Nothing to be excited about except for hotdogs

Gosh, why aren't you at a pub/BBQ watching the biggest game of the year?

After years of trying to join the 100 club (100 shots of beer in 100 minutes), I feel a little old and a little jaded. I had a choice of watching with a bunch of drunken wankers at a pub in Richmond, or with a bunch of drunken wankers at a BBQ closer to home. Awesome. So I chose to sleep in and cook a hotdog instead.

You sound depressed

No, not quite. Just pissed off at the world. It'll pass. How can it not - it's such a beautiful day in Melbourne.

For a supposed football fan, isn't not watching the GF a little strange?
Fuck no. It's not like I'm not watching it. I was flicking over on the ad breaks between Gone With The Wind, until they inexplicably put some Talk To The Animals rip off show on as the interval. Now I don't think they're going back. Who the fuck programmes like that??? Fucktards.

Anyway, where was I? Yes, I did sit outside and try to get the broadcast on my crappy radio, and eat ice-cream, all the while inducing skin cancer, but it was just a lot of hiss and crackle, so I've succumbed to the TV.

Can you cook us hotdogs too?

Well, when I said I chose to cook a hotdog, it was techically correct. However, this would involve going to Safeway and actually buying one. So yeah, when I actually get around to doing that, it's hotdogs allround at Martie's house.

So what are you going to eat??!!!?

Well, I did have the aforementioned ice-cream - Cadbury' peppermint, if you don't mind. And my parents have very kindly invited me up for pizza tonight. Awesome.

Boring

Well wouldn't you be if your best friend dumped you for a guy; your (completely wrong) crush is too busy with Ebay to see you and you're not really in a drinking mood?

You need to fuck off people in your life that fuck you around.

Tell me about it, stud.

What about Teh Sex?? Tell us about Teh Sex!

It's always about teh sex with you people, isn't it? There are more pressing matters...such as why Barry Hall is having such a dog of a game. I can't think about Teh Sex when I look and feel like this:


Awesome.

I need a nap

I'm such an Ikea slut.

Yesterday, I went to the Lesbian Mecca (or maybe it's just coincidence there's so many chicks with short spiky hair holding hands) and bought a Billy bookcase, and two bedside tables.

$200 bucks later & I'm jizzed up to see my books in their little home; I'd forgotten how calming it is to look at shelves full of books.

All I need now is the couches/lounge suite, and my apartment will actually look fairly grown up (NB - Probably not best to take the alphabet magnets spelling out crazy shit on my fridge into account at this point).

Also, I'm going...on a holiday! Well, not quite a holiday, more like a short break. But I will be driving up the Sapphire Coast of NSW for Melbourne Cup Weekend, going to country pubs and betting on the greyhounds, and staying in a cabin on the beachfront.

I paid the deposit yesterday afternoon, while having sex. Yep, that's about as wild as it gets around here; riding the pony whilst conducting credit card transactions over the phone.

"Would you like a receipt for that?"
"Yes, oh god, YES"

I know, lame.

Speaking of Lame, Australian Idol comes to mind. There are all sorts of interesting-er commentaries about, so I'm not even going to try.

All I want to say is - I hope Damien the Irish Guy doesn't win. Only because I like him so much. Thus concluding this episode of embarrassing confessions.

And speaking of embarrassing - do you think it is at all humiliating to pluck stray pubic hairs in front of another? I just can't figure it out.

JUST BECAUSE SHUTTING YOUR BLOG DOWN IS THE NEW BLACK, DOESN'T MEAN I'M DOING IT

Not up to much. Bought a new pair of shoes. Bought a new pair of thongs. Too poor to go to the show. And my apartment looks like a chinese laundry.

2 loads on the couch waiting to go into washing machine.
1 load in the washing machine, waiting to be put on the line.
1 load on the line, waiting to be brought in.
1 load on indoor clothesline, waiting to be put on chair.
1 load sitting on the chair, waiting to be put in dryer.
1 load in dryer.
1 load out of dryer, waiting to be put away.
1 load in washing basket, waiting to be put in pile on couch.

I seriously think that someone breaks into my house, wears my clothes, and puts them in the washing basket to be washed. How could someone go through so many clothes??

In other, unrelated news, I now have one dedicated shelf in my wardrobe for my Bonds singlets, and two dedicated shelves for my underpants.

Have a fabulous weekend, and if you go to The Show (Melb), please go on a ride, or eat buttery corn on a cob for me. Bless! xxx

Have you been Zinged?

Pet Hate: People that aren't up front.

Example:

A friend of mine went to stay at her boyfriend's house the other Friday night, as they had an event to attend the next day. That Saturday morning, said boyfriend went to have a haircut - 2 hours before they were meant to leave.

Come one and three quarter hours later, boyfriend arrives back home. When she asks where he's been (already fully knowing - call it women's intuition) he says "having a haircut, and I had to pick up my shirt from Mum's house". Zing.

So, she thinks "I'll get you".

Later on, when they arrive at their event, she feigns hunger (actually, not much feigning was needed), complaining she hadn't had breakfast, and was going up to get something from the food bar, and did he want anything? When he said no, she asked why - to which he didn't reply.

"You've had breakfast already, haven't you?"
"Yeah, I was at Mum's and she wanted to make me toast, etc because she hadn't seen me nearly all week."
"Yeah. Thanks very much for that."

If it hadn't been in front of all of his mates, whom she was meeting for the first time, and for the fact that all of her stuff and car was at his house - which was ages away from hers - then she would have walked out there and then.

Why not be upfront about it when he got home in the first place? Why not say "Yeah, sorry, I had breakfast with my Mum, but how about we go thru Macca's drive thru or something for you"? I guess that's just too thoughtful, hey?

It's not just a bit rough, it's plain bad manners. Men are cocks. They never change. And we just get Zinged because of it.

Martie does Flemington

Friends.

You know sometimes when you just get it all together; you're hot, you're on top of your game, and nothing is going to bring your confidence down? Bear with me while I still get over the shock of it all, as I present to you Racing's Unofficial Hot or Not List.

HOT: Cleavage.
NOT: Cleavage; arms/shoulders; legs; cut out bits of dresses; vadge. Ladies, you do not need to get your minge on at the races. Guys will be drunk enough to entice for a quick grope without it. Put it away.

HOT: The Member's Enclosure.
NOT: Not going to watch the actual race. If you want to watch it on a big screen TV, go to pub. It means you can take your jacket off without being told off by men in green top hats too.

HOT: Chicken & 'green stuff' sandwiches.
NOT: Paying $1.50 for a quarter (one triangle) of a sandwich.

HOT: Cheaper drinks than at a bar in the city.
NOT: The Fucktard who did not know how to make a vodka, lime & orange. It is NOT a strange combination.

HOT: Men in suits.
NOT: Men who go out of their way to look like they picked up their clothes from the Op-Shop that morning. Mate, no one was buying your brown checked pants; bottle green & red checked jacket; multicoloured stripe shirt and purple paisley tie. Try. Hard.

HOT: Me!
NOT: Me this morning!

Thoroughly glad I did go. My fake airbrush tan did not render me a human carrot. My tits (despite walking in the door seven seconds ahead of me - curse damn dress) were awesome. I had a win on Race Two, which gave me enough money to bet and drink with for the rest of the day AND I did not have to endure the Pissed Race-goer Parades Around The Casino All Dressed Up Like A Wank scenario. Although I nearly did freeze said tits off whilst waiting for a cab.

I already have my outfit planned for Caulfield Cup. Bring on Spring Racing!

Confessions of a Shopping Centre

Overheard in Kmart tonight:

Girlfriend: "I just bought a really nice L'oreal eyeliner, and it's like, wrecked already. Cost me like, $30."

Boyfriend: "Don't worry. You can borrow mine."

EEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Seriously though, isn't L'oreal a bit mainstream? Isn't there some sort of make-up brand out there that caters for these mizundertood kids with names like 'Death eyeliner' and 'Cut me Lipstick'? Very disappointing. Although the Commerce Student within is thinking 'Hmmm. Market Opportunity?'

***

Teasing me with Rusty Cock.

A crowded peak hour train.

Face to groin with the most FantaPants ever; his skin was practically orange too.

So, so SO hard to resist temptation to pull down his zipper, and take a little peek.

So close to the holy grail of pubes; only a piece of material separated me & it.

Going to see my therapist now.

Do I bother to straighten my hair?

Fucking. Weather.

Just when I've been looking forward to something for weeks. Just when I've fitted into the dress. Just when I've bought my pretty little hairpiece and entered the world of 'girl' by booking in to have my nails done.

It rains. Literally.

And it's going to keep on raining. Until Sunday.

At least I might brighten things up:


"Yellow is so very in, dah-links"

The God For Tarts Who Have A Predeliction For Drunk Men In Suits is really, really mean.


Note: At least all the rain will render the track 'dead', hence giving my 'Colours and/or Horse's names tipping theory a lot more credibility. Hurrah!

Crikey! Obligatory post ahead.

I can't not hey.

Steve Irwin. If you play with fire, eventually you're gonna get burnt. Or stung. Or barbed. Or whatever.

I'm suprised by the amount of vitriol going around about this 'tragic accident'. Sure, the bloke was a dickhead, and over enthusiastic in his animal love, but I'm not sure he deserved to die. Rapists, murderers, dog killers may deserve to die, but someone that was smart enough to build an empire on playing up the Aussie Ocker image, well, it's a little extreme.

OMG!!!!1! I should go to a forum or something. No. While it's tragic, the general consensus around the office was that it would have been more fitting had it been a crocodile. Oh! The so near irony of it all.

Now. I hope this all just goes away and we're not subject to tributes; repeats of The Crocodile Hunter; re-enactments, etc.

It's gettin' hot in herre.........

Heh. I meant to post on Tuesday to assure you that I wasn't taken while I slept by Mr Bad, but I just couldn't be bothered plain forgot.

Anyway, it's a SWELTERING Thursday night here in Melbourne, so much so, that I'm wandering around in my undies; rubbing myself with ice cubes to cool down*, etc. It's also the end of the week, and with it goes my ability to construct whole paragraphs. So for your Friday (unless, like me, you can't sleep because of the heat), here are some more Shorties.

***

My attempt appears to have paid off somewhat. Tonight, I tried on THE dress, and even though I'm going to look like a walking pair of tits, it's not at all the horror I thought it might be.

How ridiculous, that in four years (YES, that's correct. I am wearing a dress that is four years old to the races), I've obviously put on the most weight on my boobs. It should be the last place! At least I have the booty to match though.

Now, it's off to Priceline so that I may try on some red lipstick.

***

11:10pm - it's getting nearer to Serial Killer time again.

***

Uh-oh. I think I'm getting addicted to Idol. Sad but true. Actually, it's the second time that someone I actually know has been in the Semi-Finals/Final 12. I won't say any more, but I'm glad this person didn't get through because ZOMG he/she always thought she was soooo good when they were at high school. Suck it.

***

Father's Day. Sunday. So, little bro & I made the inevitible trip to Bunnings tonight for purchase of all sorts of hardware/hose nozzles/fluoro stanley knives. Anyway, we stood at the employee board out the front, pissing ourselves laughing at their stupid photos (and job titles - PAINT SPECIALIST! When I grow up, etc), and then we happened upon a poor girl with the unfortunate name of 'Che'. (For those of you not in the know, it means 'what?' in Italian (vocab translation only), and quite possibly Spanish too (Puss?).

Anyway, we had more than a few jokes about her name, until we had to actually walk inside, and who should be 'door duty'? Che. Oh Fuck. And I'm tipping she heard every word we said. Awww, I almost kinda feel bad.

***

Remind me to request that the Landlord to install air-con next week.

***

11:24pm OMFG - It's nearly the witching hour AND serial killer time.

***

I do not like boys with long hair. I have finally come to this conclusion. For the most part, it's greasy, it's messy, it's usually tied back with a hair tie, and I'LL BE FUCKED IF THEY SHOULD GET HAIR TIES, WHEN I CAN NEVER FIND ONE. Despite the fact I buy packets of the things. Anyway, despite the hair-tie envy, I still have NO attraction to long-haired guys, which is a shame, because they are probably pretty cool, underneath all that hair.

Long hair is probably the biggest physical feature that would put me off a guy. What's yours (on a girl even)? Are any of you long haired, and want to punch my face in for being hair-est?

***

I never knew how much of a good invention belts were until recently. I thought they were just decorative, I didn't actually knew they ACTUALLY held your pants up. Snaps to them.

***

It's too hot for serial killers tonight. Goodnight & a top weekend (sunbathing) to y'all!




* slight exxageration