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Saturday Oct 29, 2005


Today was one of those days that you couldn’t plan any better.

A knock on my door woke me at 8:30 a.m. A friend had just broke up with her boyfriend she lives with. A coffee, a teary conversation and a decision to “fuck it, let’s go to the beach.

5 hours later I’ve learnt that S’s relationship wasn’t as perfect as I’d assumed, traded political and social gossip, got some boy advice and caught up with my newly single friend properly for the first time since she started the relationship.

As it is I am pleasantly satiated, finding sand everywhere and burnt to a crisp due to the nap S. and I took on the beach.

All up I am very much looking forward to Sydney this summer.

the line

Thursday Oct 27, 2005

Work is killing me at the moment.

The site relocation we’ve been working on for nearly 10 months starts tomorrow. My day starts at 7:45 a.m. and I’m scheduled to finish the first part of testing at 2 a.m.

And that’s just the first day.

I had a mild “discussion” with one of the highest managers in the company tonight. He wanted to know why his 24 hour request to get a new Blackberry hadn’t been actioned yet. Now, know that his old Blackberry isn’t broken, is only 6 months old and works perfectly. He just saw another manager with a newer model (“ooohh shiny, silver and new, gimme.”) and wanted one. Now.

He was the last straw.

We had a conversation which danced a little too close to an argument, other staff have been let go for less. But there is a line, and he (very mildly) crossed it.

And sometimes you have enough with the pandering, with the going the extra mile, with the demands. And you just kinda think ‘you know what? I’m really busy right now, I’m still here at my desk at 8 p.m. when you call my line and I’m not sitting here doing nothing. I am still here because I am still working. I’ve never not helped you I’m just asking for a little patience here’.

I will be relieved when this is over.


Wednesday Oct 26, 2005


Work has finally finished sucking me dry and I got home tonight for the first time in months while it was still light.

It’s delicious to see.

I was doing my overtime form today and worked out I’d done 80 hours of overtime last week, in addition to the standard 40 hour week.

And I wonder why I have bags under my eyes like Skeletor.

And I got a call today from the best friend who broke up with her partner who she lives with. I lived with these guys before and after they got together, they’re the couple for me. The ones that give you hope when you come home from another disappointing date. And I don’t know where that leaves them and I if their split is for good.

And then my boss gives me these flowers and I become one of those girls you see on the street, on the train carrying a beautiful bunch of flowers. And although she is smiling, it’s not because of the man who gave them to you but just a smile at being validated and appreciated.

And that’s a lovely thing.

the jet lag

Saturday Oct 22, 2005

Lucy is back in the country.

I repeat.


I’m also horrendously jet-lagged.

I flew out of London at 10:30 p.m UK time and arrived in Sydney 24 hours later.
But in Sydney when I landed it was 6 a.m. So therefore now at 10 p.m. Monday I have slept a total of 2 hours out of 48.

Needless to say I am tired and yet because my body is telling me it’s actually midday I am now not sleepy.

After arriving at the airport and cabbing it back to my apartment my sister was there and in deciding how to ensure I didn’t sleep until that night we settled on going shopping.

At Ikea.

Oh yes.

But because when I am tired my IQ drops to my shoe size and my sister had to essentially babysit me so I didn’t say anything to offend anyone in my stupor. Or, you know, fall asleep on one of the many Ikea beds (seriously, every few minutes I’d look longingly at a bed and mutter “damn” before regretfully walking away)

7 coffees later I am still awake.

Sitting down for 24 hours hardcore blows.

Simply no other way of describing it. Plus sitting in a middle seat between an elderly woman, who was hogging the motherfucking armrest, on one side and the man on the other side, who was also hogging the other fucking armrest.

And plane etiquette?

Totally means that those who are lucky enough to have a window or an aisle seat should totally allow the poor schmucks in the middle to have the arm rests.

But I’m back, and I’ve shopped, framed some pictures I got in Paris, weighed myself and got depressed (although the entire 2 kilos I put on while holidays has totally gone straight to the girls – seriously it’s been confirmed and all) so I’ve only eaten sushi and drunk coffee, caught up with friends and now I’m totally going to bed.

Photo’s below.

ranty rant

Thursday Oct 13, 2005

While watching Oprah (on a Saturday night naturally, because I HAVE NO LIFE) there was a segment on about the new Dove skincare campaign.

If you’re too lazy to click the link essentially it’s a new advertising campaign Dove are doing for body skin care products using real women in their ads.

Now I’m not one to bag Oprah (because hi girl crush!), but when she said it was such a “bold, innovative campaign” I actually yelled “bullshit!” very very loudly at the television.


To actually use real women with normal bodies to sell the cream aimed at real women with normal bodies that actually buy this cream?

To not use a fucking emaciated 13 year old to sell anti-aging moituriser?

To not use a size 4 model with no blemishes to sell acne cream?

To not use a smooth skinned goddess to sell cellulite cream?

Fuck off with your bold.

It shouldn’t be a fucking bold fucking ground breaking fucking innovative idea to use images of women who look like 99.9% of the actual population as representative of 99.9% of the fucking population.

As you can this type of bullshit really infuriates me.

You know what? I like seeing pictures of women who have an arse like mine, or cellulite like me, or breasts like mine, or skin like mine, or hair like mine when I’m looking at advertisements for clothes, skincare, shampoo or whatever.

Because that 16 year old girl whose trying to tell me “I’m worth it” while selling me foundation that they will never wear because they have flawless skin has no relevance to me. Give me a woman with a size 14 arse like mine selling me clothes that actually fit both the model and, oh I don’t know, the buyer, me, and that’s healthy and normal.

It shouldn’t be bold, it shouldn’t cause a fucking Oprah fucking lightbulb moment, to have a little bit of normalcy in the millions of images that bombard us every waking moment.

That doesn’t take away from the use of beautiful and beautifully unobtainable models in images that fits. Because you know what?

The majority of the population will never be thin enough or wealthy enough to fit into Gucci.

Yes I agree it’s a good first step and I applaud Dove for it but for fuck’s sake get rid of the bold and innovative and make the normal and functional and curves and healthy the norm.

where have I been?

Wednesday Oct 5, 2005

and here too….

Wednesday Oct 5, 2005

i loved st paul’s

Wednesday Oct 5, 2005

i wanted to eat that blue sky.

Wednesday Oct 5, 2005

now i’m just getting depressed.

Wednesday Oct 5, 2005

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