Monday, February 27, 2006

Morons = Minty Goodness

Ok, so I'm over the whole 'woe is me' thing in respect to the Ex-Fucker. I spent a week all mope-y about it (and excused you the dreadful lame morose posts that would have gone with it - THANK ME BITCHES) and the final straw came last night, when he asked me:

"Should I take drugs when I go out with the people from work, because they do?"

*cue jaw dropping*

So yeah. I didn't really have anything to say. I still don't. Just behold the dickheadness, and move on.

So anyway, in the midst of all this, I discovered Mint Green M&M's. Good product, bad promoter.

Why did Pamela Anderson need to come all the way out here to promote something that will probably never pass her lips anyway? Oh, that's right. Because the Australian consumer loves to buy stuff endorsed by a haggard old Barbie doll, yeah? (Exhibit A - check out the Video Shits interview with Axle. Does this inspire you to wank?).

Anyway, maybe there should be a reality TV show for people who get sucked in by advertising the most, because I would win. Then I would be invited to appear on Friday Night Games, and be the first person to give Mike Goldman a wedgie, or melt his makeup or something (punching or killing him just seems too violent). Hurrah. Then the world would thank me.

And you too would thank me. You could say "I used to know that girl when she was a blogger", and we could get all six-degrees-of-separation on each other's asses.

Yes, truly, a great week was had.


PS - Much thanks to the people that identified with the Ex-Fucker situation with their Ex stories in previous comments. Apologies for not replying individually to each comment, but I really now just want to move on. Much appreciated though.

Monday, February 20, 2006

And that's the sound of my heart breaking all over again...

As we speak, I am currently in the midst of texting the Ex-Fucker.

Yes, yes, I know. Dangerous territory. But there is no one here; everyone is off doing stuff and did not reply to my 'Help!' texts, so I kinda got sucked in. Willpower is so not my forte.

It's just basic stuff, 'Hi; How are you?; What have you been up to?' but already my heart is racing at a million miles an hour, and I just know that I will not be able to sleep properly tonight.

Looks as though my 'NYE Freezer' trick didn't work after all.

For the uniniated, I read somewhere long ago that if you write a person's name down on a piece of paper, and place it in your freezer, then it 'symbolises freezing a person out of your life'. Neat trick, huh?

Anyway, I'm not really a superstitious person, but I really want(ed?) to have a hassle free 2006, and try and move on from the hurt and pain I went through with the Ex-Fucker last year.

So on NYE, I wrote the Ex-Fucker's name down, gave a short little speech in my kitchen, which was more of a 'letter' to him, and placed it in the very back of my freezer, with indifferent expectations.

And for the first month and a half of the year, it was working. I had not heard anything from him since NYE, and then a couple of days after, when he text me asking how my NYE was. I did not reply. God, GIVE ME THE WILLPOWER I HAD BACK THEN.

(Update: He just asked me "Are you still living by yourself?")

Anyway, the last couple of weeks, people started asking me (most people around me know of the drama) had I heard from him. I was very pleased (but on the inside, kinda sad) to say that I had not, and that this was going to be a good year, rah rah rah.

Until now. Fucker had to go and mess up my day month year life again by texting me. I should know better; the only way to heal such a broken, broken heart is to let sleeping dogs lie, but I just can't help myself. I am a bad, bad Martie. No smack required.

Anyway, I know most of you have probably been there and done that before - please regale me with your tales of woe, so I can feel a teensie, tiny bit better about the whole deal, please. Also, if you have any superstitions you think might help, don't be shy.

Friday, February 17, 2006

If it's good enough for Flick Scully...

100th post for me! Let's hope it's as shit as all the others. Consistency peoples is thy name of the game.

A DILEMMA! Yesterday, I went to a shopping centre & bought a cheeseburger because I was in a hurry and I was hungry. Whilst acquiring a bottle of diet coke, however, I dropped said cheeseburger on the floor (it was wrapped). As I really had no time to stand in line again, I invoked the Holly Valance Three Second Rule (TM) and picked it up, unwrapped it, threw offending pickle away, and ate it.

Was this the correct thing to do? Do I now have diseases (well, more than I already 'have' anyway)? Should I have 'blown' the germs off it? Please help, oh lurking doyennes of social ettiquette.

It's just occurred to me that I did this in front of an entire food court of people. Should I be embarassed that I ate food from the floor in front of the general public? Does it matter that they were all bogan single mothers under the age of 22, with bad peroxide jobs, wearing tight black pants and parachute motorsport jackets?

Anyway, as this matter of great importance plays on one side of my mind, another matter has intruded into my thoughts; I have a blogger crush* (totally hetero though LOLZ!!!!1!).

What is the etiquette in this situation? Can I still have a crush and be quasi seeing Jungle Boy for the moment? Do I have to advise my crush that they are the object of my affection? If I were to grow a backbone (oh, the irony), and make a move, how would I do that? A carefully worded email? A hint-laden post?

I wonder what Holly Valance would do about this?



*Like fuck I am telling anyone who it is.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

No orgies for me, please.

Fuck me dead and bury me pregnant.

The interwebs are bitchier than the backstage of 'Dancing with the Stars' at the mo'.

I say, that if you want a good site to troll, head on over to here (bitch stole my blog template) and somebody please tell me WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON???

Anyway, tally ho, keep up the good work, etc etc.

Love

Martie & her human hair beaver

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Order Now: "Mr Horse Cock: Down in the hole 2"

Even the most discerning of readers would be surprised to find out that Jungle Boy came through with some sweet Valentine's day goodness!

No, it wasn't my teal Oroton wallet, but then again, $200 bucks is a lot to spend on a day that well, is just a day really.

Anyway, so imagine my surprise when this morning at work arrives a HUGE box marked fragile, addressed to me! In it:


How a-fucking-dorable!

If you know me, then you'll know that roses really aren't my bag - too cliched.
Now, I don't know if Jungle Boy actually knew I felt this way, but he didn't get me roses because he felt they were too cliched too. An excellent indication, no?

Anyway, we decided that we wouldn't be spending tonight together, as weekdays are just so hard when you have to travel, and get up for work the next day, rah rah rah. So we're holding off until the weekend. That's when he'll receive his present (wink wink, nudge nudge).

So, I thought I'd be bunker down with some $8 dollar ice cream and catch up on some reading, until I opened my mail (well actually not MY mail, just the guy who lived here before me) to find this:

Porn DVD catalogue, containing such memorable titles as:
"Das Sex Hotel"
"School Bus Girls"
"Ping Pong Pussy"
"Japanese Jaw-Dropping Sex Acts" (One for my brother, I would imagine)
and of course my personal favourite, "Mr Horse Cock: Down in the hole 2" (as per my title).

Then we get to the GILTF (Grandma I'd like to fuck) section, and it all just gets weird for me.

Anyway, snaps to Matthew Stafford, and his luddite-ways of ordering through mail order catalogue, not from the internet or brought back from Canberra by a travelling friend 21st Century ways. Oh, the irony of receiving this on Valentines day.

And to you all: hope you had a good Vday and that you didn't discover a message in the Herald-Sun with YOUR EXACT NAME from YOUR EXACT QUASI-PARTNER'S NAME, and jump up and down and get all excited, then thank said partner for message, only to be told it "wasn't me that put it in. What a strange co-incidence" and just slink under your desk, embarassed as all hell. No, I certainly hope you didn't have to go through that.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Icecapades with Ricky Gervaise

Over the next couple of weeks, I will be obsessed with ice-skating. So much so, that I will beg ANYONE to take me to the 'ice disco', which runs every Saturday night, at a local skating rink. Romantic much? Think about it, in nine out of ten romantic comedies, they always end up at an (mainly outdoor) ice skating rink, where they'll be all cutesy with little scarves on, and the chick will stage a fall into the ice-man-hotness, and they'll kiss, and.... WHERE OH WHERE, IS MY ICE-MAN-HOTNESS??

Of course my inspiration stems from the currently showing Winter Olympics, during which I MAY be glued to my couch watching the ice-skating, and perhaps offering up bitchy critiques of each skater's costume. Maybe.

Went to Jungle Boy's last night and we ended up watching The Extras. Please, if you haven't already, it is a must-watch. Even email me for a dvd copy of all the episodes if you have to. I heart Ricky Gervaise so much, and even though he loses some of his appeal without the David Brent facial hair, I still want to make the hot sex with him. And again.

Two days of work for me this week. In my spare time, I plan to: get my giney waxed, sleep in, read my Louis XIV biography, a Christmas present to myself, and be swept off to an ice rink by Ricky Gervaise in the name of Valentines Day. Hopes and dreams people, hopes and dreams.

Speaking of Valentine's day, ugh. I've half done the breaking up deed with Jungle Boy, but half not. I'm back to thinking I don't want to. It's fun, I will admit that much.

Try as I might, I am unable to think of any suitable Vday presents to get him. Except of course, giney waxing (I'm getting sex, dammnit!), which he has been harping at me for AGES to get. Of course, I've resisted because I know he wants it, as part and parcel of the bitch that I am. But I'm kinda sick of having to do my home maintenance all the time, and cannot wait to ball my fists up and rest my ass on them 'to get better light'. No, seriously.

Anyway, apart from that, I'm not really into the Vday commercialism, but don't want to let the day pass by without some sort of acknowledgement. I suspect if I was maybe a little more receptive to the whole idea, maybe my romantic ice-man-hotness would appear? Who knows.

So guys, and clued up girls with guys, here's the brief. The boy is into top level technology; computers; sex and...well...that's about it. I want something that's not gushy (considering we've never exchanged 'I love you's'), but something that is on a romantic-enough level. If you were the subject of my affections, what would you like to receive?? Indeed, what do boys like to receive on Vday?? Unfortunately, things like DVD's and chocolate body paint are already out of the question - so WHAT is it that I can buy him?

Answers, please. Stat. I need help.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

A little on the serious side...

Yo.

Something is making me sad at the moment. Actually, my 90 year old woman's back is making me sad too (would anyone want to pick up a 90 year old woman at the D&D ball?), but it's a different sad.

RU486.

A very important little pill that has the potential to affect thousands of Australian women. However, can the right decision be made about it's introduction without politics or religion clouding the issue?

Let's get it straight. The REAL issue here is whether Tony Abbot or the TGA gets to decide if RU486 becomes available. I admit that I haven't read enough about the actual pill itself, and its side effects, so I'm not going to bang on in support of it being introduced willy-nilly. However, when it comes to such a sensitive issue, one that, let's face it, has very strong religous hallmarks, shouldn't the decision be made by a religion-impartial body, not a health minister who's views on abortion are well documented?

The usuals are of course lobbying for RU486 to be banned on the back of the abortion - right or wrong? issue. However, when there is not ONE SINGLE PERSON IN THIS WORLD that can pass the judgement as to whether abortion is right or wrong, the issue regarding the introduction of RU486 should be null and void. There never will be anyone that can answer the right or wrong question. And while faith can guide someone as much as it likes, not everyone subscribes to the same religion or indeed any religion at all, and therefore SHOULD NOT be subjected to someone else's fanatical views, and forced to live by them.

Support choice. Support someone's right to say "I don't agree with abortion on ethical/religous/personal grounds, so I would never have one", but also support someone's right to say "I can't have this baby at the moment, for whatever reason, so I am going to abort it". Don't get picky with reasons: that 'career woman' may be selfish for choosing to terminate her pregnancy so it doesn't interfere with her career, but don't give the right to choose to some and not to others. Besides, how many selfish acts do you see in the world everyday anyway?

My argument is probably going to lose all eloquence right now, because I'm going to give a great big FUCK YOU to Margaret Tighe and the Right To Life band. (Sorry, no link. Too angry). You infuriate me when you wax lyrical about how women just need to have counselling, and they'll 'come round' to the idea of being pregnant or adopting the child out instead. Because it's that easy. You make my blood boil when you almost condone violence or abuse hurled at abortion clinics - their staff and the people who use them - and degrade women who have made possibly what is the biggest choice of their lives.

I sit and wonder if you think of the bigger implications of banning RU486, and abortion, and everything else you stand for. The unloved, unwanted kids? The ones that languish in daycare/creche/after-school care or worse still, are forgotten when it's time to be picked up? The ones that end up on drugs and alcohol because that's what they were born into and know no better? The ones who constantly want to tear their heads apart, because they can't quite get them around why their mother gave them up? And the adoptive parents, who go through the heartbreak of their children denouncing them once they've found their birth family?

Do you think about that Margaret? Do you think about the disastrous effect banning abortions would have? We'd go back to medieval backyard abortions, or secret packets of 'herbs'; where no women would be capable of making an informed decision, even though it would intelligent, capable women that would be forced to use the back door method. Is that what you want Margaret? Australian women being uninformed and misled, and ashamed of the choices they make? For them not to have access to pre or post abortion counselling, thus endangering their mental health? I don't think I even need to mention how downright dangerous and unsafe it is too.

Think about it Margaret. Think about it while your minions run around and lobby the members of parliament for the tomorrow's vote. And while you're thinking about it, remember that you DO NOT and CAN NOT definitively answer whether a human's rights begin at contraception or at birth. Again, no one can. By all means, have your opinion, and stand up for it, but respect the women that don't share your opinion, and make choices that don't agree with your personal beliefs.

If you spent half as much energy in supporting and lobbying for a better future for all of the kids that are on the streets, or going through the DHS system, or the ones that are abused; the ones that actually HAVE rights beyond all reasonable doubt, as you do denouncing a woman's right to choose, you might find that there's a whole nastier world out there and children that COULD use your help. You'd probably be more at peace with yourself too.

Quickly back to the issue at hand; Tony Abbot, do what you know is right. Give control to the TGA and let them decide if it's safe to be sold on the Australian market. Dispense with tomorrow's vote, and search past your Catholic heart, to YOUR conscience, and make the right decision on behalf of Australian women (and men), the ones that elected you to do the very same thing in the first place.


NB. For the record, writer strongly believes in a women's right to choose (obviously). For the record, writer would have an abortion given accompanying circumstance. For example, if writer's unborn child was shown to be carrying a genetic disorder, such as severe downs syndrome, or similar, then writer would think long and hard and most likely* choose to abort the child. Or, in the case that write was to fall pregnant at this present stage of her life, given her unstable financial/relationship circumstances and the fact that she is completely aware that she would be mentally incapabable of bringing a child into this world at this time, then she would most likely* choose to abort it too.

* - Use of the phrase 'most likely' is not a cop out. Rather, as writer has not been in the situation where she is pregnant with the above scenarios, or rather, not pregnant at all, she is unaware of exactly how she would act. Obviously, that's why one would attend counselling, and inform themselves thoroughly, relative to one's feeling at the time, as to whether abortion would be right for them.



Apologies to anyone from my reader base that may be offended by my views. I can understand why, however I don't apolgise for having them. I respect your opinion, please respect mine. Although, healthy debate in comments/email is always welcome.

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

1000 Apologies Master

Apologies for lack of blogging activities/commenting.

I'm more taped up than a bitch at a bondage club.

I 'appear' to have some sort of spinal injury and reading/typing with laptop on knee whilst in bed is not conducive to my convalescence.

Hopefully normal activity will resume when I am able to hold my neck up for any decent length of time (IE - longer than 10 seconds).

In the meantime, please enjoy the following image in honour of baby brother coming home on Sunday. Yes I know it's grainy but I am not in possession of a scanner and trust me I am still fuck off cute under all that...grain.



See you on the flip side bitches

M xx

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Ding! I've been tagged

Many thanks to the lovely Miss Rigo (call her 'Rye-go" and she'll punch you in the face) for this one, but yep, is was all nasty Dollop's fault.

He He He

Oh my gosh, look at the time I am posting this! So early for someone with the day off! I'm actually just getting all my shit together before it turns into a 9000 degree day, and I go to the Mothership's to leech the air-con.

And so on with the meme (fucking stupid name):

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Lusting after my high school crush, Tim Fisher. I think I believed in love enough, that for Valentine's Day, I bought him the new Red Hot Chilli Peppers CD, wrapped it up, and put it in his schoolbag anonymously. Only to have his best friend and my arch enemy, Ben W, tell all and sundry that it was from me (my crush was no big secret to anyone; the secret admirer thing might have been a waste of time), so that I couldn't even look him in the eye after that. In short, this is why I have hated V-Day since.

What were you doing 1 year ago?

Still google-stalking Tim Fisher. This is as far as I have gotten. Also, I was getting my heart broken by the Ex-Fucker again, as it is very close to the day that he tricked me into having sex with him, by telling me that he wanted to get back together with me. Cunt.

Snacks you enjoy:

I think everyone knows this about me already. Microwave popcorn. Peanut M&M's. Cashews. Smash your head biscuits.
Luckily I have seen the light, and I now enjoy almonds, fruit and corn thins.

Songs to which you know all the lyrics:

'Cherry Cherry', by Neil 'I am not a cubic zirconia' Diamond

I could be here for days listing the songs that I know. So here are some ones I prepared earlier:

'Harpoon' by Jebediah
'Paradise by the Dashboard Light' by Meatloaf
'Maggie May' by Rod Stewart

Things you would do if you were a millionaire:

Where do you start? Houses, cars, etc for everyone. A fuck off expensive pink diamond ring for myself. Constant extermination of spiders at my house. Money to charities like the Lost Dogs Home and the Save-a-Dog scheme, etc. Then I'd put the rest in the bank, and live off the interest while I took myself back to Uni to study History.

Bad habits:

Finding the wrong men; using my Visa card; buying sunglasses; mindless snacking on 'bad' food (it adds up) and being too lazy to take my dogs for a walk.

Things you like doing:

Taking my dogs for a walk; kickboxing; buying sunglasses; washing; planning things.

Things you would never wear, buy or get new again:

BAHAHAHAHA! A dressing gown.

Parts of your heritage:

Apparently there's Chinese in my Dad's line, but I've never seen any evidence of that. So, I'm just plain old boring convict-y.

Things that scare you:

Spiders. Crawl-y things. Rabbits. People that dress in those oversized character suits and walk around shopping centres. The dark.

Fears you overcame:

Nothing. I'm still a scaredy cat.

Your everyday essentials:

Sunglasses. Talking to my best friend.

Things you are wearing right now:

This is a bit '1900', isn't it???

But for the sake of the meme, I am wearing fuck off cute pyjamas. And my glasses (not of the sun variety).

Things you wore too much last year:

Thongs (of the feet variety). And Black.
And I'm not about to change my habits this year either.

This year's favourite bands or musical artists:

Hmm. There's a song on the radio called 'Gabrielle' or at least it mentions the name 'Gabrielle' a few thousand times. I like that. I haven't had much exposure to anything else, so can I just say Neil Diamond and be done with it?

Things you want most in a relationship:

Communication. Honesty. Great conversations. Hot sex. A secret understanding. Acceptance.

Your favourite movies of the year:

The only one I've seen so far is Harry Potter. Anything with Vince Vaughn or Oliver Platt that's coming out. Oh, I can't wait to see 'M' either.

Best movies of all time:

Gone with the Wind. Romper Stomper. A Night at the Roxbury. Dodgeball. Die Hard II. Delta Force, or anything with Chuck Norris. Very highbrow, I know.

Best TV shows of all time:

The Late Show. The Office.

Things you hate:

Spiders. People who are 'fake'. Skipping. 9000 degree weather. The list could go on and on...

Your favourite hobbies:

I always feel like I should write stamp collecting in this bit. But no.

Reading. Interior design. Sport.

Things you learned last year:

That you never quite see every side to a person, until adversity. That I never want to open my heart up to anyone again, for fear of it getting pulverised like the Ex-Fucker accomplished. That I missed my brother far more than I thought I would. That I must eat protein with every meal.

Accomplishments you are proud of (from last year):

I lost 5kg in the last 7 weeks of the year (party season). I kissed a 19 year old boy, who thought I was 21! I made the first move to patch things up with an old friend; it didn't work, but I'm proud I tried. I started eating breakfast.

Things you want really badly:

My teal Oroton wallet. A new job. A tan. Sunglasses.

Things that many people do and you don't:

Smoke. Never, ever, EVER tried it.
Take Holidays.

Interesting places that you’ve been to:

I've been nowhere. It's embarrassing when you meet up with old friends and they ask what you've been up, and you say, 'working and pissing it all up again', and they say 'Well, I've been here, here, there, here and even here!'

Places you want to go on vacation:

Vanuatu / Tahiti / Bora Bora / Cook Islands, etc. Then, for travel, Europe, and America.
Oh, and also Perth, and Mallacoota.

Things you want to do before you die:

See above question. Find Tim Fisher and tell him that I had a crush on him for all six years of high school and can I please just have one little kiss so that I can die a happy girl? Design my dream home. Find the ultimate sunglasses. Finish this meme.

Ways that you are a stereotypical example of your gender:

Bitchy. Scared of Spiders. Know my way around every shopping centre & shopping strip in Melbourne.

Things that make you stand out from your gender:

Ummm, I have great boobs?

Strengths you’re particularly proud of:

Anything work-related. My sporting ability.

Strengths that are also weaknesses:

I find it hard to say that I need help

Things you normally wouldn't admit:

I sometimes use act 'ditsy' to get what I want.
I enjoy going to work.
I like hairy men.
That the reason I'm finding it so hard to break it off with Jungle Boy is because I sometimes think I'm in love with him.

Goals for the New Year:

Lose the rest of the weight I need to lose & get really fit again. Get a new job. Save some money. Find ultimate sunglasses. Continue quest to googlestalk Tim Fisher.

I tag:

No one. An hour and a half later, and I'm broken.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Renovation Rescue & the sound of wedding bells...

In exactly two weeks time, my little brother will be coming home.


Look at him, isn't he cute?!

(Many moons ago, I wanted to marry my brother, all policemen and goats. Luckily for me, I had a big fight with my brother; my ex-boyfriend became a cop and I learnt, through baby jebus' christian followers, that bestiality is wrong, boys and girls).

He is bringing with him his girlfriend. AND her mother!! Is an engagement on the cards? Jeepers! Who knows!

Whatever is going on, it has now turned the parentals into DIY fiends. Dad is painting like a man possessed, and doesn't it give him the shits, that everytime I go over I manage to find a huge spot that he's missed, etc. Of course, I have offered to help, but ever since the Great Painting Incident of the 80's, where i painted myself, the footpath, the cat, the trees, BASICALLY EVERYTHING EXCEPT THE ACTUAL HOUSE, I have been banned from picking up a paintbrush.

The Mothership is also getting into the spirit of things, although her catchcry is not "To Bunnings we go!"; it's more "New Carpet! New Lounge Suite!". Admittedly, new carpet is desperately needed; the 1960's commotion there now would go very well in a student bedsit, but it is rather headache inducing for the oldies.

A sneaky suspicion that someone is trying to impress the potential in-laws, hmmm?

Whilst mulling this over with a few friends, one of them asked me: "But won't it just kill you if your brother gets engaged before you do?"

Kill me? Probably not. I've been thinking lately that maybe I'm not the engaging type. Certainly not the marrying type. Well not now anyway. I'm more interesting in my career and sorting myself out, to be planning weddings and babies etc. My my, how things change. Once, I wanted to have EIGHT babies.

I also think I'm too much of a control freak to get engaged/married, etc. As I've stated before, the guy would have to propose with a fuck off huge bunch of hot pink balloons, in one of which would be my platinum ring with an emerald cut pink sapphire and an emerald cut diamond on either side.

Then the engagement party (if we had one), would just be a small affair - personally I think they can be a bit of wank. I'd then get married barefoot on a beach at sunset in Vanuatu or Tahiti, with only my immediate family, his immediate family, and our very close friends. After we got back, we'd organise a BBQ celebration in the backyard, invite everyone that actually means something to us (not the obligatory invites that are so common), with Bi-Lo sausages in bread and my Mum's AWESOME hamburgers. And that'd be it. Oh, and plenty of booze.

When I find the guy who actually wants to do it this way, then I will be ready to get married.

So good luck to my partner in crime of childhood past. I hope that he's happy, whatever they are planning on doing. I just might score a trip to Japan out of it too.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Fuckin' Chuck Norris

Whoa! I'm really going to town tonight, aren't I? I'll have to leave those pink marshmallows alone.

Anyway THIS is pure GOLD. Just keep hitting F5 for more random Chuck Norris goodness.

The 'Awards' to beat all awards

Really, why bother with the the Blog Awards, when y'all should get voting for Miss Internet 2006.

I have no idea who the reigning Miss Internet is, or just what any of the candidates think about *World Peace*, but uh, who cares? Spewin' there's no talent section though...


Bonus points if you can guess which one is MY entry...

Maybe just a little while longer?

"You will let me know how your job interview goes won't you, my red foiled baby doll?"




*sigh*

Thursday, January 19, 2006

The Gamble

Anyone who knows me knows that a haircut is akin to pulling teeth for me. So, like my annual trip to the dentist - I took myself off to a 'recommended' salon for a new 'do. Now I'm looking all a bit straggly. And violet-red streaky. And...maybe it will be better when I wash it.

And oh - blessed news! I have one job interview tomorrow. Fabulous. One suspects that violet-red is not-so-hot in the corporate world at the mo'.

Maybe these red streaky things, oh-so-hot on coy asians, will give me a fiery redhead (NOT fantapants) attitude that I so desperately need at the moment. You see, I have made up my mind; I'm going to break up with the Jungle Boy.

Yes yes, I know I've said it before (lots), this time I'm oh-so-serious. And it's not about the dressinggown. It's been one looong week of ignoring me...I know that he's busy at work - but it takes nothing to say hi.

He:
* Never asked me how my visit to the nutrionist was on Monday (fine thanks, LOST 0.3 kg's over the 3 week holiday period of eating shit and not training).
* Never responded to my distress call when told of the $2.5B bill that I would be receiving for my car soon. Seems my snazzy little European car, needs some snazzy little European brake discs and pads, and some special little tyres to go with it. I wasn't asking for the money, I was just upset.
* Hasn't asked me anything at all about the job interview that I am going to tomorrow. Nothing. Hasn't even wished me good luck.
* Hasn't asked me anything about my haircut, even though he knew how terrified I was of going in the firstplace.
* Told me that I couldn't get a 'lesbian' haircut (read: anything above the shoulders, or short and spiky), but that he could get wanky blond tips, and GROW A BEARD if he wanted.

Oh gosh, I do sound like a complaining old bag, don't I? Problem is, you could take any week, and it would still be like that, just different scenarios. We have such a brilliant time when we're together, that I keep thinking that it will all 'work itself out'. I am honestly really upset at the thought of it all, but when shit like above happens, while he's professing that he feels 'empty' when he's not with me, I just don't know what to think. I need to have one of those 'chick flick' revelations, where I decide that no man ain't ever gonna treat me bad again. ("I am not a doormat, I am not a doormat").

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Passion (killer) of The Chad

Really. Why is everyone getting into such a tizz over these, when there should be more rage and outcry over something like this?

I don't care much for people (god strike me) but show me animal cruelty and I'm the one organising, leading and packing packing up the banners after the protest.

If by chance this sick fuck ever came near me, I would, quite seriously, cut off his balls, bait them, and then force him to eat them - with a couple of fucking blows to the head for good measure. Don't think that I exxagerate about this either. Sure I'm all sparkly things and boys and hardcore pornography for the most part, but this makes me utterly fucking sick and I probably shouldn't even get started about what would happen if someone did this to my dogs.

*breathes deeply*

Uh, yeah ok. Being on holidays doesn't give me an opportunity to post any earlier. I've got hardcore pornography to download. Speaking of which, a totally unrelated masterbation story:

I was at Jungleboy's house on the weekend; while he tottered off to work, I took the opportunity to have a sleep-in. Of course, nothing ever goes to plan, especially after a hot shagging session just before he left, so instead of sleeping, I let my hands do the wandering. Which was all good, except that I forgot I had the TV on (tuned to Rage - it was early & cartoons are not my bag at that time of the morning). Next thing you know, I'm upping the pace a bit, and just before bad light is declared on the pitch, I've opened my eyes, and there, on the teev, I see this:

"Oh, my goodness Mr Paddlepop Lion. Touch me there. Yes. Yes"

and it's all over. I now know how guys feel when they lose an erection quickly. It was like the vadge had shrivelled up and gone off to be an internal organ for a while. Only through the many coaxings with promises of hardcore porn and tender waxings, did it agree to see the light of day again.

Got the M&M's though.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Wow! That colour really matches your eyes.

Yo. Okay well it was an overwhelming yes, so it seems that Cinderella will be going to the the ball after all. Especially if Mr Hottness himself is going to be there. I've decided that my quasi-single status renders me available for going, and whatever else may come up.* However, as I explained to this fine lass in Canberra, I won't be getting myself set up with anyone. Too much risk of ending up with a guy wearing one of these:

"Mmmmm, baby. Nice vest".

Stay tuned for such exciting posts as: 'Losing booty for dress'; 'OMGWTFBBQ!!!!1! Which colour nailpolish goes better?'; 'Should I really wear that feather boa?'; and 'The night I copped a feel of Hambo (after he'd taken off his vest).** That's quality right there folks.

In other random shit, could the woman above me, who insists on vacuuming her floors at 12:30am on a school night, PLEASE STOP. I'm trying to blog surf intermanet for porn sleep.

Hurrah, just realised that tomorrow is Friday the 13th! Spookfest ahoy. *note to self to check TV guide for lame horror movies* Please remember not to walk under any ladders, or fuck any black cats. Well, you know what I mean. Be vigilant, people!

In more random shit, I need a new wallet. And I've found exactly the one, so if you happen to come across Jungle Boy, please let him know that I DESIRE the teal wallet at Oroton that I drooled over just before Christmas. I'm giving him one last chance on Valentine's day (or anyday really), before I become full-i single.

Lastly, I'm on holidays next week! Hurrah! Not so much hurrah that I'm going away anywhere, but still. No work! Am already so busy though - getting my car serviced; nutritionist (Oh. Fuck.), kickboxing, lunch with friends, etc, etc, so there won't be much time for reading. Which truly sucks, because I was hoping to catch up on some good books that I have lying around enticingly.

Oh, and this weekend, I'm having sexual relations & peanut m&m's. Hurrah!


* - Get your minds out of the gutter. I was not referring to any penises.

** - Completed fabricated and wildly imaginative statement, Caz

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

A Moral Question

Because you know that I'm no good at the moral stuff. I can't decide if I am immoral, or amoral. Maybe a bit of both. Or maybe I do have good morals, but am just influenced by the dark side on some occasions.

Right. Well, on with the show:

Is it 'ok' for a Girl, that has a 'boyfriend', to accompany her best buddies to this very classy event? Keep in mind, the emphasis on the question is not is it ok to attend this festy meat market stylish soiree, but rather to attend if one has a man at home?

Some parameters for you to consider:

PROS

* Best Buddy accompanied said girl to previous events when she was man-ned up
* Aim is not to 'pick up'; just dress up, drink up, and lap teh hottness up (translation, watch others make fools of themselves)
* Killing Heidi are playing*
* Guys in suits are hott
* Alcomohol
* Get to go on rides (Venue: Luna Park)

CONS

* Attendance by Girl the previous previous year did not make the Ex-Fucker (at the time, just the Fucker) very happy
* Dressing up means effort; drinking up means generally YOU will make an fool out of yourself and 'pick up' a younger guy with a dick the width of a Coke can (NO SHIT)
* Killing Heidi are playing*
* To get alcomohol, you have to pay $105 bucks. There are budget restrictions.
* Chance that while on rides, inebriated fuckers might spew all over you. Noice.

So, what is a Girl to do?



* One of these statements is a bold faced lie.

Monday, January 09, 2006

If only we could get Legs to run...

Dear Bladder,

Look, I know that I haven't been as kind to you as I possibly could have been over the years. I do apologise for practising my pelvic floor exercises just a smidge too early in life, and holding onto your contents for far too long. But surely, you understand? Public toilets, are like, eww, gross. Y'know.

And I do apologise for the times when we go out, and drown the vodkas like there's no tomorrow, and I don't relieve you ONCE all night. It's not my fault that I can drink vodka and not have to break the seal. And don't even ask me again to drink beer or wine so you can cop a break. I don't think that Mouth would be too impressed if we vomited entire contents of stomach upon entering the festy women's toilets at various nite-spots around town. Stop thinking of yourself all the time.

But really? Do you have to try and take revenge like this? Revenge is just a fantasy. Shouldn't you, Kidneys and I all be sitting down and trying to sort out a solution to this like the adults that we are? I am already making sacrifices to appease you guys. Even Liver is impressed. Apart from that one slip up on Friday night Saturday morning, Liver said he has been pleased with me, and is going to stick around for another year.

I'm just trying to put us all back in sync. You should be enjoying the 3 litres of water that I'm attempting to drink - it's good news for all of us. IT IS NO REASON TO HOLD ME HOSTAGE IN THE WORK TOILETS ALL GOD DAMN DAY THOUGH, IS IT? IS IT, HUH?

I think I spent more time trying to figure out what that mysterious blue line on the toilet floor was, than actually doing work today. And that's not good for productivity, is it? And when I'm not productive, then what do I get? Cranky. And when I get cranky, what do I do? Drink Diet Coke. Then what are you going to end up with, Bladder? Disgusting by-product from refined sugar. And then I'll hold it in. And in. And in.

So. Hopefully after our little chat you will see the error of your ways, and perhaps put your case forward at regular, evenly spaced out intervals, not like the frenzied piss-fest that I encountered today. I know that we can all live in harmony, it's just going to take some work on all sides.

See you 'round like a Gall Stone (how good is it with those buggers gone?)

Martie xx

Saturday, January 07, 2006

At least they didn't fuck the Lion

Yo my homies in da house fucking great night to get pissed as a bitch down at your local, no?

Ok the fuck i'm wasted but vodka and skittles taste sooooooooooooo nicey nice together and this is really not going to make much sense. But fuck who CARES?

I would like to say a big BOO to telstra because my 7min taxi costed $17:30. Rip. Off. But a big cheery to martie's daddy, who supplied taxi money. HURR-FUCKING-RAH.

Anyway, did have a post all about Narnia the movie, but basically the gist of it is, don't go see it, it's full of peodophilia and incestual images. Just like Flowers in The Attic. Ugh. Way to wreck good Christian values, Dis-ney (then again, maybe not).

Anyway, so now I've broken my drunk blogging cherry, I wish you all a super dooper (how good were they in primary school?*) night's sleep, and lots of sex on the weekend.

Love me (martie)


* - I actually preferred sunny boys myself.

Monday, January 02, 2006

A New Year: A New You!

Actually, probably not. More like a little bit of housekeeping:

"I know a good bottle of Ajax when I see one"

Note how I am totally the l33tNESS and put a pic in my header and changed colours, etc? Fuck no, not really: I suck. But you know, it's a new year, let's tweak the blog to the best of Martie's fucktarded computer abilities, stuff like that.

'What I did NYE' has been practically blogged to death and here it is practically middle of the year already, and I'm finally blogging about it, so let me just say this:

My NYE consisted of A Blender; Porn; Fireworks; Vince Vaughn; Baileys; Sex on loungeroom floor & Pancakes. Make of it what you will, bitches.

In other more sombre news, my finances are shot to bits and I am going to have to pull my proverbial head in from now on, unless some sort of tattslotto fairy decides to visit me. Which is bad news for my recently aquired sunglasses addiction, which sees me collecting all sorts of cheap and chic sunnies at no more than $20 a pop. Might not sound like a lot, but when they build up....

(Shut up. I did not chase around any opened shopping centres New Years Day to find a particular pair. I just didn't, ok?)

I'm now making it my mission to find a new job sometime in the early stages of this year. Just so I can get a payout on my annual leave, which will allow me to pay off some debts, and go on a holiday.

I will also have to assess & plan living arrangements this coming year. I hate to say it, but I may have to give up my living-alone-ness and move in with someone, or worse still, move back to the Mothership. Fuck. But at this rate, I cannot sustain my living expenses on this budget, and that's without saving ANYTHING. I feel like I'm first year uni again. Fuck!

Ahh, January, the time of realisation of fucked-up finances for the year ahead. Fucking love it. About as much as I'm looking forward to the Bec & Lley-Lley media circus surrounding the Australian Open. Can't. Fucking. Wait.