to 4 seconds... so today i'm feeling somewhat shakey. Not too bad though.. I was a bit of a drunk dialer last night actually... maybe Dot will tell you about the message she got... for shaaaaaaaame.

20 July 2006

Last night Mars and I sat down for dinner, cause we like it.

It was just a normal, boring dinner with Mars making pastabake and me making pasta with tomatoes and capers and anchovies and whatever else I could find. We were sitting at the dining room table and with a few lamps on and triple J playing softly in the background. It was very peaceful, ambient even, and I was half way through a bottle of red when Emo and his mate Demo came home. They had gotten take-aways from up the shops and so sat down with us to eat. Suddenly our nice little dinner had become a family meal complete with two moody teenagers.

To get the dinner party rolling I asked politely, “So what do you do, Demo?”
“What do you study?”
“That’s really cool-”
Emo starts laughing, food falls from his mouth.
Demo laughs too, food also falls from his mouth, “Nah, I study Arts. Dunno why I bother though. I’ve almost finished and I haven’t learnt anything.”
“Do you guys want a cordial?” Mars asks.
Pause… “Fuck..” Mars goes to get cordials for the kids.
Emo and Demo continue shoveling food into their mouths. They are making a bit of a mess trying to get the food out of the little foil containers so I ask, “Do you need a plate?”
Pause… “They're in the kitchen.”
Demo gets up to get a plate.
Emo asks, “Is there any salt?”
“It’s also in the kitchen.”
Emo goes to get it.
Emo and Demo were once housemates. When the lease ‘ran out’ (they were thrown out obviously) Demo moved back with his parents and we got Emo.
When everyone comes back Demo asks if we like having Emo live with us.
“Yeah, we always wanted a boy.” I reply.
Emo looks grossed out and I feel all Germaine Greer and nasty. It’s funny!
A song comes on the radio that Emo and Demo like. They start discussing it, and then Demo says meaningfully, “… but I’m sick of triple J. Triple R is much better.”
“I listen to RRR too!” I say, instantly feeling stupid for trying to prove myself to a nineteen year old.

So we talk about travel and music and study, and Emo makes gross jokes about ‘OD’ing in our spare room. And then at one stage Demo says to Mars, “Aren’t you glad you've got someone with a pulse around here?”
If looks could kill, the look Mars gave Demo would have surely (at the very least) caused gross injury.
"What are we? Chopped liver?" Mars seethes as she takes and instant dislike.

Anyway, Emo and Demo are going to Splendor this weekend, but haven’t seem to have made any plans about how to get there or get home, so I wonder if we’ll see them again…

And then the meal was over and Mars and I go to the kitchen to do the dishes and the boys go to their room to play.

I feel kinda old.
I feel glad I’m no longer in the hood of teenagerdom.
That Demo was a little prick

19 July 2006

Sad news this week. I've lost a friend.

My Favourite Scarf
17 Nov 2002 - 19 July 2006

Not Scarfy, a cheap fucking substitute, actually

I'm a bit bitter about losing Scarfy actually. I never lose anything. Ever. Let me reiterate. I never, EVER, lose ANYTHING. So it's hard to deal with when it happens. Which is why i'm bitter...

I was on the train, travelling to work yesterday morning and when i hopped on it was hot. So i took Scarfy off and put it on my lap. Time passes, i drift in and out of consciousness and i arrive at the station i need to get off at.

I get up from my seat.

I get off the train.

I go up the escalator and through the barriers.

I panic!

I look in my bag.

"Where's Scarfy gone?" i think to myself

I fear the worst

I go back down to the platform

I realise the worst is true!


Alas, Scarfy is still on the train, and i am not.

I mean, it wasn't an expensive scarf. I bought it at Penney's Dun Laoghaire store when i was in Ireland. For those of us playing at home, i guess i would equate Penney's with... hmm... Best and Less. But it was a niiiiice scarf... fluffy, not itchy... the perfect length... and best of all, it matched my hat.

Scarfy actually had matching purple gloves and a hat too... but they're long gone. I can definitely remember losing atleast one glove in Amersterdam (which totally doesn't count in the 'things i've ever lost' tally!)... i guess the others were stolen or something. (YES, someone stole one glove and a hat that never looked any good)

Anyway, the thing that pisses me off the most about the whole situation... On the way home, this woman was hopping off the train and she'd left her umbrella on the seat... About 5 people called out after her to tell her she'd left her lousy, uninteresting, characterless, insipid, black fucking umbrella behind.

Where were these assholes telling me i'd dropped Scarfy?

18 July 2006

Well, i am feeling a bit famous really. The internet has got/is getting its fair share of Mars at the moment. The insatiable Adam has done interviewed me, which is up on his site... they were good questions, so i think we'll make a Rove McManus out of him yet seeing as he's not affraid to ask the hard ones! So yes, feeling a bit spesh...

And Imelda has done gone and tagged me with a meme. She's right, i am a meme virgin, in that no-one has ever tagged me before. So that was nice, i guess... Here is it...

The five things meme

In my handbag
Wallet, keys, glasses, diary, phone. Crazy stuff!

In my fridge
Cheese, left-over pasta bake, green apples, mayonaise maybe and milk

In my closet
Shoes, hanging clothes, folding clothes, bags, misc. junk

In my car
Empty bottles, clothes, cd's, black boots and amniotic fluid residue from that time my friend went into labor on my front seat

I tag Delightful Jen and Natalie, cause i think there's a fair chance they might do it!

Other than that... well i had my yearly performance review at work this week. Those things are such management wank. Honestly it was like reading a school report. Anyway, according to this, i (Mars), am "emotionally intelligent". What the fuck that means, i do not know. My manager is actually quite a nice guy, but he's right up there with the management-wank-speak. Come on, we all know what it is. If i have to hear the phrase "moving forward..." one more fucking time i'm going to poke my eyes out with blunt pencils.

In the good news though, i am getting a nice bonus so who am i to complain. Emotionally intelligent... well, i'm not quite sure i am that at all, given that tonight i'm feeling a bit emotionally ordinary actually... but whatever, as long as i get my pay rise they can call me whatever they want.

Hah, yesterday at work i was left a little present on my desk by a little fairy. Wanna know what it was?

It was a mint, in the shape of a penis.

Hilarious, non?

17 July 2006

So you've come for 'the review' eh?

To be honest, i haven't spent much time with either Dot or Emo since their arrival suspiciously close together last night. CONSPIRACY THEORY. Dot and the Emo are on together... but they don't want me to know (yet), so they walk in 10 minutes apart. Viable, non?

Now before you all go off to bed tonight thinking i'm some sort of a ranting lunatic, let me just state my case and say...


The Emo started off on a bit of the wrong foot this morning. See, the life Dot and i lead is really quite convenient (to us). I go to work all day, and sleep all night. She sleeps most of the day, goes to uni in the afternoon and works some nights. So we really don't get in each other's way. Emo (poor unsuspecting Emo) had been ILL-ADVISED by Dot last night about the times that i am awake and using the bathroom in the mornings.

Thus and therefore, he felt my evil, evil, wrath.

I sat on the edge of my bed waiting, and waiting, and waiting for him to get out of the shower so i could go into the bathroom and finish getting ready. And when i could wait no more... i banged on the door and yelled...


Huh? Came the barely lucid reply


Oh... okay... sorry...

Poor Emo. Not his fault... but let this be a lesson to everyone... don't mess with Mars first thing in the morning.
what is this strange place? who are these strange people?

i'm scared.


house and blog seems to have gone through an 18 day 'extreme makeover'. hmmm, i think i like it. different. unusual. hello?

i was going to write about my travels through Centralia, and how i've grown and matured and have an entire new perspective on life. but they seem kind of distant and irrelevant compared to the changes taking place at home.

like - who is this strange boy sleeping in our sunroom?

first impressions: kinda cute, kinda country. we watched a bit of 'Bowling for Columbine' on telly and he expressed nicely moderate views on Michael Moore (ie, good sentiment, but too many sweeping generalisations and farfetched juxtapositions to be effective). he also told me about wanting to swap into arts at uni to broaden his 'scope' and planning on travelling next year and going to Byron this weekend for Splender. ten points for Emo. but he also told me about getting rid of all his STUFF (he only has one garbage bag worth of stuff left) because it made him feel burdened and he wants to be a free spirit. so i'm worried we might have an existential crisis on our hands.

anyway, i like him.
but i did hear you Mars yelling at him this morning, so maybe there’s another story there?

16 July 2006

The Eagle Has Landed!

Emo (and Dot) in tha house.

Will review (both of them) tomorrow!

14 July 2006

Would post, but too drunk tired now.

And i was going so well with the every day posting... i feel like i'm letting the team down.

Oh well.

12 July 2006

Well the boy was a giant disappointment. He came around last night to check out the place (and presumably, me) and instead of Brad Pitt (or equal equivalent) standing at my front door, there was a 19 year old fucking emo kid. I was mightily let down... i hate those little fuckers.

Not that they ever did anything to me, actually... I just hate all teenagers in general.

The other morning i was on the train, and there were these school girls going into the city for something. Anyway... they had EVERYTHING... and it was all better than anything i had. They had the fancy hair-cut with the foils, a better phone than me, a better digital camera than me, a better bag, better make-up and nails... and i bet at home they had a complete better wardrobe than me... with their un-cellulited arses. Bitches.

Man, i'm so depressed... think i'm gonna go and read some poetry or cut myself or something.

11 July 2006

My friend and i both think this kid a work is pretty sexy. Which is fine, but it's a bit of a problem see, cause neither of us are delicate wilting wallflowers, and the boy is... well... a complete squirt. He's so little and cute, i could fit him in my back pocket.

But the thing is, he has such a deep, manly voice. It's very confusing... i feel like i'm perving on a 13 year old with the voice and personality of a 26 year old... talk about sensory overload. So while Stuart Little is nice a pie, a great dresser, well travelled, easy to talk to etc and so forth, he is about the size of my left leg.

(And i am reminded of this pic that came around when Casey Donovan beat Anthony Callea on Idol..)
Which poses the question... how low would you go?

I am 5'10" which is pretty tall for a girl... so usually i would say the lowest i'd go would be the same height as me. Lots of girls want someone taller than them, so when they wear heels, they're still shorter... but i don't wear heels much, and if i'm only taking applicants over 6ft, well that is certainly (and somewhat unnecessarily) narrowing down the field.

You know, i've never really thought about why we (as humans) tend to like our girls shorter than our men. I mean, with so many short men around these days... maybe the look Stuart Little and i would have is the way of the future. I'm so post-modern.

Anyhoo... ladies, lads... tell me... how low would you really go?

Word from Dot.

She's in Centralia.

Bought new beanie.

Dingo's got her baby.

Desperate to know details of BB scandal.

Home on the weekend.

10 July 2006

I'm about to make a really controversial call here... brace yourselves...

I think that the American version of 'the Office' is AS GOOD as the UK version.

GASP. I know.
He'd better look like this...
Exciting news kiddies... we're getting a boy. That's right... a real life boy!

Given the obvious lack of skills in the department of catching boys, both myself and Dot seem to suffer from, we have left the task in the capable hands of Dot's dad, who seemingly, has come through.

This kid needs some place to stay, is the story i'm getting. And now he's gonna stay with us. Dot, if you're reading this - sorry you had to hear the big news over the innernets... and hurry up and get home so i'm not left alone with the boy.

I don't know what to do with it!

(Dreadfully sorry about ye olde cliché pic of Brad here... but honestly, even at 40 years of age, he is still sex on legs)

09 July 2006

Still waiting for the moment... (though i am making progress and have now written an introduction and four points for expansion).

A List, for your viewing pleasure.

Preferred occupation of the man i will marry

  • Rock star
  • Million/billionaire

And we have a winner. Chiropractor it is. Yes, that's right... form a civilised and orderly queue.

Falling off my chair has not helped my neck/back issues. Fucking IDIOT.

Kiki speaks of 'a moment' on davemackman's blog-o he gets when he's got something due. A moment when everything comes together... the procrastinatory urges leave your space, your aura turns bright white, and things happen.

My moment is yet to occur, and the essay was due Friday.

See, my academic career has been... shall we say... somewhat lacking. I went to uni for a while after high school... i lived in Carrum and went to La Trobe Bundoora... so that grand idea kind of fizzled out pretty early in the piece, and i spent that year nocturnally living on the internerd, and boozing it up with my Austudy payments. Complete waste of time, effort and money (a HECS debt that's still hanging around, in fact).

My friends were all chopping and changing their courses, and i thought TAFE might be the path for me. Never one keen to put in more than the minimum effort required, i thought perhaps if the expectations were lower, i would be able to put in even less effort and would feel like a pure genius. But alas, my TAFE career was also short lived when i realised you had to pay for that shit up front.

So i went and gots me a little job and earned $350 a week. I was the richest amongst my friends, their jobs in the supermarkets of Melbourne commanding little more than money for jam. I was rich. I had clothes. I had a car. The future for little Mars was looking bright.

Then i got a boyfriend. A poor student boyfriend. MagnanimousMars, they used to call me. The bastard sucked me dry, and i was happy to let it happen. Things pretty much went down hill for me from there. See, while my poor student boyfriend was hanging around, i was still toying with the idea of further education. I quit my job with no idea what i was going to do with myself... and ended up pretty much living nocturnally on the internerd and boozing it up with my Newstart Allowance.

Things weren't going too well... while life was pretty sweet, my mother wasn't happy with my odorous presence meandering though her house with no apparent purpose. Either go back to school or get a bloody job! the cry echoed through the suburbs of Melbourne. Down and out, i went back to work again and got a job as a desk monkey. The poor student boyfriend was delighted, as not only had he managed to get rid of me following him around all day, but his affluent lifestyle was about to return.

The monotony set in and little Mars wasn't happy about having to get out of bed every morning. Relations with the poor student boyfriend were strained, as his nocturnal boozing lifestyle interfered with her responsible gainfully employed one. The happy couple were set down a path of destruction, so Mars decides there's only one thing to do.

Best leave the hemisphere.

So i've packed in the job, and with a few crocodile tears headed off over-seas. The financial ruin of Mars sets in, but she's too busy boozing it up with borrowed money. Life was pretty good, i had nothing and needed nothing (besides vodka). I drank my own body weight in booze every night, slutted my way over Ireland and then after a year with my head up my arse, it became quite clear that my past was catching up with me. The banks are calling my mother's house wanting money off a M.I.A. Mars. There's trouble a-brewing...

So the cross-continental, international call of the irresponsible daughter goes out... Mum? Dad? Can you send money? I can't get home. So money was sent and home i came dragging my tail between my legs.

I gets back home, and settle back into my old room at my mums. There's a years worth of mail i put off opening for about 2 months. I finally get around to it and realise there's a letter from VTAC... an offer from RMIT. For me! I'd applied to uni before i left, but actually forgot about it for ages, then remembered, but guessed i hadn't been offered anything cause mum hadn't told me anything had come in the mail. Turns out, mum didn't care much for opening my mountainous quantities of mail. An offer, thinks me...freakin' AWESOME. But wait! Fate plays its hand in my life again... i was supposed to have responded to this offer FOUR MONTHS AGO.

So a despondent little Mars resigns herself to a future of intellectually unstimulating, fruitless employment, and gets a job to start paying off some of the debt she's racked up. Years pass, the debt is cleared and i've landed myself a pretty sweet job, doing minimal, getting paid okay. But there's something missing... My friends have long since graduated... and some of them are onto their second degree or post-grad study. What is it that's missing, thinks Mars?

Early this year i get a bit of momentum up... and things start happening. I apply to study by correspondence just doing one subject at a time. And would you believe, i surprise even myself by doing really well. This isn't so hard, is it? So now i'm onto my second subject, which i'm actually really enjoying... but in true to form Mars-style, everything is being left to past the last minute, and i'm self-sabotaging, losing 5% per day that this essay is late.

And there you have it. The financial ruin, and academic struggle of Mars since the dawn of time.
Dear god, i've just had a moment where the words of past teachers and my mother over the last 20 years have at last rang true. See, i've always been a swinger... a chair swinger and have been warned my fair share of times that i shouldn't do that, because the chair will break and i will fall off.

Well, sitting here perched on the edge of my computer chair, because all my clothes are taking up the space where my butt should be, it finally happened. After years of being nothing more than a threat in the league of "don't pull that face or the wind will change and you'll be stuck like that"... i finally, at 25 years of age...fell... well... off.

With a raucous THUD, i hit the deck in a more than convincing manner.


08 July 2006

My day so far...

10am - Woke up
10.20am - Turned Video Hits on
11am - Got up after talking on the phone for half an hour
11.10am - Had shower
11.30am - Got out of shower and got dressed
11.40am - Turned on computer
12.30pm - Had sore back/brain so went for a little lie down
12.35pm - Fell asleep again
2.55pm - Phone rang
3.30pm - Got off phone and back on computer
3.40pm - Started this post
3.53pm - Posted this post

Essay still = 0 ....yet
Asshole also = 0


06 July 2006

Whoa nelly! These sales will be the (financial) death of me. I can't keep away from the shops at the moment and i am running up a bill certain to cripple me. I'm supposed to be leaving for America in 6 weeks. SIX WEEKS, PEOPLE. And i have pretty much..... no money.


05 July 2006

I have two things to say:

Trainer Bob i declare to you, my hetro-sexuality. Do you declare the same to me? You are so awesome, and i am so very ordinary. Together we can make above average babies!


Olè! Olè! Go team Italy!
For the first time since the World Cup started, i actually give a damn. I went in a sweep at work, picked Italy and now stand to win 90 bucks if they win. Viva Italia!
Feelin' hot, hot, HOT!

03 July 2006

Dot is going to go spastic when she sees that i've changed our blog template without running it by the committee. Yes, i can see that things aren't aligned perfectly in our tool bar. And i can also see that the font is bigger than it should be in our Last Posts section. All that is going to have to wait though, as my html skills are pretty well non-existant... i have already wasted several hours in the innernet instead of writing my essay, and now i want to go and watch the teevee and eat a bowl of icecream. So the imperfections will have to wait!

02 July 2006

Good news! I've had word from Dot, and she's arrived in Alice Springs safely. Phew.

Last night she went to the Beanie Festival and tonight she's going on a camel ride. That ought to be interesting...
Hey, how cool is it when you're driving through the city, and you pull up to a set of lights and look into the car next to you... and it's Derryn freakin' Hinch! So cool.

So. Cool.

Talk about celebrity sighing. So... anyone know how to do a rego check to see if it's actually his car?

01 July 2006

There is a guy at work who's quite pretty, but from what i hear, he's dumb as an ox. Sort of like a meat-head rugby player or something. Anyway, i'd never really spoken to him before, and yesterday i ran into him hopping into the lift on the way home. Melbournites will know that it's been cold as chariot (as my dad would say - and come to think of it, i'm not exactly sure what that sating means...it definitely suggests motherfucking cold though) this last week, so the following exchange occurs.

Me: *wraps scarf around neck* Gotta rug up, eh? It's bloody freezing!
Ox: Yeah... *wraps scarf around neck* you never know how hot it's going to be when you get out there.

NOT VERY, i'm suggesting.