Influential People I

Men.

Influential people you say? The kind that make you chug down a chilled bottle of Absolut like it was spring water? No, not that kind of influence. Actually, as clarification to those out there that know me, and as a guide (possibly for future reference) for those that don't; here is a list of the influential men/boys/manwhores in my life.

1. My Dad. Because where would a girl be without her dad?
2. My Brother. Currently livin' the Gwen Stefani life over in Japan. Check out his and his bestie's Live Journal. Far more clever and creative than I could ever hope to be.
3. My Childhood sweetheart. Ok, not so much childhood as late teens. We broke up, we both moved on, but to this day are still friends. I value his opinion. Very much. Mum was right when you say you never forget your first.
4. The Ex-Fucker. My 3rd and most serious boyfriend to-date. Oh, the train wreck that was the Ex-Fucker and I. How I bemoan what I did. How he denies what he did. I could go on and on. But I'll suck it all up, because as they say, life is what goes on.
5. The 'Friend', aka 'Athlete'. Previously referred to on here as Ex-Fucker's friend, however I have known him years longer. Not that I'm counting. Recently revealed after drunken night out that he likes me. We kissed (and boy it was some kiss! *sigh*) and ended up talking for hours into the morning (ie 11am) about 'stuff'. Have always had strange pangs about this guy, but always pushed them aside. He was known as "the one that would be the most perfect for me in every single way but nothing ever ever will happen". Until he confessed. Glee! Then dark Ex-Fucker shaped cloud moved over, and he took the whole lot back. What, are these boys working in tandem or something? This boy will require own post, keep a look out.
6. The Sugardaddy. Technically not really all that older than me, and definitely not rich. More of a Fuck Buddy relationship, but it's not just sex. Ya dig?
7. JJ. My delicious e-mail flirting, sparkly boy. See previous post about phone number.
8. The guy working at an undisclosed insurance company that I sometimes manage to flirt with on a Friday afternoon for FORTY MINUTES (shame on me). However, after a bit of google-stalking (Bwahahahahaha), I think he's married. Cunt.

And so there, stand the eight, ahem, men that I have the most contact with in my life at this present stage. Of course....these are my most intimates, kinda like my privy chamber if I was Lizzie I, ya know? And they all drive me crazy in one way or another. And I hate that. I hate the influence they have over me in their scheming men-like ways. It's enough to turn me into a shaved-head growler. Or not. But I guess, they will feature in this alcoholic hazed blog at some stage, so, best I put it out there now.

Coming up next: Part II - Women

What to do, what to do?

Oh. My. Fucken. God. Or, OMFG! if you are a LOLCoolJ person-type.

I have a phone number. Not just any old phone number, JJ's phone number. He emailed it through last night about midnight (can't sleep, can't breathe, can only cough. A lot. Hence why I was up so late).

Anyway, what am I supposed to do with it? I can't call. It's just not right. I am not mentally prepared for this. I like e-mail flirting. I like the power of the written word. I am no good at it in real life. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Can they cancel your blog for excessive use of the word Fuck? Fuck.

This is what I got at the end of his deliciously flirty email:


"Cheer up, you'll get better soonish. Yup, me with the cheeryness. And lost
dictionary.


04__ ___ ___
J_______

PS. Unsublte hint to call me sometime"


Ok. Well the spelling...it was late at night. But seriously, the pressure is now all on ME to call HIM. Which is nearly as bad as me giving my number, then waiting for him to call me. I can't even answer my own phone. Example from about a week ago, when I was out with The Tart:

Ring Ring

ME: "It's a private number"

ME: "I can't answer it. You answer it"

TART: "Who is it?"

ME: "I don't know, it's a private number"

TART: "Well give me your phone dammit"

ME: "Ok, answer it and pretend to be me. No! Don't pretend to be me. Just say I'm not here. I'm somewhere else. Actually say that I've just gone to get a drink or something and you heard my phone ring. Actually, if it's a boy that I don't know, pretend that you're me, Cats & Dogs style. If it's the Ex-Fucker...."

TART: "Just give me the fucking phone"

As it turns out, it was just some dumb market research dumb call and no-one exciting. But the point is: I have a phone phobia. Phone conversations are awkward and not right when you don't really know the person. Face to Face is much better. I only ever speak on the phone if I am arranging to go out or something and need to discuss stuff. Fuck. What to do, what to do.

Plus, my call rate is like 88.575c per 19.5seconds and a flagfall of about $10 but only a Friday. Every other day, it's 27.82c, excluding GST. Fuck. I'm such a tightarse.

What should I do???

NOTE: Rising call costs are a valid reason not to call someone, because I say so. And I will have no suggestions that I am a chicken. Thank you!

Things NOT to do when drunk

1. Think that you can dance as well as a gay guy
2. Think that you can turn the gay guy with your sexy dancing
3. Drink More
4. Think that you can dance
5. Take a mobile phone with you. Anywhere.
6. If perchance you did take mobile phone, don't proceed to sms Ex-Fucker
7. Don't sms Ex-Fucker more than once.
8. Don't sms Ex-Fucker's mate that confessed he liked you then you snogged then he took it all back in case the Ex-Fucker got mad
9. Multiple sms random people in your address book
10. Especially if you work with them
11. Especially if they have possessive partners
12. Drink more
13. Dance more
14. Yell "My Shout" when they announce cheap Cowboys for the next 15 minutes
15. Attempt to call little brother in Japan on mobile. Just turn the fucken thing off for fuck's sake and put it in your friend's handbag.
16. Cry
17. Drink more. Cry. Drink and cry because no one will text you back.
18. Put beer goggles on in attempt to at least get a snog out of the night
19. Think that KFC on the way home is a good idea
20. Be meek in trying to catch a cab. Get some 'tude, girl
21. Don't get home; fumble for keys; stagger through door and down passage bumping into everything; attempt to call little brother in japan on home phone.
22. Forget to remember that home phone is password protected for mobile/std/international calls after the 20th go of dialling out.

AND THE NUMBER ONE THING A GIRL SHOULD NOT DO WHEN DRUNK:

23. Leave her knickers lying on the nature strip to be found by one's mother in the morning.




Who? Me? Never....

Crash Bang Wallop

Bah! I had a whole post typed out, and bam! Went to post, and the bloody thing throws up internal server errors at me, and deletes the lot. 'Spose it serves me right for writing a rather long, self indulgent post. However, here it is again, albeit this time in point form;

* Sick. Virus. Asthma. Day off. Hurrah.
* Too much spare time, brain wanders
* Necking vodka with best friend and dancing to 'four to the floor'.
* Internet dating service
* Weirdos, creeps & freaks
* Boy (JJ) who loves sparkly things; coloured lights, kitchenwares and books as much as me
* Email flirting, hints of nudity
* Feeling like I'm cheating on the Ex-Fucker. Scared to meet JJ. Thinking I'm still in love with the Ex-Fucker.
* Liking 'the unknown' for now. Happy to go on like this for a very long time. Perhaps JJ would not? Don't know. Sad; Ex-Fucker, unhappy; Ex-Fucker; Scared; JJ.
* Beginning to sound more and more like Fifi Box on 'Random' FM now. Fuck.
* Confucius says should have gone to work after all & not allow mind to wander.

On second thoughts, glad that original post didn't work.

The politics of politics

Since becoming better aquainted with my laptop and more recently my brother's PC after the Ex-Fucker and I broke up, I have been reading more and more politically themed blogs than ever before.

Not so long ago, I decided that I was far too ignorant of politics and decided to go about learning more about it. It's like one day I woke up and decided that there is more to life than vodka, handbags and shoes. My old views (which I still hold to a certain extent), is that you can complain and vote, etc, as much as you like, but whoever holds government is still going to fuck it up in a big way. Hence, ever since I turned the legal voting age, I have been very complacent about my voting responsibilities, and even went as far as to write "I love Jonathan Brown" on the polling booth last year. My bad.

I haven't quite decided whether I'm of the rabid left variety, or one of those myopic right-wingers. It seems there are some things that I agree with, and others that I don't, on both sides and it is driving me bananas because I don't 'fit' into one group. Fuck, no one told me this would be just like school. Based on my current philosophies, it would seem I mainly slot into the democratic variety, but their party is so fucked up, I wouldn't want to waste my vote.

I think I'm hedging towards my own group of politics; Martie politics. I will decide the most important issues to me, then see who has the best policies. I believe that's pollie speak for a 'swinger' (hur hur).

Although I never intended this to be a political blog; stay tuned, this could interesting.

Vale Hessie

Ok, ok, it's going to be done to death (pardon the pun) all around the world, but cannot let the day go by without a mention of the apparent suicide of ex-Crowded House drummer, Paul Hester.

When I say apparent, all news reports have been fairly unclear on how Hessie actually died. Most have just said that he took his dogs out for a walk on Friday night, and didn't return. The alarm was raised and he was found dead in a park in Elwood, no suspicious circumstances. Well. That could mean anything really; he had a heart attack, stroke, etc. However the good money is on suicide.

I shouldn't be so flippant; suicide is not a topic to be flippant about. Hell, I can even empathise with the guy; since my break-up with the Ex-Fucker, there have been times where I have been feeling lonely and depressed, and have felt like lining The Beast up in front of a pole and ramming it head first. These feelings aren't ones to be fucked around with, and luckily I have been able to pull myself out the hole on all occasions, more often than not with some music and dancing. Obviously Paul wasn't that lucky.

So Paul, whatever was so fucked up in your life; I hope you now rest in peace. Thanks for the brilliant memories of Split Endz and Crowded house, and good times at the Espy.

Martie's Judgement Day: I hope that this doesn't prompt a worldwide search for a reality TV show to find a new drummer should Crowded House ever reform. Martie also wants to know what happened to his dogs????

Let your hair hang down

I have had the unfortunate pleasure of only just hearing the 'Australian Supergroup's cover of Evie' Don't get me wrong, I saw them when they performed at the Arias, and thought it was kinda cool in an ironic, daggy sorta way.

But then they banged on at the Tsunami benefit concert, and now it's all over the radio. Well, the illustrious Triple MMMBop anyway. But fuck me if they haven't recorded Parts I, II & III. I thought it was only Part I. And that was bad enough. Now we have Bernard Fanning banging on about being in love, etc in Part II and Phil Jamieson getting all angsty in Part III. Mind you, Phil Jamieson can get all angsty with me, but that's a whole other story.

Really, couldn't they leave well enough alone? I have fond memories of driving around listening to that song in my Dad's car when I was little, and making up the video clips for each part in my head. Now it's all spoilt by images of sweaty australian musos wailing away (Bernard Fanning, what were you thinking?), acting all ironic and hipster like. Mind you, I wouldn't mind getting all sweaty with Phil Jamieson and Chris Cheney, but that's a whole other story.

Good ol' Nicky Chester gushes that they did it to "create a new awareness of the careers of Stevie Wrights and The Easybeats". Well, Nicko, you and your contemporaries have only served to highlight Stevie Wright's name with drugs and sleeping in one's car. Poor guy. Why couldn't they leave well enough alone. And Chris Chaney doesn't even get a lead singer gig. Ripped. Off.

Martie's Judgement Day: What's next for our very own supergroup?? Sadie the Cleaning Lady? A pub with no beer? What about Me? Whoops, sorry guys, Shannon's already taken that one. Really, couldn't you have pooled your considerable talents together, and come up with something original? Now, that would be a supergroup effort.


NB - For those about to launch attack, for the record I am a big fan of The Living End, You Am I & Dallas Crane; I like Powderfinger, and can tolerate Jet and Spiderbait *shudder 'black betty' shudder* (BTW - where has Kram gone - I thought he was master drummer on this single?). I could tolerate them all in a 'supergroup' as well. Just. Prefer. Creativity. Leave the covers to Australian Idol and X Factory.

Close your eyes, and I'll kiss you - Tomorrow I'll miss you

Thank you Australia, and now we hand you over to our sister show, No Talent Time. Random spurts of god-awful shite about random things, is much better than random spurts of god-awful shite about ex-boyfriends, a la my previous blog.

But seriously, I could bang on about anything that I want to, and there ain't a god darn thing that anybody can do about it. Because we got the bomb, ok? Err, actually, I have no bomb, and there's a lot that anyone can do (ie - not read), but sod all that stuff because if I feel like being indulgent, then I will. Just like drinking fat cow milk, everyone should indulge sometimes.*

Oh, I will probably still indulge about the Ex-fucker occasionally. Let off some steam, as it t'were. But as I sit here eating my little M&M speckled easter eggs (well, it's easter dammnit), the one thought dominating my brain is how the fuck do they determine when Easter is going to be. It appears to fall all over the place.

At least Christmas Day is consistent. 25th. December. It's like, Jesus was born at one time of the year, but can't really decide when he died, so we'll just take pot luck every year; one year we'll get it right.

Mind you, I never payed attention in religious education, and I haven't actually google searched this topic (it works for Andrew Bolt, right?), so I could quite possibly be ranting over nothing. Perhaps I'll do a quick search now. Nothing like live action is there? And it's all fully uncensored too.

Right. So there is an explanation. The date of Easter is calculated as the first Sunday after the paschal full moon, as these friendly people tell us. The Google search overwhelmed me, and all of that god stuff sends me to sleep, so a further explanation as to what a paschal full moon will probably not be forthcoming. But I do recall seeing a full moon in the sky last night, so that is kinda cool. On the other hand, I thought full moons were for wolves and hairy people, so, well......

Anyway, now that I've satisfied that curiosity (gee, you think the paschal full moon would have the decency to fall at the same time of year, every year), my next question; does America celebrate Easter? It sounds like a really odd question (my hair is not blonde, put those stereotypers away), but considering how much Americans make of other holidays, like Christmas, Thanksgiving, etc, then why don't we every hear anything about Easter? I demand to know why there aren't any Easter movies. Right, so just did another Google search; seriously far too overwhelming for me again. I'm sure there might be one or two out there. But where are all the Hollywood 'blockbusters', starring Tim Allen or Jim Carrey dressed up as some sort of evil Easter Bunny? Maybe that's what the Australian Film Foundation should be looking at; Easter movies. There's one market that the ol' US of A hasn't covered. Sweet. When do rehearsals start?

Martie's Judgement Day: Like a graduate from the Johnny Young Talent School, things can only go up from here. M&M speckled eggs are way better than normal M&M's and if anyone has any scripts for upcoming Easter blockbuster, I'll be in my trailer.


*Just to clarify, I only drink fat cow milk by itself. I use low fat milk with cereal and milo, etc. Because I just felt like having a star at the end of my post.