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driving, tequila and resignation

Tuesday Mar 23, 2010

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 18th 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 20th.

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.

douche canoes

Tuesday Mar 16, 2010

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.)


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.

girls vs girls

Friday Mar 12, 2010

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.


Thursday Nov 19, 2009

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.

lies and awesome and stuff

Friday Nov 13, 2009

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.

spontaneity fail, brouhaha and stuff

Friday Sep 4, 2009

I can’t believe it’s Friday already, this week has been busy at work. Way busy. With meetings with important scary people at work who earn 5 times what I do and just generally scare the bejesus out of me. And make me do a lot of work.

 So yes, there’s been working and sleeping and that’s about it.

 Last week I was talking with Adam about being impulsive and how I always wanted to be more spontaneous. There’s been two scenarios lately that would’ve been perfect to try out this new spontaneous Lucy.

 Take getting a tattoo. I love the idea of getting a tattoo, having some beautiful piece of art permanently on your body. Where I begin the impulsive=fail is when I start thinking about it.

 See, I start off with the “ooh, what would I choose?”, then I get stuck on a design that I’d be happy with to see on my body forever. And then I start thinking about the commitment involved, and what if I ended up hating it in a few years and then I start getting stressed out. So I drop the idea.

 I can’t do it, I really can’t. I’m a list girl, I like weighing up the pros and cons of a decision. I like looking before I leap and all that jazz. I’ve decided that I’m okay with this.

 So, no tattoo for now.

 We’ve got Fathers Day this Sunday and we’re having a picnic in the Botanic Gardens which sounds lovely. Then a day later Dad drives to the other side of Australia to live. I’m resigned to it, I don’t particularly like it but I want him to be happy and I want it to work out for him. And if that’s going to happen in Western Australia far be it from me to try and stop it because I like hanging out with my Dad more than a couple of times a year. Fucking parents with their goddamned mid life crisis always ENDING WITH MOVING TO WA!

 I have an appointment with my beautician tomorrow and wow I will be so happy to see her. I had to cancel my usual monthly appointment, and since she is insanely busy it’s been nearly 2 months. 2 months people. That officially makes me a wookie.

 Poppy has also officially settled back into being an indoors pet. I knew that she’d take it better than say Lily, who went insane when we moved into an apartment.

 Segue – I got Lily from a shelter when she charmed the pants off me by being all lovely and smoochy. I was sharing an apartment with a girl who later read my diary and then gave me 7 days notice to move out, she also had a cat so Lily was happy with the indoors part because we had a big balcony and she had a sidekick. Then I moved into an apartment that didn’t have a balcony and she was on her own. In addition to pooping in my plants she always stopped walking on the ground. Just didn’t like it. So if she needed to go from the bedroom to the kitchen where her food was, she’d jump from the bed to the bedside table, to the fireplace mantle, to the lounge, to the dining table, to the dining chair, then to the kitchen bench. Just no longer let her feet touch the floor.

 Hence why she lives with Dad now.

 Anyway, yes, Poppy is doing good. Because she’s still quite young she tears around the house and plays ninja commando with me where she hides in things and jumps out at me when I walk past to scratch me and draw blood. She hangs out on the balcony and naps in the sunny spots and sleeps in the sink and also loves the laundry nook. I’d love to be able to let her outside or to have another one but the area I live is too central and busy and the apartment is too small for two. So far though it’s going well.


poppy laundry

 Something that I wasn’t going to write because it is so ridiculously overblown that I don’t even know why people are reacting to it. The normal sized girl in a magazine who has a little belly in a national UK magazine. Cute girl, good body little belly that I love. I’m just not sure why it’s such a big deal.

 I am surprised by the amount of negative response about it. Which I find funny when apparently people are demanding the fashion and beauty industry depict more normal looking women. Suddenly you get a normal woman who is not perfect (yet still gorgeous) and people are disgusted by it. Eh, I like seeing women with normal bodies, because colour me stunned! they look like me. And I’m a little disappointed that some of the worst comments are made by women, I mean fuck, help a sister out and not pick her to pieces because you have your own body images that you need to work on.

 It’s just tiring and I don’t understand what the problem is with an image of a body that looks more like mine than the usual airbrushed model. Stomach, breasts and all.

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