Greek Style

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

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

1000 apologies for not looking like Lara Bingle.

From,

Martie

The badness is back...

...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

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:

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

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

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...

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)

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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...

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