Shorties

I had three days off work last week. I had an ear infection. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but I literally could not walk a straight line, or think, or listen to any sounds, etc, my ear was that sensitive. And apparently I may have Vertigo (hello, hello, I'm in a place called...etc, etc). I'm just nervous about going back. I've only been there two months, and I've now had three sick days. I feel bad.

***

I had breakfast in Clifton Hill this morning, and spent the afternoon at Fountain Gate. And I live in Mentone. WHAT PETROL CRISIS??? Nah, but seriously, people of the world, wake up to yourselves. The Drive-Thru queue at Krispy Kreme was at least an hour long - and people just kept joining it. They are friggin' doughnuts, for fuck's. If you really want good doughnuts, go and buy freshly made cinnamon ones, take them home, and smother with strawberry jam & freshly whipped cream. rox0r.

***

No one wants to see Snakes on a Motherfuckin' Plane with me (or, as this household calls it - Ants on a Motherfuckin' Benchtop - fucking rain). No one, apparently, except for my Dad. WTF? Apparently, I'm taking him for Father's Day. Noooooooo! Father's Day is all about a bottle of OP Rum and a 'Daddy' card. The last time my Dad was at the movies was when Rolling Jaffas Down the Aisle was considering the most rebellious thing a teenager could do.

So I tried out some of the lines on him at the dinnertable tonight:
"I am sick of these motherfuckin' potatoes on this motherfuckin' dinnertable"
and promptly got handed some soap (presumably to wash out mouth).
I don't think we'll be going anytime soon.

***

I made teh secks this weekend. A lot. Friends with benefits, friends with benefits.

***

I have really made a mess of my plan to lose weight to go to the races, haven't I? Although I didn't hoe down on the KK's today, I did have ice-cream with ICE FUCKING MAGIC last night, and was eating some pretty serious chocolate last week when I was snivelling with a pissy little ear infection feeling pretty fucking sick.

So I have to take a new approach. I've decided I'm going to have one vice. Yep, you guessed it. Milk & Chocolate Teddy Bears. If I let myself have one thing, then maybe I won't end up having a whole meal of vices.

It's so fucked. Why can't I be determined enough to lose weight? It's the one thing that makes me SO unhappy, and unconfident, and unsexy, and I always like to fuck it up for myself. Bizarre. I've tried all the mental tricks - cut out of body I want on the fridge, food diary, etc, etc, but I start, then don't follow through. Weight Watchers must be littered with an array of old memberships of mine, and there's too many times to count when I've tried to go it alone. Also, my nutritionist that I was seeing last year, has written me off I'm sure, and she is friendly, but really cold with me now. I feel like I've let her down. And my trainer. Why do I bother paying $140 a fortnight? You'd think these would all be GREAT motivating factors, but, meh - I just keep saying, I'll do it tomorrow. It bugs me. A lot*

***

Sometimes I'm scared to turn off the light because I think there is a serial killer looking in through my window.

Which is why this is turning out to be such a long post.

***

For some reason, I watched the bit on 60 Minutes tonight about the woman who was cryongenically (??) frozen until they find a cure for her cancer. This made me really mad; although I'm no believer in God, etc, I just think we're fucking around with something we shouldn't be. Especially after they said that essentially the process sucks out everything from your brain, which will most likely, take away everything that makes you uniquely you. Then they started talking about people who choose to just have their heads frozen, so they can be reattached to new bodies when technology catches up. WTF? I mean, it would be nice to say "Attach me to the body of Catherine Zeta-Jones when I wake up, cryogenic people", but really, that shit is fucked up right there.

SO...then I turned it over and watched Australian Idol, and promptly fell in love with the Irish bloke. Fuck he can sing. The rest are just Wanke**

***

I don't know how much longer I will be at this blogging caper; not that I don't want to, but because my laptop screen is dying a slow death, and judging by the amount of times it's flickered while writing this post, I'd say that time of passing may be hastened. (MAYBE I CAN GET IT CRYOGENICALLY FROZEN?).

Anyway, this is the only 'puter I'm able to post from: work is not like the good old days, where I could do anything and get away with it, for I was the IT master, this work actually has CONTROLS, and INTERNET SPIES LOGGING ACCOUNTS, ETC. And fixing a computer is so far down on my list of financial priorities right now, soooo, we'll see how we go. If I suddenly stop posting, you know where I've gone (To the cryogenics lab).

***

Confession time: I LOVE the new song by Justin Timberlake. Although I hate him in a 'little brother's friend that wouldn't be allowed past the front door way', that song is hot. And HOTT to dance to. As is the 'Permiscuous' song by Nelly. It's times like these when I wish I had a portable music device, so that I might press repeat on these songs over and over again until I feel like a radio station.

***

Surely the serial killer is starting to get bored now?

***

Match the following words with their appropriate description below:
The Boy, Friends with Benefits, Teh Secks, The Exile, Waking up next to someone:

- May have been with me at Fountain Gate
- Fucking Brilliant
- Comfortable
- Is my way of not getting too close again
- Is now over, on my terms.

***

Excitng Monday Morning Read for you all.

***

The serial killer can get fucked. I'm tired.



* Suggestions, Tips, Tricks (TOTALLY NOT IN AN A.J. FROM THE BIGGEST LOSER IN NEW IDEA WAY) are welcomed - please!

** Keeping with the theme, a Fountain Gate/Narre Warren in-joke.

Somedays...are better than others

I have an ear infection. Cope.

Ta Da! The break up.

He apologised. For reacting the way that he did. Although, my words freaked him out.

However, a week with no contact gives me time to think, you see? And time to not care. And time to develop ear infections. And chat up Men From Adelaide at the bar.

So, as cruel as it may sound - he's the one in limboland. For now.

And for the weekend - suffice to say I'm going to have a pretty fucked up mobile bill next month, Men From Ferntree Gully are fucked up losers, and much hangover foods were consumed on the Sunday.

Also, I was looking at myself naked in front of the mirror this morning, and have decided that I look a lot better with clothes off, than on.

Don't laugh.

When clothes are on - they tend to cut up your body, and anything but black will make you look larger than you actually are.

However, when clothes are off, everything's the one colour (unless you have one of those fucked up stripper tans with the boob lines), and you can see all the curves, etc. Quite nice. I was impressed with myself.

It's just a pity that I can't walk around naked.

Things I should be doing...

Instead of eating chocolate teddy bear biscuits and drinking milk

- Nothing.

There's nothing better than teddy bears and cold milk. Yummy.

Right then. Two Questions for your perusal:

A) DOES THIS MAKE ME A BAD PERSON?

When I was with the Ex-Fucker, he liked to listen to Midnight Oil. I don't mind Midnight Oil, but it used to piss me off that he liked to listen to them so much and I tried to turn them off whenever I could.

However, when I was with Jungle Boy, he HATED Midnight Oil. So...guess what I did? I used to turn it up whenever they came on the radio when we were in the car together. That's mean, isn't it? I'm such a horrible person. No wonder why I can't keep a boyfriend!

B) DOES THIS MAKE ME A BAD PERSON?

One of my goals for losing weight was to be able to fit into a pair of jeans with the button-down pockets on the back.

I live in jeans, I covet those ones with the pockets (so 2004 but I still think it's hot), and I was prepared to spend the big bucks on designer ones when I achieved my goal.

However, one went shopping today. And one just happened to be wandering through Target. And there, on a special rack, was a pair of jeans with button down pockets in my size.

For $15 (NB: not a miss-print)

I tried. I buyed.

They actually are a pretty good fit/wash/style. I quite like looking at myself in the mirror with them on.

The question is - now that my motivation has been removed, will I still continue on with my quest? I don't think that anything else turns me on more than those jeans - so I certainly can't think of anything I want to fit into badly enough. Any suggestions?

I shouldn't have bought them, should I? I have no willpower. No wonder why I can't lose weight.




Coming up - An Uplate Update update on the break-up. Because I know you can't wait*


*Not true.

Martie's Weekend Survival Kit

Let's say you were having a pretty shit week, and now it's almost the weekend.







Instead of moping about home, you can purchase my Weekend Survival Kit, and be feeling better in no time!

Contains:


1. One pair of new shoes!


2. One new top, especially made to amp up the cleave factor.


3. One dodgy pub, that you know will be full of randy guys, to wear your new top to.


4. Vast quantity of alcohol.


5. Handy supply of dancing songs.


6. One disco pash - can be extended if required.


7. Three new mobile numbers to flirt with


8. KFC on the way home


9. One vomiting episode


10. A massive fucking hangover the next morning, but at least it will take your mind off Mr Cunty McCuntburger of the previous week.


11. More new shoes.

And there you have it folks. It's the weekend of I don't give a flying fuck. Let's reconvene Monday*, and tick the items that you used.

And, that was the week that was.


* You know it's going to be earlier if Cunty McCuntburger decides to 'end' the 'time-out'.

AT LAST - A (TOTALLY FUCKING LAME, NO BALLS) REPLY

Le fucking sigh. Hopefully this is one of the last posts on this ridiculous bloody break up, which now looks like it will be drawn out by the stupid fucking notion of "Time Out".

Anyway, A REPLY WAS RECEIVED!!! OMFG. For the ones who are not frustrated as fuck interested, here it is:

"Nah, I don't really liek how you made me feel with the things you said. I need some time out, to think about things. I dislike being pressured into things, and that is honestly how you made me feel. I can understand that might want to look at settling down with somebody in the near future, but that is not part of my plans just yet. If that is how you feel, maybe I'm holding you back, I really don't know"

Possibly the longest feeling-related piece of information that he has ever released. No wonder why it took him three days to send it.

But now, it's painting me as some pushy, wedding-hungry biatch. You know the ones, "Marry me or it's over".

WTF?

Despite being the least pressuring person in the world, marriage/kids are not on my short term agenda. Especially not to him. If I dare say it, if there had been more open communication, then he would have known that we are both on the same page in relation to those issues.

Ok. I can understand how it may have made him feel. And as I have commented, and advised him (repeatedly), it wasn't my intention. I admit I did the wrong thing, but not intentionally. Does that make sense?

However, I think I've got some sort of a right to know where he sees himself going (he can demand this right from me, of course) in the future. At the risk of sounding callous, I don't want to be wasting my time. However, I just should have worded it better. Mistakes. Learn from. Etc. OK, ok.

SOME GOOD NEWS!

You will be most pleased to know that I no longer have the urge to text or call him. The funny feeling in my tummy is slowly disappearing. I guess because I now know, I don't really care much. Have your sook, but don't drag it out, or make it into something that it's not. It's not like I asked when we WERE getting married.

And 'Time Out'? For fucks. If you've ever used this piss poor excuse as a delaying tactic I will come and stab you in the eye with a Derwent. Seriously, I don't know how you see it, but I think that's it's merely a delaying tactic, until you grow some balls.

So, the 'goods' are still sitting here on the couch...I resisted the urge to pick the bag up on my way out this morning, and dump it in the bin...good aren't I?

Normal Restored (Is anything fucking normal around here though?)

Totally don't forget to read the other post, to gain some perspective, and marvel at how strong I am for not texting back anymore (only three days later - MARVEL, DAMN YOU).

*removes tongue from cheek*

Life is now returning to normal here in Martieland (hate to break it to you guys, but I think I might change the title of my blog again) - I have other, more pressing matters to attend to.

* I miss Big Brother Up Late. What the fuck am I supposed to watch now to send me to sleep? I also feel like I'm missing out on a whole new Mike Goldman wardrobe. Never mind Hotdogs, Mike is the shiznit. I think the question needs to be asked: WTF does he do with himself during the 'off season'??? The mind boggles.

* I am totally like an honarary doctor now, yo. I performed some minor surgery on myself yesterday - scrub me up and find me my own McDreamy. Wanna see what I did? Well I would show you, but stupid Blogger won't upload any of my images. Anyway, after 10 years, I've poked my earring through at the top of my ear. SO Rebellious, I know.

* A piece of Nutty Fudge from Michel's Patissiere is sitting in my fridge, taunting me. Fudge is not part of my dietary requirements. But it's oh-so-good. And nutty. Perfect for me.

* Today, I bought a purple pen. Huzzah!

Alright. That's all. I'm not sure when to expect the 'end-of-the-time-out-text-message', but I guarantee you two things; He won't want to 'work things out' and I'm going to be 'sad at first, but happy as fuck not long after'. So stick with me, I promise this won't last much longer.

xx

Raw feelings with Martie

Following last night's Total Smackdown Humiliation (SEE POST BELOW - DON'T MAKE ME RELIVE IT), I still have the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach (or is that just my broken heart sliding down?), however, at 6:03am this morning, I managed to do the following things:

* Collect his (un-maliciously-damaged) belongings and put them all in a plastic bag on my couch. Except for grey jumper, which truly is at my Mum's house and well if she shrinks it, I really don't care. Or, if he doesn't get in contact with me ever again, I guess I've scored a grey jumper with a paper clip as a zipper-upperer

* Delete the 51 saved text messages that I have stored since June last year. Lots of stuff; from the horny stuff, to the "I adore you" you stuff. I re-read them, then hit the button. BIG DECISION.

Stuff that happened before 6:03am:

* I put up a(nother) page on an Internet dating site. I don't particularly want anything to come out of it, but the ego boost would be nice. Getting back on the horse, I think they call it.

* I text a guy I met last year, that, for the fact that it was bad timing, I never pursued anything with. It was a long shot, and I doubt he'll even remember me, but I just mentioned we should catch up for a drink, etc. AT LEAST I CAN FOCUS ON THE REJECTION/NON REPLY FROM HIM, INSTEAD OF THE OTHER FUCKWIT.

* Replied to an email from a Fantapants from my failed Fantapants adventures. Was just checking old messages, and I found a follow up email from him, and he was cute and...well even if I just get a picture of his pubes, then it will be worth it. It's about as much dick as I want/will be getting anyway.

Stuff that just happened right now:

* I realised that I won't have to clean feverishly on a Saturday when he comes over - if I want to leave dishes in the sink for another day, then I damn well will. Although, then I realised, I actually enjoyed the cleaning up for him, not to mention that it made me motivated to do it. Guess who is now going to turn into the biggest slob ever?



I should get up now. Go to work. With the bags under my eyes from lack 'o' sleep, and that awful hollow pit feeling in my tummy.

Wow. So many posts; I should get dumped more often.

I appreciate all your kind words; honestly, I do. You are smart, intelligent people, and I know what you are saying is right.

I just can't feel it at the moment.

I vascillate between really angry, that he's taken something like this so personally and won't accept, or discuss my apology; to really pissed off with myself because I'm so stupid and emotional; to really believing that I love him.

I called him tonight.

You know that sick feeling that you have in the pit of you stomach; it just sits there, eating at you? I managed to get through the day ignoring that sick feeling. Despite the fact I just wanted to curl up in my bed and space out, I put on a good face, and was even cheery when I went out to visit some clients.

Except, at 8:33pm, I couldn't ignore it any longer.

I rang. I rang his mobile. It rang out. He never, doesn't answer his mobile.

I messaged him. Again, another apology - 'I just want to sort this out'.

But nothing. Even if it was a 'Get fucked, I don't want to hear from you again', I'd get it. I'd move on. I'd then become that strong girl that everyone's raving about, and move on with my life.

It's the not knowing, the not hearing that's killing me.

And I'm scared. Scared that the longer he ignores me, the worse the outcome is going to be.

I'm lying in bed right now, and I'm wishing I could feel his body against mine. It's such a warm, comforting feeling, and think that I'll never have it again...

For someone to accept me, in all my non-size eight glory, and my non-Miss Universe looks, and all my weird sense of humour, and stupid comments, is one in a million. And I fear I have not the strength to go through this again.


I am so lonely.

Masterful Martie

Alright. Caved.

I text JB - again - to apologise - again - and no reply - again.

So it's time for Martie to pull a little BITCH (or devastated 17 year old) out of her arse.

No more messages.

AND

It seems I'm in possession of a nice looking grey jumper. I might have just happened to give it to my mother/aka - Queen of Shrinking Washing. Whoops.

I might have just happened to DROP his toothbrush into my toilet. Whoops.

Oh no! I might have just dropped the expensive aftershave sitting in my wardrobe on the pavement outside.

And how did all of the packets of Nurofen end up in my desk drawer at work?

Don't even go there with the Mouthwash, or the favourite pyjama pants.


All I need is the keys to my apartment back.



But I can always get the locks changed...

OMG!!!!! IT'S SO MUCH FUN BEING DUMPED

My life is so HUZZAH at the moment.

I honestly couldn't even read all the way through that last post; so I apologise now to everyone that had to endure it.

I've sent two apology text messages (This bloke doesn't deal through phone calls, etc - I KNOW. I JUST ANSWERED MY OWN QUESTION AGAIN), and have heard nothing, so, I'm going to leave it at that.

Thou shalt be left with a smattering of dignity.

And now, I'm off to kickboxing to uh, kickbox it all out. Not that I can really be bothered. I don't know that I will be able to deal with a guy handing out orders to me tonight.

And yes, I'm glad some people concur with my 18 month theory. Thank you ever so much. I'm going to get the lease drawn up tomorrow, and then maybe start planning my (solo) trip to Europe in 19 months time.

A girl's gotta have dreams, AND THIS ONE IS STILL WIDE AWAKE!




omg...

Boohoo. Woe is Me. Etc.

This is probably going to be a long, rambling post. It probably won't even stay up very long. It's probably going to be in mosts parts very poorly written and all 'poor me' but I've got to write it. I've got to get it out of my system. So go eat a bag of dick if you don't like it.

It's so hard when the person who you consider to be the absolute love of your life, doesn't reciprocate your feelings. Or at least you think he doesn't. And he hates you. And doesn't think you're very nice. And won't return your text messages. Which makes you even more desperate and send more saying sorry. Let me explain.

In short, the lease on my place is up in a month. The rent is going up $10, but I have the option of locking it in for six months, a year, 18 months or 2 years. So far, no one has been much help with what I should do. Let me stress, I don't want people to make the decision for me; I just want some considered opinions.

Jungle Boy, with whom I've been going out for over a year now, hasn't been much help in this respect. But I guess what I realise now is that with wanting his help about what I should do, I also wanted some clarity on where the future of our relationship lies.

After having a huge fight with my parents tonight about what I wanted to do (sign for 18 months - I made my descision today), I was feeling all confused again. Especially after talking to my friend Grace, who said I should only sign for six months.

I asked JB what he thought. Honestly, I've never had to make a descision like this before, and, considering the market, interest rates, etc, I thought some advice from people who have their shit together WOULDN'T HURT. Let me stress, that I have never pushed the point about living together, kids, marriage, etc. I've always been quite content to go on my merry way, and wait to see what the future held.

Except, I started talking about the lease - my eighteen month time frame I THOUGHT was pretty good. Enough time to do my own thing, but just in case other things came up, a good enough time to get out. I mooted the possibility of two, or even three years. 2 years, I could nearly handle, but three is not really what I want. Let me now stress again that bringing up the possibility of three years was not solely a test to see how he felt about our relationship; I will admit it was a little, but I was thinking along the saving money by locking in the rent line as well: I do still have to look out for myself too.

To him now though, I probably look like one of those pushy chicks etc. I'M NOT!!! I feel all neurotic, and often lack self-confidence, but the last thing I would want to do is push someone into something. Please trust me on this one. But I am a planner, and an organiser, and it would be nice to have clarity on how someone feels about you (I know he purportedly adores me, but is it adore for 'now', or something that you could maybe feel for the rest of your life?), and where they think the relationship is going.

I know, I could be an adult, and just ask him. But something gives me the impression that he is not comfortable talking about stuff like that, and he has even said as much. Because he is not used to having someone to talk to etc, etc. And yes, I know I am answering my own question, but let's push on hey?

So, in all of my Fucked Up Martie Wisdom, I thought that I could find out while he gave me some help. Because honestly, if the roles were reversed, and he was thinking about signing a lease for such a long period of time, I'd probably say that I had plans for maybe taking the relationship a step further, and it would be within those three years, and maybe only sign it for a shorter period.

So you can see how I assumed that he obviously doesn't feel the same way as I do; when I agreed with me when I suggested the three years. So yeah, in some More Fucked Up Martie Wisdom, I took it as a sign that this was him letting me down gently. And then I told him it was all cool, and at least I know how he feels now, etc etc. Neurotic. Insecure. Yes, I did admit it.

So he basically thinks that I tricked him now, and that he doesn't think what I did was a 'very nice way to go about it'. By that I think he means that it wasn't a very nice way to go about finding out how he felt about things. And yes, I'll reiterate, I should have just asked him straight out. But, here's the next bit...

I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what he'll say. I'm afraid of rejection. I'm afraid of putting it out there, and getting it thrown back in my face. With the Ex-Fucker, it was easy. We both knew (or at least he pretended very well) where we were heading, and how we felt about each other. Now, with JB, I feel that very same way, but I don't know how he feels. Again, I'm probably answering my own question (if you can't communicate openly about stuff...), but I'm ridiculously in love with him.

Actually, even as I write that, I think it's a lie. I like him a lot, I think I do love him. But am I just in love with the idea that one day he is going to open up to me, and I'm going to break down all of the barriers he has up? Maybe it's a challenge, which is why I can't see past all the shit, because I think I'm going to crack the code at the end?? Maybe I'm answering my own questions again. I THINK I'M PRETTY FUCKING GOOD AT ANSWERING QUESTIONS, DOES ANYONE WANT ME ON THEIR TEAM FOR A TRIVIA NIGHT??

Maybe it's a distance thing. Maybe we just live too far away from each other's - we've both admitted that if we lived closer to one another, we'd be popping over all the time. Now, the drive is bring a six pack and a cut lunch. Maybe that's why we're not as intimate as we should be at this stage of a relationship? Because we don't see each other that often, so the communication still doesn't flow like it should. Or maybe I should stop comparing to previous relationships, and analyse this one on its merits?

Or maybe I should just throw this laptop at the window (a statement, not a question). This is driving me insane. I know it's nearly half past one in the morning, I know he's not going to text me back now anyway. I know I've probably blown my chance, by acting like a 16 year old.

There's snotty tissues lying all over my bed, and I have big puffy crying eyes, and I have to get up in five hours time, but, we'll push on, shall we?

I honestly, honestly, honestly did not mean to trick him. I can see how it might look that way, but it's not. Then when he really didn't protest against the three years, I just assumed. Maybe assumed wrongly, but what else was I meant to assume? just that he is missing a 'sensitivity chip', or if that's how he truly feels. He's a smart boy, so my bets were on the latter.

You know how I know he's smart? Because when I asked him how he went on his tax, he said 'good' and left it at that. If it was me, I would have said "I got $200 back", or similar. I have no qualms about that sharing that sort of stuff - especially when it's my boyfriend. Also, he got a payrise a few weeks ago - even though I asked, he never actually told me how much the rise was, or even how much he earns. Yet, I do & I have. I have never thought of it as a trade secret - sure you don't go round telling people at work, etc, but what does it matter if you're telling your partner?

Clearly, a lot. I might a have digressed a little, but I was just thinking of it then, and how it may be an indication that he keeps me shut out of his life. Kept at arm's length, except when he wants a root. How crass of me to say that.

Anyway, the short of it is; he never replied to my last text message, which indicates he is really fucking pissed off with me, especially since the one before that was the "not very nice" one. So I've to assume that it's over; it has to be over after this, surely? It's just one too many dramas when I'm around - I've really got to pull myself together, fuck it. If only I could play it cool - but sometimes I have that emotive voice in my head, and it seems to come out Sundays. Like the blonde thing last week. That stemmed from me being insecure on Sunday night, which led to him telling me that he liked blondes with big tits. Maybe it's because I get all emotional when he leaves - after seeing him for less than 24 hours? I feel insecure when he goes to have his regular Sunday night tea with his parents - after his mum rings him twice - maybe it's because I STILL HAVEN'T MET HIS PARENTS YET.

And yes, again I'm aware I'm answering my own question.

Ok, well now that I've written the longest, crappiest post in the entire history of blogging (see, I knew I'd be first at something) and chewed the ear off the nicest person in history, I'm gonna take my snotty tissues, and head to bed. Or at least, try and get some sleep, even though I'm just going to lay awake thinking about how much of an idiot I am.

Yours truly, etc

Martie.

Arrest me

I've totally decided to steal this idea from Enny, so put me in handcuffs and call me Doreen.

Anyway, on with the show.

Deal is; 'list your blogroll & say something nice about them in one sentence'. Ummm, don't know how NICE I can be, but let's give it a shot.

And just like Enny, I'm too lazy to link, so just check with corresponding order on links (NB: I might just use posting names). Yo.

* Tokenwoman. Happy to hear that she loves Meatloaf as well. Will watch read with interest to see if she moves in with her boy (if I am correct about her last post).

* Under-whimsy Mel. I am FASCINATED that she actually has the (metophorical) balls to post her pics on the interwebs. Not that they're bad, just that they're there.

* Katie-baby. I'm still not sure what it is that I'm supposed to have wanted. But she is ace. And she knows it ;-)

* Culture Strain Sam. I'm so down with the bitch. I kinda want Ian Thorpe to come out, just so I can read the post.

* Dangerous Curves/Janet. Not really posting much anymore, and according to Martie's bloglore, I probably should remove it. But I covet the blogtitle.

* Dawei. See Strain, Culture. I wanna see the bitchfight as to who gets the post out first.

* Dilletante. Who could pass up man looking like Tony Martin?

AM I BEING NICE YET? YES. YES I AM.

* Dot & Mars. A relatively new addition. I like their layout. Truth be told though, I am jealous of their housemate relationship. But not with Emo.

* En Garde. This chick has really bad luck with men. And she just bought a motorbike. But that's ok, because I TOTALLY am liking the way she words her replies to her illiterate suitors.

* Ruby. A tough chick, when she posts. I loved her series on all the guys she's scored. But again, very sporadic now and I might have to remove her.

* Interpret this. My fellow Scissor Sister lover, and hot to boot. Pity he lives in South Australia.

* Hambo. Me & Desci's shared internerd boyf. And he sounds cute on the phone.

* Desci. The original intermanet hotness. And still the best. But we DO want more sex! The second blog I ever read, and my 'inspiration' to start my own. LOLLERSKATEZ!

* Michael on Morons. I don't know about this guy. Sometimes he sounds like he is 15 years older than he is. I want him to have some fun for a change. So serious!

* Not Working to Potential. I like reading about her house dimlemmas, but the black and white template drives me a little bit crazy. And she's just moved blogs. And I have to email her to get the details. And I think I might be too lazy/unmotivated/scared of black and white to do it. But I LIKES the idea though.

* Whatnot Alex. OMFG THE CUTEST FUCKING GIRL ON THE INTERWEBS. I covet thee skateboard!

* Somewhat Sober. Another blog that I got reading because I like the title. Howevs, she hasn't posted since April, so it's probably another one to whittle off my list.

* Dollop. Because I like spa parties?

* DJ. Best stories about drunken Yarra cruises evs. Reminds me of...ME! (Not as a DJ, but as a drunken person on a Yarra cruise).

* Spin. First 'blog' that I started reading. Followed a link posted in the Idle Forums complaining about a recap. FYI - I was trolling, not singing the praises. So, in essence, Spin was the perfect site for me. Although I must admit it pisses me off that I don't get to comment on there as much now - by the time I get around to it, it's too late and I miss all the good threads. Fuck that.

* Ben. My vodka slurpee buddy, despite not ever having consumed one with him. Doesn't post much any more. OMG, all these people and uni and stuff.

* Enny. Cruiser habit is dubious, but this chick is tops, and will kick your ass to boot. And I'm sure she doesn't mind if I steal her blogpost idea.

There are others. I have about three that I read all the time, but I'm still too lazy to add to my links. So sozzie. Especially to Prue, I promise I will get there eventually! How can one pass up pink flamingos??

The Boy is back and I'm not blonde

SAY...you're enamoured of a boy, and the boy is enamoured of you.

HOWEVS.

Boy admits that he is most attracted to girls with blonde hair, and big tits.

And while you've got the boobies down pat, your hair is most definitely the colour of rich dark chocolate, not spun straw.

SO.

Is it something to worry about? Apart from the perve factor, is he always going to be on the look out for a 'blonde you'? Or should you just take it with a grain of salt, and believe it when he tells you that he is attracted to you and adores you?

OMFG Nuerosis!

*****

The GOLDEN CHILD is back! That's right, Brother Martie has returned from the Land of the Rising Sun, after 18 months of drinking teaching english, and is back in his Golden Child status as favourite of the parents.

I've been reduced to attempting to cook COCKTAIL FRANKFURTS and frozen peas corn and carrots.

I hate when those bastards split.

Mind you, I'm still waiting for an Authentic Japanese Souvenir.

*****

Now that GC is back, he's decided to have clean up. FOUND: all my old school diaries! I had a wonderful night reading through them; mind you every second page was "I love Tony Lockett" or "I Love Tim Fisher".

I won't bore you with all the minute details, although I was very colourful and artistic back in the day.

However, I did come across one year that my mate Bubsy saw fit to write a 'tip' on every week of my diary. I present:

* Week starting January 29th: Don't eat scabs from your knees

* Week starting March 4th: Don't put hacksaws up your arse

* Week starting May 6th: Try not to rip out your lungs

* Week starting October 7th: Don't kill your friends with rusty old screwdrivers

* Week starting December 9th: Don't turn your pets into dragons by using spells from the Ashton Scholastic Kids Book of Magic Vol. 1

SHUT UP!

1996 was a bit light on, okay??!!

*****

Meanwhile, I'm off to Target to buy:


This dress.

AND


These shoes.

And possibly:


Dye my hair this colour.

Oooh La Fucking La!

Self-congratulatory

OMGWTFBBQ!!!!1!

Stop the FUCKING press.

You all owe me a thank fuck for that congratulations.

I did it.

I changed my mobile number.

So there will be no more invitations to suicide parties; no more (false) accusations that I am the cause of drug taking; no more announcements of gay sex at male spas in Richmond; no more sticking the knife in about the 'new girlfriend'.

NO MORE!

And the best bit? This was last ever text message to him; my response to him wanting my help with his 'new girlfriend' and his message that her earning more than him makes him feel bad about himself:

"Well, at least it will allow you to stay home and look after the kids"

Fucking SNAP!

I'm so happy, I could post my mobile number on the internet! As long as the Ex-Fucker doesn't have it, I don't care who does!

And the best bit? No more boring sooky posts about him. Everybody wins! SNAP again! It's the weekend! Cheers!

Day 1

Ok, well, feel free to kick my ass...

CONSUMED:

Tall Mocha
Muesli Bar
Mandarin
Chicken & Salad Sandwich
Diet Coke
Cherry Ripe
Spag Bol
Lemon Pudding
Diet Pepsi
Cup of tea

SMACK!

I need to:
Ditch the Muesli Bar (please do not make me give up the goodness of Mochas that I have just discovered)
Ditch the bread, and just have chicken & salad instead
Ditch at least one diet cola drink, if not both
Ditch the pasta at dinner - have at lunch instead (if needed)
I'm sorry, Lemon Pudding??
Undecided about Cup of Tea.

Ok. Let's see how we go tomorrow.

Lastly: A plea for help

"Plea plea. Plea plea"

Do any of you gourmets out there know how to cook a chicken fillet like it has been roasted? You see, I'd make my own chicken & salad (to save some money), but I hate cold cooked chicken fillet - always so tough on the outside. I love Roast Chicken, the meat doesn't go hard, but too expensive to buy when I'm only going to use the breast meat ( DON'T HATE ME 'COS I DON'T EAT MEAT WITH BONES!!). Is there a marinade that I can use? If so, how long?


OMG - CHERRY RIPES ARE NOT YOUR FRIEND, MARTIE

Attempt #1759

You might totally think that I'm all

(Not actual brain. Perhaps try Drainage Pattern: associated with the work of streams, etc)

now that I have been invited to my very first suicide party. Boy, that Ex-Fucker of mine really knows how to party like it's 1999, hey?

But, Like Fuck I Am.

I'm not mental. I may draw pleasure from simple things like balloons and coloured straws, but at least I don't go round slashing people in the face with my stanley knife.

Anyway, for countless times, I've been trying to lose weight. 800 in fact. Just while I have been writing this blog.

But anyway, I know what to do - I just have to do it. And now I have an 'event' that I can use as a kick start.

So. September.







I've got a black and white dress that busts out the BEST CLEAVE in the business, which I want to wear with black tights, a nice pair of rounded toe shoes (if I achieve my goal, I'll buy myself a new pair), and a little black cardi. With red accessories (hairpiece/jewellery/lipstick - if I can pull it off).

So. My task starts today. I NEED to fit into that dress, if only because I can't afford to buy a new one.


GET MOVING FATTY!