the antilogy |

I realised today that I’m in my last year of my 20’s. Come April of next year I’ll be entering my 30’s. I’m not too phased by this since I’ve always been (enter age) going on 90, I’m an old lady in a young lady’s body and I am okay with that.

I figured though it may be a good time to do a 20’s bucket list. Except I made the mistake of Googling a before 30’s to do list and found a pile of the biggest pile of naff shit ever.

Behold, things that I “allegedly” should have done before 30 and can’t do after next April.

Move out of your parents’ home

This should seriously be on your teens bucket list. If you’re seriously still living at home (and I mean never left your parental home) at 30 you’re a fucking loser.

Women: purchase your first pair of Manolo Blahnik or Jimmy Choo shoes.

Bitch please. I’m not spending nearly a thousand dollars on a pair of shoes that will make me bleed.

Lose a fight

Surely this a man entry? I do not fight, I’m a lover not a fighter. If a fight presented itself to me at 13 or 50 I would run screaming like a girl in the opposite direction.

Fighting hurts yo.

Start writing a novel/film script/slim volume of deeply embarrassing poetry.

This is a naff entry. No.

Spend a night sleeping outside Whether it’s on a Greek beach, or in a London doorway after a particularly damaging night out.

What the fuck! I’m not fucking homeless! Find a fucking bed!

Stay up for 48 hours. Believe me, you will never be able to do this after you’ve turned 30

I couldn’t do this at 18. I know what I’m like on less than 6 hours sleep at night, if I didn’t sleep for 48 hours I’d have a stroke.

Kill an animal. A bird, a fish, a terminally ill family pet.

Apparently a sociopath wrote this one. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

Have a one-night stand.

Bull. Shit. I am totally going to have one night stands after I’m 30. You’re not my Mum, you can’t tell me what to do!

Be naked in public. Streaking, skinny-dipping or just simple forgetfulness.

? Simple forgetfulness? Just quietly if you’re going out in public naked because you ‘forgot’ to put on clothes you have bigger issues than turning 30.

Be so short of cash you have to sell something Record collection, family heirloom, kidney, sexual favours.

Uh. No. Try using a fucking budget. Christ.

Get arrested. For a minor offence, obviously.

Again. No.

Drink yourself unconscious. And wake up with only the haziest, shabbiest memories of the night before.

Wait, I can’t do this after I’m 30? That’s depressing.

Saying ‘Cool!’. Nobody over 30 can carry this one off. Stick with ‘OK’.

Ok? I will continue to use inappropriate language until I can no longer speak. Because calling someone a douchebag has no age limit.

Clubbing. No, it’s not your paranoia. Everyone really is staring and laughing.

Finally one I agree with. I think people who go clubbing over the age of 30 are a little sad.

I went clubbing at age 18 and 1 day and walked out thinking, “cool, now I never have to do that again.” I am not a clubber.

Using make-up that comes free with magazines. It’s cheap and it looks it.

Get stuffed. If using free stuff is wrong then I don’t want to be right.

Teen music. Going to see boy bands, such as Busted – without a small child in tow.

1. Who are Busted?
2. No one will ever interfere with my love for the Spice Girls, Five, Taylor Swift or Hanson.
3. Ever.

Reading Chick Lit. Why not try one of the classics you should have read at school. You could be pleasantly surprised.

Condenscending wank. I don’t understand the hatred towards Chick Lit. It’s awesome and fluffy and entertaining and I’ll continue to read my goddamn books with high heels and martini glasses on the front if I want to.

Texting. Text messaging should be for emergency use only. Pick up the phone instead. You are not 15 years old.

?

Flashing your G-string. If you must wear one then keep it hidden from view or you might scare old people and small children.

Jesus wept. Flashing your G string is unacceptable at any age, hide your shame!

Crying at work. This is just about acceptable from the fresh-out-of-college newcomer with the baby face. You are a mature, professional woman.

The person who wrote this list has obviously never met my boss.

Getting falling down drunk. It’s always undignified, but now it’s tragic. Stop for the sake of your health as well as your reputation.

Please. This is one of the best parts of being an adult. Carry on.

After reading this I’m pretty sure I’m just going to carry on as normal in my undignified way.

Man, it’s been exactly a month since I last updated. Since things have been busy at work I just don’t get a chance to blog there and if I update from home (which I’m doing now) I do it on my Blackberry. Which causes finger cramps.

Anyway.

I’m sick-ish at the moment. Last week I had tonsillitis and a delightful sinus infection, taking a couple of days off seemed to fix it. Until I caught a cold a couple of days later which I still have now, it’s not too bad actually since I’m mainly just snuffly but still it would be nice to not be a mouth breather for a while.

Fucking mouthbreathers.

The boss situation? Got worse, a lot worse, but not enough to officially complain. I can’t get into it too much but after a 3rd meeting with him where I burst into tears afterwards (in front of half of my all male team – mortifying) I took a few days to think it over.

I love the work I do. I love what we’ll be rolling out soon. I love my team mates and I don’t want to leave the company I’m with. So I decided to pick my battle, which involved playing nice with him.

I can’t begin to describe how much it takes to do this, but I couldn’t keep dreading work like I was, I couldn’t keep waiting for the next reaming I was going to get from him, it was not sustainable and you know, he has the ability to sack me and make my life hell.

It’s not fair, not even close, but playing nice has meant that I get to do the work I love but without the constant hassle. Plus he’ll be gone long before I am. I’m patient.

Mark decided he missed me and called to tell me so. And yes, he still has his girlfriend.

I have no idea what creepy hold I have over boys I’ve been involved with (read: slept with regularly), but this always ALWAYS happens while he’s in a relationship. I don’t want to think about what this says about me since it will depress me, but it would be nice if I was offered more than mistress-esque type options.

Beth has changed her mind on the type of dress we’re wearing for her wedding. It went from black cocktail dress “I pick the fabric, you pick the style” to a dress she’s got an eye on.

It involves tulle. And diamontes.

She obviously hates her bridesmaids.

But we may have found another one which is gorgeous, we’re looking at both this weekend so I’m sending out big ‘no tulle’ vibes.

Updates on the farm?

I’d say that the banks hate me but it appears they just hate my farm. The latest bank has turned down the application because the “property is too remote.”

Which is kind of the point.

I JUST WANT MY FUCKING FARM!

There’s a third option that I can do, I hope to fuck that it works out. Cross your fingers for me, yes?

This weekend is a good one, we’ve hired a house in the Hunter Valley and we are going to eat and drink and relax and it’s going to be awesome.

Hope everyone is well xx

Serious question:

What do you feel when someone uses the word gay in describing something/one other than a homosexual person?

(Sorry, that sentence feels so forced and proper.)

Are you offended when someone says, “that’s so gay”?

Why are you offended?

Do you use it yourself? Do you use it without even thinking of it?

And because I’m curious as to whether the use/offensiveness of it is a generation thing, how old are you?

I’ve seen a few people use the term recently in the interweb and, let’s be honest, been torn apart for it. I’m genuinely curious and would love if you left a comment.

(Anonymous commenting is a-okay.)

As you may have gathered I have a thing for the TV show Cops. Can’t explain it, just know that if you call me between 7:00 and 7:30 on a weeknight I’m not answering because I’m watching people get tasered.

I have learnt many things from Cops, including (but not limited to):

Getting tasered hurts.
People getting arrested for domestic violence are always complete dicks.
Do not lead police in vehicle pursuits, they will do the pit manoeuvre on you (it’s totally the technical term) and it will end badly.
If you carry rolls of 20 dollar notes on you this probably means you’re a drug dealer.
Junkies lie. A lot.
If you’re going to use a prostitute you should probably check if it’s a real woman first.
And running from the police tends to end with you getting tasered and/or getting bitten by a police dog.

I thought Cops would never lie to me.

But then I got pulled over a few weeks ago for a random breath test. Since I’d just got my license a couple of weeks before and it was 10 a.m. and I was on my way to Lincraft with Sabine I knew I’d be okay.

Except when the nice but scarily efficient scary policewoman put the test box thing in front of me and I blew on it.

Did anyone else know that they no longer do breath tests by blowing into a straw thingy? That you just talk into the test unit and it measures it that way?

Awkward.

I still love you Cops, even if you made me look like a knob and had to threaten my sister on pain of death if she tweeted about it.

(Everything else is fine, we found another bank to do my farm loan through so I’m just finalising the new application now. I’m still having teething problems with the new boss but it’s not too bad. And all of the bad work stuff is over now. The love life is oddly barren but generally everything is okay.)

For someone who only got their (provisional) licence 2 months ago at the age of 29 I love Top Gear far more than I should.

Especially considering that the car I’m driving at the moment is a Suziki Ignis (seriously, Google it, it’s the best lawn mower-esque car a girl could ever want.)

—

Last update my new boss and I weren’t getting along too well. We’ve had another reaming since then. As this was another issue caused by a lack of communicating that he wanted me to do something, and blaming me when I surprisingly didn’t do it, I’ve come to the conclusion that he is a git that I shouldn’t let get to me.

So far it’s working.

Unfortunately last week was pretty much the work week from hell when we lost 6 guys from our pretty close IT department through redundancies.

There was more than one night last week that I came home and pretty much drank and then went to bed.

—

Also the mortgage gods? Hate my guts.

The main bank my broker recommended we use declined the application. Not because of my earning capacity, or the amount I wanted to borrow or the property itself.

But because half of the deposit hadn’t been in my account for more than 3 months. Rrriiiggghtt.

Also it would’ve been nice if broker dude could’ve told me about this requirement BEFORE I filled in a 13 page application form.

Just saying.

Apparently a lot of banks don’t provide finances to properties more than 10 hectares. The land I want is 11.

It’s driving me fucking batty. I mean I can afford the loan, I have a good credit history, I have a deposit, I have a (relatively) stable high paying job and can more than meet the repayments. Everything is fine from my side.

It’s either the size of the land itself (which I love!) or some retarded obscure application clause that (to me) has no bearing on the whole bloody thing.

I spoke to my broker tonight and asked whether it was a lost cause, whether I should find another smaller plot or just give up.

(As you may have picked up, I’m a little defeated at the moment.)

He said no, that it was just a speciality (?) property and that he’d find the right lender.

But jesus fuck, it would be nice to just lock something in before someone else puts in an offer on my lovely future farm.

—

Then last night while reading Masterchef tweet’s (shut up) I found Mark’s twitter page. Not only is one of his friends the new girlfriend (who’s twitter account is a GRATITUDE JOURNAL!) but I got to read that she’s using the L word.

I closed my browser at that stage. For my sake (and to protect you guys from more ranty angsty posts like these) it was the best thing to do.

—

Oh, and I think my doctor, who I’ve been going to for years and years, has died.

Sure she was mean and played down all of the illnesses I’ve ever had, and sure she was old. But she gave me my crazy pills and my not-pregnant pills and now I’m going to have to explain to a new doctor that I’m slightly nutty all over again.

—

And because I just somehow complained about how some poor person’s death has negatively impacted on me I think I’m done.

Hope everyone’s well.

xx

Good lord, today has been slightly interesting.

I got reamed, and I mean REAMED by my new manager today. Like blaming me for losing 1 million in revenue, and for his possible sacking.

I always thought that I’d be relatively meek if I ever got a dressing down like that. Turns out I’m not. Mainly because most of the issue wasn’t my fault. I will be more than accountable when I’ve fucked up, I will apologise, try to do all I can to fix it and not do it again. Which I did for my stuff up in this. But trying to blame me for your fuck up apparently infuriates me.

I also thought I may cry since I’m one of those girls who cries when they’re angry, even if I’m not sad at all.

After it was all over I was sure that I was going to be sacked. I mean surely you don’t get that level of anger if it will all be dropped right?

Except for an hour later when he came over and apologised and I had to be gracious. Well, as gracious as I’m able to be.

Seriously though, management tip for today? Don’t blame an employee for your imminent bollocking if it’s not their fault.

It’s a shame really as I quite liked him. The final test will be whether he tries to drop me in it with his manager tomorrow. If he does? Snatch punch.

In good news though I sent through my mortgage application this afternoon.

So now I wait, and hope they’ll give me the loan. And if I don’t I’ll cry and write bad poetry here and you guys will have to read it.

Sucks to be you dude.

Still doing the mortgage thing. I’m in the process of completing the 15 page application form, that’ll go back tomorrow with proof of my riches to the broker.

Then I wait for another week to see if I’ve got it before I can make an offer.

I thought I’d be more excited, it’s actually making me nauseous I’m so nervous. I mean I really want this property, it is gorgeous and lovely and I want to raise babies on it and have a big house with a big wrap around balcony on it. But what if I’m not approved for the loan? I mean, that’s a possibility right. And then there’s no balcony or babies!

Vom.

In other news Mel has 2 days left at work. In other more awesome news her role isn’t being replaced.

In the worst fucking news ever the help desk guy who will be taking over a lot of her tasks?

Is my nemesis.

He grinds on my last nerve. He sometimes wears leather pants to work. He wears man perfume so toxic that girls in the office have sneezing fits. He combs his hair before going out to lunch in case he sees a pretty girl. He hums loudly whenever he passes my desk. He’s been banned from coming to Mel or my desks. He is incapable of following simple instructions and will ask 5 billion questions rather than show initiative. There is a rule list we have for him that the first 7 rules are just variations that he’s not allowed to speak to me. He honestly thinks I like him and I’m “playing hard to get.” He wrote me a fucking poem!

And this is my new Mel.

I complained about him being appointed to his boss and was told to relax.

FYI – Telling a naturally highly strung person to relax is literally the worst management technique ever.

I really hate my job at the moment (I’d insert a sad face here if I used emoticons)

Man, being on holidays is the best.

Being on holidays with a car is the bestest.

So far this week I’ve done my first solo “road trip” (the commas are because it was only a 2 hour drive away, but for me it was like driving to Darwin), found a property that I love (love!), had a buttload of naps, gone grocery shopping, gone clothes shopping, gone to trivia (we won and I won free beers, that’s an uber win in my book) and this morning I’m going to Bunnings.

One week isn’t long enough, not even close considering next week is Mel’s last week at work and then things will really turn to shit. But it’s enough right now.

Tomorrow I hopefully go and meet with a mortgage broker to see if I can buy this property. I really want it, it’s 25 acres of just perfect, I can picture where the house would go, where I’d plant my fruit trees and my magnolia tree. It’s just lovely.

Plus it’s reasonably priced. Please keep your fingers crossed that I’ll be able to get it.

Eeeeeeeeeeee!

Hmm, does this Wordpress Blackberry app actually work so I can post while I’m away (!) from work (!) for a week (!!)?

Let’s try it shall we?

Hello there. I’m still here.

Work has been a little insane. And by little I mean a lot. Anyway since it’s been a while but I’m still busy you get bullet points!

• I passed my driving test, I have been judged by the RTA and I have been deemed worthy. 

1.  
   1. I was so nervous for the week before that I was crabby and jumpy (just like normal actually) but as soon as I got in the car with the lady tester I was okay.
   2. Oh, except I didn’t close the door properly and I only noticed as we were driving out of the car park. While it wasn’t on the list of fail items I’m pretty sure not closing your door properly is a bit of a no-no. So I ignored it, I ignored the dashboard light telling me a door wasn’t closed and I ignored the strange thuds when we went over speed bumps. And luckily the lady must’ve been half deaf as she didn’t notice (and if she did it wasn’t on my marking sheet.)
   3. I also did an exquisite three point turn and parking.
   4. In short, I am awesome and I can drive.
   5. I went for my first drive on my own the day afterwards and let me tell you it is as liberating as skinny dipping. I will be doing more of it, the driving too.
   6. Boom tish!

• Mark, a.k.a my sleepover friend, has a girlfriend. Ergh. I won’t get into my lame sadness over this (I don’t love him, but I don’t want him dating other people, what’s wrong with that?) but let’s just say the day I found out I had an hour long shower, and I took in a bottle of champagne with me. I came out barely able to walk, it was awesome.

• My sidekick at work, Mel, resigned. I am still in my angry grieving phase, in fact I made her these cupcakes earlier this week. They say “you suck!” I thought the exclamation mark would show I was only half serious. She’s going to work full time on her bags and accessories and that is an awesome thing for a 24 year old (maybe she’s 25) to be doing. I will be happy for her when I no longer whimper at the idea of my work load after she’s gone.

• I bought some upholstery fabric for an antique (actually let’s not be wanky here) second hand chair I bought. It is gorgeous, and I also bought a couple of yards of this fabric because it’s so gorgeous and bright and I think will make lovely cushions. Or a dress. Who knows where my genius will take me. Also www.spoonflower.com? You can design your own fabric, favourite discovery on the internet this month.

• I sent Jason Mulgrew an email in reply to a post of his and I got a response. He said I was awesome, therefore that pretty made my day/week.

• Umm, I think that’s it?

• How’s everyone been?

Ps – Weird, I posted exactly a month ago. Crreeeepppy.