***Just for you Hambo, I have turned on word verification in the comments. I am up with de times, mang!!1!!
Okaay, just for a bit of fun and because I'm feeling particularly cheery today, let's have some question & answer time. In which I will attempt to answer all your questions that you, dear readers, have emailed to me over the years months I'm making them up as we go along period of time I have been blogging, in an attempt to reveal more of the 'true' Martie.
1. Why is your blog called 'No Talent Time'?
Well, I'd been reading blogs and other such sites on the intermanet for ages before I decided I'd 'ave a go at it. And most of it was pretty bland, boring stuff like; 'I got out of bed and went to have a shower but ran out of shaving cream, so had to go to shops looking like shit, and per chance ran into my ex-boyfriend and' oh, whoops, that was my actual morning this morning, but you get the idea.
If you look around, majority of good and amusing bloggers are actually seriously creative people, who write 'stuff' for a living, or are (past)students of the humanities kind. I myself work in the dreary, staid world of financial services, where the most creative I get is putting a spin on company guidelines to make them sound more plausible to clients, or making up a good excuse as to why you can't speak to so-and-so right now, because he's a) in the conveniences b) in a meeting c) has a client with him or d) out of the office (that old chestnut). And no, fuck off I'm not a receptionist, but we have to answer the chain of phone calls that may come our way. Fuck yeah. So anyway, when I decided to join the big bad blogging world, I decided that I too would be lumped into the shaving cream catergory because I lost my creativity a while ago, so there was no point in trying to advertise otherwise.
Either that, or it would have been against some stupid copyright law to call it 'Young Talent Time', which would of course also been a misnomer, because I'm NOT young, and even though my 'going out age' is a 'young 22' just so I can trick those 19 year old boys into buying me drinks because they think it'll help 'em get into my pants, I feel that telling you my blogging age is 22 would not foster an honest relationship with you, dear readers. And now it's time to draw a breath and move onto the next question.
2. So what is your real age?
Fuck off. I'm not actually going to tell you that. Let me just say that I'm probably too old for Jonathan Brown, and too young to go to over 28's. Although I'd hardly knock either of them back. Spank me daddy...
3. Your profile pic is a bottle of alcohol. Guess it's safe to assume you like a tipple every now and again?
Fuck me. Sandra Sully with the late news there, buddy. Naturalmente, Vodka, lemonade and lime is my drink of choice, but the last few times I've been finding it is too sweet, and will now usually just settle for vodka lime & soda. Actually, who I am I kidding - I will settle for anything, I am a vodka slut. And I'll never pass up a glass of Bailey's on ice either. If I absolutely must, I can have a fairly decent go at polishing off a large number of lemon ruskis (s'cool in the late 1990's, that there were WAITING LISTS for them), as they aren't bad on a hot summer's day, and nothing beats a pot of Carlton draught down the pub with a chicken in pyjamas counter meal.
4. Is there anything you won't drink?
Bourbon. Ironic then, that I'm now kissing a bourbon drinker, isn't it?
5. Speaking of which, have you and the Jungle Boy done it doggie style yet?
No, and this damn well pisses me off. My lovely fellow blogger passed on some invaluable tips, because it appears that Jungle Boy is deficient in the kneeling on bed variety, but so far, no luck. I don't understand. The distance between my asshole and ass cheeks certainly couldn't have gotten any longer (not with all the lunges and kickboxing I've been doing lately) and I've done it with smaller dicks than his, so it must be some sort of logistical problem that I can't explain and it's DRIVING ME CRAZY, MISS DAISY. I need to work on my spacial awareness more.
6. You'd obviously never make it as a transport company operator, or warehouse manager, with logistics and stacking not your forte. So, what did you want to be when you grew up?
It was teaching all the way. You might say that I enjoyed school, and I got along well with my teachers, when I wasn't been thrown out of Home Eco (fucking pointless subject) for sticking my finger up at the teacher behind her back or being suspended for fighting. My Uni preferences read something like this: 1 - Commerce 2 thru 10 - teaching/early childhood education, etc. Excellent careers counselling there, Mr Careers Counsellor.
7. So you like kids then? When do you see yourself having them?
Kids? Can't fucking stand them. No, but something like that. I worked as an after-school care co-ordinator as my part time job at school (fuck retail. I hate customers more than I hate kids). I then did heaps of baby-sitting and finally some nannying when I was at Uni. Great kids I had too, but I realised all the running around after piano and ballet and school and tennis and the cooking and the homework just wasn't for me. Yet.
I'm way too selfish at the mo' to have kids - I like having my own space, and I'm just getting used to depending on myself, so having another human solely depending on me would just not be fair to either of us. I also want to do a bit of travelling before I start popping them out, and of course, there is the small matter of FINDING A BLOKE to have them with. I'm a little bit of a traditionalist in that I'd like to be married for a couple of years before I have them, and since there's no chance of me marrying anyone for at least 1000 years, I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm not going to have any before I'm 30. Which kinda doesn't fit in with my original life plan, but then neither does anything else I'm up to, so I guess that's the cards life has dealt me, or whatevs.
8. The cards life has dealt you? Are you into all that cosmic stuff?
Ummmm, I get the Tart to get my horoscope for me on Telstra pocketnews on her mobile, because it only costs one cent, and it gets sent almost similtaneously, which I think is great value for money. Otherwise, unless I'm checking out what NW or No Idea have got in store for me this week, I don't place much value on 'that cosmic stuff' at all. I'd much rather ring up a $4.95 porn line, rather than a $4.95 horoscope line.
9. You're into porn then. What sort of collection have you got?
Well actually, I don't really have much of a collection at all now; I lost most of it in the 'custody' batter with the Ex-Fucker. And most of what I've got now is either only 'R' rated or is totally old-school, and getting around on VHS. I have to buy a DVD player first, then start building up my collection again.
Most of my porn comes from snippets on the internet, from a wonderful site that provides free photo sets and video clips. You sometimes have to wade through bad Bon-Jovi-hair-esque 80's porn, but that only prolongs the inevitable and increases build up, and is usually worth it when you find a video clip of a hot foursome or a naughty cheerleader or something. I stay right away from dildos and all other paraphanelia like that. I just can't get off on the insertion of plastic/metal things, even if they are humming like a bitch and have clitoral attachments. Which is bad, because Jungle Boy thinks it would be hot. Okay, okay, I will work on my dildo/vibrator indifference.
10. Wow. You seemed totally unhinged and a touch Latham/Rivkin-esque during this interview. Are you going to go on to commit suicide or bag out innocent supporting members of your party family blogging community or total randoms that you pass walking down the street?
Um no. Although I may capitilise on my fame and get into the porn industry, or live the quiet life in a teepee in the country. (Wendy Matthews, you fucking wank. And if you find a snake under your blanket - KILL IT. KIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLL. I used to like "the day you went away", but now...)
Um, where was I? No, there'll be no suicide for me, although I totally cannot stand asian women with old Australian guys it makes me want to vomit for all the disgusting creepy-ness I'll-supply-you-with-a-feed-for-the-rest-of-your-life-if-you-suck-my-shrivelled-pruny-old-cock-for-the-rest-of-your-life of it. And anyway, mail-order is more Russian, isn't it??
So, ding my friends, that is it on what was possibly the first and last Martie expose (you'll just have to imagine the little inflection on the end of that 'e'). Feel free to leave any questions you might have in the comments box, and we'll see if we can't saddle up the old girl for another round.
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