Hmmm... not sure what Dot's done to the blog. i haven't been here to supervise, you see, and it looks likes she's gone a little bit STARK RAVING MAD with the pictures of Posh, Steph and the vagina.

I suspect she may have been trying to push the picture of her sunburn off the bottom of the page... poor love doesn't realise that it wont go until the end of the month.

ANYWAY, to carry on with the theme of the vagina - EXCITING NEWS; i'm just back from Tasweigia! It was an interesting weekend spent with my mum, aunty and nana.

Faaark.

Any longer and i would have been trying to stab myself with blunt instruments. I mean, i love them all dearly, but they're so. freakin. slow. at. everything.

So slow. You can't possibly comprehend. And i'm not even fast, by any stretch of the imagination.

And they packed so much stuff.

So much.

But all in all, i had a pretty nice time. I ate the best steak of my lifetime in the revolving restauant in Hobart and went to Port Arthur today, which was pretty cool too. And it was pretty fun driving around the city too... given that it's about the size of Dandenong.

Though, it is nice to be back in:
a) my bed
b) the traffic
c) the smog
and
d) the filth
that is Melbourne.

You always hear about the logging that goes on in Tassie... as best i can tell, the whole state is pretty much covered in trees. They could possibly afford to log some of them.*

*And before you start; you idiot

the end.

ps - that was some blog jamming. and it's like that! and that's the way it is! huh!

my sister

dream home

my special day...

(this is one inspired by Mars' recent identity theft... not that anyone noticed.)

Why won't posts disappear off bottom of page?

It's mid-year review time at my work, and this year they've changed the scale on which we're measured.

Met
Partially exceeded
Exceeded

Does anyone else have a problem with this?

How the fuck do you partially exceed at something. You either exceed, or you don't. Expectation is 100% and whether you do 101% or 900%, you've still exceeded as best i can tell.

Am i a moron. Is there any other possible way i could interpret this that makes it technically correct?

I began stating my case to my boss about how retarded the company we work for is... i just wanted him to see what i was saying and agree. He looked at me bewildered and said "Mars, just fill the fucking thing in".

BUT IT'S FUCKING WRONG.

Partially exceed my arse. Anyone?


Also - blogger made me furious enough to power the Delorean last night... this fucking beta rubbish will be the end of me. Why? WHY? I have zero patience at the best of times. One more upset and... and!... AND!... i'm going to TYPEPAD!

stupid, smelly and small boobed!!!!!

firstly, gallery assistant interview on Monday. it was a stinking hot day and i was running late and i got to the gallery for my interview and the place was closed. there was no doorbell and it was a roller-door so knocking would have been stupid and i had no credit on my phone to call... so i ran around the streets looking for a public phone. i got really hot!!! so by the time i called and got let into the gallery i wasn't looking too crash hot; sweaty, red faced and...

as i sat down for the interview i realised, 'oh my god... do i smell!?!?!?!'

everyone gets b.o. at least once in their life, don't they?

anyone?

so maybe i smelt, and maybe i didn't. i showered that morning, i was wearing deodorant, but maybe the top i was wearing was on the cusp of being dirty and my running around the streets pushed it over the edge. anyway, i got totally paranoid about it and stuffed the interview.

secondly, today i went for a job as a 'fit model' for Miss Shop, Myer. bleh. Mars and my sister talked me into it because they wanted to see me embarrass myself. a 'fit model' is someone who tries on the clothes at the department store to make sure the sizes are correct. so they don't need to look good or be young, they just need decent proportions.

my sister measured me beforehand and i seemed okay, and for $75 an hour i thought it was worth trying out for, and why am i so stupid? i got to the office and sat around for about half an hour with 10 young, beautiful, tanned, skinny, big boobed things. each minute i sat there i felt more and more silly to be competing with these things to become a 'fit model'.

and then it was my turn.

it started off well with me being the right height.
but then they measured my bust...
"hmmmm" the lady said, "are you wearing a padded bra?"
"uh... it's just a little padded."
WRONG! it was all 'computer says no' after that. the lady whipped through my other measurements and i was out on the street.

so, the moral of this story is i'm a smelly, small boobed unemployed stupid.

I'm gonna write a post tomorrow. A really good one.

I've got nothing right now, but i'm sick of looking at that other post all the time.

This week, Kiki has blasted my anonmyity out of the water and told two-blog-people my real name. At first, i was a bit all... whoa, dude! they know my name... what if they stalk me or something.

But honestly, as if.

Mr Mitch, Mex; hello.

Ooh, and also, yesterday was my birthday and it was mad-cool. Dot bought me back some Wee Willy Winkie stylee pyjama bottoms from Old Navy, and i freakin' love 'em.

Also got some other cool stuff and did some other cool stuff too, but yeah... HELLO 26 and also, WHERE THE FRIG IS MY HUSBAND, time is ticking away...

And then... i wrecked my car on the letter box.

Last week, Dot's dad scraped the side of her car on our brick letterbox. Fair enough... but Mars being Mars couldn't just say nothing and move on...

"All these years; you, me, your sister and Jelly have come in and out of the driveway and never hit the damn letter box! How the hell did your dad do that?" i says to Dot...

And jinxed myself.

Coming home the other night, singing my heart to the Classic Love Songs on V Day after a wine or several... get home and scrrrrrrrrrape.

In hindsight... possibly shouldn't have driven the car home. Fool.

"I'm an idiot!" i proclaim to dad yesterday on the email...

Dad's response; "You're not an idiot. You just missed the gate"

Dear old dad, he probably came off a bit harshly in the post below this one, bless him. Anyway, that made me laugh. You're not an idiot. You just missed the gate.

Stinking Valentine's Day... great load of bollocks.

Precocious teenager, or suffocated free-spirit? From the vault... taking you back in time to March 1999! Verbatim, i kid you not. Only mildly embarrassed.

Well today I didn’t do much, although, I did make my bed. Well done Mars!

I just had a biggie with dad. I asked him to leave me, like, 4 bucks for a train ticket to get to uni tomorrow, but apparently, that was too much to ask. I hate borrowing money off him cause he just holds it against me. He kept going on about how he gave me 25 bucks the other night and I hadn’t budgeted blah blah blah. He just kept talking around in circles, not making sense to anyone but himself in his small little mind. If only he knew how dumb he is. He spends so much time trying to convince himself he’s so “smart”. Pfft.

Oh, and he kept going on about “you said you were going out on Thursday” and I said “well obviously I’m not” but he just kept going on and on and on and blah blah fucking bloody blah. Pissed me right off cause I was really looking forward to it.

It’s shit. Everything’s shit. He actually said he would leave me the 4 buck, but that I had to pay it back. 4 fucking bucks! I couldn’t believe it.

So I said I didn’t want it cause I didn’t want to be in any more “debt”. And he told me “I’d better go to uni”. I told him he couldn’t tell me what to do. He’s such a wank!

It’s un-fucking-believable, the shit I put up with.

And that, is now my life's motto.

...not even been a week in Australia, not even hot weather, and look at me...

I'm a monster!

(ever seen a more retarded tan line than this?)

Question for the internet:

Is this bed uninviting because it is pushed up against the wall?

According to Dot, this bed screams i sleep diagonally across, and that's not about to change.

How accurate is this assertion?

This morning on the train, a man offered me his seat.

AND NOW I'M FREAKING OUT.

Best case scenario; i look pregnant. I mean, i'm pretty porky these days... I do have gut complete with some serious muffin tops, not to mention a fairly considerable lard arse... But pregnant? Really?

Worst case scenario; I am now so fat, i actually look disabled. Like one of these people who can't support their own body weight. Perhaps he was admiring me for the effort it must have taken to get out of bed and get dressed this morning, so he felt sorry for me.

Now i think of it; it was a bit of an effort... I possibly deserve to be admired.

Oh no, i know what's caused this... I had Red Rooter for dinner last night AND IT'S PUSHED ME OVER THE EDGE.

No-one offered me their seat YESTERDAY.

I'm doomed. Not only does the BMI scale call me obese (don't be so smug, it's a cruel unforgiving scale), but regular people now actually think i'm so fat that i'm disabled.

The only other alternative is that he was an ACTUAL POLITE PERSON..

But... that's not possible.

OH MY DOG I LOOK PREGNANT/DISABLED, I'M NEVER LEAVING THE HOUSE AGAIN.

Well. Busy weekend spent easing Dot back into the Stray'n way of life.

Went down to St Kilda for some (beautiful) people watching and tried to not vomit (too much) at their tanned and toned bodies.


Realised we had no hope of ever being tanned and/or toned, so decided to drink through the disappointment.

A good time was had by all.

Incoming... 10.5 hours.

Gaaaah!