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non smoking – mach 1

Friday Apr 28, 2006

Right.

– Not smoking is, on one hand, really easy. Can go hours without thinking about it. Or the complete opposite where I would gnaw off my own hand for one cigarette. Plus when they tell you the patches can cause vivid dreams. Whoo boy, they weren’t kidding. I totally fought a shark off last night with my bare hands underwater and I think I may have fooled around with a director of the company. Both dreams made me wake up scared.

– I’m at home on a Friday night and missing a farewell drinks for a work friend because if there is an alcoholic drink in my hand I will make inappropriate calls. And also smoke like I need it to breathe – regularly and a lot.

– I just spent two hours watching “View from the Top” with Gwenyth Paltrow. That is 2 hours of my life that I want back.

– God this fucking quitting thing is really really boring. I have to avoid my friends because they’re all dirty smokers, I can’t drink because I’ll end up smoking, I can’t bloody do anything except try and not to lick the patch to get every last trace of sweet sweet nicotine out of it.

– Oh but the patches have put me in a great mood (ignore the last paragraph). I’ve actually been nicer than I normally would and have been……happy(?) at work. It’s actually really quite bizarre. I would’ve thought at least one Unix and one data administrator at work would’ve died by now but no deaths!

– I had lunch with my ex arch nemesis and my current arch nemesis and my head almost exploded from keeping up with the insulting and the amount of hatred in the air.

– I’ve decided that the boy from the below post is definitely retarded.

– Turns out there’ll be no church for me, deal turned out to be pretty bad (double the purchase price to have it zoned residential and other boring grown up stuff that my Dad kinda handled) so no blaspheme for Lucy in her own church. I was looking forward to cringing every time I swore and lived in sin (sweet). But alas, it was not to be.

Anyway my bed is calling me because otherwise I will totally start gnawing off my own hand and scratch right through the damned patch.

Think happy thoughts for me (not yours Lozo, keep those damn thoughts to yourself)


cold, ate, drank, shopped

Tuesday Apr 25, 2006

Melbourne in 4 words

– Cold
– Shopping
– Eating
– Drinking

Maybe it might be best to add “very” or “too much” before each word.

Plus I’m pretty sure I gave myself a mild case of alcohol poisoning, which was sweet.

Great birthday, I demanded my friends buy me a cake, they did. Which they dropped and then put back together again which was……nice?

Leaving was a nightmare. After getting back to the apartment at 5 a.m. we slept in until 9:30 and check out was 10. Hideously, disgustingly hungover we tried to pack and then a friend of mine drove us to the airport, seemingly hitting every pot hole on the way. Then while checking in at the automated check in thingy my friend selected Yes when asked if we were carrying any dangerous items, necessitating a lovely discussion with the check in girl and a security guard. Ummmm, then we discovered we’d been booked onto an international flight (Melbourne to Sydney leg of it anyway) and needed a passport to board and get through customs.

Apparently, “what the fuck?” is not an acceptable query when being told this.

Anyway, changed flights, saw Hotdogs from Big Brother at the airport, worst turbulence ever which caused my sister and I to do “the holy fuck I totally didn’t want to die on a plane next to you”, before arriving home and passing out.

In summary – my liver hates me, my credit card hates me, my lungs hate me and I have to go back to work tomorrow.

Oh and I didn’t even get to make out with a boy who –

Took a day off work to pick us up at the airport as a surprise. Bought newly burned Season 5 24 discs to the hotel for my birthday. Willingly hung out all weekend, including putting up with my certifiably insane friends and sister. Took me to drinks where I met all of his friends. Came over late one night to watch said 24 with me. Drove us back to the airport with our tons of luggage. Messaged me all weekend. And stayed over at the hotel in the same bed as me.

Yet no love.

Did I completely mis-read the situation?

I’m giving up smoking tomorrow. Plus I get to go back to work after being away for a week so will have a horrifyingly large amount of e-mails to get back to while suffering from nicotine withdrawals.

Just quietly I predict tomorrow is going to blow.


quick hungover update

Sunday Apr 23, 2006

Currently running on 4 hours sleep.

There was far too much drinking, shopping, eating and boys messing with my head and it was awesome.

Except when my birthday cake fell over and was smooshed.

And where we were late for our flight this morning and got a narky flight bitch girl who wouldn’t book us onto another one until we complained about her.

And the so so very cold Melbourne weather.

Oh and when we accidentally selected Yes to the question of “Are you carrying dangerous goods” at the airport and had to have a nice chat with security.

Oh, and being so very hungover this morning, and then having the most turbulent flight home that the most we could do was look green and try not to throw up.

But more later once I have a nap.


this post makes me sound grown up, it lies.

Thursday Apr 20, 2006

So, today I –

– Paid two lots of rent, accidentally. Now I live in (I think it’s classified as inner city?) Sydney, and I live by myself in a one bedroom apartment.. Long story short I pay far too much rent as it is. So to have two lots, or approximately 2/3 of my wage, taken out by sheer stupidity (still trying to work out if it’s mine or the agency) kinda hurts.

– Luckily my estate agent totally came through and is re-imbursing me.

– Which is lucky because I’m flying to Melbourne tomorrow and had bookmarked that money for buying new shoes. And bags. And alcohol.

– My priorities are very much in order, thank you very much.

– I will be 25 in 2 days. This is awesome.

– I’m doing my first real grown up thingy and buying a property. It is awesome and seeing the figures with the mortgage broker tis morning results in me having internal panic attacks. But I’ll totally own an old church in another two weeks. Sweet.

– Although I think the first time I commit a few sins in the place I’ll be apprehensive. Anytime I drink, blaspheme and have sex I’ll be watching out for the lightning bolt. Which means I may be anxious a lot. (The swearing and drinking anyway)

– I had today off work to sort out this mortgage stuff and just to have a day off and got calls all morning. I hate it. It’s one day and I get calls about things that were sorted yesterday and for things people can fix themselves.

– Here’s some advice for you to do prior to calling your friendly IT person.

– Test it first. Make sure that it wasn’t just a one off glitch before you call me squealing like a bitch everytime something weird happens.
– Reboot you arsehole. A huge amount of problems just require a system re-set, so whether it’s a phone or your pc turn the damned thing off and on.
– Please don’t call me knowing it’s my day off, because I will justifiably be a little sassy with you.
– Shut up, because I don’t care.

– I have my new laptop today. I don’t like it. It’s name is Bruce and it’s just a little manly for me. The keys are stiff, it’s not shiny and it’s not pretty. So yeah I don’t like it. But hey, when work gives you it for free you learn to love it.

– Boys are weird sometimes. One particular boy was happy to make out with me when I had glandular fever (I was not, being comatose and massively sick), yet he now has a cold, and it’s a cold because his doctor told him so, and he’s all,“no I can’t I’m too sick. Lack’s dedication is what I say.

Anyway, as is my tradition, I need to pack. As usual I am a little sloshed so it’ll be interesting when I unpack tomorrow in the hotel and wonder why I bought the gumboots and fur coat.

(I own neither a fur coat nor gumboots, but that is neither here nor there.)


beautifully lazy

Sunday Apr 16, 2006

Although I’ve washed up, done two loads of washing, made my bed (every morning, never did it at home when my father wanted me to but do it every day now), made mueseli for breakfast, got changed out of pajama’s into tracksuit pants (that so counts as dressing) it still feels lazy.

You know you’re having a beautifully lazy day when

– you madly finish up the programming work you’ve been doing because Dr Phil starts in 5 minutes.

– While doing said programming you look at a few things, knowing you should probably start something now, shrug say eh and close the screen.

– When you’re still in tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt at nearly midday.

– When you’ve spent half an hour in your backyard drinking coffee and reading in the sun, in said tracksuit pants (hi neighbours)

– Your sister calls to see if you want to do something and you say eh, and say you’ll call her back after Dr Phil.

– You couldn’t be bothered taming the curls, so you just put on cap instead.

– You’ve rented a chick flick (In Her Shoes) and you make sure Oprah isn’t on so you can squeeze the movie and a nap in.

– Your phone rings, you’re in the kitchen but the phone’s in the bedroom. Although you live in a one bedroom unit you let it go to voicemail because you couldn’t be bothered running for it.

– Although you’ve got all of the ingredients to make the summer salad you were going to have for lunch (fresh chicken, pasta, aoili, baby spinach, flat leaf parsley, cherry tomatoes and home made mayonaise (I totally made it myself) you end up having yoghurt because it’s less effort.

– At the moment you have no plans to get dressed. Even though you think you’re going to a friends place for drinks tonight.

Sweet.


bored and boring photo post

Sunday Apr 16, 2006

Right now I have to admit if I buy one more piece of jewelery I’m going to have to admit I have a problem.

These were bought today.

Ditto this (I regret nothing about this purchase).

And I’ve taken to wearing headbands that I detested as a 5 year old.

And I want to be back here so very much it pains me to think about it.

Anyway Jack Bauer is calling my name.

Be good.


the yelling and the non drinking

Saturday Apr 15, 2006

– I realised today that I have helped someone break their Lent promise two years in a row. First year was alcohol, second sex. Now I’m not suggesting I’m either a sex kitten or the anti-Christ. But I’m good.

– I took great pleasure in eating a steak yesterday. Not because I’m anti-religion but it’s my stubborn nature to rebel against anything/one telling me what I can’t do (i.e. it’s Good Friday, eat only fish, pah)

– In the last week I’ve received a new laptop from work and bought the sexiest phone ever If only the support guys let me know what my new Windows password is before they gave me the damn thing I could totally even use the new laptop. That would’ve been cool.

– So far I’ve avoided any Easter eggs but I know it’s only a matter of time. Because girl+chocolate=the eating.

– I’m in the middle of a four day stretch off work and it is so delicious I want to eat it. So far there has been shopping ( I found a Bond’s outlet store near my house and bought 5, count ’em 5 of of these babies in all colours.)

– Buying 5 pairs of exactly the same pair of underwear is totally my prerogative, just like Britney says.

– I haven’t had alcohol in a couple of weeks, really quite boring actually.

– So far giving up on boys (for the short term, they smell too good to give up entirely) has been successful. But because I am weak I predict this was fail within 3 days.

(Update- Ha ha! I lasted a total of 3 and a half hours. No will power whatsoever.)

– I’m reading “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey. I have an aversion to reading bestsellers. I refuse to be sitting on the train to work reading a book that half the carriage have open on their laps. Except Harry Potter, that bugger gets read the day it’s released. Shut up. Anyway the Frey book? I don’t see the controversy, any memoir I write will have stuff I’ve elaborated on. I don’t know the man personally and I’m unsure why people would take it personally, what I do know is he’s a great writer and it’s a amazing book. So Oprah can relax her shit.

– I’m going to watch a soccer match tonight and I predict I will have yelled at – the ref, the opposition, called at least one player a “useless ginge” (there seems to be a few red haired soccer players), bellowed at the line ref and generally shouted myself hoarse. I do love me some soccer and I’m an, ahem, enthusiastic supporter.

– Sympathy to Adam who is spending this long weekend in Tasmania working. Sucks to be you dude.

– I’ve been trying to train myself to sleep on only one side of the bed, and stop sprawled right in the middle with 6 billion pillows. So far Eve – 1, side of the bed – nil.

Anyway soccer awaits….


blah blog

Thursday Apr 13, 2006

I try not to write about blogging because, frankly I find it wanky. It’s kinda like writing a book on writing a book, seems silly to me.

But because I am contradictory (totally chose the right blog title) while clicking aimlessly tonight things started to irritate me.

(Now let’s put a caveat on here right now, if I read your blog regularly and comment this does not apply to you. Because I’m one of those people who vote with that nifty little x in the top right hand corner if something annoys me )

1. People who write about things/feelings/situations with absolute certainty. Their own opinion is truth. They’ve written it therefore it is black and white, no grey, no other possibilities. Especially when they cut down people’s comments responding with their own situations/feelings/responses.

i.e. No, it’s more like this, I used to think like that but now know it’s different. No, I’ve always found it’s x rather than y.

It’s rude, condescending and really fricking irritating. If you invite feedback by having comments open surely it’s common decency by respecting other people’s views. Otherwise shut the damn things down, remove your e-mail link and blather to your heart’s content.

2. Blatant comment love fests.

I’m all for cyber flirting, there are pages I read daily who I adore and some I just want to crawl all over (not you Indy, I don’t fancy getting into a fight with the girl).

But in the same way that PDA’s prompt people to feel queasy and uneasy so does blatant dry humping in comment sections and posts. So you know, meet up in person and get married, or get a room.

3. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – Pretentious blogs.

Just to re-cap, there is some amazing writing out there and there are some amazing writers who use a page to flex their considerable writing muscles.

But for the love of god, this is not science, this is not genius. It’s tapping away until a little piece of sentences come together. Get a book deal, write for a living, but writing a blog does not maketh a writer.

And just to balance this out there is a multitude of people who absolutely rock, who I must read daily, who make me laugh out loud and get weird looks from work colleagues, who give insights into other lives and other sexes that’s insightful and invaluable, who post amazing photos, who entertain me and I love that.

And other’s just shit me.

(Oh, and keeping with the theme of number 1 these are just my views, if you think I’m talking pap let me know. I can’t promise I won’t be sassy, but I totally won’t be patronising)


rant # 2

Tuesday Apr 11, 2006

So Lucy was a girl guide.

For actually a few years back when I was a young lass.

I enjoyed it immensely.

But oh I sucked at it.

I got one badge, the badge that everyone got because they organised the whole damn thing for us.

Apart from that one badge on my sash I had nada.

But I enjoyed it, good clean fun.

And then I remembered that I still knew the words to the little ditty Taps we’d sing at the end of each meeting.

“Day is done
Gone the sun,
From the sea
From the hills,
From the sky
All is well
Safely rest
God is nigh”

Now, I was not raised in a religious household. The parentals were Anglican and lapsed Catholic. But I went to Sunday school in school because my parents wanted me to be aware and make my own decisions.

I’m pretty sure the God line, if not Taps as a whole, is banned in Guides due to the wholly PC times we live in.

But just quietly?

I paid no heed to the whole big guy reference, those it meant something to no doubt had a different view on it but really, I was 11 so I had other things to worry about.

Ditto with Christmas carols, I sang those damn things in the Christmas play and I was just enjoying the whole being a lamb. Or a wise men, or something.

I think it’s madness that regulating traditions, especially those that affect children, is stopping innocent bloody activities.

I also used to play Bloody Mary and have seances, but you know, I’m pretty sure I didn’t grow up to become a Satanist, worshipping Beezlebub.

And the playgrounds that I used to run madly around on doing death drops and climbing around are no longer there. Because oooohhh kids might hurt themselves. For gods sake kids hurt themselves. In fact broken bones and kick arse scrapes? Were awesome.

So yeah, this stuff irritates me.


bits and bobs

Sunday Apr 9, 2006

– Gah. Boys, I love you. But you frustrate me. That is all about that.

Roxy wrote a post about her boyfriend finding her blog and reading all her rants, neuroses, feelings and frustrations.

I personally believe it may be a good thing.

There are three type’s of categories I have in my life. People I know who know this address. People I know who know that I have a blog but do not read. And people I know who wouldn’t know what a blog is and don’t know I have one.

I like the three, they work well for me.

The list of people who know this address include some family, some ex’, a couple of ex-work colleague’s.

My close friends know I have one and have no interest, and I believe them.

But if a new boyfriend were to stumble along here and find my side/version of the relationship I’d be relieved, if only for honesty’s sake.

– Over the weekend I got asked 3 times by different people whether I was Italian or Armenian. It seemed quite boring to respond “Nope, English and Australia for generations.” I’ve got dark hair, olive skin and green eyes but am boringly white bread.

– While walking to coffee with friends this afternoon a man of about 60 beeped his car horn while driving past, waved and smiled. There should be an age limit on perving – if the girl (or boy) is young enough to be your daughter no perving. Because it’s creepy. (And yes young attractive boys are allowed to. Life’s not fair ok)

– You know you’re addicted when you buy a new mobile phone because it looks like something Jack Bauer would use. (And that’s probably the lamest thing I’ve ever written)

– One more staffer was made redundant on Friday while I was away. I understand from a business perspective why this has got to happen. But it still sucks.

– I learnt that ultimate pain is having a deep cleansing facial. I also learnt it’s not facial etiquette to use the mofo word while the beautician was doing the “extraction” phase. But Jesus wept the pain. I can handle Brazilian waxing, I can handle wearing beautiful but painful high heels. But digging into my skin with this hook thingy? Never bloody again.

– I hate when I cook and and am juicing lemons and discover papercuts, only after the burning searing bloody pain sets in when the juice finds the cuts. Ditto the mofo scream.

– I have finally accepted that my bath is not a full size bath. And no matter how many times after a long days I run a bath, add the necessary products (milk bath, lavender oil) it’s not going to mean all of my body is going to fit in the 5 foot long bath.

– I haven’t seen the bar boy in a couple of weeks. Which is surprisingly disappointing.

– A wisdom tooth coming through should surely not cause so much pain that you’re unable to sleep on one side or eat properly. Stupid teeth.

– I had someone stay over the other night and realised I wasn’t able to sleep right down the middle of the bed like I normally do. Somehow I got over it.

– It’s quite depressing when you realise someone you went to school with, with no degree, is earning double what you earn. Somehow I think I’m in the wrong industry.

– Sometimes I think breasts are good for only one thing – filling out t-shirts and shirts in a wicked manner.

– Other times I know I’m completely wrong.


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