Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Being "nice"

Why is it that at any given opportunity to make a speech, people completely wreck it by being 'nice' and thanking the people that helped them along the way??

Isn't the whole point of doing something great and being rewarded for it a perfect opportunity to rub it in peoples faces?

Obviously some respects should be called out during a victory win - ala Rocky's timeless 'Adrieeeeeeeeene'. But other than during a boxing match when you're losing braincells by the second, I think you could come up with something better than that.

Why at Oscar time does each winner feel the need to go thru the name of every producer, agent, director and co-star they worked with. They have big enough ego's, surely those 40 seconds would be better spent saying something along the lines of;

"yo yo! thanks a lot! this will look great next to my best-improved netball trophy. to all the other nominees, suck shit, my movie was clearly better than yours, oh and to anyone from my highschool that's watching this FUCK YOU. Hope you like working in your dogfood factories whilst I'm living it up with my millions - can someone take a photo of me up here??"

I would watch the Oscars for that. I don't need to see a bunch of mentally incompetent suckups (read: actors) be overly nice to each other for the sake of it. Its fake. You aren't fooling anyone that you aren't wanting to shove your victory down the throats of the losers.

Same goes for weddings. "thanks to the bridesmaids, you look beautiful" no they don't. mostly bridesmaids are the fatter fuglier friends of the bride, so chosen because they make the bride look better on her wedding day. Plus noone looks good in red satin, unless you are Santa's naughty little whore.

Ideally in a wedding speech the groom or best man would be able to say "and thanks a lot to all the obligatory family members for showing up and eating the food. we didn't want to invite you, hopefully you all leave early so we can go party with our friends sooner than later"

I am choosing not to have children at my wedding, mainly so I dont have to turn around during the ceremony and say "can you shut that screaming brat up! and get the fuck out" mainly because noone wants to hear the bride say 'fuck' as part of her wedding vows. But it would feel good to say those words to the selfish bitch who thinks her screaming children are a 'miracle' and that a screaming child is 'cute'. they aren't. screw you and your ovaries.

Being nice and polite just takes a lot of energy, it would be a more realistic world to live in if everyone told the truth, rather than when the heifer at works goes around bragging how she lost 5kg, rather than saying 'congrats' you say 'only 50 more to go', instead of smiling and throwing away the bad Christmas presents you get from clueless relatives, you should go up to them and go "what is this plastic piece of shit? did you go Christmas shopping with a blindfold on? I don't want this. if I take it home i'll just set it on fire and throw it off my balcony. you keep it"

Everyone would be living a much more stressfree existence if we all said what was on our minds. all the time. sure you might not have any friends, but if they can't take the heat. stop being a moron.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Who the Fuck Are You?

On the way to the Hunter Valley I stopped by my uncles house for a chinwag, and to pee. The great surprise being that my grandma was there, very exciting as I dont see her as much as I would like to.

She is there with her boyfriend, and I go in for the 'good to see you' hug and kiss hello, and her boyfriend says to me "who are you ??" nevermind who I am old man, who the fuck are you more importantly.

You dont ask 'who are you' and ruin the moment of a good family reunion hug. Clearly she's my grandma, I only have one. Not to mention that you came to my Engagement Party last year and honed in on the festivities. So I do believe we have met before.

Maybe its ok to be a rude old git when you're clearly that blind and stupid. But guess who won't be getting a wedding invite. If you can't remember who the fuck I am. You sure as hell won't be there to join in on my special day.

(you're also not invited because at said Engagment Party you asked me to move out of the way so you could get a photo of 'the family' together? what am I? dogvomit??)

Old People Suck. Especially You. Ring-In.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

I just wanted to Tango out the door

Weddings are the new 21st's... it seems like every weekend these days is filled with either Hens Nights, Bachelor Parties, shopping for wedding gifts, and finally the Nuptials.

So guess what I did this weekend!! I painted a sacred cow... nah, just kidding, I went to yet another wedding. This one in the hunter valley. noice, very noice.

This here be the Lynchin' Tree, right after your vows, a bell rings out and they hang a guy.. this obviously costs extra.

The wedding was for a couple of coppers, so we left our sentiments in the signature registry "Dear Ryan and Kylie, Criminals Suck. Love Rules. Luv Rach n Mark xxx"

The cake looked reallllllllly tempting, so tempting that I had to touch it.. as you do, i'm all about textures, little realising that my finger left a big fingerprint in the icing, and being surrounded by coppers, that was a pretty frivolous thing to do.

I've only ever been to one wedding (this one ) where there was an electrical storm and the power went out, forcing the best man to bring out his acoustic guitar and have his moment in the limelight.. I joined in doing a bit of bottle hoe-down. Clearly we were seated at 'the drunk table' for a reason.

Then, i just got really drunk.

The band was in a timewarp from 1987. Which allowed for much needed daggy dancing, and a 'superstar' moment where I got it on with the wooden strut.


Friday, February 23, 2007

Stinkin Ibis'

Five stinkin ibis' standing on a wall, some named Peter, some named Paul. And if one stinkin ibis should accidentally fall, there'd be one stinkin ibis still goin thru the garbage.
Ever done Market Research? my eyes have just been opened to the experience. Wow. My first time was being a test-rat for biscuits.. all alone in my little isolation booth, ticking wheather i think its too 'dry', if there are enough 'holes', if the surface is smooth enough... strange.
I found it hard not to burst out laughing when everyone is in their litle isolation booths, in the quiet, hearing everyone crunching on their biscuits. It's very surreal. Especially when you see only see the researchers hands thru the 'hatch of mystery'.
My second time was being part of a focus group for a Foxtel Channel, .. lets just say that they better friggen listen to my opinions and put on 'Twin Peaks', 'Red Dwarf', and 'Tales from the Crypt'.. and also 'Astro Boy'.
I cant believe they're paying people for this shit.
The only disturbing part is there is always some total freakazoid, who is missing teeth, says she's pregnant, and chainsmokes... scary.
Hope they ask me to be a testrat for the new range of Posturepedic Mattresses. (And Bubblewrap, Vibrators, and Varieties of Swiss Cheese, all things I am an expert in)

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

$250,000 for anal sex

So, the QM2 was in Sydney, whoopdee friggen doo... i catch a ferry every morning, giant boats don't phase me, unless they're about to crash into me, then i mind a little.

In all honesty it was quite breathtaking - very large - very classic, but at the end of the day - just a boat.

A boat that caused havoc of traffic around my unit, I was this close (!!) to throwing my butter chicken on someone if they so much as slowed down for any reason in the cars in front of me.

A boat that has suites at $250,000 for 80 days. Kinda ludicrous non?? This is how the conversation would go should I ever be rich enough to book a suite on the QM2

Ring Ring!
Operator: Hello
Me: Hi, i'd like to book the $250,000 anal sex suite thanks
Operator: the what?
Me: The anal sex suite, the suite where my boyfriend can have anal sex with Natalie Portman
Operator: i.. dont ... understand
Me: Its the $250,000 suite that comes with a blowjob everynight by Natalie, that's 80 nights worth mind you! and at the end you can fuck her in the ass. I assume that seen as how i'm a girl i'll be given the option of having Ryan Reynolds or Matthew McConaughey giving me pleasure as well...
Operator: .............
Me: AND! for those prices, i'll also be wanting a human sized kitty litter tray for myself to crap in, and ryan reynolds scooping it up naked.

Is that really too much to ask??

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

the cramps

but first up:
"I've been to cities, that don't smell like piss. When you're waiting at the bus-stop, you don't have to deal with this. But no matter how wide, or far I roam.. Sydney still smells like a homeless person who ate curry then pissed his pants and fell asleep at Circular Quay"

I love going to work and smelling the sweet velour of the city, first up it's the smell of 2 day old urine at the bus-stop. This is especially awesome on hot days, and even awesomer when you sit down at the busstop and realise a few minutes later that there is a sticky puddle right under your seat and you definitely sat in wee.

Up next is the smell of my bus, which is a combination of smelly wee from the busstop, old fart, peeling plastic seats, and germs. It's only a matter of time before I start wearing a biohazard suit to work.

My morning is topped off with walking down the hill from Edgecliff, to the stench of car exhaust, and past the garbage that fuckers leave on the street - because 'one day' there will be a council clean up. Even though there hasn't been a council clean-up in fucking 6 months, and i'm pretty sure some hairy goblin is going to jump out of the couch which has become a permanent fixture and attack me one morning.

I love coming to work.

Onwards - I have major hand-crampage.

This would be a great story if I was up all night competing in the Girlfriend Olympics practicing for the Best Handjob Medal, but alas I was playing Nintendo.

There is a Nintedo DS in my house, and the game is Mario Bros. I kick.ass. at Mario Bros, I don't even need the sound on, I know all the tunes, from Grassland, Underground Land, Waterland, and Invincible Star Mode. At christmas I saw my cousins and 'wowed' them with my Nintendo Mario Bros skillz.

Too bad I cant type today. I'm sure my boss will understand.

Monday, February 19, 2007

"minding the cheese"

Do you ever find yourself loitering around like a loser?
Would you like it to seem as though you have a purpose in your loitering exploits?
Does your girlfriend often leave you standing around in an alley whilst she sells her body to medical science/tests biscuits??

Here is the answer to all your problems!! A bag of cheese.

Now when anyone gives you 'tude for hanging around like a nigelised loser somewhere, you can be all "I have a purpose!! I was minding the cheese"
'Minding the Cheese' for what exactly is a different story, I would personally go with minding the cheese for tacos, or some sort of pasta bake.
Mmmmmmm Cheese.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

I'm bringing Bogan back.. yeah!

Justin Timberlake is bringing sexy back, i'm bringing bogan back.

Observe: The Croc Attack Shirt.

There are two group concensus' about the Croc Shirt. General opinion is that the shirt is awful. I also have dwindling support that the shirt is so bad, its good.

The hole gives me good ventilation in summer, so if anything, the Croc Shirt is useful, as well as an eyesore.

The Croc Shirt sure is a talking point. I was getting dragged aside and chatted up everywhere, in the lines in the bathroom, in the chicken tikka take-away joint. People everywhere love to hate the shirt. There is no point taking exstacy to meet randoms and have a D&M, wear a croc shirt and you'll be the life of the party.

Hopefully bogan comes back in full swing and other good/bad stuff will be seen in clubs soon; flanno shirts, stonewash, high-pants, mullets.

My only vice with the shirt, is that an 'I survived a Stingray attack' shirt doesn't exist yet. It's only a matter of time though.

High School Cafeteria

I always wanted to go to high-school in america so I could eat in a cafeteria, and be part of the cafeteria scene - ie: "you cant sit with us, we only wear jeans on Mondays". The scene would be moreso about being part of a cool group and whining about the slop they feed us. (I'm not as into the school cafeteria high-school massacre scene).

I went to IKEA and they have a cafeteria set up, which is fun.
Trays: Check
Inedible Slop: Check

Good Times. Whilst eating at the cafeteria I played "Mean Girls" by deathstaring an old-lady into not sitting next to me "baggsed"... and then some Prison Role-Playing (as they have cool cafeterias too) "sit next to me and i'll make you my prison bitch for life, now give me your cake asswipe". Luckily the 4 year old I was saying this too didn't really understand what I was talking about.

Then however, I got stuck in IKEA. You have to walk thru the entire store to escape, which sucks. And you always end up buying something stupid, that you really never needed (ice-cube trays shaped like jigsaw pieces, neon dishwashing tools) this time we got suckered into buying a new cat blanket for Lenny.

In other news, I drove back from IKEA (on my L's) and learnt how to MERGE.. I was all "are you gonna let me in or what asshole??" I gots the roadrage speak downpat. I'll be passing my P's test with flying colours.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

HOMELESS - The Musical

I cant afford to pay my rent. I'm gonna go live in a tent.
Especially if they raise the rent by 30 percent.
Who the fuck do they think we are? I cant even afford a car.
here's not enough space to even hang my clothes.
There's mould in the bathroom, which constantly grows.
My next-door-neighbours borrow my shit.
They took my potato peeler, and never returned it.
Do they think i'm a millionaire?
I cant even afford to cut my hair.
Rent! Rent!

All this talk about raising sydney's rent scares me. I rent because there is no way in hell I could ever afford a place to buy in sydney. All I could afford would be a one bedroom shitbox in Lane Cove that constantly smells like Paprika. Nor do I want to buy a house out in The West and commute for 3 hours a day. No Thanks. I'd rather rent. But now.. perhaps not.

I think I pay enough for the 'privelege' of living in the middle of the city. And even it's too small for my needs. I need a second bathroom or an internal laundry for my cat for one, do you know how disgusting it feels getting out of a shower and standing on crunchy kitty litter??! it is the worst. Up there with nails on blackboards, and people rubbing balloons.

There are no built-in-wardrobes, so i have a tiny hanger which holds about a quarter of my clothes, the rest which live in suitcases under my bed, and only come out when its seasonally appropriate. Much to my dismay when I am in a cleaning frenzy from having no room. (I accidentally threw out my denim jacket. Fuck It)

And they want to raise my rent!! get fucked. If anything they should give me a discount for having to deal with the psychotic neighbours, and the bathroom that really needs a repaint.

For the amount of rent I assume i'll be paying in the future I should be living in the fucking Ivory Tower.

* How many elephants do you supposed died to make The Ivory Tower??? That would have been like, the biggest Elephant Massacre Ever. Unless there are some mystical Elephants in Fantasia whose tusks magically fall off when you need them for tower building materials. Pfft As If. They couldn't have shipped that Ivory in from beyond the boundaries of Fantasia. Because Fantasia Has No Boundaries. (the biggest lesson I ever learnt)

Monday, February 12, 2007

The Hens Dog

This weekend, I went to McMasters Beach on the central coast for my good friend Kylie's Hens Night.
Kylie and I go way back. Way back to the days of wearing matching cat pyjamas and making cake on sleepovers.
The hens night partay was set in a quaint beach-house in McMasters, literally on the beach. It was delightful.

sooo relaxing. one of the best things about McMasters was the bakery in downtown Gosford. Baked Goods Baked with Love. It doesnt get any better than small town cookin'.
Some of the things we organise for the 'Hen' were a Hen's Kookaburra, to come and sit on the bbq whilst we cooked our meats, some Hens fireworks (from the wedding happening next door) and the Hen's Dog.. Pictured below.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Meet the Crew

I work a rather autonomous job. I like it. Better than having someone breathing down your neck constantly checking up on you.. specially seen as how 40% of the time i'm dicking around online and MSNing like a crazy person.

But it gets lonely sometimes. So I fixed that problem.
'The Crew'

Steve the Llama, and Moloko the Monkey.
Steve's cool. He reminds that I should take the city in my stride, because one day I could be livin the dream, owning a large property in the country and becoming a Llama Farmer. Moloko the Monkey pretty much sits around rubbing it's shaved head. Much like my actual friend Heather who does that too when she's drunk.

Harry and Larry. Identical Cows. Opposite Personalities.
Harry and Larry are what i'd call the Middle-Management of the desk. We often have meetings to discuss things like, getting a new liquid paper, and finding the blue pen that mysteriously goes missing quite often. They fight over who gets to be the one to use the hole punch, or the stapler. It can get nasty. I prefer paperclipping things, but I havent said this, for a fear they will bar me from the group.
At the moment we are all having a little discussion about wheather or not to throw out the dying flowers on my desk.
*Larry tells me i'm living a dream of false hope, the flowers are dead, time to move on.
*Harry thinks we should bury the flowers under the desk to ward off evil spirts.
*Steve isn't speaking to me because I moved him off the scanner and onto the stack of white-pages.
*And Moloko has nothing of substance to say, he just rubs his head and has a vacant look in his eyes. He could be a model.
Well, hope they last over the weekend without me. I've told them under no circumstances are they to get reckless and pee all over the keyboard if they get bored. If i'm not allowed to do that. Noone is.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

PMS ... who knew??

Apparently all the hating angst I have been feeling the past 2 weeksish, have been PMS.. oopsy.

see, then thing is (WARNING: woman talk about to happen) I take the pill in monthly concessions, so I never have to have my period. Life is sweet. No bleeding, no cramps, no moods.. I can run on the beach and go skydiving all I want. Four months will go by and i'll think, hmmm maybe doing a bit of the womanly thing is in order.. but generally having a period 4 times a year is a good way to live.

My body apparently, does not think so... It has become 'immune' to the pill i think (hopefully not in a way that a baby ensues) the other day I got my period whilst being ON the pill.... then it all started to make sense.....

*Hating Everything and Everyone, and wanting to quit my job and work in Porn (wtf??!! who does that??)
*Having arguments at home about people using ridiculous amounts of toilet paper, and thinking about instigating seperate toilet paper rolls as a controlled experiment to see who uses more.
*Nagging about rinsing and putting dishes away. Constantly Nagging.
*Being crazily bloated and living off 2 nectarines a day in a vain attempt to be thin and hot
*Having horny dreams all week
*Sore Nipples

Am I Fucking Idiot or what?? ALLLL the signs were there.. I just didn't see them. Plus my PMS is like four times as strong i think, because I rarely allow my body the freedom to be a mental psycho bitch, Hence my Mental-Psycho-Bitch mood is really really really bad.

Here's hoping that my next bout of PMS doesnt creep up on me and I leave my job in a haze of office fire, tagging up Double Bay, and killing Mark for elbowing me in the back when i'm sleeping...

PMS can land a woman in dangerous predicaments.. namely un-employment and jail.

Fuck You Ovaries.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007


I am extremely spontaneous. you need a date for a party? give me 20 mins. you wanna go to Texas for a music festival, lets book our tickets.

Yesterday I received an invite to a 'secret' red-carpet screening of 'Smokin Aces', with my hubby Ryan Reynolds.

Unfortunately it was extrememly last minute - ie the invite came thru at 4.30, so I had to go all skanked up in my bland work-attire. Plus I had to document the occasion with my dodgy camera-phone.

Whilst standing in line (on said carpet) Jo and I were next to Subway, starving, salivating, so finally decided to lady-like wrangle over the fence to partake in some yummy 6 inchers.. that's when my hubby arrived.. just as I was elbow deep into my sambo.
Ryan arrived with Joel Edgerton, and some dumb distribution company sluts who were hanging off him, and eyeballing us plebs in the line.. whatever!! He will probably shag both of you at the same time and call you both 'Melanie' because whilst you are seemingly attractive, you aint no supermodels. Die Bitches. It should have been Me.
Then Ryan stood RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, doing media interviews, he was that close I could have scraped off some skin flakes to do some voodoo spells with to make him fall in love with me.... Or I could have stabbed him.. noone frisked us, I was at arms length away.. so hot.
Ryans Sexy Shoes. Those scuff marks are really turning me on.
mmmmmmm so hot. especially the noticeable pumped up veins in his exposed forearm... just like in Blade Trinity. maybe he was off battling vampires before he arrived???

See! See how close he was, i could have literally bent over a little and licked his neck.
So after the media interviewing he turned around and did some greetings, i got some sizzling eye contact. We then went into the cinema to watch the film, he did an introduction, he is indeed funny, charming and drop-dead-sexy.
The movie was good. Tis a shame that there weren't any soaking wet pyjama pants scenes like in Amityville Horror.. but was still great, knowing that he was around, and could have at any moment, sent a PA down to get me and take me into the bathroom and shag me senseless.
Mmmmmmmm Ryan.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Love Lost

Leisa is going to kill me for saying this but: The new Silverchair song SUCKS!! (in my opinion)

This is the Silverchair I loved: Young, Angsty, made Army Pants cool. Opened my eyes to world of music when Salt n Pepa's 'Shoop' was the number one song.

I loved Frogstomp, I travelled to the newcastle foreshore and saw them play before that album was released, i saw pretty much every concert feasibly possible, waited in the rain, passed out in the moshpit, twisted my ankle, got into scrag fights defending silverchairs honor... but now? now i'd be the first person to throw a sandwhich at Daniel John's faggy head.

Did he have his balls removed when he was in hospital getting his arthritis medication?? Does he have to sing like such a woman!!! Where has the fire gone?

I just heard their new single and i can only imagine it being played on 'easy listening' radio. and even then i'd rather drive my car into a tree than finish listening to this piece of crap.

They lost their edge. Daniel went nuts, became a transvestite, started writing overly sappy angsty-pants music that is poison to my ears.

It's disappointing. I still love silverchair on some level, and its good that they have evolved as a band and don't play the same old shit on an RSL tour each year. Hopefully he gets some other mental illness that makes him write good music again.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Hol Spread

This is the frog that lives in the bathroom, he's very tiny and jumpy. It jumped on Mark in the middle of the night and he screamed like a girl. Ha.

Hammock Relaxin' Time... ZZzzzzzzzz. I would like to work in a hammock on a laptop, swingin in the breeze. That or a Hammock Shop. Either one.

Not getting Killed on the Beach. Looks picturesque, but the water is murky, and there are poisonous entities lurking everywhere. I kept my eyes peeled at all times for Celebs and Crocs.

Waterfall swimming, this was on the 'secret track' thru wilderness, where my thong went down the rapids, and i had to be a hero with a stick and get it back.

Field of Roo's.. They were all congregated and plotting something i'm sure of it. Maybe they were thinking they need to get some poison glands so they fit in with everything else up here.

Me and Missy. Missy on the motorbike, Missy on my bag. Twas very sad to leave her, knowing that her owner is a schitzopherenic (seriously) and will probably end up living on the roof and eating bugs the rest of her life. At least we had a couple of days together that she can fondly think back on and tell her thousand grandchildren (as i doubt the schitzo will get her desexed) sadness.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Checkmate Maxine

Suck on that you boring old bag.

Your bag of 'wake up lemons' are in the post.

Back from Cairns (twang), stupid sydney, stupid job, studid grime, stupid crowds, stupid buses, stupid tryhards, stupid egos, stupid wannabes, stupid overpriced supermarkets. I HATE IT HERE!!

I miss Missy Burrito :(