Martieland

Questions Ahoy - or the most VANILLA post evs

2008-02-17T22:38:00.003+11:00

So I put my hand up for this over at D's blog, so I'd better get on with it, hey...

Question 1 - Describe your perfect day

Oh god, a hard one first up. So many things that I like to do - but if I was going to describe something that really made me happy - probably a drive down the west coast of Victoria with the man of my dreams, pulling up stumps in a little town along the way and chilling out with a nice bottle of Savvy B, good conversation and watching the sun go down. Follow that up with a nice dinner at the local pub, and a few drinks in the bar while wasting money on the greyhounds at the TAB, then walk back to the cabin / accomodation, for a couple more drinks and great sex. Then the next morning, a home cooked breakfast at the best cafe in town, and some time down the beach, before driving home again.

So, only need to find a man then...

Question 2 - Favourite band/album/gig of all time?

Hmm, of all time? My love for Neil is well documented. But if I was going to pick one band overall, probably Dire Straits. Not very fashionable, I know. But their music just has a way of chilling me out. As for an album - I've done a great job of wearing the No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom, that I'm on to my second copy. Probably just before they hit their commercial straps, it serviced me well through many a teenage dilemma and road trip in my best friend's bluebird. So many many more, but these questions need to be finished this year.

Question 3 - What's your favourite outfit of yours of all time?

Ha ha ha, outfit. I'm happiest in jeans, t-shirts and thongs. Most confident in a sharp suit for work. Favourite outfit of all though. A little black dress that I've had for years - wraps around, good length to just below my knee, great cleavage, little sleeves to hide my disgusting arms, and oh, did I mention it was black? Yeah, that one has got me through a few sexy nights!

Question 4 - What's been your best and worst sexual experience?

Best - eeek, I've only ever had sex with virgins, how can I answer this question? Ha ha. Nah, the best, purely sexual experience, would have been with The Cop (2nd boyfriend). First and last (for now) multiple orgasm. Most intimate? Unfortunately, with the Ex Boy, unfortunately, because he was a cockhead and treated me like shit. I don't really know how to explain that...

Worst - A tie. My first and last one night stand. More awkward sex you could not imagine. Also - the event of Easter weekend last year (go back through my archives if you cannot remember). Not a sexual experience - more of an 'experience', something that I never want to go through again.

Question 5 - Who would you turn for (if anyone)?

In a word. No one. (2 words). Although Catherine Zeta-Jones is gorgeous. And Sophie Ellis Bextor is sexy. So, if it had to be anyone, someone with three names is a good start.

Ok, now there are some rules...

Now it's your turn. If you want to be interviewed, leave me a comment including the words "Interview me." I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions. If you don't have a valid email address on your blog, please provide one. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

And then I went and got a fringe...

2008-02-03T23:13:00.000+11:00

Oh yeah...and I look like some sort of sexy bitch. Or Terri Irwin, take your pick.

God, I'm already annoyed with flicking between channels. This year I've decided that chilling out and watching TV is going to be my 'thing', not in the least because I want to watch Grey's Anatomy with a cat on my lap, eating ice-cream straight from the tub. I'm even filling out a TV diary, so I know exactly what I want to watch and when I have to be home to watch it.

Anyway, my point is that I was flicking between So You Think You Can Dance Australia, and Samantha Who - which was highly annoying. Not quite as annoying as the 12 year old judge on SYTYCDA though. I did moot the possibility of recaps, but all they would say at this point is Hip Hop/Lame judge comment trying to emulate Aus Idol/more Hip Hop/some flailing arms/Natalie Bassingthwaite giggling/more hip hop/crying/more hip hop.

Mmmm, I feel like honey toast. But I have no bread. Or honey. Or a working toaster. And I really should go to bed, I have to get up early now to give me time to do my fringe!

You know what...

2008-01-29T22:51:00.000+11:00

* I'm sick of stupid women's magazines telling me that I have to wear matching underwear. I don't, and I don't care. What I wear is comfortable, functional, has support and looks great from the outside. Take my clothes off, and it's not some see-thru black lacy number, but I guarantee if I wore something like that, then the boobs would be looking pretty nasty.

* I'm sick of acting as a conduit between men, and my friends. They are three stunning girls, and there is at least 2 guys (per girl) in love with them, and a million more wanting to interrupt our drinks on a Friday night to ask me questions about them. Love them to death, but I'm crazy/jealous and the next guy who asks me their name, if they're single and if they want to go and have a drink with them, without even bothering to introduce themselves to me, I'm going to punch in the throat. Grow some balls, talk to them yourselves.

* I'm sick of the chick next door who has sex so loudly, I can't even concentrate on my dinner. Shut up already, you are not a porn star.

* I'm sick of looking at the clothes dryer in my living room, but have no other choice as there's no room for anything.

* I'm sick of guys that are really shallow.

Other than that, everything's pretty peachy in Martieland. Happy new year, etc.

Dating is super radical

2007-12-30T02:51:00.000+11:00

Oh, Shutup, Weekend Karma Bitch.

Firstly, last night was a chain of events culminating in me wandering around the city and catching my first nightrider, after being used for my cash by someone who then proceeded to go chat another chick up. At q bar of all places, with all 6 people there.

Secondly, was meant to go on date tonight. A real, live, actual date. With a boy. But after I woke up from my disastrous night - an email 'postponing' the date. Riiiiiiiiiiight.

Fuck you, I am going back to work.

Also - am just wondering why all the bands acting as 'guest programmers' on Rage all look so surly and bored? Lighten up dudes, you're on TV. FFS, you won't lose any steet cred if you smile.

And - I'm sick of being treated like a dork because I don't have some HUGE SUPER RADICAL FULLY SICK BRO NEW YEARS EVE PARTY to go to. At this stage, it's pumpkin & almond pasta, a nice bottle of white and Boston Legal DVDs - is that such a crime. Yes apparently it is because I'm not getting mega drunk and running around like the world will cave in if I don't vomit in some NYE rite of passage. Oh, to be cool.

Once you pop you can't stop.

2007-12-23T23:57:00.000+11:00

Does anyone remember that candy that used to 'pop' in your mouth?

Well guess what?

It now comes in chocolate! OMGWTFBBQ, yes it does!!!!!!1!

Don't thank me, thank Cadbury. I'm not normally a fan of cadbury chocolate, but this stuff is the shit, fo' shizzle.

So. It's Christmas. I bought myself some ace xmas presents this year - bonus of not having a boyfriend - I can spend all the money/time/effort on myself, and not feel guilty!

I can also drink until my heart is content and not worry about some stupid inlaws or driving anywhere.

Now in honour of the holiday season, all here in Martieland (me, jonathan brown and the fantapants community) would like to wish you a very merry christmas with our annual christmas card:

I get hotter every year

Hope you drink lots, eat lots and steal secret kisses underneath the mistletoe...

2007-12-17T12:39:00.000+11:00

Do you think it's a sign that I'm growing up, that I declined an invitation to 'get drunk and go 24 hour Christmas shopping @ Chadstone'?

Yes, yes, I think it is. I mean, maybe eight years ago this would have appealed to me, but now, I'd much rather get drunk and run riot in a dodgy bar.

So not really much of a difference then.

Sweet, so there was no sexytime with any leaving colleagues on Friday; not sure how I really feel about that. Do I care? Don't know. Let's see how often we catch up, or at all. Regardless, it's nearly nine months since ANY sexytime at ALL - is it possible that I will have forgotten all of the necessary moves anyway? What is the longest that you could possibly go? Is there any point, or should I just bury myself in books and not bother to change the sheets on my bed?

OMG What if I forget what a penis looks like?

That is a very demoralising thought

Perhaps I will go drunk 24 shopping after all.

The Trashbag Returns

2007-12-06T23:47:00.000+11:00

Le sigh.

It appears that I have once again failed in my mission to keep this blog active and updated. Not only that, but it also appears that I missed some fabulous comments from last post (james_t, I thank you from the bottom of my heart).

Not a lot has happened since then though. I did celebrate my 28th birthday, which was riotous fun, but sadly culminated in the fact that the next time I want to go out, it will be to the Chelsea Heights Over 28s (No Denim! Free Buffet!)

I did also buy a digital camera. I took said camera to my work christmas party, where I told one of the regional managers to 'open his legs' while I took a photo of him, with the camera. I also fell over numerous times at CQ (crap bar, DO NOT recommend), of which, the incident of me falling down the stairs was captured on camera, and then proceeded to pass out on St Georges Rd in Northcote, which was also caught on camera.

Seriously, knowing those krazee kamera kidz, keep on eye on You-Tube. I might be famous one day.

I also spilt ice cream on my kitchen floor tonight, and bought avocado dip, even though I don't like avocado.

FUN TIMEZ ALL ROUND.

My work crush has resigned and is leaving at the end of next week. Can't quite make up my mind if I'm upset, or if it will be the case of 'out of sight, out of mind'. But boy, he is a good kisser.

I am missing my best friend in Mackay, and my homie in Vancouver. I'm confused about whether I should stay in my current abode, or try to find a shareplace to keep some costs down. Downside - wouldn't be able to walk around naked.

I have smelly feet, and need a remedy. HAS ANYONE GOT A REMEDY?

I am also THOROUGHLY SICK of Delta Goodrem.

So, that's about it for this exciting installment. Tune in next time for the aftermath of going-away-drinks-for-work-crush (Maybe I'll get laid for the first time eight months) and other such hijinks.

Until next time Gadget

PS - Last ever session (hopefully) with psychologist next week. Yay!

Oh. No.

2007-10-16T22:59:00.000+10:00

Oh dear bloggers, we (as in I) seem to have a leetle, tiny, problem. Someone is going to have to slap me silly. But first, a psychologist update...

So. After therapy tonight, it has come to light that I have a problem with 'Saturday nights'. As in, I don't have anything to do on Saturday nights, and this is affecting my depression levels. Well, I do actually; I get takeaway and settle in to watch Judge John Deed either at my place, or at the parents', but somehow it doesn't quite stack up with the pubbing and clubbing, and sleeping with people that have torn sheets that I seem to be confronted with every Monday. Now I know, and you know, that there's nothing wrong with taking it easy on the weekend, "I work hard, and like to relax on the weekend" (Copyright, RSVP), but in the stupid little regimented part of my brain, 'relaxing' every Saturday night with a Queso Fundido, and the trials and tribulations of the English Law System is lame and thus, makes me lame by default.

So, my homework for the next fortnight is as such:

1 - Accept watching Judge John Deed as a treat for working hard during the week; keeping telling self that Saturday night is not the be-all and end-all of nights.

Is this the be-all and end-all of British Law?

2 - Make a move to 'mix-up' my Saturday nights by myself and do something that I enjoy in public, like nudity. Well, not quite, maybe start off with something smaller like; go to Readings or Borders and read a book whilst partaking in a coffee on a Saturday night; Walk down a nice strip of shops (IE - Chapel Street, Burke Road, Brunswick Street); Go for walk along beach; etc. Brainstorming/Suggestions are very welcome. I only have two weeks!

3 - Enquire about 'groups' that I can join - that meet Saturday night. This is going to be hard.

So while I have a think about my homework, let's turn our attention to more pressing matters; MY PROBLEM.

It can be summarised as follows:

In somewhat disturbing news, I have a MAJOR CRUSHES on an ex-boy band member and the fat cunt from Australian Idol.

Oh. Fucking. No.

Who said I didn't have anything to write about.

A temporary relapse

2007-10-06T18:12:00.000+10:00

If I close my eyes, I'm very good at making it all go away. I have a fabulous imagination, and once my eyes are shut, can dream/day dream about anything I want to.

Somewhat unfortunately, it's nigh on impossible to go around with your eyes shut 24/7.

You may have noticed that I've become increasingly slack of late with this blog. I feel like after all the drama with The Boy ended, I really have nothing to write about. Nothing of note anyway.

I found his profile on Facebook the other week. He is now dating a 32 year old. I also found the Ex-Fucker's. He is engaged. These two revelations, whilst completely separate, really piss me off. Not because I'm jealous, but because it bugs me that The Biggest Arsehole On The Face Of The Planet (The Boy), moved on seeming unscathed and I still haven't had sex in seven (7) months. And the Ex Fucker just annoys me full stop. Mind you, I have tried taking the view that now they are someone else's problems and...well yeah, it's one step at a time.

Fuck I'm addicted to Facebook, but it can be a bitch sometimes.

Anyway, I feel like I owe it to my little blog to keep going, or at least to try. I mean, there are plenty social issues to commentate on, or tv shows to recap, or boys I've kissed to write about, isn't there? Only time will tell...

kill the fluoros

2007-09-10T00:07:00.000+10:00

Seriously bitches, get your own trend.

I lived through the fluoro movement once, now it seems it's back, along with statement tees.

Observe:

This t-shirt would be made that much more exciting if on the back it said:

"50 cent I swallow"

Even I would wear that.

But yeah, is this what our parents went/are going through when we first wore flared jeans and psychodelic tops and called ourselves 'hippies'? Or when we put on those white knee boots (NB: NEVER owned a pair, am speaking 'metaphorically') to bring back the mod movement, for about the 3rd time since the original '60s movement?

The '80's was ours, all ours, and now it can be raped and pillored by any 16 year old wearing leg warmers and a ra-ra skirt.

It's enough to make me write rude words with my finger on my hypercolour t-shirt.

Gentle Sunday Activity

2007-08-19T16:57:00.000+10:00

I haven't ran on a treadmill for little over eight months. In fact, I haven't even been anywhere near a treadmill, or serious exercise, for little over eight months.

Logical Solution.

Hire a treadmill, and start running on it...

Someone call an ambulance, I think I'm having heart failure.

My head explained...somewhat

2007-08-14T01:31:00.000+10:00

Walk with me.

I am 25. In my head. Not some messed up, confused, anxiety prone 27-verging-on-28 year old, but carefree and 25.

Before I had even met The Boy. The scars run deep and were hacked open many a time. My psychologist and I have established that the best thing that ever happened to me was getting dumped. I am now free to take control of my own life.

Getting lost in work has helped. So while I've had a new laptop for a while, I've been burying myself in work late at night; on the weekend. This goes part of the way of explaining the non-blogging period, sorry. Work, for now, is the one thing I draw my strength and confidence from, and the one thing I will use as a foundation to regain my strength and confidence in other areas of my life as well.

People at work have helped too. My entire social network at this point in time is mainly work friends; again, a good basis to build on. I drink with them, dance with them, pash them (ahem) and genuinely enjoy getting to know them. I am a single, carefree 25 year old again, as I was two years ago; drinking too much, partying too much, staying out late, chasing boys. It's almost as if the last two years never happened.

But they did. And I'm almost grateful. They've made me see what I never want to be again. What I never want to experience again. What sort of person I never want to be around again. Like I said, almost grateful.

It's a journey. I'm constantly employing my newly found cognitive thinking skills even to do little things like get out of bed in the morning, or to clean my house. I go back to see the doctor this week, and hopefully my mental health assessment will be enough to keep me off the little pills.

Obviously though, my sleep patterns are still all fucked up.

This may become a little journal-like for a little while. It's only know that I've felt strong enough to put pen to paper, metaphorically speaking. Thank you if you are still sticking with me. I promise to try and be more regular again. But not like a period.

*****

And in other news...does anyone realise that Channel 7 are showing re-runs of Popstars: The Bardot years??? SERIOUSLY. WORTH. STAYING. UP. (REALLY FUCKEN) LATE. FOR!

Who has time to blog

2007-06-29T13:49:00.000+10:00

in between dead laptops, work and visits to the psychologist?

Will be back soon enough after I've bought a new laptop, done my work, and sorted my head out.

In the meantime, catch me at the pub across the road from work, in Geelong or in an office, painted a calming green...

Clarification

2007-06-17T10:17:00.000+10:00

Or why doggy-style is nightmare, by Martie.

* I don't think I will ever trust someone enough again to have sex without eye contact.

* 2 years with Fuckface Ex No 4, who had all the doggy logistical ability of a mintie wrapper, has cemented my self belief that I can't stick my arse in the air good enough either, logistically speaking.

* It's a bit porn, but I don't want porn anymore, I want vanilla.

* The aforementioned act of sticking one's arse in the air.

* I don't feel very respected in that position.

* Yes, I realise that I have just cut my chances with guys by about 99%

Five reasons

2007-06-10T09:41:00.000+10:00

Five reasons why I wish I still had a boyfriend:

1. Need help fixing my tv aerial & the cord that plugs in.

2. Would make me shave my legs (they are so ick).

3. Wouldn't feel bad about having take away and watching footy on a Saturday night, because it would be with someone, and not just myself.

4. There'd be someone to wake up to in the morning.

5. Kissing.

Five reasons why I'm glad I still don't have a boyfriend:

1. Can learn stuff about aerials & shit by myself - or ask cute salesman

2. Can get away with not shaving because no one is touching my legs!

3. No fights about what to have for dinner and I can change channel half way through football to watch Keeping Up Appearences if I want to.

4. My bed is mine alone to do whatever I want in it.

5. Don't have to think about the nightmare that is doggy style.

Greek Style

2007-05-29T21:39:00.000+10:00

Just lately, I've had a real craving for Tzatziki.

So much so, that it became my dinner for tonight. Tzatziki & water crackers.

My mouth now has that fuzzy feeling, and I'm sure I'd kill off a whole host of vampires, but I couldn't stop. Last week it was poached eggs, and now it's Tzatziki. Weird.

What's even weirder is that normally, I can't stand yoghurt. The thought of eating it makes my throat get all tingly and threaten to close over! Those live culture things...ick!

But somehow, yoghurt with garlic is okay. Which is essentially what tzatziki is. However, if someone said, "here, have some of this garlic yoghurt" in the beginning before I ever had any, I would have run a mile.

But you know, here I am, already planning tomorrow's lunch (chicken with rocket & tzatziki). YUM.

And thus ends my weirdass observation for today.

Fugly Sunday

2007-05-27T22:17:00.000+10:00

Today I wore a black skivvy, and regressed to Year 10 drama.

I didn't quite get all the way back to primary school - the skivvy was black, not bottle green.

What an odd piece of clothing to wear on a Sunday.

Dear Men of Melbourne Australia World

2007-05-23T23:42:00.000+10:00

1000 apologies for not looking like Lara Bingle.

From,

Martie

The badness is back...

2007-05-20T13:47:00.000+10:00

...because for the life of me I can't figure out if I'd rather be in bed at 1.20pm on a Sunday afternoon eating rubbery two minute noodles, or with him.

Of course, NEITHER, but you get my drift, don't you.

The problem I suspect is further compounded by my innate ability to trawl through the RSVP website and pick out guys that sound like they'd make fabulous boyfriends, and hope to christ their profiles are still up after the 10 years it feels like it's going to take to feel good about myself.

My bathroom needs cleaning, my bed linen needs changing, my floor needs cleaning, my washing needs putting away.

I need to go shopping. I need a new pair of work shoes. I need to find a solution to my white legs/inability to wear stockings without laddering them two minutes after I put them on, so that I can wear skirts to work in winter.

I need to save up enough money to get a new laptop, so I can download iTunes, so I can buy an iPod, and a docking station and actually listen to some friggin' music in this stupid house.

Pfffffft. Motivation. WHAT THE FUCK IS IT.

And now I shall get out of bed.

A dilemma of sorts

2007-05-09T21:49:00.001+10:00

One of the bad things about being dumped by an idiot is that the sex dries up. There. Is. No. More. Sex.

And this Saturday night coming will mark seven (count them) 7 weeks without sex.

This is some sort of Martie record. Even after the Ex-Fucker dumped me, I still had a fuck buddy going.

And masturbation can only take you so far. There is no substitute for the kissing, the touching, the excitement, the whispers, the cuddling. Masturbation is just check out some free porn on the net, all over, goodnight.

After the Easter Weekend Incident, I swore it would be a one off, until I met someone and took my time, knowing for sure it was going to be a lasting thing.

However, the last few nights, I've been really jumpy, and I just figured out why; I'm horny (horny horny horny tonight).

It's the same sort of feeling I used to get after not seeing Him for a couple of weeks, only, I think the length of time is due to the Easter Weekend Incident.

And what to do about my conundrum? I'm not real keen on picking up a guy in a pub after the last time; disco pashing, yes please, but no back to my house or his house again. I could be like my ex best friend and root him in the carpark, but you know, gravel rash, etc.

I could go straight for the jugular and advertise for reals on Adult matchmaker, but there's just something about it that doesn't appeal. Maybe it's the fact that I don't want to seem like I'm interviewing for a fuck buddy; the romantic in me would like it to be a natural progression from a friendship/attraction. Yeah, fat chance.

So how else does one meet a fuck buddy? From where I'm sitting, there's not a lot of options. So perhaps I'll just have to stick to internet porn and my own spank bank for now.

Even so, I'd still have to 'tidy myself up' for any action. HAHAHA.

If you thought I was disgusting in my last post, wait until you hear what I did today:

2007-05-05T22:33:00.001+10:00

Went to Chadstone* in trackie pants & thongs.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

/end maniacal laughter/

Things I am continuing to do:

- Not shaving under my arms

- Not shaving my legs

- Paying no attention to my bikini line

- Wearing my hair up every day

- Drinking Diet Caffeine Free Coke from the 1.25 litre bottle in bed; no cups for me.

- Using a towel as a bathmat

- Buying a 'polar fleece' jumper.

Am I turning into some sort of lesbian, or am I just entering the 6th-week-I-Can't-Be-Bothered-Stage-of-getting-dumped?

NB - It's 10:30pm, Saturday night. I'm pretty sure lesbians have better social lives than that.

*Chadstone for the non-Victorian - The Fashion Capital, dahlink

Topsy Turvy Land

2007-05-01T22:39:00.000+10:00

Things are all over the shop here ( where 'here' equals Victoria, had a very nice time in WA, thank-you).

And the highly anticipated transformations taking place in Martieland (the life, not the blog), are in place, and whilst slow, are bringing a sense of self-confidence to me that I didn't think I had. The dwellings about The Boy are becoming less frequent, and whilst I'm far too sick at the moment to exercise, a detox and exercise program are ready to go, as soon as I stop sounding like a 90 year old smoker.

However, there are some unexpected changes that I don't seem to be able to stop.

First. I'm wearing socks to bed. EWWWWWWWW.
My absolute pet hate is socks to bed - don't even TRY to engage me in the sexness unless you've got bare feet. And here I am, with my grey 'trackie' socks, under the covers. Wonders will never cease.

I've let the thatch of pubis run rampant. It's like lost in the forest, or something.

Now for the big one - I HAVEN'T SHAVED MY LEGS FOR NEARLY TWO WEEKS. GROSS.
This is coming from a girl who shaved every day, sometimes twice, so there was never a chance a follicle could spring up, and now she has hairs more than 2 millimetres long on her legs for the first time in years.

What's going on?

This could only mean one thing...

I'm going to the dogs. I'm washed up, at the age of 27, and don't care anymore about how I look, or indeed, how I look naked.

And I actually am rather fond of it.*

Tune in next week, for stringy hair, and no makeup.

* denotes no sexing going on, obvs.

Living in the Wild Wild West

2007-04-23T15:51:00.000+10:00

If you were astute enough, or bored enough, you could look back through my archives two years ago this week, and find the beginning of the Jungle Boy love story, from the first date where I stressed about the knickers I would wear, the first kiss, etc.

It's just lucky I'm chillaxin* in sunny Perth, with nay a care in the world.

And a nine year old's project about Sea Turtles to distract me.

And a lovely 17 year old who took me to Freo and bought me COLD ROCK!

And a 14 year old who is it the epitomy of surfing cool.

And I'm loving it.

The plan is not exactly in place. There's no tan lines. But my head is getting a little clearer, and I sat outside and ate my lunch today.

It's probably very fitting, that during this, this anniversary week, I am going to cut the heartbreak from my life. TGI Friday's is a CRAP place to go for dinner anyway. I've got my eye on the Cottesloe pub!

Come 1st May, 2007, it's a total, brand new, year.

So. That's over and out for me, probably until I get back. Sorry that I can't read/comment on your blogs, but do not want to leave trails for impressionable teenagers, do I, saucy blogsters.

*It's my mission to use this in every post I can from now on. I 'love' this word.

So then I went to Perth...

2007-04-14T11:37:00.000+10:00

Spurred on by the possibility that the hard ass internet posse lead by Mars might ~~discover my true identity as a Bendigo Bank teller~~ leave me more bossy comments, and since it's such a nice day, I decided to blog again.

Ok, I was bored and there's lots of crap in my head. Sue me.

As a resolve to my previous issue, I ended up calling a confidential help line to talk about things, and am thusly in a far improved state of mind. And that's the last I'm going to say about the matter, even including defending myself against cowardly taunts. For the record, I do not take pictures of my feet/shoes in toilets. Ick.

And so yes...I'm going to Perth. Cunningly organised between my mother & her sister, I get my airfare paid, I get to stay in a house five minute walk from Cottesloe Beach, have use of cars, and, I don't know, be away from everything. I should get dumped more often.

Speaking of being dumped, today will mark the three week anniversary. And I've not heard one word from him. Is this an odd thing - not one word? This is all very foreign to me; normally, I've had contact with the ex for ages after. Although, I must say, it's kinda handy, as it lets me get over him a hell of a lot quicker (OK I'M STILL WORKING ON IT). But you know what I mean.

Anyway, I'm setting myself some goals for Perth. I plan on coming back with a clear head, a plan of attack, and hopefully a tan. (Out of all of those, I'm least likely to succeed at...the last one!)

First of all though, I need to find some summer clothes! Hurrah!

Hurt (Updated)

2007-04-09T14:33:00.000+10:00

Sorry, I was a bit dazed when I first posted this.

I'm fine; feeling like I betrayed The Boy was a RIDICULOUS thing to feel (as I've been told). I'm not cheating on him, he dumped me. Der.

The bruises will go, I'll be able to sit down without pain soon enough, but hopefully there is a guy out there with really sore nuts. I kick hard. (Yay, kickboxing).

To clarify, I'm not using the 'R' word, just what he did really hurt, and I asked him to stop repeatedly, and he didn't, so I fucked him off.

Lessons Learnt:
- Stay away from boys for a while
- Despite my bravado, still not quite over The Boy yet
- Smoking is DISGUSTING.

And if I want to post on here, I will. If you are going to judge me for picking up a guy in a pub, at least do it in the comments section, don't send me fucking anonymous emails. I post on here to get clarity about how I'm feeling about things, because more often than not it's hard for me to get that in real life. I'm not proud of what happened, but I'm not ashamed either, so go fuck yourself.

Now, for the rest of you, you can see me waving from a hot air balloon tomorrow morning; that is, if I get up in time.

Over and fucking out (for a while).

M

People that are over things, go to Geelong.

2007-04-07T12:17:00.000+10:00

Might I just tell you that I'm going to Geelong tonight? DON'T ask me why, just run with it.

Because what else does a girl do on a Saturday night?

I have thousand little angry red bites on my legs (mosquitos??), and a thousand little angry red pimples on my face (Ok, I'm exaggerating), and I've just decided that I'd like to have a crush on someone.

Not a boyfriend, not a relationship, just a crush. For it's been TWO weeks now since I've been dumped, and really, I'm fucking over it.

Sure, I check my moblie 75 thousand times a day to see if he's text me (he hasn't), sure, I check my MSN every day to see if he's deletd me (he hasn't), and sure I think him all the time (he doesn't think about me I'M BETTING), but I'm over it.

OVER IT.

And people that are over things, go to Geelong.

Fare thee well, my pretties.

2007-04-06T12:00:00.000+10:00

Holy flying fuck batman.

Drinkin' the tequila with the lemon and salt. Yeah Tequila!

So. Started off at Fiddlers. Then moved onto the Deck @ Waterside. Then to Marquee. The to Riverland @ Fed Square. Then to Transport. Then back to Marquee.

Fuck I'm seedy.

Getting back on the horse and falling off the other side.

2007-04-02T09:59:00.001+10:00

Only a week single, and already a friend of mine wants to sign me up to RSVP. She wants me to go to her house, and she'll take some pictures of me, and we can make up a profile.

Great idea in theory. I checked out some of the guys this morning (NOT BAD EITHER), but my heart's not in it. I'm not ready to go through all that dating thing yet; trying to make conversation, dressing up, worrying if I'm impressing someone. And while the ego boost is good, and the initial, flirty stages are always exciting, the dating part scares me, and I realise that I just want to be by myself for a while, and become confident enough in myself so if he turns out like The Boy, I can tell him to fuck off, first time round.

Did anyone read This article in yesterday's Herald Sun. Okay, so Dr Cindy Pan (she of the milk commercials), and Bianca Dye (some radio chick) are telling me where I went wrong. But god, they probably are right. Instead of trying to get attention by being depressed about myself, I should just be confident, and feel sexy.

HENCE WHY I'M GOING AWAY (FROM BOYS) TO FIND MY CONFIDENCE.

Although, it would be very nice to have some sort of male around right now. There's a giant fuck-off cockroach sitting in front of my bookcase, and I'm too scared to get out of bed and vacumn it up. Or go near it. So if I had to have an RSVP profile, it would say "WANTED: Man to save me from cockroaches & spiders".

Where is my dad when I need him?

Whoa

2007-04-01T09:17:00.000+10:00

Well, i did find something to do on my Saturday night. Not half as good as sharing my bed with someone (sleeping, not anything else, gutterheads), but still made me realise what an arsehole I've been.

I went back through, in chronological order, all my entries for the past year or so, about The Boy. Actually, that's nearly every one. So much whinging, so much pain, and I could have controlled it ages ago.

Amazed you guys even put up with it.

What an annoying shit I was (still am, don't say it!).

Actually, I'm really pissed off that I put up with his shit for so long. I remembered back a couple of other times, especially when I got upset because there was some chick in a bikini as his screensaver, so obviously he had a case to build, and last week was not just some heat of the moment thing.

HOWEVER, no more dwelling, it's a brand new month, and in the spirit of brand new things, I've got goals. Not April resolutions, but actual goals. And making sure I keep them, I'm going to pledge to you that I will, pledge to important people in my life, and follow them up all the time.

So without any further ado, I present MY GOALS...

* Save money to go on Contiki trip to Europe - next year
* Save money so I can buy a house - By the time I'm 30
* I want to be a curvy, toned size 14 - by end of year
* Join boxercise class - next month
* Start up running program - next fortnight
* make new friends - immediately

Also goals, but didn't make the list: Clean house, do washing, take dry cleaning, buy new handbag (TODAY).

I'm excited. Weekly progress reports coming soon.

One more, that's it.

2007-03-31T12:25:00.001+10:00

Ok. I posted about my need for Saturday night ideas; and I just finished posting about the fact that OMG TONIGHT IT WILL BE ONE WEEK SINCE HE DUMPED ME, and I still don't have anything to do on my Saturday nights.

However, I was thinking, I need to one more post about it, and that's it. One more to get it off my chest, and I can get some closure type crap and move on and possibly even take up my Fantapants Adventure FOR REALS again.

And it will be...what happened the night of 24th March 2007. From my perspective only, of course. But feel free to comment and tell me I was a dickhead and you would have done exactly the same thing, or that he was a dickhead, etc. I don't mind if you don't agree with me; I'm not trying to win a popularity contest and if anything, if I was in the wrong, it will help point it out to me so I can learn for next time. I've told some friends and a few people at work this story, but sometimes RL people are not as objective...

****

Preface: For the last few weeks I'd been feeling down. Four main reasons:
* I've put on too much weight, and just feeling crap about myself
* Worrying about my financial status, in particular, how I was going to afford to go to Europe with The Boy later this year
* My Best Friend (despite her shortcomings) is moving back up to QLD again
* Worrying about my social life in general (or rather, lack of).

Now, regular readers would be aware of most of these points at some stage. I have my down moments, normally I'll post on here, and then the next day, I'm back up and I don't care. Generally, I'm 95% Fuck You, to other people, and 5% no self esteem. Not a bad ratio, but it does mean that I have my 'down' days.

Throw into the mix that I've been flat out with work lately, and also The Boy went away to Far North Queensland for a week without me. So I was feeling kinda shit.

This is how it went down:

Thursday Night 22nd March
I had a massage, and talked to my therapist, and was feeling unhappy, but relieved to have spoken to someone about the above. The Boy text me, and I ended up telling him that I was unhappy, and then ended up telling him why. He promised to give me a "big hug for as long as I wanted" and we could talk the next night. Feeling much more buoyed.

Friday 23rd March
Feeling excellent; work was good, going out for drinks after work; seeing The Boy tonight, and spending 3 nights with him! He picks me up from work, I am in considerably better mood. We get back to my house, and I want my hug, and to talk. But he wants to kiss me, etc, and well, I KNOW where that leads, and it's not like I don't want it too, I just want to talk first. End up going out for dinner, coming home, then having sex. No talking.

Saturday 24th March, Daytime
I'm getting my haircut; it takes four and a half hours. I feel terrible, because The Boy is at my house by himself. Insist that he cooks himself some party pies, etc in the fridge for lunch and not to wait for me, but he does wait. On my way home from massive hair cut, I get some KFC. Just some chips and a drink for me, but he pigs out. Ok.

Spend rest of afternoon, until about 6pm, in bed.

Saturday 24th March, Night-time
The plan is that we will drive up to his house, where I spend Sat & Sunday nights, and he'll drive me to trainstation on Monday morning (he's still on holidays). So we get ready, I pack my bags, and we go. The question of dinner comes up.
I'm more than happy to just grab something on the way, but he is insistant that we go out. He's not hungry at all though. We end up at Doncaster TGI's, but there's a 20 minute wait. I left it to him where we go, although he doesn't just want to grab something because he's sick of junkfood, because he's not the hungry one. We end up at a pub somewhere in Preston.

I'm pretty hungry at this stage, so I want to order a meal. He wants to order...bruschetta. This is where my kinda-fragile-at-the-moment-self esteem kicks in. There's no way I can sit and eat a Chicken Parma or the like, while he has a piece of bread.
A) - the idea of me sitting there eating all that food while he eats hardly anything, makes me feel physically ill, and validates my thoughts that I am just a fat, shovelling food...person (you get the idea).
B) - people sitting around us will see what we're eating and 'tsk tsk' and believe it's typical of a fat, shovelling food person like me to be eating so much.
And for someone that has put up with nasty comments all her life, the second one is always a possibility.

However, totally irrational, I know. But with the way I had been feeling, not entirely avoidible.

Now. Dinner comes out. I upset myself even more. I ended up ordering the Gnocchi, but even that is huge compared to some bread. I eat, we eat, almost silently (NB - Keep in mind that I'm not pissed off with him, just upset at myself), and yes, there are tears in my eyes. I feel disgusting.

I manage to eat half, but he's finished, and I don't want to keep eating. It's like the dessert conumdrum, where one person wants it, but the other doesn't, so the one who wants it misses out. The lady takes my plate away.

The Boy cracks it "I'm pissed off now" and motions to go. I go down to cashier to pay, and I'm pulling out my EFTPOS card, and the girl is just about to take it, when he whips out some cash, and shoves it in front of her face. Great scene, girl with tears in her eyes, and boy with pissed off, smug expression on his face. If it wasn't for the smug expression, I wouldn't have gotten pissed off right then (I don't care about paying). As it was, he walked out of the pub 5 steps ahead of me, and we got in the car.

Him (pissed off): "What are we going to do now?"
Me (pissed off, not sad now): "Oh, just take me to the train station then"

And with that, he puts the super-dooper fast car into action, and starts driving me home.

Conversation ( I'll try not to bore you further) ensues; He's taking me home; that's it, it's over; no, he doesn't want to talk about it, it's over. For my part, I'm asking him if we can talk about it; to stop the car and go back to his house; and saying 'please' a lot.

He calls my scene at the pub, a 'freakshow'. He's not going to have that sort of drama in his life. He says I shouldn't be worried about what other people think of me; my other reasons for being upset are stupid as well.

I ask can we sort it out, and he replies that I have to sort myself out. Which is true, but I'm not asking him to solve my problems, only to be there for me.

Which is the only part that I get pissed off about. I know I was an arsehole, and I know I have to sort myself out, but isn't the whole idea of being in a relationship being there for the other person when they're not 24/7 happy? I think that's how he thinks it should have been. For the first time (and yes, this is the first time this has ever happened), I've been less than my normally cheery, sarcastic self, and he 'doesn't like what he sees'.

Of course, it's okay for him to not want to see me for a weekend, because he's feeling down, and needs to be by himself. I could have done that too, but I geniunely was happy to see him. Of course, it's okay for him to abandon me for a weekend so he can play a FUCKING VIDEO GAME all weekend, and do housework. And naturally, it's okay that he didn't want to see me at on Christmas Day because of his mum, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc ETC FUCKING ETC.

Ahem. Anyway. We get to my house; he drives up my drive way, gets out, gets my bags out of the car, gives me my keys, goes to kiss me on the cheek, and says "I've had fun in the last two years", then goes back to his car.

Like the fool that I am, I try to hold him, and ask him to come inside so we can talk. But he pushes me away and says "This is the last time you'll ever see me", gets in his car, "If you're so worried about what people think of you, why aren't you worried now?", and drives away.

****

And that's it. Nothing more after that. I've resisted temptation to text him, as badly as I want to, I've resisted the temptation to email him. I won't chuck his stuff yet, just in case he does want it back. (NB - it's going after a couple of weeks).

I know that I haven't been a bitch. I know that I haven't wronged him, or treated him badly. I know it can probably be exasperating to hear someone with no self confidence, which is basically what he intimated. But I'm not like that all of the time, so I'm kinda at a loss as to why it was a 'breaking up point'. It kinda pisses me off too, because if this was a reason to break up, I had so many more legit reasons to do it, but NO, I'm the sucker who generally tries to understand the other person & their reasons, and because I'm easy going, I generally get over it.

WELL NOT ANY FUCKING MORE.

The guys at work reckon it was a heat of the moment thing; they reckon once he cools down, and realises that I'm not begginng him to take me back, etc, then he will contact me. But I don't think so; he's not a dramaticist, not a romanticist, not an emotional. An excellent analogy, again by my brother, is that our relationship is like a computer program; he will just delete it from his hard drive, and won't give another thought to it again.

And anyway, if he doesn't contact me again, I won't know what to do.

Saturday morning blues

2007-03-31T11:07:00.000+10:00

Holy Fuck. The countdown is on tonight, approximately 8pm, where it will be ONE WHOLE WEEK since I was dumped. Yay. And what will I be doing at 8pm tonight? Fucking nothing. And what will he be doing? Attending a wedding that we were both meant to go to, where we could have dressed up and slow danced and I wouldn't be feeling this pain that I'm feeling now.

That's not to say that I begrudge him from attending; they are his mates and of course he should attend. I'm just sad that we won't be together.

YES. I am sad. For as much as I used to be frustrated with it all, I was so comfortable, and so happy when I was with him, that it used to outweigh the fact we hardly ever saw each other, or, when he didn't want to see me at Christmas. Blah. And thinking about it now, I couldn't possibly bear to go through all of that awkward stage again with someone else, just to see if I was comfortable with them.

But my brother was pretty good; we were having a chat when I was down the other day, and I mentioned this to him. This was the text message that I got back from him:

"The reward of having someone that actually respects you far outweights going thru the awkward stage, you know that"

And when my brother speaks, I shall listen. So I saved that text message and look at it when I'm down (as opposed to going after work with my new, gay, BFF boys and drinking vodka sunrises until I'm nearly passing out on the train).

And writing this post was carthartic too, because now that I have finished writing, it only steels my determination to stop being upset over the break up, and move on, the bigger and better person.

Only, IT STILL DOESN'T HELP WITH WHAT I'M GOING TO DO TONIGHT (SEE PREVIOUS POST)! I REFUSE TO BE DOING NOTHING AT 8PM.

I might go for a run.

Saturday Night Fever

2007-03-30T13:35:00.000+10:00

Alright, what's happened has happened, and in the grand scheme of everything, it doesn't really matter. No one's died, I'm healthy, people get over heartbreak all the time.

SO. In the grand scheme of everything, my idea of getting over it, is to busy myself. Take the days that we spent together, and do interesting and fun activities to compensate. Which shouldn't be hard, considering we only spent Saturday nights & Sunday afternoons together.

Weekdays are easy. Staying back at work; trivia night every now & then; dinner with the olds; dinner with friends; cleaning; catching up on tv. Pretty much sorted then. NB - I plan to throw A LOT MORE exercising into the mix; I've seen the light, and agree with The Boy. The only person that can make me feel happy about myself, is myself.

Saturdays are a classic sleep in, Saturday arvos for cleaning or shopping. Sundays are much the same, I can't begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to catching up with some reading.

However. My BugBear.

Saturday Nights

I mean, what in god's name do people do on a Saturday night? Most of my friends are married with kids, or about to move back to Brisbane, or something as equally non single-life-esque.

Saturday nights are all about going out to parties, or pubs, and drinking with your mates, and checking out the talent. Where the hell are all the activities? Why can't I go to a Boxercise class on a Saturday night? What the fuck is available for single, lonely people, that don't want to attend 'Singles House Parties, Dress to Impress, no denim'? Is there a secret list somewhere that someone would like to share? Or any ideas?

I want to do things, I want to meet new people, ,I need to be distracted, and I certainly don't want to hide my fabulous new haircut (Four hours & $205 later, I need to get my money's worth).

NB - It's been 5 days, and only two pieces of Chocolate. Go me.

So. Saturday nights. Ideas. For the good of my health.

A reference guide

2007-03-25T23:33:00.000+10:00

Erm, it's late on a Sunday night, and I really should be getting to sleep. I'm running on 4 hours - it's ok, I was just blind drunk, not lying awake thinking about fuckheads all night. And while I'm at it, I must apologise for that slightly aggressive post from 4am this morning. After 'It' all happened, I rang my best friend and we went out, and I got shitfaced, and ahem, picked up. Well, basically I pashed a guy until the lights came back on, then I went and hid in the toilets so he didn't have the whole 'I'm coming home with you' deal. Some random face sucking was enough to massage my bruised ego for the night.

Anyway, I will write a proper post on this at some stage; I probably won't go into detail with what happened. Needless to say that it was quick, unexpected, I was stupid, he was a bastard and I've learnt my lessons. And YES!!! I echo Flashman's sentiments from the previous comments that I should have gotten in first. I'm MIGHTY pissed off that I didn't (FUCKING LOVE HINDSIGHT, DON'T WE?), but has everyone has rightly pointed out to me today, it's what I wanted in the long run, but just not how I wanted it to be done.

So this post is just going to be a list. A list that I can refer back to if I'm feeling a bit down, or getting itchy SMS fingers. My list is called:

Reasons why I'm better off without the Jerk

* He didn't treat me properly (See Christmas, 2006 and other assorted blog posts).
* He's such a mummy's boy, and that will never change.
* I was low on the list of his priorities.
* In two years, he'd never once said he loved me.
* I won't have to drive to the Greensborough area anymore.
* I can change the title of this blog.
* I don't have to drive around in a WRX with personalised number plates anymore.
* My new couch is all mine.
* I don't have to sleep in horrible bed anymore.
* I won't bore anyone with my lame posts about the shit going down between us.
* He was a cold, cold person, and could never speak about something face to face.
* He was such a tight arse.
* I can go out and not feel bad/guilty for drinking.
* I don't have to buy 'fat' coke again.
* I don't have to deal with someone that wears fucking basketball shorts everywhere.
* I can save some money.
* He never once said he loved me.
* I'm sure there are much much more, but I'm really tired and I need to sleep (EYES ARE SO PUFFY)

If you can think of any, let me know.

Also, what to do with his stuff...do I just put it in the bin? Last night after he dropped me off, he said "This is the last time you'll ever see me", and gave me back my keys, so I'm assuming that he doesn't want his aftershave, or his pj pants, or his nice (and expensive) grey jumper, or his expensive duck down pillows. What should I do? If I chuck them, and he asks for them, I'll look childish. But if I keep them, they will remind me of him, and I'm starting afresh. Please advise.

ALL OVER

2007-03-25T03:21:00.000+10:00

Well I Guess everyone got their wish, Cockface of a Boyfriend Dumped me tonight, and even though I went out drinking wiht my best friend aftwewards I stil got homw and now I am sad.

he siad:

"You are never going to see me again"

I am sorry I was upset at the Olympic Hotel in fucking Preston. I have been upset for a while.. I'm sorry I made you pissed off at me. Fuck you, for taking me home, and giving me back my house keys. I empytied all of you toothepast in eth sink. and you hair gel and I'm going to rip up you fucking pj pants untile ther'es nothing ele to rip tup..

I HOPE EVERYONE IS HAPPY NOW. I AM COMPLETELY ALONE> COMEPLETELYL>.

The likely suspects...

2007-03-19T23:53:00.000+11:00

Focusing elsewhere, focusing elsewhere. Taking my mind off things. Relax. Deep Breath. Enny had a great idea, do you reckon I can get my Dad to dump him by proxy? (Also, Hack, you are right).

More pictures of fucking ice, hey?!

NOTE: Possible 2007 Big Brother Friday Night Games Apparatus

If anyone decides to ever have a text message conversation with me again, ever, I will seriously kill them with the very phone their messages are coming from.

*Cries*

Self Portrait

BRING BACK THE ICE

Cold.

2007-03-19T23:23:00.000+11:00

What makes the Antartic, and the Artic, so cold? Colder than anywhere else on Earth. Or at least icy-er. Why do those particular spots, at the top, and the bottom of the earth, get to be the coldest? I don't like it one little bit.

Also. How come we just don't get one of those big fuck off icebergs and put it in the Thompson damn - so we can at least have more than 60 days of water left? We could tow one to shore, then chop it up into manageable bits, and drop it in.

Look, I'm not a logistical planner, okay.

Another Journal Entry

2007-03-17T09:37:00.000+11:00

Okay, I pissed him off with my 'cold' text messages, and ruined his holidays, now he won't talk (message me) to me and while it's hurting my chest now, I'm secretly hoping he dumps me SO I CAN GET RID OF THIS FUCKHEAD FOR GOOD.

I was trying hard to stay really cool about it (him going away), but I guess whenever I've replied to his text messages, I've sounded somewhat bitchy.

At first, I was pissed off, because when he asked me to go, and I said I couldn't afford it, I thought he might have paid for my accomodation, and I could have paid for my airfaires. Easy. But really, stupid thing to think, so can't justify being pissed off about it.

Now I just realise that it pisses me off, that as a 28 year old man, he is quite happy just to go away with his 25 year old brother, and his parents, for a holiday. And have fun. And not even worry about me, or say he is going to miss me. He is more than happy to do this. It really should come at no surprise, considering he is more than happy to cut short our Sundays together, so he can get home by 6pm to have dinner at his parents' house, EVEN THOUGH HE HAS DINNER WITH THEM EVERY FUCKING OTHER DAY OF THE WEEK.

***

So, considering I'm a bit twisty in the heart this morning, I had left over mexican and cookies & cream ice-cream for breakfast. Now, I am going to sit on my new couch, and get some work (real) done. And decide if I can be bothered going out tonight. I hate going out of the house now. I am a hermit.

Lame post about being f*cked over by stupid boyfriend again.

2007-03-14T21:09:00.000+11:00

I feel sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick

Stupid boyfriend has gone on a holiday without meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

There's nothing s'prising about that I guess. I should stop complaining because I only do it to myself.

How about I go out on Saturday night, get totally liquored up, and find the man of my dreams?

I totally want to get home at 8am, after pashing the face some off the future Mr. Martie.

Seriously, I'd give up Career, I'd give up New Couch, I'd give up Microwave Popcorn, if I could only bloody find someone that respected me, had time for me, loved me.

There are some kilos to go until I have the confidence of going at it alone. And as much as my man-desperation goes, I'd much rather go it alone, because I'm just beginning to see what type of person I am, and form proper opinions and views, and IT'S EXCITING, DUDE!

I think they call it growing up.

I prefer to call it growing into myself.

But I would very much like someone to say that they loved me, just once. It's been over three years since someone said that to me, and apparently I've been in some sort of relationship for two of them.

Is this emo? Fuck, I hope not. This is just me having trouble expressing myself, because my stomach is doing somersaults, and has been since 7am this morning when his plane left.

I hate hearts. I like kissing much more.

A bit of cash, a bit of flash

2007-03-10T14:43:00.000+11:00

I stayed up until 3am last night, putting my clothes away. You might think that's tragic, for a Friday night, but believe me, I had a lot of friggin' clothes to put away. My whole wardrobe basically sits on the washing line, in the washing hamper, in the washing machine, in the dryer, and on the couch and chairs. The actual wardrobe is pretty much bare.

Anyhow, I was happy. Well, not overly happy, because I didn't have any dinner, but I did get to watch Ocean's 12. Then I watched the Timber Community's finest hour; Demi Moore & Michael Douglas in Disclosure, then I happened to change channel and catch most of a movie called "Ghost in the Computer".

The basic premise was a serial killer that stole people's address books died, but when he was having an MRI, his 'soul' got left in the computer system, and he continued to terrorise his next victim though electronic things. IE - computers, dishwashers, etc. Don't you love how when computers were such a big deal, hopeful technology movies like this were made. I mean, for reals, a 'soul' stuck in a computer system, that is killing people? LAME.

However, being 3am in the morning, one's mind does begin to wander; IE - there is a serial killer in my courtyard; I'm too scared to turn the light out; I'm really fucking hungry, I wish I ate dinner. And what it did, was force me to take stock of all the potentially life threatening appliances that share my apartment with me.

Lights; phone; hairdryer; hair straightener (EWWW); fan; kettle; TV; dryer; blender (DOUBLE EWW). I wondered if I would have nightmares about all the appliances just walking towards me in a group. Don't let anyone tell you that electrical items are not dangerous - LISTEN TO THE WARNING KIDS.

As a pleasant aside from all the death and destruction in the movie , two kids paid their babysitter $37 to unbutton her shirt, so they could get a little boob action. One even put a cushion over his groin. They weren't that good.

My point is though, isn't that expensive? Change into Australian rates, and that's like $60 for a titty flash, not even out of the bra. I thought you could pay about $50 for the pleasure of snorting a line of cocaine off some chick's tits while you fucked her friend at Hosies'? Or is that just me?

So, that's quite good money, I don't think I'd be adverse to that at all. A bit of cash, a bit of flash, and we're done. No mess, no fuss, no unexplained sticky bits. Although a friend did point out to me that they could get it for free on a Saturday night when I'm out on the pull, so I'll just have to come up with some other get rich quick scheme.

Rub me the right way

2007-03-04T23:07:00.000+11:00

And thus ends possibly the most sensual, and best sexed, weekends that I've ever had...

************************************************

Plenty to do this week! Lunch with clients tomorrow! Career planning seminar on Tuesday! Loooooooooong Luncheon on Thursday! New Couch to arrive on Saturday! Stuff to be done to car! More sex on weekend!

Actually, I shouldn't be punctuating with '!'. These are the marks of someone that is happy. I'm not. One of my close friends has a tumor on her inner ear. My best friend hasn't spoken to me for three weeks. My apartment is resembling a chinese laundry...there are clothes in the washing basket; there are clothes hanging from my fan; there are clothes on the washing line; there are clothes in the dryer; there are clothes all over my couch and chairs; there are clothes on my bedside table. I just couldn't be fucked putting them away.

I want to lounge of a beach somewhere until I feel good about myself again, then come back and kick ass.

However, if I wanted to cheat my way out of the mental energy this would take, I'd rub some sort of bottle and ask the genie:

1 - To weigh 77 kilos. I don't want to lose my body shape, just tone up the areas that I hate. Also, 7 is my favourite number. Double 7, and I'm blowing in my undies.

2 - To win a fortune in tattslotto. Enough to be able to pay for my mum & dad in retirement, make sizeable donations to animal shelters and charities, buy my brother and I houses, and live comfortably. So yeah, $33M should do nicely.

3 - This is a tough one. One more wish left. I've done the obvious, lose weight, more money, but where to go with this one. What would make me truly happy? Permanently tanned? Be able to speak French fluently? Maid to put washing away? No. I just want friends. I want mates that I can go for a drink with. Mates that I can go shopping with. Mates that will come over with a bottle of wine for a dinner party. Mates that will be there for me, and who I can be there for too.

Sounds sick and depressing, doesn't it? But a girl can't get by on good sex alone.

The post that's not a post

2007-02-27T00:17:00.000+11:00

I apologise for not blogging lately. I'm kinda over my life. NOT in an emo-i-hate-myself-and-want-to-die sort of a way, more like a there's-nothing-out-of-the-ordinary-happening-to-me-that-I-want-to-blog-about sort of a way.

Actually, I did want to sit down and let out all my feelings on one particular topic. But animal cruelty isn't the blog post of choice, I guess. Unless some dog is going to fight in the Iraq war, or a little kitten is going to run in the upcoming federal election, it's just not trendy. It's just that there's been a spate of cruelty reports in media the last week or so; whether it's an increase in cruelty, or whether the media is hot to trot on the topic, I'm not sure.

But consider this:

* LUNATIC (ex-vet, mind you), has been clearly underfeeding her horses for years, and is only now saying it is because of the drought. Distressing footage of malnourished, own shit eating, horses and crazy woman who is doing this to them. If you can't feed them, give them to someone who can.

* MORON puts two kittens in a plastic container with THE LID ON and leaves them on a vet's doorstep overnight. Luckily, they were nursed back from near-dehydration and are/were up for adoption. CAN PEOPLE NOT USE THEIR BRAINS???

* IDIOT leaves a 16 year old dog, fretting for it's dead owner, on an animal shelter's doorstep overnight, because they have inherited the dog, and can't look after it. Which is fair enough - BUT WHY DUMP IT AT NIGHT. FUCK. The piece in the Herald-Sun today, although it probably wins the award for most emotive language, about how the dog was scared in it's new surroundings (concrete cage), made me want to leave work right there and then and go adopt it.

* FUCKHEAD dog stealers are stabbing people and throwing dogs around, just because of their breed. ANIMALS ARE NOT COMMODITIES (except for Minks, as our Friend, Lillian Frank tells us, that Minks are farmed, therefore it is okay to wear a mink coat. Good stuff, Lil).

* And last but definitely not least, CUNTY CUNT MCCUNT CUNTOS decide they will make their dog attack a guide dog. Real fucking heroes, aren't they. It's bad enough that it costs $25,000 to train a guide dog, and it's even worse that the blind owner and the dog had a five year bond. The worse thing is, the guide dog may have suffered psycological trauma, in this case, rendering it unfit for guide work anymore. ALSO, DID I MENTION IT MAY HAVE SUFFERED PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA?

You know what would be fun? If I saw those clowns, and let the sharpest knife in my kitchen loose on them. Specifically, on their balls (if they actually have any), and then make them eat them, a la person in Hannibal eating their own brains for dinner (WHOOPS SPOILER). Except they are so fucking concious, that not even half of a coked up Hollywood could be anymore alert than them.

So yeah. I'd like to write a post about this, and tell you how I really feel. But if I was going to do that, all I'd really need to tell you is that it breaks my heart. And may some sort of God help anyone that I catch being cruel to animals.

Wild Card, draw four

2007-02-07T22:23:00.001+11:00

If you see someone on the train, calling their mobile phone a cunt, and generally looking pissed off, don't be alarmed kiddies.

It's just ME, being totally absorbed into the mobile phone game of UNO.

Yeah, I don't get out much.

Except for this weekend; they are letting me out on Friday AND Saturday night. Someone have an ambulance standing by; my heart might not be able to keep up with all this FUN I am supposed to be having.

Mind you, I could very well end up in a dark corner playing UNO...

Challenge II - Relationship

2007-02-06T23:17:00.000+11:00

Not so long ago, I was listening to the couple next door making the loud and gushy secks.

Today, I stood next to possibly the best looking bloke I have ever seen in real life, and was momentarily stunned.

I spoke at length with the 19 year old genius in our team, about what he was going to do for his girlfriend for V'day. He's taking her on a weekend away - he's taking her out to dinner and buying her some flowers on actual V'day - he's going to buy her a 'surprise' present of a couple of gold bangles to give to her on a random day -nothing specialm just 'because'. All this, before her birthday in March.

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Well, GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

How is it, that this doesn't appear for me? Instead, I'm still 'marking time' with some clown that will spend V'day going out to dinner with his parents (Wednesday is their 'going out to dinner night').

***

As my Dad likes to constantly remind me; 2007 is my 'getting rid of' year. I've gotten rid of my car, now all I have to do is get rid of some weight, get my self confidence back, and get rid of 'other' things in my life. The 'other' he refers to, is the 'relationship person' I'm always banging on about. He won't say his name, because he can't stand him. Good old Dad.

And yes kids, Dad's are always right. I know exactly what I have to do. To be spoken in more depth in Challenge III - Losing Weight, but I know that all I have to do is drop the excess that I've been carrying since I gave up all serious sport, and I'll be sexy, confident Martie again. The one that probably would have paid for this guy's coffee card and left my business card for Mocha Genius Man to pass on next time.

The one that would open all her doors and windows so the whole suburb could hear the sexing going on in her apartment (all night).

The one who would be taken out for a nice dinner on V'day, and would be organising a performance of Carmen Electra Striptease for her man, for dessert.

The one who would have told the relationship moron to GET FUCKED, a long bloody time ago.

***

I was actually mucking around with my blog template (again) on the weekend, and got stuck reading all my archives for want of a better and less narcissistic thing to do. It actually charts my whole relationship with the relationship person, from how nervous I was before our very first date, to lusty weekends away, to GOD DAMN FUCKING DRESSING GOWNS, to finally the absolute dropping of any pretence that he was interested in participating in a relationship, unless it suited him at the time. I was good, I was strong for a while, but single life can be cruel to a girl with a weak will, and hasn't experienced it in a long time.

BOOOOO MARTIE.

I'd really like a nice white gold bangle (or two), that I could wear with my watch. Please God, are you there, it's me, Martie.

Challenge I - Money

2007-02-04T22:51:00.000+11:00

My head is all full of thoughts. It's a jumble of boys, relationships, money, renting, family. I know this here blog is meant to be a capture of those thoughts, but I can never write them eloquently enough. And I don't really have any funny anecdotes about myself, or amusing things happen to me, so it's a waste of space sometimes.

My life really stooped to new lows the other night when I drank a bottle and a half of Baileys on a school night, and had to go to work the next morning with a huge hangover. Which used to be a not-uncommon-thing for me, but the alcohol always came from going out with friends, not drinking alone like some sad sack.

I can't even tell you what I'm stressing over the most, because it changes. Seemingly on the hour. First, it's money. Then it's my crusade to lose weight. Then it's my relationship. Then we're back to money, and so on.

As for money: I hate the stuff. I wish I could live in one of those hippy communes, where I could barter goats and grow vegetables, although I'll pass on the dreadlocks, ugly clothes and un-washed-ness, thanks.

I've just gotten rid of $15K debt, there is now $10K to go. Scary how one can get themselves into such situations, non? My next move will be to investigate the possibility of breaking my lease without having to pay anything, and horror of all horrors, finding a place with a flatmate.

Someone asked me the other day if I was ashamed because I was living outside my means, and now had to reign myself in. I felt like telling them to get fucked, but I'm not ashamed. It's not that having a nice car, and renting the place that I do was outside of my means, it's just that now my priorities have changed - IE - I want to go to Europe, and I want to buy a house. Not possible on my wage, plus owning a nice car, and renting what I've now found to be very expensive, apartment. It was good for me 18 months ago, but it's not right for me now.

So no, I'm not ashamed, I'm looking on it as an adventure. It will be hard - money falls through my fingertips, especially when there's shoes and clothes and boys around - but that's the challenge of it all. To Europe, either at the end of this year, or the start of 2008, and to a house, by the time I'm 30.

Although - and I have to ask the question - is it wise to spend $8000 on an overseas trip with someone that hasn't even said they loved you?

Being around this one 'relationship person' makes me feel so inadequate, because they have totally, and I mean totally, got their shit together when it comes to money. Mind you, they did have a helping hand when they were given the money to buy their house (the whole lot, not just a deposit), and, they did start on a graduate wage, not a traineeship wage, but then again, I could have done a lot more saving then pissing up all my wages on a weekend, y'know. The point is, I feel uncomfortable, and perhaps the lack of committment on the 'relationship person's' behalf, is the fact that I don't have it together, money wise.

However, we can only do what we can, and I have a budget, and a disciplinarian mother at hand to guide me through.

Sometimes, writing shit from your head can really help.

Next: Challenge II - Relationship

2007-02-01T00:07:00.000+11:00

Tonight I bought car. No pics yet, will take some and upload when I pick it up.

But bugger the car. I'm having some Baileys to celebrate. And now, after a bottle of 'regular' Baileys, and half a bottle of 'mint-choc' Baileys, I'm somewhat drunk.

BUT NO. This is not going to be a drunk post. I would have had to visit some sort of dodgy pub and kiss a random, then come home after a taxi ride through the KFC drive thru to post something like that.

I'm just curious to see what people's favourite (alcoholic) drinks are. Mine is Baileys on ice. Even in a dodgy pub. After I've had my fill of vodka/lime/sodas, I get on the Baileys. For some reason it makes me feel sexy. Even while looking like a bag of shit.

Whatevs.

I'm not asking you to fuck me*, just tell me what your favourite drink is. Y'know what I'm talking about - the one that gets you horny, but not drunk enough that your performance is an issue.

And when the results are in, I will do a graph in excel, using the graph wizard and lots of pretty colours.

*NB - If your favourite drink is Bourbon & Coke, I don't know that I could fuck you anyway.

PS - I just re=read parts of this post )that I could read anyway). I think it may have been a drunk post. I'l know for sure in the morning.

The ridiculous wednesday-checking-mobile-phone post

2007-01-31T00:07:00.000+11:00

I hate mobile phones so much. I want to throw mine out.

I leave mine on silent, because the noise it makes is obtrusive. But I hate having it on silent, because it makes me always check it, and I get upset/frustrated that I don't have a little envelope displayed for 'text message received'.

I reckon, in the past hour, I have checked my silent, cocksucking phone, about 30 times.

MADNESS.

Piss off back to Sweden, or wherever you came from, mobile phones.

***

One more car to look at tomorrow night. Hopefully, this is the one, because I am heartily sick of looking at cars. And sleazy dealers. Actual conversation had with local dealer last Saturday:

Dealer (while, washing car and smoking): "Do ya know what ya lookin' for love?"

Martie (withering glance): "Yeah. A car."

Ok, ok, I probably didn't need to be so aggressive but he pissed me off with the smoking thing, and his greasy hair, and the 'love' bit.

***

New Year's Resolution # 7534 isn't going that well. Oh look, it's a quarter to midnight, and I'm still awake/playing on computer. One of these days, I'm gonna go to bed before 10:30pm.

***

Approximately 12 more checks of my silent mobile phone whilst writing this post.

***

LOOK at what I found:

If it totally had a purple balloon on it, I'd be paying the $100 AUS or whatever the Great Britain exchange rate turned out to be just to get it. Probably couldn't wear it, because I'm not 18 and don't wear pinafores, but just to have it would be nice.

***

Speaking of feeling old: I feel just that. Lots of bloggers have BDO posts going, but not me. I've never been cool enough to go; and probably crowds/lines/noise/cunts with flags would piss me off anyhow. TIME TO STAY HOME AND HAVE A CUP OF TEA UNDER THE NANNA BLANKET.

***

Again, more on the subject of feeling old: At another car yard on Saturday, I was eagerly organising to test drive a Hyundai excel. Car Salesman says:
"It's a nice little first car. Did you just get your licence?"

I don't know if he was pulling bullshit manouveres to make the sale, or really dumb, or genuinely thought I was only 18. I'd like to go with the last option. I was looking in the mirror, and I really don't have any wrinkles. Hurrah! Maybe I can wear balloon necklace after all.

***

Since making a conscience effort not to check my phone after the last time, I have since checked two more times.

ALL OVER A MESSAGE I WAS MEANT TO GET AN HOUR AND A HALF AGO. GO TO SLEEP ALREADY.

***

DID I tell you...I went to Cold Rock. I took myself on a date there. Mind you, ended up a bit lost, but it was worth it. Fruit tingles in cookies'n'cream ice-cream? Banana and Milo ice cream with crushed nuts. OMG. Go there. Take me with you.
NB - Kezza, I don't think it is cosmopolitan enough for you ;-)

***

Ok, it's hit Wednesday, and officially ridiculous. It's bed time for me.

***

One last check before I go to sleep

Changes afoot.

2007-01-29T12:07:00.000+11:00

Not really. Only because blogger made me change over before I knew it, so I decided to muck around with the colours somewhat. Yes, I have a penchant for purple. No, I do not think that makes me sexually frustrated; I think I was of 'royal' blood in a previous life.

NB: Also not a goth.

And in other news, Shane & Simone Warne seen 'canoodling' in Fiji

2007-01-29T09:37:00.001+11:00

Reading about Kylie Minogue getting cheated on again is kinda depressing. She's cute, she's perky, she has a great bum, so why is it that every guy that she seems to hook up with, does the dirty on her?

I read somewhere that she is a bit of a control freak and a workaholic, which doesn't bode well for me, because that describes me to a 'T'. And if Kylie can't work it like that with what she's got, what hope is there for me?

***

2007-01-29T00:49:00.000+11:00

What a weekend. Having swapped man hunting (roflcopter, etc), for car hunting, I've achieved absolutely zero. Except for some great sex, and a grey cardigan, and a clean house.

I'm still carless. As I sit here, looking at my purple bath towel, resting against my purple squishy pillow, thinking about my purple kitchen sponge, wearing my purple Bonds singlet, and my amethyst (purple FYI) ring, I contemplate WHY I DON'T OWN ANY PURPLE UNDERPANTS...

Woe is me; etc.

But the real reason I think is because...I want a purple car.

Thank fuck I'm not working tomorrow...I need to stay up all night trawling for purple cars.

2007-01-25T10:07:00.001+11:00

I was made carless last night.

So unconditioned I am to not having a car around, it didn't occur to me NOT to walk home from Safeway when I bought ice cream. Or, just don't buy the ice-cream in the first place. EITHER / OR, either / or.

Apart from that RIVETING news, there's really nothing going on in my life right now. Sour romances are deperately trying to be sweetened again, with promises of european adventures; bellarine peninsula adventures; dinner, etc, but, what's the point? At the end of the day, he's still a teat sucking mama's boy, with no interest in making me part of his life, and I am a girl with a new couch (T minus 6.5 weeks and counting), and potentially a new car. One with a sunroof.

Also, I sat behind the hottest guy on the train yesterday; so float my boat did he, that I was furiously trying to come up with ways on how to 'introduce myself':

- I thought about telling him I liked his shirt
- I thought about telling him I liked his glasses
- I thought about accidentally falling forward and touching his back to 'steady'
myself, but the old bag next to me would have told him I was faking it. Sour old bitch.
- I thought about tapping him on the shoulder and saying 'Hi, I'm Martie/I think you're cute/ASL?

WHERE OH WHERE, WAS A BAR WITH SOME ALCOHOL WHEN I NEEDED IT?

So, cute ~~boy~~man on Frankston line train, catching the 5.34 on 24th Jan, with blue & white striped shirt, glasses, brown-y/red-dish tinged, short hair and possibly what I saw was a Motorola RAZR, EMAIL ME!!!! I'm getting a new couch, and a sunroof.

Well Hello, Lady Luck

2007-01-18T23:33:00.000+11:00

Shoot me down with a bundle of sticks!

I sold my car! I am one step closer to being debt free, and one step closer to Europe.

I had to come down a little from what I first listed it at, but it ended up being such a good bargain, that no one who saw it would resist. Although, I did burst into tears afterwards; I love my car, when else am I ever going to own something luxurious like that (Goodbye heated seats, my loves. I will cherish you forever)?

I am somewhat buoyed by the hunt I am now on, for a purple Hyundai excel. Hurrah! A purple car!

So. A weekend full of beach (OMG, I haven't fake tanned), Safeway roast chicken and relaxing. And last lovingly looks at my car. Until next time, enjoy yourselves...

PS - If it wasn't Hambo calling me last night, then who was it?

Hello Universe, stop fucking with me

2007-01-18T00:17:00.000+11:00

Talk about tempting fate. The day after I post about The Ex Fucker (the one love of my life, previous to Jungle Boy, see incredibly lame Wednesday apology post), I get two missed calls on my mobile, from a private number.

He is the only person I know now that uses a private number, and that would ring this late at night (11pm).

[Unless it was you Hambo, ringing to tell me you were lost? What do I look like? A bloody Melways? NB - If it was you, pissed off you didn't leave me a voice msg, or something to identify you.]

Mysteries, mysteries. Who knows what the Lady Fate has in store for me...

2007-01-17T00:01:00.000+11:00

Pincey,

I'm sorry I needled you so much, to try and make you crack the shits. It was wrong of me, and unhealthy for us. I guess I pushed my luck too hard just that one last time.

Pincess.

The Aftermath: My Fault

2007-01-16T23:57:00.000+11:00

Perhaps I am the one who is not easy to put up with. Observe:

- I claim to be open to all sorts of music. However as soon as any Black Eyed Peas/Fergie comes on, I change/turn off the radio. Immediately.

- I watch the microwave, and always turn it off at 1:27 or 1:33 minutes/seconds to go. I also can only have volume controls on an odd number (preferably 17) and I always post my blog on an 'odd' time.

- I'm very sarcastic.

- I have no self-confidence. I get upset over computer screen savers featuring chicks in bikinis.

- I can be a little bit snobby. The centre of the universe is quite clearly, Bayside Melbourne. (Northland? *sniff* What kind of shops are there?).

- I have no legitimate savings of which to speak.

- I can be a little bit lazy sometimes (because who could really be fucked taking their undies out of the drier and folding them, when you can just grab a pair straight out of said drier in the morning?

- I'm indecisive because I'm always worried the other person won't like my decision.

- Maybe my apartment is good for one, but maybe too cramped for two. Also, there are dicks walking around here all the time at night (thanks to the train station), so maybe I would worry about my car too?

- I expect too much. (Do I? I don't know about this one. I don't expect marriage and babies, but I do expect a committment. Is this too much? Fuck, who knows).

Go away issue. I want to go to the D&D Ball, issue free.

Liability Free

2007-01-10T23:27:00.000+11:00

It's very late, and I'm falling asleep, but I would just like to say how excited I am about pursuing my goal of paying my debt off by the end of this year.

ESPECIALLY SINCE I WON'T HAVE SPEND MONEY ON PAYING FOR DINNER, AND BREAKFAST AND BUYING YOU 'FAT' COKE AND BUYING YOU DECENT BIRTHDAY/CHRISTMAS/VALENTINES PRESENTS WHEN YOU ROCK UP WITH DRESSING GOWNS. BECAUSE FOR THE RECORD, GIRLS WITH BIG BOOBS SHOULD NOT WEAR CROSS OVER, WRAP AROUND, DRESSING GOWNS. NOT THAT YOU'LL EVERY BE TOUCHING THEM (THE BOOBS) AGAIN.

Ahem.

It's like, good night time.

Time out

2007-01-08T22:01:00.000+11:00

Let's take a break from all the hate in Martieland at the moment (but BOY, is it fun!)

I've got some EXCITING NEWS.

Yep.

I'm buying a couch.

A proper, grown up, adult couch. That more than one person can sit on at a time.

Here it is, photoshopped into my living room by my adorable little brother:

It looks a little odd because we couldn't quite get the angles right in my place, but still, you get the idea.

Anyway, I already have some money saved, and it takes eight weeks to make, so, I just pay it off during that time.

It's all so exciting. Think of all the fun I'm going to have on it!

I'm blowing in my undies as we speak.

OMG. MY CAR. SIK, MATE.

2007-01-07T23:13:00.000+11:00

"It's not that I can't be bothered going to your house, but MY CAR is exposed on the street. OH MY GOD MY PRECIOUS CAR! You know how I am with it. There's no way we could ever have sex in it! No. There's no way we could have sex leaning up against it. There's no way I could take it to a shopping centre car park. I can't do anything with it except take it on long drives and only if I died, would you be allowed to drive it home, no actually scratch that, it's in my will that it should get taken back on a towtruck, not driven by anyone else, EVER. Actually, I'm going to be buried with it, so NO ONE CAN EVER DRIVE IT. SO NO, I'm never going to stay at your house again, because my car has to be on THE STREET *horrified gasp* and it is exposed and the poor little baby-waby is expose-y-wose-y, boo hoo, your house is evil, there are bad people that live around here and I don't want my baby exposed to that. Also, my bed is more comfortable-r"

FOR FUCK'S.

IT'S A FUCKING TOY CAR. Speak to me when you actually get a V8 engine. Fuck your toy shit off - why the fuck did you buy a car like that if you're only going to drive it to work and your mum's fucking house? FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

AND - do you wanna know what makes it worse? You have a personalised number plate! Can't get much more vulgar than that. The car stands out enough - but personalised plates? So much class, right NOT there.

Also, you have paintings of ladies' straw hats on chairs overlooking a garden on your loungeroom walls. Nothing says 'I drive a fully sik WRX' than lame old-woman paintings.

Can't Be Bothered

2007-01-07T11:43:00.000+11:00

to see you because:

* I have to clean my house

* I have to play 'Scarface'

* I have to start making dinner at my parents house

* I wanted a nap

* I had to go out with my mum

* I don't like going to your house (I NEVER SAID THAT! LIES! I JUST NEVER WANT TO GO THERE)

* I'm having dinner at my parent's house (for the 7th time this week)

* I'm just lazy and selfish, even though I've been on holidays for two weeks.

FUCK OFF THEN.

FUCK. OFF.

Also, my house may be small, with a not-so-comfortable couch, a smallish bed, and no tv in the bedroom, but at least I'm not a 27 YEAR OLD MALE WITH PRINTS OF LADIES' STRAW HATS DRAPED OVER CHAIRS LOOKING OUT A WINDOW ONTO SOME GRASS ON MY LOUNGE ROOM WALL.

"Mummy, come decorate my house for me"

TOSSER!

Routine

2007-01-04T22:43:00.000+11:00

Bored? Want to be? Then read this next post, because as I realised today, it's a given to put you to sleep in seconds.

I present to you: my daily routine.

6:45am - Get up, get ready to go to work

7:44am - Catch train

8:30am - Start work

5:00pm - Finish work, catch train home

5:45pm - Get home, go to toilet (busting at this stage; don't like using work toilets), get changed

6:00pm - Go to parents' house for dinner

8:30pm - Come home, eat microwave popcorn

9:00pm - Read email, blogs and other internet crap

10:00pm - Play Carmen Sandiego (OLD SKOOL STYLE)

12:00am - Go to sleep

Repeat.

Fuck me. Am I not the most boring individual to inhabit that earth? The year is only four days old, and that's all I've done so far. WHAT HAPPENED TO ODD NUMBERS BEING GOOD LUCK FOR ME? No wonder why my Dream Man is avoiding me.

Speaking of which: NEWSFLASH!!!

Totally inappropriate crush!

I have a TIC on a client, no less; a married client, no less; a client that we ALL MAKE FUN OF, no less. I was talking to him today, and realised that he looked very handsome; he tanned up over the break, and gotten a haircut, and the colour of his shirt (purple) complemented him. We also get along very well, have the same sarcastic sense of humour, and can talk about anything to each other for ages. Plus he gave me a New Year's kiss and he smelled nice. MmMMMM.

He also sounds like a nice husband, because he gave his wife an eternity ring for Christmas.

So was it wrong of me to (fleetingly) hope they break up?

I'm going to hell.

At least that will be a change in my routine.

It's a new year, bitches

2007-01-02T21:53:00.000+11:00

2006 taught me:

* Microwave popcorn is the most addictive thing on the planet

* Boys suck

* Fake tan sucks

* Diet Coke is the second most addictive thing in the world

* I have no clues when it comes to my love life; all the clues when it comes to my career

* You must use pre-packed baby spinach quickly

* How to actually like sex

* How to re-ignite my passion for reading again

* I need to start going to bed earlier

And hence, my resolutions:

* Grow some balls, dump Jungle Boy

* Pay off my debts

* Lose weight (OMG DER)

* Buy a couch

* Cook a meal & serve at my house

* Sell my car (DO YOU WANT TO BUY IT???)

* Drink water every day, building up to 2 litres again

* Read about, and understand, all types of religions

Not asking for much, am I?

True or False?

2006-12-27T22:41:00.000+11:00

Because it's the festive season, and it's about fun, etc, we're going to play a little game down here in Martieland.

I will tell you a story, and you will have to guess if it is true or false. You could win some crappy x-mas present cast off that I don't want, so pay attention.

And, begin:

Once upon a time, a week before Christmas 2006, Martie & Jungle Boy were sitting down enjoying a meal. Jungle Boy then asked "What was happening Christmas day?"
Martie: "I'm not sure"

JB: "Well, I'm having lunch at my parents' house"

M: "So am I"

JB: "Do you want to come over and have dinner at my parents' house on Christmas night?"

M: "Well, yeah, but normally we (MARTIE FAMILY) have a few drinks at Christmas, so I might not be able to drive"

JB: "Hmmm. Ok. What about if I come and pick you up, say Hi to your parents for Christmas, etc, and then drive you back up and we'll have dinner then?"

M: "Sounds good"

Fast Forward to Christmas Eve, 4:30pm

JB: "So I'm still picking you up tomorrow afternoon"

M: "Yep, cool, see you then"

Fast Forward to Christmas Day, approx 3pm

JB: "What's happening? Are you drunk?"

M: "Only a little"

JB: "So you'll be able to drive later? Drive up here? We probably won't have dinner"

M: "Nah I don't think so. I feel okay, but don't want to chance it"

JB: "Well don't rush it"

M: "Rush what?"

JB: "Rush whatever you're doing. Come up when you feel like"

M: "What happened to you picking me up?"

JB: "So full at the moment...Who wants to drive 2 hours on Christmas Day...Oh well, if I have to come and pick you up, what can I do about it?"

M: "Don't come if you don't want to come"

JB: "Ok. I won't. Who would want to drive all that way on Christmas day?"

Fast Forward to 11:30pm, Christmas night

JB: "Are you pissed off?"

M: "Yes"

JB: "I thought so. Don't be like that"

M: "Well how come you didn't come down and see me? You've disappointed me, and you've disappointed my parents. Didn't you want to see each other? It's Christmas!"

JB: "Well...I just couldn't be bothered. Plus, me and my parents had lunch, then we were talking, then doing stuff, so there really wasn't an opportunity to come down"

M: "So you couldn't be bothered seeing me? On Christmas day?"

JB: "No, it's not that. Christmas is just a day to me. But it means a lot to other people, like my parents. Besides, we're seeing each other now"

M: "It means a lot to me. But you couldn't be bothered seeing me. Surely your parents wouldn't have minded if you were away for a little while. After all, I was going to be spending Christmas night with your family"

JB: "Yeah, well, maybe not. I don't know. I just didn't want to go down. I wanted to stay up here with my parents".

M: "What an awesome Christmas"

***

SO. Did this actually happen? Or is it just a figment of my overactive imagination?

Look kids, a post!

2006-12-19T00:29:00.000+11:00

Heh. One big Christmas kiss for whoever clues on to which tv show that line (only substitute 'wall' for 'post') is from.

I have a ridiculously stupid last week before Christmas happening. So much to do, so little time. What's the answer? Go shopping for myself! Hurrah!

So I'm in between all the meeting & greeting and working and drinking and clients and wrapping and shopping and washing and cleaning and test-kitchening and kick-boxing, and, I'm fucked.

So...because I probably won't get around to blogging before the 25th, in the tradition of last year's christmas card:

I'd just like to show you my new Christmas outfit

And wish you all a very sexed-up Festive Season.

M xxx

Marriage is imminent

2006-12-10T21:57:00.000+11:00

Yes. Through all the doom and gloom, rises up a wedding. And who doesn't love a good nuptial knees-up?

The object of my affection:

Just can't get enough.

On a happier note...

2006-12-07T12:17:00.000+11:00

Because the best friend stuff is too DEPRESSING at the moment, especially after I called and left a message tonight saying 'let's talk, I don't want to lose you as my best mate, etc, etc' and then didn't get a call/text message back. So instead, to celebrating my achievements!

***

Achievements, you say? What sort. Well, it's not quite climbing Everest or finding a cure for alzhiemers, but for me, they're big.

1. Went to kickboxing. The first, non-sexual form of physical activity I have done in the past three weeks.

2. Put some washing on mid-week and hung it out. Because normally I end up with piles of it on a Saturday, then combined with my crappy 1&a half wash cycle and almost-zero line space, it never gets done.

3. Watered my plants. They were thirsty.

4. Bought myself a roast chicken from Safeway (Hi, Mars), cut all the breast meat (mmmmmmm, breast meat) off the bone, and stored in container ready to make sandwiches for lunch tomorrow. Why buy my lunch every day, when I am trying to save for a couch>

5. Made a list of the all things (Tissues, bottle of water, etc) that I have to take to work tomorrow. Because I'll be rushing, and at least I won't forget anything.

6. Used some tanning cream disguised as moisturiser, and now am starting to develop and lovely brown glow. And patchy areas around my ankles & feet. Alright, not quite the achievement I was looking for, but it puts me one step closer to girly-ness, non?

7. Changed a light globe. Scared of the dark.

AND

8. Made an appointment to get my hair cut. Fingers crossed; I want a full fringe with longer bits on the sides, a semi-permanant glossy chocolate brown put it, darker & lighter brown foils put in for a bit of depth, and a couple of random blonde patches around my fringe for something interesting. If it works out okay, I'll post a picture.

So. Congratumalations to me. 'Dere's some might fine achievements in my life right there, nothing exciting, but with all that's going on, it's good to know that the organisational part of my brain can kick in, and I'm still a fully functioning member of society.

For now.

The root of the problem (PS - OMGWTF LONG POST AHEAD)

2006-12-06T00:03:00.000+11:00

Firstly, I will address the comments on the previous post (really only 'cos I'm lazy)

* Yes, Jungle Boy & I had broken up

* That is correct, we got back together

* Jungle Boy is smart, attractive (to me), funny, sexy, placid (to my sometimes hysteria) and has goals & ambitions. I stick with it because A) - we have a great time when we're together, no pressure on B) - The sex is great & C) - I'm afraid of being lonely, which sort of counteracts all the 'relationship shit' that seems to pop up.

* Yes, having someone say 'Do what you want', to me is like saying, 'I don't care either way' - IE - you're not important enough for me to care enough.

*****

However, let's forget Jungle Boy for the moment, for men are easily replaceable, friends are not.

My best friend & I have been mates since we were wee lasses, spending our Saturdays at Netball.

We've got wasted together, we've cried together, we've picked up together, we've lived together, etc etc.

I was maid of honour at her wedding; I am godmother to her son.

However, lately, our relationship has really been deteriorating. She spent a year in QLD, then came back at the start of this year, to give a relationship with what possibly may be her perfect match a go.

She's a very vague kind of a person; as much as I love her, she has no direction in life, and at times can be very selfish. When I say no direction, I mean she knows what she wants, but she's constantly shifting the goalposts around, and changing the aim every so slightly.

She tends to break plans easily; or becomes vague about stuff she's not really interested in. I don't know if it's deliberate, or if that's just how she is. I 99% sure it's the latter, but I have seen the deliberate side once or twice, however, I'm always giving her the benefit of the doubt.

Since she's been back in Melbourne, and with NZ (her man), this stuff has happened a touch more frequently.

Then sometimes, when she wants to do something, and I've already got plans (with Jungle Boy most of the time - she hates him), she'll get all sulky with me because I'm not just dropping what I'm doing. Arghhhh!

In August this year, NZ went overseas. All of a sudden, we're back to seeing each other again, nearly every day of the week. We were exercising together, watching tv together, cooking together, having our girly chats, etc. It was like old times.

She then went to meet NZ overseas for a holiday. When she came back, she was like a different person. Despite me ringing, and texting her, she didn't get in contact with me for about a week, put off (in her vague way) having dinner together so I could get all the holiday goss, and similar.

I found out what had happened; NZ & her had, despite all her statements to the contrary, that she wanted to take things slow, etc, decided to move in together. I was apprehensive. Sure, they'd known each other for years, but had only been a couple for not even six months.

At this point, I would like to state that I was possibly jealous, as well as geniunely concerned. Only because the chances of me moving in with a boy at any stage in the near future, are slight to none. Hmmph.

I also must admit that her breaking our plans, or just not contacting me, was starting to get on my nerves, so I started to do the same back, or just say that I was unavailible in the first place. Again, even if I had genuine plans that I'd made two weeks in advance, she'd still sook if I wouldn't go out with her.

With my best friend, it's always Her first, second & last.

I won't go into the whinging; suffice to say, she's never happy with anything. With work, the hours are either too long, so she changes jobs with shorter hours; not enough, so she changes again for more hours, and so on. But I've probably done my fair share of Jungle Boy whinging, so the point is moot.

However, the last straw came when she didn't wish me a happy birthday a month ago. Not even a text message. People I see once a year, or not even at all, could be bothered to send me a text message, but she even rang me, and didn't say anything at all. Only to go on about her's & NZ's latest fight ("I'm moving out", etc).

Really really hurt by that. Really hurt.

And then last week, after telling me to keep the Saturday night free for her birthday, she goes and changes it to the Friday and sulks when I can't come, because I have my Christmas Party to go to. Didn't return my texts or calls all weekend, and tonight, after I rang her to see what she was doing, found out she was at dinner, and I wasn't invited.

Really hurt again.

People I know say that it's just her, I have to deal with it if I want to be friends with her. Some people won't associate with me if she's with me (that is how many people she's put offside in the past). Jungle Boy can't stand her. My Mum & Dad, who have long been like a second set of parents to her, don't really want to see her anymore.

It's killing me because I can literally see our relationship slipping away. However, she seems to be quite content playing happy families with NZ & her son, and doesn't have the time for me anymore? Or am I just being unreasonable? I probably could try harder, but how much shit should I put up with?

I know that I probably need to sit down and talk to her about all of this. I'm just scared of the outcome. She's the type of person that could just say, 'Fuck it, I don't need this shit' and let it end there and then. I don't want that to happen; she's my best mate, we've seen each other through all sorts of crap, and it shouldn't end over a guy.

Sometimes I think I'm too gutless to dump Jungle Boy, because it means I'll be the one by myself, and no one to lean back on when she's off doing her own thing. I've said previously on here that friends don't come easily with me know; after some really harsh bitchiness, it takes a lot to gain my trust and that can often make me seem aloof.

What do you think? Am I being too harsh? Am I justified in sitting her down and telling her how I feel? Or should I just let it be? I miss our drunken nights out, I miss our shopping sprees, I just miss hanging around her. But with a child, and now a live-in partner, am I being too demanding of her time?

Who the fuck knows, but I know one thing: This is causing me even more sadness than the whole Jungle Boy saga. As I said, guys aren't the end of the world, but losing a friend is everything.

2006-12-03T23:33:00.000+11:00

I should just be sleeping or something.

I really shouldn't be going out with Jungle Boy.

I left my work's Christmas party at 10:30pm on Friday night.

I think I'm afraid of people.

I'm contemplating just heading into the city on NYE (SO EARLY, I KNOW) to watch the fireworks by myself.

I have a disastrous money situation, and I'm not sure how to get out of it.

The only positive thing in my life right now is work (not Bendigo Bank work either). Work, I can excel in, work gives me a purpose, I'd rather stay at work, where there are boundaries with people, than go out, where there are not.

The only thing I seem to have the energy/enthusiasm for is to read books.

******

Ok, so thinking about what brought this on. I was speaking to Jungle Boy earlier tonight, regarding the possibility of going to Europe/Egypt next year. I want to go, I want to make it a goal, but it depends on so many things; selling my car, getting payrise, etc, etc. An excerpt from the conversation:

Martie: "I don't know when we will be going"

Jungle Boy: "It all comes down to your finances"

Martie: "Yeah, I'm hoping for it to be this time next year"

Jungle Boy: "Well I've got my money and my leave sorted. So it's up to you"

Smug & arrogant? Or Factual? His comment made me feel really bad. And I told him so too. Yet:

Jungle Boy: "I didn't mean it like that"

Oh Lordy.

******

You wanted a saga, you've got it. Perhaps I can make this in to a study of dating really inappropriate men? The life & times of my relationship with Jungle Boy. I'm excited already.

Not.

So many people have told, and tell me to "dump his arse". The question is - why can't I? Pathetically weak springs to mind.

But not much else, because I really should be sleeping.

Goodnight.

DOUBLE CENTURY

2006-12-03T22:51:00.000+11:00

THIS IS MY 200TH POST. I'M JUST GOING TO POST THIS AND MOVE ON.

I just didn't want to make my 200th depressing, which it will inevitably be.

THE END

I ask two questions, you give me two answers:

2006-11-28T21:07:00.000+11:00

Ok. First up. This first question is probably better posed to someone like Lillian Frank, but dear old 'Lil has been giving me the shits lately, so I'm going to ask the wider audience to confirm:

When going to a restaurant, (NOT a cafe, not a 'casual' eatery, but a real-life, grown up restaurant), and you're asked to wear something 'nice', is it appropriate for you to wear; black skate shoes with white socks, jean shorts, and a T-shirt with the words 'STFU University' on it?? Discuss

***

Secondly. Can you be 'attracted' to a number of people, without ever wanting to be with them, or even grab* them, or rip their clothes off in a fit of passion? I realised today that I am attracted to my team leader, but I'd never go there, for a whole host of reasons, the least of all that he is my superior. I just felt funny when he touched me. Discuss.

*Grab - apparently what the kidz are calling kissing these days. CAN SOMEONE PLEASE CONFIRM - I FEEL SO ANTIQUATED.

Martie: Diary of a crazy person

2006-11-24T12:03:00.000+11:00

Emergency, Emergency!

The other night, I found that I was unable to masterbate to crappy resolution free intermanet porn until I cleaned my teeth.

What is with that?

Am I some sort of sick, hygenic freak?

Help me.

***

I was reading my archives from this time last year. I was solidly on the detox path, and still pining for the Ex-Fucker.

I'm not quite detoxing at the moment, but still choosing the healthier eating options. At the moment, I'd have to say my favourite part of my body is my shoulders.

I'm not pining for the Ex-Fucker, but must admit I was EXTREMELY FUCKING DRUNK the other night and actually text him. After all I went through to change my number.

He actually guessed it was me, and I text back telling him I was sorry, it was a drunken mistake, and it wouldn't happen again. Seems like it did the trick.

I'm actually not pining for anyone at the moment. Is this good? Yes, yes I think it is. I'm still having casual sex (albeit with the same person), which has graduated into a 'meal' thing (AS IN EATING A MEAL TOGETHER GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER), but it's not going to go anywhere. Reminds me too much of Jungle Boy.

***

OK, FUCK! It is Jungle Boy. It's a whole sordid story and another post and now I feel embarrassed for admitting it.

Just enjoy your weekend, and join me in congratumalating Desci for the handing of the thesis in today. Hurrah for her. And not about Jungle Boy.

Another hyped-up random question brought to you by Ribena Berry Juice at 12am

2006-11-22T12:17:00.000+11:00

Do you think that I could be a brickie?

They make lots of money

They get really tanned

tradies lifestyle, etc.

Apparently we are 'crying out' for brickies; skillz shortages, etc, etc. I need to make a quick buck, thanks to my friend, the Australian Tax Office, and my previous boss' inability to deduct the correct HECS payment.

So, bricks + me = perfect relationship? What do you think?

Cons?

Early starts

Carrying these fuckers around all day

Bricks are generally boring.

Fuck, not such a good idea after all.

Although...

I would give good builders' crack

Such is the way of the world...

2006-11-19T10:27:00.000+11:00

An interesting conversation with my boss last week, saw me declaring that I wasn't going to get married, or have babies any time soon.

A)-not worth the hassle - Divorce, etc &
B) - need to find the right partner.

What's the bet that I find the man of my dreams and totally fall in love/get married/start talking kids within the next 12 months? I'm picturing a New Years Eve proposal, non?

That shit always happens to me.

***

Slutty Slut Sluts

2006-11-16T00:31:00.000+11:00

Hi,

I recently came to a startling revelation;

Calling someone a slut in the derogatory sense, is not cool.

Sure, in high skool, if Tiffany kissed one boy one week at a party, then kissed another boy the next week at a party, it would be OMG, SLUT! *whisper whisper whisper* "OMG HERE COMES THE SLUT" "Hi Tiff, how lucky are you to kiss..." "SLUT"*

But saying it now, is just...meh.

Most people don't even use it for its original meaning - IE - A girl that sleeps around (NB - Not a dictionary definition. Also, obviously, Boys are Not Sluts, etc). So someone just kissed a guy you liked? Not a slut. Please correct.

Besides, a woman's sexual liberation is growing and growing all the time, to a point where the true meaning of the word slut is growing redundant.

So. I would like to apologise to anyone that I have called a slut. I'm unreservedly sorry.

Especially directed to the young lady that I called a slut in my head about half an hour ago; I don't even know you. Also, my motivation was most likely jealousy, not because you slept with 100 guys in 100 days, etc.

Excellent. I feel better already.

Would you like to take back any slut-calling?

* WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS SCENARIO???
When I was at high school, 'OMG' hadn't even been invented yet. Bad re-enactment, Martie.

Numberzzzzzzzzzzzz

2006-11-08T00:29:00.000+11:00

Shit. I give to you...shit, motherfuckers.

1 - is how many times I wore my bathers.

2 - is how many hotdogs I had for my birthday dinner.

3 - is how many failed boxed trifectas I had on the dogs @ Shep before I pulled the pin on Saturday night.

4 - is how many poos I've done today (Tuesday)*

5 - is how many alcoholic units I consumed over the course of the entire weekend (SEE HOW CLEAN LIVING AND SOBER I AM???)

6 - is how many drunk teenagers you need to hang out in the main street, before it can be officially known as the 'drunk teenagers drinking & hanging out spot'.

7 - is the number of times I cried on my birthday because the weather turned had turned crap and there was no sun to be seen for days and it was ruining my 'perfect' holiday.

8 - is the number of goes I had trying to call my mum on the payphone, before I gave up. It has been YEARS since I used a payphone.

9 - is quite possibly the number of years since I used a payphone.

10+ - is the number of hairs left on my vajootz after Thursday night's wax & tan.

23 - is the number of clean pairs of underwear that I took away with me.

16 - is the number of clean pairs of underwear that I brought back with me.

9,999,999 - is the number of flies I had to deal with.

Infinity - is how cool I looked in my 'holiday hat'

* See - I told you I'd give you shit

What WOULD you do for coins???

2006-11-01T00:47:00.000+11:00

This girl, apart from being my 'homie', has come out with possibly my favourite line ever in response to some slut who left a retarded comment on her blog:

"It's not like I'm doing anal for coins"

G-old! Not exactly sure what it all means; not all that au fait with the sex industry. BUT. Love it all the same. I think it's the combination of the word 'anal' & 'coins' in a sentence. Heh. 'Coins'.

Anyway. Go visit her. And experience the glory that is anal & coins & trolls. Despite what some ~~grogbloggers~~ ~~spies~~ cunts say, she IS teh hottness!

Hmmm.

Martie's Dad: "Martie! Stop drinking so much!"

Martie: "But Dad, it's not like I'm doing anal for coins".

-

Martie's Boss: Martie! Stop looking at the internet during work hours!"

Martie: "But boss, it's not like I'm doing anal for coins during work hours".

Oh. Slighly obsessed.

***

I should apologise for the confusion (Sorry Enny with my previous posts.

I had intended to post about my bathers buying adventures where it appears that chocolate and aqua lycra renders one's bra size three sizes larger than normal and I attempted to try on this

and after the saleswoman pulled back the curtain, her first comment was "They're a bit in your face, aren't they?".

She also told me to get a spray tan. So guess what I'm doing Thursday night.

***

And this is all in aid of what?? My holiday! I leave Friday, 6am, for the South coast of NSW. Please pray for nice (new-bathers-wearing, spray-tan-showing-off) weather for me.

HAHAHA.

And, to make things even more exciting - MONDAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!

A balloon to celebrate.

So it's birthday holiday of beach, sun, pubs, chicken parmagiana and greyhound betting.

Enjoy!

Come fuck with me now, Anonymous

2006-10-24T21:11:00.000+10:00

Right. I've spent a great deal of time trawling through the archives of Dietgirl.org, as provided to me by the nice anonymous a couple of weeks ago. Or maybe it was the same anonymous, Jekyll & Hyde style? Who knows, they were ANONYMOUS.

Ahem.

So, for nothing if but my sanity, I'm now giving myself until the end of the year to lose 10 kilos.

"Again?"

Yes, again.

I am going bathers shopping on Saturday (FEEL THE EXCITEMENT, ONLY NINE DAYS UNTIL MY HOLIDAY), and am already loathing it. See, I haven't had new bathers since...1998, and when I tried those on the other night - OMG CAMEL TOE.

Hott in porn, not so hott on public beaches.

Also; I am far too pretty to be wasting away as a blob.

So, starting tonight:

- I'm going to sleep at 10pm, no later. Internet - off.

- I'm getting up at 5:30am, and going for a walk/run.

- I'm going to drink water all day, and TRY to use the toilet at the place where I'm currently working off-site, at least once. (I said TRY. This is going to be the hardest bit).

- I will buy my lunch tomorrow, and it will be my standard, roast chicken, baby spinach, tomato & cheese on Rye. I will cut out the margarine, but the cheese is going to be harder.

- I'm going to Safeway (AND NO I DID NOT WORK THERE, I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR THEM WHEN I WAS 15; NOW LOOK AT ME, CUNTS), and I will buy salad ingredients to make up a zesty salad with ham lunch combo for the rest of the week.

- No pizza on Friday night.

- No alcohol

- NO MORE SNAKES ALIVE. Even if the 'green snakes' perk me up at 3pm.

- Why aren't I on one of those overhaul shows? I'd totally be prettier than that Fiona from TBL, but with better boobs, and I'd refuse to write a crappy column in the Sunday Herald-Sun, all about the boyfriend that dumped me, etc. Although, maybe I'd go on Dancing with the Stars.

Ok. So, I'm not going to be teh fucking hottness by next week. But by the end of the year, I will be well on my way. And you anonymous, will have to deal with that, especially when I pass you on the street, without even a glance.

50 Minutes Until Bedtime. OMG. So much ~~porn to look at~~ to do.

Movie Review by Martie: The Departed

2006-10-23T00:03:00.000+10:00

I 'won' some free movie tickets at work, and used them as an excuse for my first time out in ages.

GOD DAMN, no one wants to see 'M' with me; I wanna tingle in my underpants everytime Mick Molloy is onscreen. So it's The Departed instead.

Don't know why. I hate Matt Damon. I hate Leonardo DiCaprio. But it seems like a cast of Hollywood 'names', so I think ~~better than The Devil Wears Prada~~ why not, and hand over hard won tickets.

Now, the fella I dine/watch with (LOLLOLOLLYPOP) wants to eat before hand. Cue, first place next to movies, the ubiquitous TGI Fridays (do they have these anywhere outside Melb??). Cue, a mini review. Their vodka is shit; the nachos are fucking amazing and I'm full before the movie starts.

This fucking pisses me off, because I like to buy a few ice-creams (as in the lollies, not choc-tops), some popcorn, and ~~liquid crack~~ a diet coke. But I'm too full. So into the movies we go, empty handed. Already the ULTIMATE MOVIE EXPERIENCE is starting to unravel.

Also, we are seated on the aisle. This also pisses me off. I like to sit on the side section, right up near the wall/curtain. But the Village Bimbo obviously misundertood me, and put us on the side of the main section.

And you know why this pisses me off. Because after the movie has started, and we're watching intently for the background story, some cunts walk in late, and proceed to a)make lots of noise b)get in the way c)step on my foot or d)all of the fucking above. Yeah, you know the answer already.

I hiss "surely it's not that hard to come in on time". Fella I'm watching with elbows me. Fuck decorum.

Anyway, this is my type of movie. They say Fuck a lot. Marky Mark says Cunt. Lots of people get their heads blown off. Matt Damon is as wooden a pine furniture manufacturer and Jack Nicholas says Pussy.

There's twists and turns and Alec Baldwin, as a bit part police detective-y type man, is my favourite character. It would help the storyline, if both the lead males (Damon & DiCaprio) didn't look like they were 15 years old, and should have still been in long shorts, than shooting people on the mean streets of South Boston. There were plenty of laughs, but not enough of the black strap-on Jack Nicholson donned. Gee. It's so hard to get some black strap-on action in movies today, isn't it?

NB - Movie goes for very long time. Was starting to get hungry half way through.

Did the movie engage me? Yes. Although they needed to stop fucking around with the girl character. I KNOW she tied it all together (sort of), but there was not enough time to develop her relationships with Damon & DiCaprio, and shoot cops/bad guys/visiting mafioso from Providence.

Incidentally, wasn't there a TV series called Providence? The one with the chick with the curly hair, and she's doctor, and she comes back to her hometown; has hometown romance, gets hometown job, etc. Very Gilmore Girls, but with no 's' on the end. I can't imagine Mafioso being in a place where there's autumn leaves blowing down the street every day of the year, and the town is so sleepy, it makes Perth look like a thriving metropolis.

So, lame research there, Departed writers.

I digress though. I need to tell you how good it was when Marky Mark tries to punch Matt Damon. Almost as good as Mick Molloy. Almost.

And now, the conclusion of my review. Don't go see this movie if swearing offends you. Go and see this movie if you like blood spattering everywhere. Don't go and see this movie if you are still holding onto the 'Good Vibrations' Marky Mark - his haircut is abominable. Go and see this movie if you like Jack Nicholson doing what he does best - playing a bossy, psychotic cunt, slighty unkept, but apparently still able to get the pussaaaaay.

I for one, am going back to see it, just to count the number of times they say fuck/fucking. If you come with me, you can count the 'cunts'.

NB - Had Swiss Mountain Malt from Pancake Parlour after movie. Mini review; was good, generous serving NOT ENOUGH FUCKING WHIPPED CREAM.

The End.

Love, kisses, treasure hunt, etc

2006-10-17T13:07:00.000+10:00

Yeah well, fuck, I'm back.

Apologies for the NSFW title; I will change it, but for now, it was too good to pass up. Shame it didn't come back. Awwww.

Anyway, fuck off. I mean, not literally, but I've found myself a hot little leather chaise lounge, and it's fucking hot. I wish to save all my money to buy it; sit on it; fuck on it.

And, I'm selling my car. I *would* link you to the ad, but you know, THE INTERWEBS ARE A HAPPY AND ANONYMOUS PLACE, YO, and besides, I'm waiting for *someone* to find it anyway. Howevs, if you are in the market for a luxury small car (OMG A CLUE!!!!1!), email me, and we'll talk turkey.

Or you know, I will tell you what I've learnt by reading "He's just not that into you" (either way, great email conversations abound).

In other news, coral is the new black, and to date, I own two coral items. Hurrah.

And....I'm done. Before I go, here is a (NSFW) picture of what we're trying to achieve here at Arseholes Inc.:

Come join the chocolate starfish brigade.

Itsy Witsy Teenie Weenie

2006-10-03T00:09:00.000+10:00

You've probably noticed an abundance of

these

sort

of

pictures

on my blog lately.

Yeah. I have bad body image. B.A.D.

Ever since oh, let's see, 1988, when I was in Grade Three, and my teacher did a weight graph of the whole class, and mine was the 2nd highest.

Ever since all through high school, in particular one comment from a cunt in Year 8 who promptly informed me (via messenger - AS YOU DO IN YEAR 8) that he didn't date girls over 50kgs.

Ever since Ex-Boyfriend No 2 dumped me in part because I was fat (SO WHY GO OUT WITH ME IN THE FIRST PLACE?).

Awesome.

Now, I don't neccessarily find myself to be grossly overweight a la the above pictures. Although, I have my days where I consider myself to be a pretty good representation.

My best friend tried to set me up on a blind date about a year ago; part of the description she gave my potential date was "she looks top heavy, but only because she has big boobs".

So I've got the curves. Years of netball have conditioned pretty good legs. But still, I fight every day with myself; every bit of food that I consume; everytime I look in a full length mirror. I'm depressed.

Not outwardly. Outwardly, I'm friendly, intelligent, happy. I'm 'smashing through glass ceilings' & wearing 'power suits' and shit (Hello-Hi!) as I climb the corporate ladder. I'm occassionly sexy. It stands to reason really; I've not been without a boyfriend for more than six months since 1997 (ALTHOUGH IF YOU'RE REALLY GOOD AT PSYCHOLOGY/MIND SHIT, YOU MIGHT SAY IT'S A SELF ESTEEM ISSUE AND I LET MYSELF GET TREATED BADLY BECAUSE I'M SCARED OF BEING ALONE - WELL DONE YOU). Regardless, people still want to have sex with me, in the daytime, with the lights on, sober. And thank god for disco pashes.

I've tried Weight Watchers at least four times; I've tried my own at-home version of Weight Watchers with some friends (who still have my $10 entry fee). I've tried Jenny Craig. I've tried a nutritionist. I've tried a personal trainer. I've tried exercising with friends. I've tried making the psycho ex-boyfriend act as my personal trainer, and get up at 5am in the morning, and drive to my house to go walking with me. I've tried exercising by myself. As a team sport. In a gym. I've tried hiding my wallet so I'm not tempted to by junk. I've tried making my mum my food nazi. Fuck it, I've tried everything.

It's said that you can never achieve something unless you truly want it. So you might be reading this saying "Oh, she's lazy, has no willpower, etc".

But that's the thing. It's the one thing that I want more in life. Not money, not sex with a fantapants. I just want to be able to fit into good looking clothes. It consumes me. Day & night.

This is the worst time of the year for me. It's the time that summer stuff is coming in & the realisation that winter is over & with it go the (long suffering) jeans & jumpers, and here come the singlets & mini shorts/skirts.

I try to stay away from people in the summer. I don't want a reminder of people wearing cute singlets looking cool (temparature-wise as well) while I'm stuck in my t-shirt to hide my ugly arms & a denim skirt to my knees to hide my upper thighs. Don't even ask me what I do to compound the problem that is my middle section.

I could probably write about try 170,892 at having a go at this diet thing - although I know you're probably all sick about reading about my failed attempts by now. I'm certainly sick of thinking about them - be grateful I don't write about this every day.

Please don't write me off as someone who is too lazy, and who has no willpower. Well actually, maybe I don't have any; I could be picking up, and paying for a bar of chocolate, just staring at it, and thinking of the million & one reasons I should put it down. Even while I'm eating it, I feel nothing but shame, & disgust for myself. To combat these feelings, I'll usually go shopping right afterwards (or the next day if it's a late night binge) and try to fit into clothes I want to buy, just to punish myself.

I need to break the cycle. Permanently. Not for five weeks, like my last big effort last year with my nutrionist, but forever. But how? How do I tell myself to break a lifetime habit, even with all the resources at my fingertips.

It does all come down to how badly you want it. And how strong the catalyst is. But where do I find my catalyst. Can it come soon; I really want to buy some new bathers for my holiday.

OR:

Martie on holiday

*withdraws*

Nothing to be excited about except for hotdogs

2006-09-30T16:33:00.000+10:00

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

2006-09-25T18:57:00.000+10:00

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

2006-09-22T01:11:00.000+10:00

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?

2006-09-13T00:03:00.000+10:00

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

2006-09-10T23:37:00.000+10:00

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

2006-09-07T23:23:00.000+10:00

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.

2006-09-07T18:17:00.000+10:00

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?

2006-09-07T12:03:00.000+10:00

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.

2006-09-05T12:03:00.000+10:00

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.........

2006-09-01T12:01:00.000+10:00

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

Shorties

2006-08-28T00:37:00.000+10:00

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

2006-08-23T16:03:00.000+10:00

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...

2006-08-21T00:03:00.000+10:00

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

2006-08-18T00:03:00.000+10:00

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

2006-08-17T12:03:00.000+10:00

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?)

2006-08-17T00:17:00.000+10:00

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

2006-08-16T06:43:00.000+10:00

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.

2006-08-15T22:27:00.000+10:00

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

2006-08-14T22:57:00.000+10:00

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

2006-08-14T18:07:00.000+10:00

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.

2006-08-14T01:43:00.000+10:00

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

2006-08-11T12:13:00.000+10:00

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??