Don't stop moving to the funky funky beat

It really is true that music can lift your mood. And ever since I discovered that my super-dooper DVD player will play my MP3s I have been rediscovering the joy of Martie's mix-cd, layed down this time last year.

And what a rediscovery it is. Where else could you find The Screaming Jets next to S Club 7? Not on 'So Fresh', that's for freakin' sure.


United by the moment, on Marties blog

A self-proclaimed disco queen, I've been out of action for a while now, wih various injuries. However, my physio tells me that I'coming along in leaps and bounds, and thus, it will soon be time for me to return to the floor.

This is all helped by the return of The Tart, my bestest friend in the whole wide world, who is making the move back to Melbourne, after finding Brisbane a bit too 'vegas' for her. We are the party Tarts, and April heralds our return. Fuck yeah!


People cleared the floor for the return of the Tarts

However - there isn't a hell of a lot of decent places to venture out to on this side of town. And I'll be fucked if I'm going to fork out my entire wage on a cab fare from the other side of town. Dude, we NEED those cheeseburgers on the way home.

There's a couple of disco pubs around. Suburban, but alright after a while, especially if you want to play pash & dash (Bayside boys are so easy). However the main one is now where the Ex-Fucker and his golfing buddies (and new girlfriend) hang out and until I'm ready to walk in there wearing nothing but a black string bikini and fuck off high heels, that one is off-limits.

There is a lounge/bar type establishment around the traps, which is much more famous for previously being a place called 'Jakes'. If you know the area at all, you'll know Jakes. It was famous for being 'the' kick on venue in probably the whole of southern metropolitan Melbourne.

Jakes was the sort of classy joint where, when someone vomited, it would be covered up with sawdust & everyone would get on with the party. It wasn't unusual for the line to get snake right up Church street, and to get there before 1am was just 'so uncool'. It was also a common sight to see most people in the queue eating overpriced hotdogs from the built in hotdog stand, before they paid $10 bucks to get in and go crazy on the shots. It is also where the Ex-Fucker and The Athlete first kissed me. Oh Jakes, I miss you.

So due to lack of 'cool' nitespots, it looks like we are going to have to dag out, and hit the quasi-over 28's for a while. Quasi, because at one stage they wouldn't let guys in without a collar, and also because you can get some serious grannies in there. Usually, if I've had a few, I'll walk past them and come out with gems like "Nanna! It's way past your bedtime" or "Don't forget to take your teeth out when you blow that guy tonight".

I never said I wasn't a bitch.

Besides, HOW CAN YOU GO PAST A PLACE THAT PLAYS 'ICE ICE BABY'? And yes, that is me up the front singing ALL the words.


Will it ever stop? Yo, I don't know.

Alcohol required

I SWORE to myself that I would never turn my blog into Martie's love life disasters, and in particular, I would never post another thing about one fucktarded boy in particular, but...

It's Jungle-Boy's birthday tomorrow. I thought I would get him a nice present for his birthday. Yes, even after the dressing gown & store perfume incident. What can I say? I'm generous. I don't like to 'buy' people with my gifts, but I like to get them something that makes them feel special.

$250 bucks later. There's only one thing bugging me - what to do about his actual birthday. I KNOW that he will be going out for dinner, and I'm wondering if I will be invited.

It seems not.

Apparently, his mum has 'plans' for him. Pick him up from work, then they (his family) go out to dinner. Non-inclusive of me. I'm not invited. His family. Not me.

You would think, that after nearly 10 months together, that you would have done the whole 'meet the parents' thing. Especially since he lives right around the corner, and sees them nearly every day.

It seems not.

A relationship that he proports is 'serious', but obviously not serious enough for something like that. Fool, Martie.

I'm just about to the end of my tether. I do something nice, I get flippant/casual/rude in return. Yet, I'm not angry at him; I'm pissed with myself because I obviously have a serious lack of self-respect to be treated this way. And because I spent my grocery and petrol money on his motherfucking present.


*****UPDATE: This just through on MSN conversation:

Jungleboy: I've got plans for you when you get a job in city
Martie: Oh?
Jungleboy: Yeah. An apartment in the city!
Martie: Okay. I'm going to have to get a pretty bloody good job then.
Jungleboy: Who said it would be all you?
Jungleboy: I've always wanted to walk to work.
Martie: So, you'd want to get an apartment so you could walk to work? (*Not to move in with me, just so you could walk to work?* OH HOW I WISHED I'D ASKED THIS. WHAT A PUSSY)
Jungleboy: Yeah. But I'd need somewhere for my car and pc's and stuff. So I'd live at home on the weekends.
Martie: ???

/

I've not lived with someone before, but I'm sure the whole deal is meant to be more romantic than that.

My hand is literally covering my face right now, and as soon as I finish this post, the other one will be right there with it. I need a good, hard slapping, for a good, hard wake-up-to-myself.

Not so Smartie Martie

Scoff you may, Caz.

And you would well be right. My 'exciting competition' is over before it even started.

The 'prize' has been snaffled.

So all you Chuck Norris lovers out there will have to wait until I create some other monumental fuck up ordering clothes from the internet for the next instalment.

1000 apologies to all.

Evil is coming*

Stick with me chickens - No, I haven't been eaten by cockroaches -yet!

But I do have an exciting competition where you can win actual real live STUFF! Huzzah!

Make sure your thinking caps are on and ready.



*Not in any way a Neighbours reference

You got me feeling emotions

Whey-hey! I felt emotion today. What a fucking relief. Sure, it was paralysing fear, but you've gotta start somewhere, right?



Of course, my little visitor wasn't exactly waving at me, but the pictures of actual cockroaches are gross. I didn't want to, sully my blog or anything.

8:10am - Get out of shower. Nude. Notice big black spot above doorway. Scream. Realise it's not a man eating spider. Just man eating cockroach instead. Goody.

8:15am - Still paralysed in the one spot watching cockroach negotiate doorway.

8:17am - Decide that to tackle problem, I will need to get dressed. Scurry about room, taking care not to let it know that I was there, and nearly break neck from keeping an eye on it.

8:18am - Damn. It's disappeared onto the other side. Grab Homebrand Coles Spray & Wash. Lemon fragrance.

8:19am - Stand at doorway, gathering up the courage to run (or rather limp-run) underneath. Terrified of finding lounge-room wall covered in its friends.

8:20am - Take a deep breath and go as fast as my legs can take me into lounge room. Look up, and discover that I passed right underneath where Mr Cockroach was climbing. Shake out hair in case any fell in it.

8:21am - Waste precious minutes negotiating with cockroach. "Please, just get out of my house" "Fuck off out of my house, fucker" *Stamping Feet* "Go, just go. I'm going to be late for work" "Fine. Now I'm going to have to do something about this"

8:22am - Spray cockroach with Spray & Wash from middle of the room. Realise spray is not long enough. Inch closer, spraying as I go.

8:23am - Quarter of a can later, cockroach falls to floor. Ahah! But, look out. IT IS COMING RIGHT TOWARDS ME! Let off spray, then dive for handily placed broom.

8:24am - Watch as it heads towards the front door, but not quite. Build up courage to 'sweep' it towards door with (long handled) broom. I have this fear that it will have the power to get me, up through the handle. Ugghhh.

8:25am - Push cockroach too hard, with my mighty power fuelled by adrenline. Cockroach goes behind door. Spend anxious few seconds in close proximity while I try and work out where it is. Is all good though, as it crawls out from under the door, helping itself to death.

8:26am - Open wire door, and with one last mighty push, sweep cockroach onto driveway. Uh oh. It's not there. Panic, as I think it may be stuck on bristles, but it's only stuck on the little rise from front step. One more mighty push & it's out.

8:30am - Leave for work. Walk past cockroach on ground. Damn. Not dead yet. No wonder why they say these fuckers can survice a nuclear holocaust. NOTE: Did not step on cockroach, as have fear of it being able to attack me from beneath my shoe. Probably wrong move. It will now gather the reinforcements and come back for revenge, no doubt.



When I grow up, I want to marry a man who will take care of all the creepy-crawlies for me.

Existence

Living v Existing

If you're existing, you're getting up in the morning, and going to work. Not loving it. But not hating it either.

If you're existing, you're eating and drinking because it is a neccessary requirement. You're not enjoying it; it's not social, in fact it probably all tastes the same.

If you're existing, you're talking to people, and being polite, but you're not going out to par-tay with them, or telling them to fuck off because they're wankers or some such. Most of the time, they're faceless.

If you're existing, you're not happy, bright or bubbly. But you're not sad, or moody or gloomy either.

You feel like a robot, on autopilot, going through the motions, but never quite experiencing the emotions of it all.

Profound? Not really. So how do I know?

Because I am currently just existing.

I go through my day-to-day routine, but I have no interest in it.

I'm not depressed, but I'm not waking up excited about what the day will hold for me.

It's as like, there is no 'point' to my actual existence at this moment in time. Fear not, this is not a suicidal cry for help. I'm not cowardly, or smart, or even fucking stupid enough to take my own life. I know that some time in the future (next week/month/year) there'll be a point, but for now, I feel nothing.

I alluded to the fact that I don't have any/many friends early this year/late last year. This is not exactly true. I have many varied friends. Some a bit older than me, some my age, some boys, some girls. I have a bestest friend, between who, the tyranny of distance cannot come.

However, my friends aren't a 'social network'. They don't all know each other. I used to be part of a large, and sometimes rather incestous, social network. However I've been on the outer for the last few years, and the last straw came when a former close friend had his annual birthday barbeque, and I was not invited, at the insistence of another former close friend to whom I stood up to when I found out she had been going to town about me behind my back.

This kind of shit, I don't need. Sure, I've lost the social aquaintance of a few people, but I'd rather sit and watch the Commonwealth Games opening ceremony again, than be in a room full of two faced people.

So, I'm afraid, it's me and my values that sit home alone most friday nights (a lot of my friends having kids you see). The prospect of spending a weekend by yourself is not thrilling, but I'm not moping about it either. The whole thing's rather apathetic really.

I know I need to get out there; meet new people; get that new job I've been promising myself; start eating right again (dinner last night was cashews and not-so-cold-diet coke), and then I will be able to experience emotions again. The rush of excitement you get when you get a crush on someone, or the enjoyment of going out for good food. Or even the disappointment you get when you find out your crush has a (stunning) woman, or the anger you feel when the service you experience in your favourite restaurant is non-existant. This is living.

This is why I'm just existing.

Martie....at the movies

Hello, and welcome to this end of holiday-day post.

Unfortunately, I have no exotic tales of drunken-ness or sex fuelled romps to report - life's like that when you're still all banged up and unable to walk long distances and cause fuck off long queues to get on escalators at Chadstone. PATIENCE, FUCKWITS, PATIENCE.

Ahem.

Ok, so I like, totally joined the 21st century this weekend instead. I bought a DVD player.

After years of resisting, I finally realised my efforts were futile when I went to my local Blockbuster a couple of weeks ago and the only VHS related product I could find was an ancient copy of Chuck Norris' Good Guys Wear Black for $1.50.
There really is only so many times one can watch this, despite all the Chuck Norris goodness.

In honour of buying said DVD player, which I bought totally because it was able to seduce me with it's sleek silver and black looks, I....watched some DVD's! Yatta!
Allow me to now review these DVD's for you (PATIENCE! I probably won't use it for the rest of the year, thus saving you from my crappy movie reviews), in my own, Martie style (read: grumpy & disinterested).

The Island:
The first movie I have seen with Scarlett Johansson, and my, didn't she just captivate my attention. She reminded me of one of those 'perfect' people, blonder than blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect skin, etc. However, the highlight for me was everytime Sean Bean was on camera, where I giggled somewhat uncontrollably to myself about his name "Seen Bean". Bahahahaha. Geddit?

Crash:
Unfortunately not the one where people get off on car crashes, this was the Academy Award winning one. Whoa. A more depressing movie I have not seen. Although I was kinda glad to see Sandra Bullock playing a bitch, the whole purpose of the film for me, was to highlight the fact that Ryan Phillipe is a total loser and he will be career will be stuck in reverse forever. Go for broke on the settlement, Ryan.

Deuce Bigalow: European Gigalo:
Fuck me. Even more depressing than Crash.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind:
It cuts like a knife that the disc buggered up just when things started to happen, and NOW I'M LEFT HANGING as to how Jim Carrey goes in a 'serious' role.

Harold & Kumar go to Whitecastle:
Why do we not have these Whitecastles in Australia? Little cute baby hamburgers - awwwww. And Doogie Howser, pretty much playing himself in real life. Because I imagine that's all Neil Patrick Harris has to do these days in the failed life of a child star: coke up and fuck anything with a hole. And oh, the movie was American Pie: Version 4289.

At least now that I have my DVD player, I will be able to get all down and dirty with my Carmen Electra Striptease series. Oh wait. No, I can't. Fuck.

Not so way cool after all

Ok, my bad. My very very bad.

It seems that not only will my Blogging Crush think I'm a nuffy, but he also won't think I'm very smart either. I honestly forget that TV & radio, etc are different in each state, and that half the people reading would have no idea who the motherfucking Tint Professor actually was.

1000 apologies to all.

In other, more National news, it is my great delight to inform you that today is the JOINT BIRTHDAY of two of my most favourite men.


Tim Fisher

and


Tony Lockett.

Hurrah. If I wasn't on crutches still, I'd...bake 'em a cake or something.

Lastly, don't you think it's a spooky co-incidence that the two guys that I fantasised the most over during high school should be born on the same day? It's a sign I tell you. They don't call me Mysterious Martie for nothing you know. But wait, there's more! Stay tuned for that one though.

The Nutty Professor

Do you ever catch yourself introducing words and phrases into your normal everyday conversation that you garner from our mainstream, and sometimes not so mainstream, forms of media?

Do you surf a website and find yourself calling every second person 'mang', or similar? (Thanks, Caz).

Do you hear the 'Counting the beat' song on the radio, and immediately think of what you need to buy, immediately, from K-mart?

Do you find yourself going to discotheques, and singing "Get out on the floor", from the Dancing With the Stars tune when your crazy mates are trying to decide the 'right' moment to cut a rug? No? Ummmmmmm, ok, let's move on shall we...

Anyway, I now find myself in this position again.

Ask me how I am; how something is; answer my question correctly, or agree with me, etc, etc and for the answer in the affirmative, I catch myself saying "Way cool with the Tint Professor". Seen the ad? You know what I'm talking 'bout then. Dot com dot AU.

So, everthing's fucking way cool with the fucking tint professor then. I'm sure it's driving people nuts. It's a bit like several years back, whenever you would ask someone "Where you going", they'd reply "Australian Lighting", like it was the wittiest thing on earth. Funny, ha ha.

So, ask me to describe something. It's way cool eith the tint professor, mmmkay? It's all way cool; my blogging crush is even way cool with the tint professor, in his own, slightly offbeat way(!) Which of course, leads me to deduce that my Blogging Crush, if indeed, he reads this post at all, will think I am some sort of nuffy, and will run through cyber space in the opposite direction at 100 millions miles an hour. Is it really such a good idea to be laying bare all these disturbing, slightly peculiar facts about myself on the interwebs for my Blogging Crush to pick up on?

So. One for the boys. And the girls too, because you always give good head answers too:

"If you were my Blogging Crush, would you mind being described as 'way cool with the tint professor'?

And the winner is...

I know that google searches can be somewhat of a blog filler hilarious way to pass the time, but I just had to bring this one to you.

World's Best Ever Google Search

So to visitor #13977, no, I don't think she is a real mother either. And I think I love you. Can I have your babies?

Housekeeping!

Because I am scared of the dark, I have been fucking around with the blog, so you might notice some changes to titles, the name, picture, etc, etc. I wish I had the know-how to change other aspects, but you know, I can't be a fucking genius at everything.

It is my full intention to fuck around with it every month or so, to showcase exactly how hip and down with it I am. Or probably to reveal that I have the attention span of a Mintie wrapper, and I get bored easily. Whatevs.

You might also notice my links are back up. Due to an unforeseen AC adaptor incident, I lost my whole list, so there might be some missing. If so, I apologise - please comment or email me and I will add you back up.

Meanwhile - I am back in my blogger crush mode!!!!!!!!1!

You missed a spot & you're also dumped.

I'm back in my little house again, all by my lonesome. Waiting for the big nest of spiders that obviously would have gathered without being disturbed all week, to jump out and attack me. It's unfair to attack cripples.

Needless to say, the spray and wash is sleeping next to me tonight.

Anyway, I am kinda feeling down after leaving the mother(and father)ship's tonight. I miss having the company, and obviously someone to get me a drink (SO FUCKING THIRSTY). I don't miss not having my own space though, and peace & quiet, & the opportunity to walk (crutch) around in my undies.

The MasterFucker is all "You need to remember I have lawns and cleaning to do". Congrat-u-fucking-lations if you scrub the shit out of your shower every week. I don't. And I'm not grubby, or dirty, or slobby, or even dead yet.

I've planned the 'talk' with him for this weekend BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY TIME HE IS AVAILABLE. And that's if he gets all his housework done by the weekend. Dude, they're called cleaning ladies.

Meanwhile, I have to concentrate on going back to work, and being busy like fuck, because no one else knows how to operate anything in there. Should be interesting trying to put clothes/shoes on tomorrow.

I am scared to go to sleep, because what happens if a burglar gets in, and tries to attack me, and I can't fight back or run away because I only have use of one leg? It's times like these I need crispy mint M&M's and god damn diet coke, if only to keep me up all night.

Clearly, I am scared of the dark.

Ponder...

Okaaaaaaaaaaay.

I've been told countless times before, but y'know, humour me, and HAMMER IT HOME. For the love of god.

The Scenario:

* You've been laid up; unable to drive, travel, or pretty much walk even.

* You've a got a 'partner', who lives 45 mins away in off peak time, and who is very hard working during the week.

* You've told your partner previous that you have to rest and keep affected body part elevated.

* It gets to the weekend. You then adviseyour partner that you're able to get 'out & about'.

* You even ask you partner what he/she is doing on Saturday; to which he/she replies "Oh not sure. Think I have to do something with my Dad" (keeping in mind that you and your partner had planned a trip to Port Fairy this weekend).

* You go all day Saturday, until 7pm without hearing a word from partner, until he/she messages you to see what you are doing. IE - nothing, as you have given up chance to catch up with some mates at a BBQ because you thought the two of you would be doing something together.

* You find out that he/she has been fishing all day - obviously would have been planned ahead and he/she says they are too tired to come and see you.

* You get upset, because you have been sitting around all week, injured, and you would have thought that your partner would come and see you at some stage.

* Rather than apologising, partner gets defensive and says "I should have just stayed home" and "Sorry for ruining your weekend", which co-incidentally, are great names for country music songs (TM Martie).

* In the end, partner dismisses the whole thing and says "I'm tired and drained, I'm going to bed" and you haven't heard from he/she since.

The Questions:
- Do you have a right to be upset about the fact that your partner hasn't been to see you when you are injured/unwell/etc?

Or, in other words, am I just an hysterical drama queen?


Discuss.

Alternative uses for frozen peas, carrots & corn & FREE TEST!!!! DO MY FREE TEST!!!! NOW!!! DO IT!!!! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!!!

Wah. Bad news: I'm now a cripple again; for the first time in 2.5 years, since my calf injury, I decided to see how I went playing netball again. It was only vegie stuff, but I guess you have to start somewhere, right?

BUT I DIDN'T EVEN GET A START! I played one half, then at the start of the second, I felt a big fucking POP in my calf, and folks, it's all over. I'm unable to walk - I'm just hoping it's not the same as last time ("there's a chance we may have to amputate").

So it started me thinking about all the injuries I've ever had: I probably should have invested in my own set of crutches or something, as I seem to spend a great deal of time on them. Maybe I'm being punished because I was meant to be playing squash with Jungle Boy last night instead, but as soon as I got the call, I ditched him like a hot potato (or whatevs).

Damn Damn Damn. It seems like whenever I turn a corner (financially, health, happiness-wise), I always seem to run into a fucking brick wall. I didn't break any mirrors, I swear. But I'm still lying here in bed, with the vegetable contents of my freezer melting away on my leg. FUCK! There goes $4!

Anyways, the delightful Ms E. Pen tagged me but alas, I have already completed her lovely meme. So, in honour of staying in bed all day, I have created my own meme, or rather, 'Martie's fabulous-ness personality-slash-sexuality-slash-chinese horoscope-slash-what kind of animal are you test!'

The test: Simply note your answers in the comments section, and I will analyse for you and advise what sort of personality you are/what animal you were in a different life. For free! Bonus!

START:

What sort of M&M are you?
a) - plain chocolate
b) - oddly shaped peanut
c) - M&M minis
d) - crispy mint
e) - whatever promotional flavour they are running at the time

If you had to be an animal in your next life, which would you choose:
a) - Tiger
b) - Horse
c) - Cow
d) - Rabbit
e) - Paris Hilton's pet

Favourite day of the week:
a) - Friday
b) - Monday
c) - Wednesday/Hump day
d) - Saturday
e) - None of the above

Favourite sexual position:
a) - On top
b) - On bottom
c) - In the middle
d) - In the grandstand at a packed football match
e) - In front of the TV

Favourite Number:
a) - 4
b) - 1
c) - 16
d) - 7
e) - 99

Okay, so who is going to be my first victim customer?????