The post that's not a post

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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?

***

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.

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 boyman 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

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

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...

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

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

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

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.

"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

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

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

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?