A New Year: A New You!
Actually, probably not. More like a little bit of housekeeping:
"I know a good bottle of Ajax when I see one"
Note how I am totally the l33tNESS and put a pic in my header and changed colours, etc? Fuck no, not really: I suck. But you know, it's a new year, let's tweak the blog to the best of Martie's fucktarded computer abilities, stuff like that.
'What I did NYE' has been practically blogged to death and here it is practically middle of the year already, and I'm finally blogging about it, so let me just say this:
My NYE consisted of A Blender; Porn; Fireworks; Vince Vaughn; Baileys; Sex on loungeroom floor & Pancakes. Make of it what you will, bitches.
In other more sombre news, my finances are shot to bits and I am going to have to pull my proverbial head in from now on, unless some sort of tattslotto fairy decides to visit me. Which is bad news for my recently aquired sunglasses addiction, which sees me collecting all sorts of cheap and chic sunnies at no more than $20 a pop. Might not sound like a lot, but when they build up....
(Shut up. I did not chase around any opened shopping centres New Years Day to find a particular pair. I just didn't, ok?)
I'm now making it my mission to find a new job sometime in the early stages of this year. Just so I can get a payout on my annual leave, which will allow me to pay off some debts, and go on a holiday.
I will also have to assess & plan living arrangements this coming year. I hate to say it, but I may have to give up my living-alone-ness and move in with someone, or worse still, move back to the Mothership. Fuck. But at this rate, I cannot sustain my living expenses on this budget, and that's without saving ANYTHING. I feel like I'm first year uni again. Fuck!
Ahh, January, the time of realisation of fucked-up finances for the year ahead. Fucking love it. About as much as I'm looking forward to the Bec & Lley-Lley media circus surrounding the Australian Open. Can't. Fucking. Wait.
4 comments:
Everyone is financially fucked at the start of the new year aren't they? Oh, you mean they're not? Damn.
Vince Vaughn hey? Damn, I had to settle for Richard Wilkins, you lucky bitch - you win. I take it policeman pashing didn't feature as prominantly as you would have liked.
And new job-ness on the horizon too... hot shit! Tell no-one but I may be headed the same way, all I need to do is work out what I want to be stuck doing for the next few years. I need something that involves wearing spiffy suits and really hot dress shoes and being able to wear my glasses halfway down my nose while still looking alluring. Or. Something. Like. That.
Maybe you could have my job, seeing as it'll be vacant soon. Hey look, your first job offer!
Not a copper to be seen, most unfortunately. And as for your date for the night - there is not a single positive thing that I can say about Tricky Dicky, I'm sorry!
Hot dress shoes?? I knew what they were once. Know it's a case of SLIP ONS???? SLIP ONS? Who the hell wears SLIP ONS? below the age of 65???
Personally my work footwear of choice for the mo is steel-capped hard yakka boots. They also come in handy for any head-kicking situations that may arise on the way home from the pub in the wee hours of Saturday morning. Then there is the fetish thing that comes into play... Stocky men in shorts with work boots on (lace ups, not those hideous elastic sided affairs) really rock my socks. Don't ask why - just nod, smile and leer along with me!
Oh and just to make you feel that little bit worse - my mother is 65 and still has a huge collection of hot heels and pointy toed foot coture with nary a slip-on in sight. Thats the result of my guidance of course!
Martie, each time I visit you site now, I get all hot. I don't know why. Maybe its the hott maid?
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