the antilogy |

I don’t do nostalgia, since I figure it’s far too self-indulgent to do when you’re only 30.

But today I’m feeling nostalgic.

I’m pretty much right where I wanted to be, sure there’s a little more soul-less corporate whoredom than I thought, but generally I’m in a good place. Great friends, great family, good job, great apartment, great hair etc.

I was reading John’s site today. You probably know or share of my feelings towards poetry as a general rule, but John? Is so fucking talented and writes in a way that makes me feel things deep down in my cold heart.

Then I also discovered Stella’s new blog. Stella is pretty much the coolest girl you know but is warm and lovely and isn’t a complete bitch like cool girls normally are. Oh and she has the best eyebrows of anyone I’ve ever met.

These two kids are probably not aware that they represent a very awesome time in my life and I will always have ridiculously fond memories of them and then.

It was before Adam got boring, before I got boring, when I was living with Beth and her boyfriend in Annandale before her boyfriend turned into a massive hard-on. I was making out with SleepoverBoy, working in my first technical role, before I got glandular fever and I had a great year or so.

I drank a lot, I spent many nights at John’s terrace in Camperdown with his ratbag bunch of friends who were rioteously funny in the best and offensive way. The soundtrack then was Billy Joel (John was obsessed.) Whoever had money that week bought the beer, we went to the jazz/opera/whatever in the Domain festivals, I caught the nightbus home a few times dangerously drunk.

I went to a house party at John’s new place where there was Jagermeister punch that made me throw up black the next day. I wore an awesome black velvet blazer that I still wish I had. Stella was there and I walked into the living room at one point to her and Sabine singing to Love is a Battlefield that they’d forced a stranger to download and play. I think it was John’s birthday so he’d no doubt had absinthe (he’d only drink absinthe on his birthdays because he invariably ended up having a conversation with a wall at 5:00 a.m. so liked to meter it out responsibly) and I think, I think I met someone I went to school with. I woke up next to SleepoverBoy the next morning after apparently getting back together the previous night after too much of the punch. I demanded Stella drive me, and my friends home afterwards despite only meeting her that night.

Now Stella is living in Greece, John is a director and playwright living in London. And I missed catching up with John while he was over here recently directly a play and I feel like an arsehole and I work too hard now and I have a mortgage and my friends are having babies and now when we catch up for drinks they’re at each other’s tastefully beige decorated apartments and there’s good bottles of wine and gourmet sausages for the BBQ and no jagermeister punch or Canadian Club or Oporto’s runs and I got fat and old and boring.

Huh.

Well that was quite therapeutic.

I think maybe I just need to start drinking again.

Fucking gross.

I just logged onto my profile on the dating site for the first time in a couple of months.

Did a search for my latest matches were online. Turns out homeboy has re-activated his account.

The funny thing? His tag line is:

“I’m one of the nice guys!”

Yeah.

I don’t know why I’m surprised really, but I am. Even knowing he’s someone who cheats on his wife with a newborn child at home I genuinely thought he was remorseful, that it was a lapse in judgement.

I didn’t pick myself as gullible.

But colour me gullible!

I really don’t like boys right now.

Today I am disgusted in people.

A friend passed away quite suddenly yesterday, less than a couple of hours afterwards a friend of his had created a Facebook group outlining that he’d passed away and invited all of his friends to it. This is how all of his friends were told of his death.

 I hope to God his family didn’t find out that way, I know some of his best friends did. I can see the value in creating this group after his family and close friends have been notified, after at least a day or two has passed. But a couple of hours afterwards before phone calls could be made?

Ergh.

It’s a really hot day today in Sydney, 35 degrees last time I checked. Summer is an awesome time for clothes with the dresses and cute thongs. Except that some chubby girls appear to have received the wrong memo, they got the skinny girl clothing memo. As a result my eyes have been assaulted over the weekend, resulting in this PSA.

Disclaimer – I am a chubby girl, obvs.

Leggings – Leggings are not pants. Full stop. If the leggings have a gusset they’re tights, which means they’re under garments. This is especially so for chubby girls, leggings are brazen and ballsy and unashamed. Which are great characteristics in a girl, not so your pants.  

 Halterneck anything – Halternecks seem to be exclusively aimed at chubby girls and from the front they can actually look cute, all v neck and flattering.

 But the back view? Back rolls and bingo arm waving. Wear a cardigan is all I’m saying.

 Anything made out of jersey – Again this seems to be marketed as a chubby girl miracle fabric. It’s not, it doesn’t skim it clings, it highlights every bump and chub. Unless you’re wearing those awesome support garments that go from your knees to shoulders do not buy into the jersey – flattering. You know who looks good in jersey? Girls with no boobs.

 Low cut jeans – Dear baby jebus no. Just no.

 Spaghetti straps worn with thick bra straps – This point is not against spaghetti straps, they can look cute on chubby girls. If worn with a strapless bra or a bra with thin straps. But if you’re wearing a bra that has thick straps to hold in the girls spaghetti straps are not your friend. In fact they’re your enemy who wants to get you fired from your job and sleep with your boyfriend.

 Strapless anything – If you have breasts larger than a C cup strapless dresses/tops are not a good look, they give you the boobage overflow (that 3^rd and 4^th breastage is not cute) and you’ll spend half the day tugging up the front or your strapless bra. Boobage spillage is hot in certain situations, this is not one of them.

Short shorts – The majority of girls, large/small/whatevs, have cellulite. Nothing wrong with this. But short shorts, i.e. they’re only hitting the upper though, are not for us. They’re just not, I understand they’d be really really comfortable to wear on a hot day but so would wearing no pants at all and there are laws about that.

Huh. Who knew it had been 3 weeks since I last updated?

Blame work. By the time I’ve finished work for the day staying back to post is the last thing I feel like doing. I wonder if there’s a Wordpress app for a Blackberry so I could post from home?

****

I had my birthday last week. I am 29 and well old. Beth has…issues with aging. She thinks because she spent her last birthday in bed with whooping cough that she’s lost a year. Surprisingly this is progress from her 21^st when she hyperventilated. Literally hyperventilated because she was old. In comparison I am feeling peachy!

I got sent flowers at work, I got cool presents and Dad even remembered the day and called. Sure, if it wasn’t for Facebook reminding him it was my birthday he is likely to have forgotten but I’m pretty sure he took a lot of drugs in the 70’s so you can’t expect much.

Mel (my work sidekick) is on leave at the moment and I am slammed with work. Do not question how I have time to write this unless you want me to cut you. So she’s never allowed to take leave ever again. Ever.

We had a ladies lunch on Saturday here and it was so good that we didn’t leave the place until 11-12 that night. That good. Actually it’s likely that the wine was the cause of the 12 hour lunch but still.

So, after we finish lunch we move out into the courtyard to have a few drinks. All civilised and lovely and one of the girls mentioned a few of her friends will be popping in later, more the merrier etc etc.

Except one of her friends was a guy who (what’s a good way of saying this without me looking like a raging whore) I had a sleepover with a couple of years ago. It was exactly what it was, we’d met a few times, I thought he was cute, it ended at my place and that was that. So when he’s being introduced to everyone, he looks at Beth (who I knew him from) says hi, looks at me and says, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

Oh. Really.

Here’s the thing, I have a pretty unusual first name, am a relatively cute but chubby girl and trust me, I am a minx in the sack, you do not forget me. And of course later that night he came over and had miraculously gotten over his memory loss.

Beth, being Beth, told him he was a douchebag. I agreed, and he was a bit surprised.

I’d have been offended if he was a better kisser. But I wasn’t because I knew I was following the one-night-stand rules:

1. Don’t leave your number.
2. Take it for what it was for (one time occurrence.)
3. If you meet again be civil but polite.

Sydney is a small place, you will meet someone you’ve slept with again, hell I used to work with a guy I lost my virginity to. That was interesting.

So, yes, he could’ve even been the one to break the 3 month celibacy period but for the fact that he didn’t follow the one-night-stand etiquette and annoyed me.

Apart from that it was a great day. Sure my sister and her boyfriend may have broken up the next day, and sure Beth’s car was broken into while left parked outside. We still had good food and a good 10-12 hours of drinking wine.

***

This weekend we have a road trip. It’s K’s birthday soon so we’re heading to her hometown which is a town a few hours outside of Sydney for the weekend. Her family are stereotypical country Australians, and so very very lovely. This means I will drink a lot of alcohol and hopefully do lots of driving (not at the same time.)

***

Saturday I went with Beth to help her find a wedding dress. I’ve done this twice before, once with Meg the Mormon Housewife, and once with Bec, my oldest friend.

Watching them try on dresses left me in a teary mess. Watching Beth try on dresses sent me into fits of giggles. She was being shoved into meringue style dresses that when she’d leave the change rooms were so big and puffy she would start sweeping other dresses off their racks as she walked past.

The white dresses looked ridiculous, there were diamantes and beading EVERYWHERE and frankly if she wasn’t laughing she would’ve been in hysterics.

She’s the reluctant bride as it is (she’s not a fan of commitment, it gives her hives) so she’s decided to get rid of the big wedding dress and go for a cocktail length dress instead.

Thank god because I can’t spend another Saturday morning in a bridal shop.

Awww, Meg (aka MormonHousewife) gave birth today. She sent me a text message early this morning to tell me she was in labour, but I didn’t hear anything more until just after lunch. Because I am innovative (read: slightly obsessed) I called the maternity ward at the hospital she was in on the hour every hour until the nurse finally told me that Meg was BUSY! And would call me back when she wasn’t so BUSY!

I’m like, lady, I’m not looking to have a chat with Meg while she’s pushing, just fucking tell me if she’s okay and if she’s given birth yet so I don’t have to hound you all day.

Saturday night I went out for a bachelor party for a lovely girl who’s getting married to one of the boys. (I’ve blocked the fact that I’ve slept with her fiancé. Bygones.) We had a great night. Although margarita’s + vodka cocktails + sangria = vom.

Not an actual vom, but not a well Luce on Sunday.

Also. It appears I may have ranted at a woman who tutted at me while I had a cigarette outside of the restaurant we were at. Apparently even while being cranky my friends find me cute, I can’t even be angry properly. I blame my height, if I were 5’8 people wouldn’t be all, aww, look at Lucy having a rant, how funny.

Apparently I was cranky at her because 1. She tutted at me even though I was practically in the gutter away from the sidewalk and people, and 2. as she was a chubby lady she was breaking the rules of chubsters looking out for fellow chubsters. Luckily I don’t think she heard most of it.

Turns out I shouldn’t drink tequila.

So, you know how I’m learning to drive? Wait, I’ve told you guys that right?

In the event I haven’t, I don’t have a license. Never needed one, and my apartment is a $20 cab ride from pretty much everywhere in the city. But Beth has been giving me lessons and I’ve just starting taking lessons with a driving instructor and it’s going well and awesome.

So my learners permit expires on the 18^th of April, so I went to book my driving test today for a few days before then. And there are no appointments at any RTA within 100 kilometres until April the 20^th.

So I get to get my learners permit AGAIN and book in for my driving test 2 days after my original permit expired. Except that I can’t get in to do the permit test for ANOTHER 3 WEEKS!

Seriously, are there that many people in Sydney needing driving tests?

Either way, I’m driving and stuff and it’s cool, I just need to go for my test in the next month and I will officially be allowed to drive. It will be terrifying in its awesomeness.

In other news my admin girl offered her resignation yesterday. Sucks balls. But she’s pretty awesome so we’re trying a bunch of stuff to make her stay. Because seriously, she’s the type of person you want working for her. Plus she’s becoming a Lucy Mach II and the world needs more mini me’s.

Oh dear. The internet can be a delightful place sometimes.

One of my favourite bloggers Kristin had this little gem of a post written about her and another so called “mommyblogger” recently.

It is awesome in that it’s written by a Christian woman and it’s so wrong it’s funny.

(If you’re lazy like me and hate clicking links below is the main part.)

A reader named Tim sent me the link to the Ms. Single Mama blog.

Tim writes:

This is a woman whose marriage failed and now she has a young son. She is divorced and involved in another relationship with a better man. She even posts videos of them together for everyone to see. He seems like a good, straightforward and altogether honest fellow. My problem is that her actions have ripple effects, which effect not only her, but her new boyfriend and even his parents and family. Is it just me, or does the thought of sitting around the dinner table with one’s girlfriend and her son from another man, as well as his parents and grandparents seem awkward and uncomfortable, in a nervous, forced, and underarm-sweat kind of way? Don’t parents and grandparents deserve to witness their own biological offspring grow up? Am I being selfish? I ask because, to be completely honest, I don’t know. Personally, to me her blog is off-the-charts narcissism.

Have people forgotten that for every action there is an equal opposing reaction? There are consequences. It literally breaks my heart to see a man get duped -and to witness it on an blog with videos and photographs. Anyway, my hope is that you will confirm that I am not way out to lunch, that I am indeed accurate in my character assessment. Perhaps you will disagree. In any event, I am writing you because from what I have read on your blog, you are of sound judgment.

The other blog is written by another career woman with a son she chose to have out of wedlock. Now she has a new boyfriend and they are both obsessed with exercise and working out. A couple of problems I have with this particular blog is again, I feel the man does not have a clue of his place or role in society. He is a childless and unmarried man ‘having a relationship’ with this woman and it appears to be a soulless, mindless exercise – all for the whole world to see, with pictures and videos. He seems to be a directionless man, purposeless. She, conversely, is in control, ‘empowered.’ She has a son so she already has ‘purpose’. Recently she posted a column and included a picture of her flexing her back muscles. Again, I ask you, am I crazy? What has happened to the modern woman? No one cares – no one will ever care - if a woman has back muscles. I am utterly speechless.

In the final analysis, these two blogs have these results:

1. Two men (the boyfriends) purposeless, directionless and emasculated.

2. Two empowered women? Back muscles  – who cares?

3. No marriage/no traditional respect paid to parents and grandparents.

When I see blogs like these I genuinely worry. Can society survive without replacing the stock with noble and virtuous young people? I understand the drive for personal autonomy and freedom. But at the expense of everyone? Even grandparents?

I am rarely at a loss for words. But wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.

I’m going to put aside the fact that my parents raised Sabine and I as single parents. I’m also going to put aside that this site would consider me a so-called “empowered” career woman.

What I won’t put aside is the fact that Kristin is seriously fucking awesome and has done everything in her power to provide her child with a stable and loving upbringing. And that these douche canoes, who label themselves Christians, are attempting to tear that down and reduce it to Christians=Good, Non-Christians=Bad.

Fuck you.

The best and funniest part though is in the comments where the blogger provides a check list for a good wife. Let’s just say that I fail the shit out of this check list (my words in bold.)

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Ask yourself these questions, which are not listed in order of their importance, about any woman you are interested in:

1.   Does she talk about herself obsessively?

Yes, yes I do. Evidence: This here blog.

2.   Does she veer between exuberance and tears?

Yes, I am a female who experiences highs (brought on by too much coffee) and lows (I am a depressive after all.) So occasionally I act batshit crazy and occasionally I have a shit day and have a cry in the shower. I’m pretty sure this is normal, yes?

3.   Does she believe in homosexual “marriage” (a tip off that she has no idea what marriage is)?

Why yes. I do recognize love as love and commitment as commitment. Whether that love be the kind that *gasp* we dare not speak its name. Go team gays!

4.   Does her father seem indifferent to what she does?

Ha! I totally can say no this one. My dad is awesome, so there bitches.

5.   Does she have children?

Does a cat count?

6.   Is she aggressively pretty? 

I say this humbly  – Fucking A.

7.   Does she have a group of  friends who exult in girly togetherness?

What the fuck is “girly togetherness?” Do we have sleepover’s where we have pillow fights and talk about the dreamy boy we saw in homeroom today?

I am a girly girl, hear me roar.

8.   Does she have a career instead of a job?

Check and check. I know it’s déclassé to be financially stablewith the ability to provide for myself without a man (harlot!) But yes, I have a career I’ve worked hard for and colour me crazy but I’m relatively pleased about this.

9.   Does she lift weights and pursue an exhausting exercise regimen?

Ha! Another win for me, because no, no I do not have an exhausting exercise regime. Take that Christian blog lady!

10. Is she incapable of reading a book by a man? 

Two in a row! I quite like a book and as long as the male author of the book is a raging feminist I will totally read it.

11. Does she disbelieve in the existence of God?

Is the Pope a Catholic?

Try to find someone for whom you can answer no on all of these questions, especially #11 and #5. She is out there and worth finding. 

Awkward. I fail the Christian good wife test. Must try harder next time.

You know what I’m tired of?

(Apart from work, trying to get my credit card down to a zero balance owing, lack of holidays, crap friends and not enough sleep?)

Fat and/or skinny bashing.

I’ve read a few blogs this week (written by girls) with rants about too skinny girls or too fat girls. How fat girls bash too skinny girls because they’re jealous, and how skinny girls bash fat girls because they’re disgusting. And frankly I couldn’t give a shit.

My bum is bigger than other girls bums. And my bum is smaller than other girls bums. I also have brown hair, while some girls have blonde hair.

To me it’s as simple as that.

And yet the amount of vitriol in articles, blogs and forums from girls about other girls weight is starting to piss me off.

It’s like the battle of motherhood that goes on:  breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding, co-sleeping vs. cot sleeping, organic food vs. packaged food. It’s unnecessary judgemental bullshit that there’s no need for.

And there’s no fucking way that these amount and type of articles or comments would be written by men. That’s what annoys me, this is females attacking females. Life for females is pretty bloody good these days, and yet the most hideous and pointed articles about women, and the glass ceiling, and body image and feminism is being written by other women. Nice first half girls, jog it in.

Now, I’m a pretty judgmental person, I enjoy making snap judgements about people because I am a shallow petty person. And yet this stuff? This stuff that can be so hurtful to someone else is ridiculous.

Personally I think any type of obsessive fixation on your body is unhealthy, whether you’re 50 kilograms or 150 kilograms. I also think that as long as you can sleep at night with your body shape, your lifestyle and your health then good for you.

I also think it’s none of my business even if you aren’t, because unless you’re one of my family or best friends I don’t care. I’ve got my own worries, concerns, sadness, problems to focus my energy on than some other chick that I have never, and will never meet.

You concern yourself with the size of your bum, and I’ll look after the size of my bum and I think we’d be a lot happier and healthier.

God, these type of articles annoy me.

If, like me, you’re too lazy to click through onto articles it’s a whiney article about the influence of Bella from Twilight as a bad role model for girls.

Because she is clingy and self absorbed and willing to give up everything for the man-child vampire Edward Cullen.

So, she is dangerous. Just like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet encouraged suicide and pre-marital sex and violence, and just like Wuthering Heights Catherine encouraged girls to be narcissistic and self destructive, and just like heavy metal music makes boys take guns and kill people.

The kids? To paraphrase the delightfully cheeky Robbie Williams, are alright. They are smart and should be given more credit than to assume they’re blindly follow characters and celebrities and umm, fall in love with a vampire?

And if your child is influenced by a fictional character or Paris Hilton to make decisions and shape their personality, then you know what? They’d be influenced by anything and you’ve failed as a parent, and we’ve failed as a society to raise children with a bit of nous and intelligence.

Or, crazily enough, they’re just normal kids who fuck up and make mistakes.

Shits me.

In other awesome news I have a ticket to see New Moon this afternoon. Sure I’m 28 and it’s a little lame, but I accept that title fully.

I was a relatively angry/wanky/indie teenager so I missed that teenager fandom stage. Let’s just say I am making up for it with being giddy about seeing this movie. And cranky about lame media opinion pieces.

So, there’s been a bit of blog gossip around lately about a blog I used to read. It was written by a young woman with a child who was terminally ill with lung cancer, and eventually passed away in 2007.

 Turns out, she’s not dead, and people are understandably a little pissed off. Actually in my case a lot. I don’t know the full story, frankly I don’t particularly care.

 Write a fictional blog. Put a disclaimer on your blog. But writing that you’re dying and all about the sadness and sickness that comes with it, and then accepting people’s kindness and commiserations and assistance for your own entertainment or whatever it was for her kinda makes you a cunt. I wasn’t going to link but hey, you people are smart and can make up your own minds, yes?

 Enough about liars, this week has been awesomely quick. I worked from home Tuesday and as a result this week has flown past. Thank you jebus.

 I have no plans for this weekend beyond heading out for breakfast and naps. I love a plan-less weekend, I know I want to catch up with Beth since it’s been a good week or two since we’ve caught up. And I know I want to tidy up the apartment and bake some shit (baked goods obviously.)

 I’ve been feeling a little hermit-like lately and I would enjoy it a lot more if people just accepted it rather than fighting it. It’s funny how people get quite personally offended by people not being social. My close friends and I have an understanding, I tend to be a nanna and if we’re out and about I’m generally ready for home by midnight-ish. What happens is I have a last drink, hugs and kisses all around and then Beth makes sure I get into a cab, I go home, she goes back in – everybody is happy. People who want to stay out, stay out. People who want to head home, head home.

 And yet whenever there are new people around there’s always this moment when I’m saying goodbye to Beth and K and everyone, when you can see that me going home has offended them. That me going home is me saying to them, “You bore me, I’m out of here.” When really all I’m saying is, “I’m a nanna and want to be in bed curled up with my cat.”

 But then, they tend to be the same people who ask why I’m still single.

 I am in love with Dita Von Teese. I just am amazed that she essentially takes her clothes off for a living and yet she is awesome and insanely classy and graceful. I just think she’s really cool and I like that there are women out there who provide an alternative model (not role model because I don’t really believe in them) but just someone that shows the different paths people can take and it doesn’t make them better or worse, just different. I think it’s a nice change from the standard “You can be a career girl or you can be a stay at home mother and that’s it, suck it” roles that are out there for girls.

(Also, surprisingly cute even without her make up.)

 Anyway, it’s beer o’clock on a Friday so I’m going to head home. Have a great weekend.