OH GUESS WHAT!?

I moved into a shiney new blogsphere.
You can find it here: www.parlevouz.tumblr.com
It's no GOOP by that paltrow wooza, but it's smashing all the same.

x. walrus.

Heroes

You make me wanna dance, you really do. All night and all day - my heart explodes when i think about you.
You are the ones I admire and to which i aspire...
We may not see each other all that much, but i think of you often and hope i make you proud. I work harder, push further and dazzle brighter because I know you do too and I just want to be as good as you.
If ever there is a moment of listlessness or lethargy, I put myself in your shoes, walk down the street and hopefully show off in them enough that people will realise I'm lucky enough to know people like you. I never want to be anything less than the best but don't mistake that for vanity - it's pride, the pride you have in me.
Everything I do, every choice i make is purely selfish, like anyone else. I'm out to please number one but it boosts my confidence to succeed with you cherubs only a phone call or facebook tagging away.. You know who you are, the go-getters, the adventurers, the best people I've ever met. Let's dance - put on your red shoes and dance the blues.

la vie en rose

i haven't washed my hair in a few days.

i still leave the green lollies in the bowl cause i can't handle the flavour.

if i was only allowed one friend in the whole world, you would certainly be my pick.

i always felt golden around you.

i love you but i have to go.

hold on tight

despite recent headlines, i'm struggling with my own thoughts.

It saddens me a little to learn that penguins do eventually take off.

just some, not all

Values and morals and such things of that nature are important whether you realise or not. It has become apparent that friendships can withstand time, distance and lifestyle if these values remain somehow intact. say for instance, your best friend in the world is dragging babyseals out of oil spills in antarctica and you work as a desk monkey at reece's plumbing in suburbia, no matter what job you take or lifestyle you are amongst, if they share just some, not all (but some) of your values - the friendship remains intact. If these disappear, weakening the bond, it wouldn't matter if they lived a few streets away, it's over red rover and you have to recognise.

looks like mornin' in your eyes

http://www.hutchme.com/

particularly Gary Busey...

"A series inspired by people we hope never get sober. Infamous Alcoholic Gary Busy, immortalized in metallic gold on dark denim covered 6oz stainless steel flask. The flask measures aprox 3 3/4" tall x 3 3/4" wide, (not including the cap)"

classless society

Ever feel like you have absolutely no affiliation to the place you're in? it's not that you're not part of it, in it, all over it.. but the feel of the joint is a tad tight in the crotch.

We do live in a classless society. but not in the capacity of a society with out class segregation, we are simply lacking class all together.

i was in the pits of hell last night, this place was really not my bag at all. i thankfully was 'deso dave', making sure my friends were ok throughout the night, and this makes for a speedy and sober escape when the homing instinct kicks you in the back of the knees. However, the scene i found myself in was disasterous. some other friends appeared out of nowhere and joined us but it was if i was having a nightmare; they were so different. such wankers. loud and boysterous without any similar traits to how they normally act. that pissed me off. the girls in this place were falling over, trashed, and in the worst get ups of all time. acrylic hair, nails, tan and shoes, and not much in between. fucking yuckety yuck yuck. bleeuuuuurrrhh. i've never felt so comfortable being a fly on the wall. shit fits, tears, bad lighting, bad moods, bad timing, loneliness and ill-fitting characters. and i got to witness all this. gosh life is entertaining! it was so wrong, the whole thing - that even in the skanky loo, i looked at my choice of underwear and thought... even these aren't right for this place. when the place you're in has an atmosphere reeeeeking of pretention that makes even your trusty bonds feel insecure, fire escapes and drop n' roll style exiting must be performed immediately , if not sooner.

and while i'm at it, fuck door bitches. terrible make up and a bullshit attitudes.

gentle reminder bitch, you're holding a clip board, not a gun. we are not affraid.

Rome wasn't built in a day

but by god - all roads lead to rome. Look at this link, it was last sunday at mattocks road skate park. over the years i've grown up with these people, when i say grown up, from the age of about 16 til now i've done most "growing" so i consider these people over and above the ones known since birth, to be the most important. they skate hard, drink fast and hug tight. the best you'll ever know.
have a look at these little beauties...

http://bogdump.com/?p=781

everything you own in a box to the left...

What constitutes 'making it'? a BMW and bling? a bad attitude and a large amount appearing on your ATM reciept? really? go fuck yourself.

Amazing friends, being safe from harm, doing something you love and doing it well, things that don't require money or connection. That to me is 'making it'.

This week is top of the chart, one of the hardest experienced. Everything in life was almost put in a box to the left. 2 of the most important people in life are struggling and i can't help them. it's like there's sound proof glass between me & them and i can't scream loud enough, or get through to help them. at the tender age of 26, my best friend lays in intensive care in physical pain, screaming cause a tumor is ravaging his brilliant mind and body. My angel of a mother discovers her sore arm and cramped hand writing is parkinsons disease. meanwhile, storms whip our home and making it to work in this headspace and this weather is no easy feat. I can't even get my head around the slight positive that i am the one who is alive and well and this is just part of my journey to be lived through. bullshit. i want to turn the clock back 4 months to a time when we took holidays, rounds at the pub and called each other on lunch breaks during the workday for no particular reason.

i don't normally pray but if it meant my world was a little rosier, i would press my hands together til they snapped.

i've never been one to see a positive in change, clean slates, etc. i don't want this to be a clean slate, i don't want to start again without them.

chanel numéro canq

from little things, big things grow

TUNE SWOON! Paul Kelly is a crutch to all emotionally injured Aussies. Having a bad day? wack on 'songs from the south' and therapy is at your stereo speaker. In his complete discography, there is a track to suit your mood, situation or context. (all the best things come out of melbourne..)

To say this penguin is capricious, bold, strong willed, and fierce are just words to paint a picture. a picture i have my way with every day. Usually to my detriment. (enter paul kelly). started an internship today and by 11am, wanted to be riding through the streets in a silver top - not to her door - but out of that place. It's been done before, and it felt fantastic. This time however requires patience and perseverance. not two of my strong points. People tell me it gets easier, and when the class room is your own, it makes it all the more enjoyable. But i was on struggle street. didn't help that it was suicide tuesday (post weekend come-down). I didn't stand the chance of a cinder in snow... but i pulled it together, knowing better. It's just bread and butter for the future before i write a book, or take over the world. I mean, Sting was a teacher before founding The Police. oh musicians, you make everything look so dreamy..

neil young & indian cuisine

perfect sunday night. he's a miner for a heart of gold, i'm a miner for a garlic naan. 

aaah shitchyeh! super duper delicious hangover dinner for one.

New found love for nights like this; So much so, that i have decided to hibernate for winter. I have a big few months of work coming up and i feel like my little body will give up if i continue the way i roll. I'm amazed i remembered my name after the last week of ridiculous antics i took on.

Nights in bed by 8.30pm. Phone thrown into the sea, No smoking. Ha! we'll see about the first 2 but i'm deadly serious about the darbs. its just unattractive.. every single photo i'm in, my friends included, there are cigarettes present. and i feel like shit most of the time. and i have an addictive nature. chain smokin' camel. eeewww. stop woman! stop NOW.

shrooms ala bel

belinda shot my "i can't cook" argument in the head.

She told me this little treat and i didn't even stuff it up. Goes well with a glass of stoneleigh at 3pm while writing essays... Mmmm.

Button mushrooms.

rip out trunks.

upside down, stuff with mass proportions of cheese 

(i went with sweet, rubbery havati... but whatever you like)

turn your oven onto hot.

add some lazy garlic to the stuffing (jar junk)

pepper.

curry powder.

put mushies under grill for ....i don't know, until melted.

pretty tastey...

on the hunt...

A new playlist called 'Laundry Songs' is making housework fun.

I have now 3700 songs on my iPod, thanks to the other night's fleecing of my friends entire library (thanks again!). Now the songs are becoming like pogs when you were 10.. how many could you collect?

i can't possibly listen to 10,000 songs, but i want that many because it will hold that many.

more! more! more! 

how d'ya like it!?

how d'ya like it?!

tales of a hyena

She had stopped, looked down at square one which she was back standing in, took in her life behind her and purred thoughtfully. This wayward hyena had lived a thousand lives and felt more than just the ground below her glorious paws. Just like a satellite, she floated around from place to place, from animal to animal, writing cheques and breakin' necks. In this seemingly scattered but sublimely happy feline existence, she was anchored by a select few. As far as she flung herself into the wilderness, at any given time she could be coaxed back to reality by these ones, like keys to her little hyena heart.

She'd be happy to talk to you and you and you. At the watering hole, she was the darling of the reeds. She'd climb to the top of the boab tree to fetch you a nesting treat at sunset. She ran and squealed and had all the fun that came along. To say she was curious would be an understatement. As much love as this hyena had in her life, she realised she was very lonely. She gave her energy to so many she held in high regard but began to feel they used her. Minus the anchors, she began to feel bitter towards most faces she met and places she kept.

The hyena was friends with the honey bee. She wished with all her hyena heart that she could fly away with the honey bee. He was her friend, he seemed strong and he went where ever his wings would take him. Although he was strong, and was able to carry much more than his own body weight, he couldn't carry a whole hyena. All alone, she wept at night and couldn't sleep for the stars; they were so bright and happy, she felt they mocked her. The honey bee was always in her heart and her in his but the hyena would have to find her own path. 

There was a big bear who tried to comfort the hyena. He seemed to be able to do lots of amazing things. He was strong and loud and was fun when he made a scene. He was warm and shared his food with the hyena. As much as the hyena found comfort and shelter in the beautiful bear, he wasn't filling her heart with the kind of joy she lacked. So she concluded that the Bear & she would always be friends, but farewelled him on his impending adventures to other lands and she went and slept under an oak tree, wishing she could find her anchors again. The ones who owned her heart, who made her safe and happy. Before her best friend, the honey bee returned from his adventures, a nasty cheetah crept through the long grass and scoped her out. She slept peacefully until the cheetah pounced and ripped open her neck. The hyena never recovered, the honey bee didn't know what had happened to her until he flew past the oak tree and saw her strung up by the neck. Those cheetahs sure know how to get creative with long grass. The honey bee flew away - so distraught that he plunged head first into her favourite watering whole and drowned himself. and the bear was never heard from again.

the end.

chuft

k-rudd... YAY-RUDD!

$$$

hand shandy: 'avin a wank.

golden handshake: a substantial gift made to compensate for losses.

stimulus: money designed to increase growth...

pattern?

Rubbish!

• Payday pauses.
  
• insurance direct debiting on an empty account.
• compost.

In more detail:

Payday didn't happen as originally planned for, based on previous experience because of the god damn 5 thousand day long weekend. so i'm bones for another day.

Therefore, my insurance which was due - ya know, like yesterday - has to be taken double next month. I'm a student which of course mean i have ALL KINDS OF MONEY just lyin' around...

Now, Compost. what.the.fuck? I'm not green in the slightest. I don't recycle, i don't use carbon omission environmentally  friendly ozone changing petrol. I use straight down the line dirty, wonderfully energising unleaded. i throw ciggarette butts out of my car when i drive and i fucking don't do food scraps in an outside wannabe port-a-loo. 

i'm an asshoooooole, a-s-s-h-o-l-e, everybody! 

There are fruit + vege scraps, tea bags, eggs, and god knows what else, in my pyrex CAKE MIXING bowl (not a benchtop bin, thank you). and when you open the compost bin, it's swarming with winged shit. i have a rash on my belly all of a sudden, i'm sure its from that. I've just noticed some smug little bastards flying around my kitchen even though i've cleaned it thoroughly. i don't do bugs at the best of times. Insect of choice comes in the form of varnish - shellack caramelised bug wings for the sake of art. thats my line in the sand and i'm staying on this side of it. this is all about house guests. they turn organised homes into chaos. share housing and me is looking bleak...

just a modicum of taste, please

Fake Tan, never a fan. I work for a conglomerate which endorses this shit year round, but it's not for me. Nor is too much real sun. Hanging my washing on the line and tooling around on my push bike is as much as i expose myself to vit.D. Never have i been so proud to be my happy scrappy self than i was last night. to set the scene; i wear little make up these days, i'm kinda boney. without my beloved GHD straightener, my hair is getting curlier by nature, i have 2 eggs sunny side up residing on my chest, and i'm pasty. oh and i'm still a roughly spoken woman. i fucking love it. dark circles under my eyes, unplucked eyebrows, i drop the c-bomb (rarely), the odd one tiny blemish and i'm human. I once flirted with the idea of a fake rack. actually had an affair for a few months with the idea, but i found some perspective on life, i think it was hiding in the bookshelf where i left my brain.  I suppose I have probably written something about this before but it bugs me. 

Admittedly, self esteem is not the easiest thing to come by and i don't have a skinful of the stuff but i've gotten to a point where i'm OK with being me. Beyond all that image/comfort bollocks, it's just a fucking hassle. who is supposed to tan your back? how is one supposed to get ones legs EVENLY orange?! And further more, whats with tanning the face? learn to do your make up properly and buy a powder bronzer... not only have companies done serious study into the effects of the ingredients of such skin stains but it looks creepy. The other hassle is weather. In these times of ecological change, humidity is rising and rain is falling from the sky when you least expect it to. If you're rubbing your face in something beyond Olay, that shits gonna streak like gerkins on a mcDonalds window when you're stoned... GO! GO !GO! it's the whole scene man, the acrylic nails, the super flat hair, the bad 16yr old style eyeliner,.... keep it, all you katie price-wannabes. now that's AMBITION! grosssssss

Zombie Jesus Day!

Pesach. Easter. Ascension. crawling out of the grave to throw chocolate eggs at the children, forever scaring them out of religion as a fairy tale and keeping it as a feared theory.

Passover is the Holy day and festival commemorating The Dude sparing the Hebrews when he killed the first born of Egypt, unleavened bread. tapas and wine basically...

In the story book of fairy tales (bible, history, general law), the dude inflicted 10 plagues upon the Egyptians before Pharaoh would release his Israelite slaves, with the tenth plague being the killing of firstborn sons. The Hebrews were instructed to mark the doorposts of their homes with the blood of a spring lamb and, upon seeing this, the spirit of the Lord passed over these homes, hence the term "passover". When Pharaoh freed the Hebrews, it is said that they left in such a hurry that they could not wait for bread to rise.

when you smile

A mother who pampers her child never lets him get his teeth into anything. Consider the Eskimos, said Dr. Martin. They "use their teeth for everything, including softening frozen leather," and Eskimos rarely suffer from tooth decay. 

- Time Magazine, 'Emotions and Teeth', Monday, Apr. 17, 1939.

'Expression of emotions' - Darwin goes into all sorts of comparisons between man & animal. Revealing teeth in anger, snarling, clenching from anxiety, grinding in stressed sleep, or laughing and bearing your cake hole for good reason.

Teeth say a lot about us as people, our status in the world and our own standards. It's not something you automatically think about regualarly, its something we take for granted (with the exception of a very green salad). Look at someone who has a beautiful set of fangs, natural or braced, and compare them to someone who has absolutely no consideration for mouth disease, thus losing teeth left, right & centre. Who would you rather talk to? Gleam or Gappy? 

Your whole face changes when you smile. your cheeks are rosier, fuller, even your eyes become a discotheque of their own and there is a tingle, when genuinely happy, that wraps around the back of your neck making the hairs stand on end. The guard is down and you reveal something more real about yourself. Babies' first smile (not gas related) is amazing. People achieving whatever little victory in their day and smile achingly all the way home. Nothing makes me happier than your duckie face grinning wildly.

Autumn

'Expressionism' is when the artist distorts reality for an emotional effect.

Much the same can be said when summing up lust, love and other butterfly-effect emotions. Reality distorts, sensibility blurred, obstacles ignored and plans let go into the sky like a wayward balloon.

It's fast and messy and passionate and powerful. Whether it lasts a week, few months or even for ever, it's a feeling like none other in life. It begins from something so simple and builds and boils over (Beckmann, pictured). Like the adrenaline when you spend patient hours drawing or painting, it may be a slow process but when it finally starts taking shape, it's the most wonderfully self indulgent feeling because it's all yours. You made it, and yet you can't figure out how you managed to do so well. You don't look at the piece and see the starting point. No one can be sure of when it started, you the maker can't even be sure of what happened first, it just did, and it's brilliant..

Stoop to Goop

nourish the inner schmuck. I agree with Bono, you and your frog husband are a pack of wankers.

i swear, and I'm not even kidding; the level of cringe was so high that my eyes welled up. She's my style icon (bland to some, but as a steady capricorn, i dream of black balenciaga blazers with matching black jeans, possibly with a splash of a grey t-shirt underneath but lets not go crazy)

Why Gwynie? WHY!!! "me & tamra davis cook dinner for our husbands, - oh did i mention they are coldplay & beastie boys front men?" (if thats possible for the latter trio, but you get it)

"I love to take my children on day trips to paris and help them understand the beauty of life" - bitch, please. my kids'll be lucky if they get to the national gallery and happen to sit near some baguette-eating transplant who has a vague memory of what the eiffle tower looks like in his home city. "eeeh you know it's veh hiiigh i sink... i'm le tiiiiiiiiired..."

We see you in your polished little family unit.

In Hello! magazine, in OK! and any other publication that requires punctuation in the title for some extra pizazz. Hibiscus-infused salt from spain (what.the.fuck) doesn't pay my bills. i shit you not, she has it as a 'must-have' in the cook section.

I almost had to restart my computer, I felt so dirty after actually paying attention to this site...

spasm

i had a dream you kicked the shit out of my back when i was lying watching television

when i woke, the pain still radiated throughout my body and the vivid visions flashed once more

Plasmas & Mazdas

Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of tickytacky
Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same
There's a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.

one street back and you're in wrongtown. however it's creeping in at a rapid rate and eclipsing the heritage with which we distinguish ourselves from others.

Every city has an 'old town' or 'old quarter' where the culture is kept as it should be. the coastal suburbs of this fair city are our version of an old town, particularly my south-central hood.

60's beach shacks, once used as holiday houses for the city's affluent, now mostly kept in sub-mint condition by this generation's affluent. new money with old taste. good. it's when the new money with its new taste or lack there of, come in, take over and make my ears and eyes bleed. there's no denying how important it is for the construction industry to thrive but stop rendering every god damn house until we live in 'Agrestic'... 

There is charm in rusty bikes, weatherboard californian bungalows, norfolk pines, EH Holdens and long lazy lawns. 

Awful expressionless dwellings with big brick fences, marble benches and security systems so adept, it can make you tea and give you one in the morning are for the outter suburbs. Supposedly the blank, treeless, over-developed ghettos which are promoted as the ultimate australian dream is where we are headed. If heaven is as heaven does, than this is hell for sure.

i wish i had a mango tree..... in - my - back - yard

i'm not a servant, i am here to serve you

i wanna open a shop. I'm going to find a product that women want and will find the $50 or $60 to buy what no other store has. Therefore, happily dealing with my concept:

there needs to be a shop where you can tell people to get the fuck out for being rude or disputing price or demanding free shit as a bonus because they bought something from you.. what do i look like to you? willy fucking wonker?

what happened to courtesy? the customer is always right has re-written store etiquette. Bollocks. the customer is always demanding. always a pain in the arse. always talking down to the clerk. why is that? If you want me to serve you, you should be nice. if anyone wants anything done well, it pays to be nice. So when did it become ok to treat the clerk like a dumbshit? I believe i am in this job - they hired me. Not you. Therefore, i think i know what the helen of troy is going down. If you wanted to answer your own question or to self-serve, fuck off to aldi. enjoy your expired mexican whale meat. My store has open spaces, and there is no loitering. if you wish to loiter, do so on the sidewalk outside and away from the premises or even better, amongst busy traffic. doorways are for dickheads - so avoid being one by not standing in one. disorganized and disorientated people who stand stagnent in my god damn shop, blocking my way because no one told them what day it is, will be banned - fo' lyf.

AND i will have a contract drawn up so the retailers association can't touch me when a customer complains of rude attitude/service/etc. phone complaints? i'll hang up. 

I plan to own the building too.

rules is rules in my little treasure chest.

If it gets bad i'll pull out the tourettes or play the spectrum ADHD card.

in my pocket

circumstances cultivate congregations + collaborations to continue company.

picture precious posies of people in pit-less pockets.

supplying a secret stash of sauntering stares soothe situations.

definitely distinguishing differences designates delight, delirium + debate.

fickle fornication fuses familiar feelings flushing fear, fright, friend and foe.

rich raw ranting reoccurs renewing raging reason rapture.

tricky trying to tie together tremendous tales to testify true taste.

dripping from a dead dogs eye

life is explained in the Beatles entire discography. don't even try to dispute it.

of mice & men

there is a mouse who lives in my home. i refuse to rhyme that last part. He/she is a nasty little piece of shit on legs who choses very carefully when the time is right for shock value and in some capacity, revenge. I can deal with cockroaches, ants, wild birds, older brothers who continually shit me to tears, but this, this is far to autonomous for my comfort. like certain people who move about much too quickly and i only wish there was a frypan large enough to smash over their heads and put them in their place. It makes me uncomfortable to the level of unsafe. Rodents, like moronic humans usually have more where they came from. I'm not equipt for the ways of the mouse trap, however i do believe i have the chest kick down to a fine art. It's not "raid" and to be fair, it'd be illegal to sell it for human consumption but having someone who is concerned enough to agree with you and say "what the fuck? thats not fuckin on... what a c***" is far sweeter, and results in zero jail time. win-win.

Dear Friends,

i need more time. more energy. less life... so this year everything i own is in a box to the left. Mmmmm to the left, to the left.

there are not enough hours in the day.

in the week.

in the year.

there are however, enough hours in the night to have the most vivid dreams. my headspace is in a very angry place it seems. so angry, that I am screaming at people and threatening to rip their faces off if they don't just shut the fuck up. and the dream before that in the same night, i am reunited with an old friend and he's giving me directions to drive but he's taking me around and around in circles. i feel used and humiliated in this dream and realise why we're no longer close..

maybe cause i, well we didn't bump into each other, but he must have seen me and followed that by sending a message. It confused me to say the least. 

i can have another you by tomorrow so don't you ever for a second get to thinking you're irreplaceable.

i'm not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you

I'm so tired and quite frankly i've had enough. 

it's all part of life - nein, it IS life and it's no one else's fault or business, however i'm worn out. this has been the longest fullest summer of my time and so far it hasn't got me anywhere special.

so thats it, from here i'm

laying low. 

keeping shtüm. 

not answering the phone.

nor the door.

change of hair colour maybe. 

change of scene definitely.

less iggy pop, and more cat stevens.

sugars replaced with celery.

hangovers replaced with yoga.

but the cigarettes are staying.

1- this is a vent list

2- i'm bloated to the point where i'm not offended if people ask "how many months are you?"

3- uni scheduling has moved itself around, 2 days before i begin. not to my advantage.

4- i don't have time for anyone else for the next few months and blissfully, i don't care.

5- i'm throwing my phone in the ocean.

6- i've stopped giving a shit about food, weight, skin, and attractiveness. it is what it is. (and it ain't that bad)

7- why is it that when you don't want something, you have it spewing at you from every angle?

8- i need a holiday from myself.

9- alcohol is not the answer

10- i don't pretend to be nice because its a waste of my sweet motherfucking time

Strokes, Aneurysms and Clots

these little adventures of the brain are what will occur if i keep hearing other peoples' shite.

here is a list of people you can talk to other than me because quite simply, I don't give a flying fuck. why would I?

Lifeline: 13 11 14

kids Helpline: 1800 55 1800

Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636

bye bye now.

Lust for life

How is one supposed to recognise themselves in a shop window reflection if we slow down for a moment as we make our way through such a confusing world? Religion, ritual, social habbits, change and desire. There are a buffet of options and a myriad of rules to accompany them. Cultural zeitgeist pressures, the almighty dollar, star signs and relationships add to the soon to be self-combustion of modern life, so what is the answer? With so many theories on long life, better sex, ways to a fulfilling existence, vitamins, antibiotics, recreational drugs and all that jazz, does anyone notice that we are destined to be the generation of the under-30 burn out? Oprah tells us that salmon, blueberries and a glass of red wine makes for stronger brain power and a happier homosapien, while others ignore the preservation of life in place of living for the moment - how ever you choose to do that. There are locations around the world known as 'blue zones' where the locals live to 105 and still herd goats at 7am sharp. and then there's ibiza. In doing any number of these things, Who are you really keeping your head above water for? no wonder it's hard to keep track of yourself. It comes down to tradition and practice - do what you love, and do it well. 

is that sun burn back there? oh no you're just a redneck..

This is going to be my new t-shirt de jour. They entertain me no end. How fucking stupid can a person be? the world is a small and well mixed cocktail of people from this background and that. "I am, you are, we are australian..." remember that song? or if you prefer Paul Kelly, "from little things big things grow" is another good description of how this country was founded and forged. So excuse me if I consider you a waste of space when the word "gook" escapes your mouth more than once and dripping with malice. Sorry, did i sting your red neck when i slapped the shit out of it? Rainbow family or not, i can't believe the age we live in, and the travel which is available to us yet still the minds of those in our neighbourhood, social circle or family can be so narrow. Xenophobic fears are outdated. It's a race, a belief or simply way of life. Just like you choose to be a complete moron. we all accept that, so have some respect for the rest of us.

More later. Right now I have to prepare the halah bread for our jewish family shabbat meal on friday with my vietnamese relatives. 

"and if you knew this song was about you...

you'd never be quiet again"

Good lyrics. People get on their bandwagon about certain things and if its offensive, irrelevant or just down right annoying, i wonder how they are still breathing. Why hasn't someone tripped them up at the curb of a busy street or accidently given them peanuts if they happen to be anaphylactic? It gets me every time, (maybe i appear as the patient and confiding type) when these types talk shit about my friends TO ME. Why on earth would you shit on someone to their friend? Are you honestly lacking that many brain cells that tact escapes you? Those people are my home, my army, my brothers, my lovers, and we'd do absolutely anything for each other. Struck between chortling out my piggy nose at these statements and wanting to smash their face in and then rub the open wounded face in dog shit, i was bemused and confused at exactly what was going through this persons head. I'm not super territorial and not too much ruffles my feathers - I'm all about letting people live their own lives and making their own mistakes cause its not my business until they obviously need or ask for the help. But fuck you if you talk shit about my friends. They are almost more precious than family and you are no one. you are but a poppyseed in the great big halitosis riddled, gum diseased mouth of society. I'm not big, but i'll royally fuck you up good & proper.

hand written, stamped and posted letters are good too.

Damn, here we go again.

"But everything I'm not, made me everything I am"

'tis the truth for anyone. everyone. there's really not that much to tell other than i have developed quite the acid tongue, sharper than a hunters' blade and sure to spill more blood, a resurgence of my gnarly nicky-no-breath anxiety attacks, probably as a result of more people coming and going from life. It's not forever but when does it stop? It's your turn, and your turn and it'll be my turn soon but i don't want it to change yet, and i don't have any control over it. I'm happy for you, i really am. and when i piss off into the sunset, you'll be there at the airport too. to be perfectly honest though, I am fed up. For as long as i can remember people have been getting on planes without me. i guess this is all part of my story and more than likely i've done things that haven't always left them feeling completely kosher. but there they are, all in the same city together, the last time for a very long time and here I am, writing an anonymous article and eating bbq garlic king prawns with beer on my lonesome. thats how it is and i'm alright with that. I always am. allow me to lose my brain a little, leave my sunglasses in the linen cupboard in the hall for a few days, get a little bit blog-emo. it's far superior to, and economically savvy than paying for a therapist. i just wanna go away for a while and not hear about what people are doing. just for a week. just to regain my lung capacity.

You're on my list...

Lists are good for regaining direction. Lists of things to do, things to buy, people to keep. There are a thousand acquaintances in the world, good for networking, fun for a beer, nice to say hi to. But the ones to keep around for the next 20 years, the ones who you could call anytime of the day for whatever reason and they can do the same to you, they are the ones that made the list. we live once. we can't be "going through the motions" of friendship and i found that there were more people on that list than i expected. thats nice, don't you think? It's lucky. Its not that i'm disregarding those amazing little faces that pop up out of nowhere every now and then but these people, the ones that make my life what it is, are the ones i really love.

February is the month of clearing clutter, culling and calling. It should be detox months as well but I smashed that idea up into pieces over the last 2 days.

On another topic, i can't find my effing sunglasses. shits me right up the wall. they were on my noggin yesterday - how far can legless inanimate objects get to on their pat malone? pricks.

throw me a frickin' bone

How humiliating; i had to do my own work roster for the coming fortnight and could only afford to give myself 5 hours and then 9 hours following. Its times like these i wish i had ties with the sheik, inheritance or my own personal fortune. bollocks to that. And further more, what really grinds nails against the blackboard of my mind is when people come to me, waste my time asking lunatic questions about products/prices/sizes and then smile and giggle like its our little secret and say oh well, i paid much less for much more duty-free! thanks - i just wanted to know what i was saving and how worth it Duty-Free shopping is. Umm, excuse me? you waste my time while REAL consumers have their credit cards at the ready, you're blatantly telling me you won't buy from my place AND rubbing it in that i'm not making commission because while you were on yer fancy holidays, you bought the shit half price. WELL GO BACK TO HAWAII AND STAY THERE, BITCH. I don't have the hours i need, I'm not making any commission, and searching for new employment is impossible while everyone is feeling the strains of cut backs. Get a clue.

so what do i do? i go out with my friends in my super chic $10 mini dress and get drunk on $5 champagne, mostly bought by the others. I'm not rail thin, but slender would be fitting and it doesn't take me long to forget the worries of work, or my own name. muzel tov. good things.

I'm doin' the happy dance... i'm doin' the happy dance...

By midmorning i was but an egg smashed on the side of a searing hot frying pan. I didn't just crack, i was shattered. Exhausted and emotionally run down - i couldn't for the life of me smile, see straight or best of all - breathe. It was a paper bag day all the way. My sister was ringing about her problems, my cousin shared hers, my brother is leaving me - AGAIN - for the other side of the world. The subjects i need to get my own life going as far as study had all shut and to get any assistance at all, i had to be queued in a phone line. i was no.27.. why the fuck offer too many places and not enough spots? i tried to call virginblue to get a message to my parents that i would be working so the old ducks'd have to find an alternative route home - "i'm sorry we can't guarantee that. we have thousands of people a day choosing to fly with us..". I called in sick because i can't bear to think of someone waiting at the airport alone. However when i arrived, they had got the message upon checking in at Sydney airport. Talk about a wasted day. There were not enough pillows to scream into.

wash me clean

For the first time in about 10 years, i willingly went to church. on a sunday. yah. Growing up catholic at a private school, these things were always done under duress but today was for someone else, for my friend and her son. He was baptised for the good of tradition, and for the good of future educational purposes. I sat there in the sweltering heat watching and trying to understand the messages but it still escapes me how much is shunned, cut out and dismissed from everyday life for faith in a fairy tale. "do you renounce satan, the prince of darkness and father of all evil?". thats a horribly strong  question to pose. Yes satan is the mascot of all fuck ups but if we're human - we're in the business of making mistakes. its in our nature. No one is perfect and everyone has their own set of cards delt their way to play. It just seems hypocritical to invite and welcome to the sacred space for refuge but "if you screw up, don't come crying to us - we warned you satan was out there". Although somehow, with all the cynicism and question I have of life - i secretly hoped the cleansing water for all sins would splash on me, and hold me in good stead once more. Also, i was amazed that after all this time of purveying the buffet of religion (atheism) and ignoring the one I was born into - i remembered the "our father" prayer without skipping a beat. i was playing around on my camera and still caught myself in time with the priest and his frequent congregation. amen.

flashback

Any city in the world one finds themselves in for long enough is sure to become no bigger than a cuppa tea. And what a warm, humbling cup it was last night. Essentially it was a farewell but it was a reunion of sorts too. Our friend is departing for a life in italy to study art & design. Through all these mutual loves of beer, friends, art, music, and other cultural treats we indulge in, we found old faces too. High school, art school, work school and drinking school had its super summer disco and we were all there in taffeta clad memories. it thrills this little spider monkey no end to hear and see how life is for these amazing people and also, possibly a little selfish but gives your own self esteem a boost because when you hear yourself talk about, explain, relay past adventures and future plans, you start to see how quickly time passes, that your life is blessed, and even more so to be given the opportunity to once again be around such extraordinary souls.

ya threw me for a Lupe

On an ordinary saturday night i met some extraordinary people through some friends who are roadies - for Lupe Fiasco. yeh yeh his music is catchy, he's the man and all that.. i was interested to see what kind of party it would be and even more suprised when he walked in the room, introduced himself and handed me these clear lense glasses to hold on to during the night so he could swap styles. ok, at first i was quite impressed with his calm and down to earth nature, very welcoming and not awe striking to the point of breath taking. It made the evening relaxed like you were just meeting some of your friends american associates. nothing spesh... until we got to the lobby from their room to go out. the whole hotel bar stopped and stared. i would never wish fame upon anyone. We were no one, we were just hanging out. riding coat tails. It was weird. Walking through the streets to the clubs and girl after girl got collected with the entourage - fair enough, superstar. Hour after hour of dancing with the man, (also now known as grabby hands) everyone in the club was too pissed to realise who he was and theres me holding onto Lupe so he wouldn't lose his crew in the crowded club. Sitting on couches with his band mates chatting, they ask; are you coming to the show tomorrow? big day out? I don't really have the coin to throw out on a festival like that at the moment so no. Oh oh, well if you come back to the hotel you might get a pass... you gonna come back and party with us? Ummm maybe that might be fun.. I shit you not, there were about 4 girls lying all over the men and my friends and i were staring around thinking, this is fucked, who seriously does this groupie crap? So i went to the bathroom, went out for air - kind of kept some distance from the sleaziness of it all. I honestly do not care who is inviting me back to their hotel room, i'm not going to do it. If you're reading this and you think i wasted an opportunity of a lifetime, then thats your opinion. I did the only thing i though was the best option, took those limited clear lense supers, and walked the fuck out. I like to think of it as a style keep sake of the whole damn fiasco...

HOLY THURSDAY!

This is probably this biggest day of the year so far. There are a thousand friends celebrating a thousand happy birthdays, very uncanny actually. University application results came through and yes yes oh yay, this little piggy is going wee wee wee all the way to post graduate study, along with a sister moving here for study NEXT WEEK, a wayward sailor brother and his missus coming home after a decade away from the land of Oz and another brother moving to vietnam with his ring bearer and heir in 3 weeks for something like 2 years. All this news was basically revealed today - by 9am. i was still wrapped in my duvet and some eye crust. the world was already spinning and the only thing to do is to get swept up in it (with a strong coffee to kickstart the brain). 

Now to venture off to work... if 9am was already mayhem, i'm interested to see what the rest of today brings. I'm not quite sure if I'm really awake yet though. just smile and nod...

lazy by nature

i'm finding myself in something of a gray area. employed but sort of not. minimal hours donated my way and far too much time on my hands. so i've semi-given up. i've not washed my hair in almost a week and it's beginning to resemble an old english sheepdog - a dirty one. the 3 day old sand and thick salty texture looks like a dead-beat version of that blissfully stupid puppy on the dulux ads of yesteryear. During the "giving up" big lebowski style slump there may be things like finding "elle mcpherson fake tan face" residing in the google images search bar on your computer or digging deep into the 90's music memory bank to find and download all the shit you refused to be a fan of then, but now? well it has a catchy beat i spose.. hands up if you're uninspired. even when life is busy, looking for famous people simulate an oompa loompa is healthy. it is. This is the slacker's guide to summer i suppose. 7-Eleven slurpees topped up (and i stress the term 'topped up') with gin, a flawless tan, reading the weekend paper on tuesday, breakfast for dinner to avoid contending with stoves, temperatures and burning things and weiss sorbet & champagne for desert. there is direction this town where the streets have no name. there is postgraduate study, trips on the horizon and a mind to expand. but right now there is a lazy summer to be lived in. and moments to be slept through.

kiss me, you big cry baby

three words: I MISS YOU.

they can sometimes feel like the toughest words to tell someone. even after all the dirty, funny, off the wall, ridiculous messages one can send to another, i miss you can take some steel guts to say. Is it because they are so simple and to the point, that they encapsulate all that needs to be felt? they make my stomach flip a little. even if its just to a friend you've not seen in a while or to someone you genuinely feel is missing from your life and it shouldn't be like that. it's heavy. Maybe it's because we're de-sensitized to everything else; fuck you, you cunt, get a dog up ya, you're rough as hessian undies you are, colder than a nuns vagina.. etc etc (i could go on), so that when it comes to saying the most basic expression, it feels gooey, mushy, and unnatural. where did the love go?

one can't govern who or why they miss the other, they just do. they may be funny, or comfortable or best of all (and my personal favourite), intriguing. nothing like coming back for more even when you know the ins & outs of the persona. it's intrigue that does it, god damn it.

what is worse, though, is the reaction or lack there of which speaks volumes. I'm guessing that 90% of the time they're like a deer in the headlights. I don't understand what the big problem is... It's not a jaw dropping statement. but it's important.

I'd be better off venturing to the sun at night, i'd get less burnt.

That you popped by...

home on the range

Hungry Eyes

so you'll come to notice that i have a skewed view of food, and many of my blogs will have something to do with my fascination of how bad i am with it. This is usually how my punters end their meals..

►►►►►►►

Don't get the wrong idea, i love food. i'll smash a plate and go in for seconds and sometimes thirds. I am just shithouse when it comes to creating meals with my own two hands. 

Tonight for example I tried to whip up something simple and earn some stars in the kitchen. Vege stack with polenta and haloumi cheese. not difficult. well the fucking polenta went to a yellow piss paste and the haloumi was delish for the first few bites then as the temperature dropped, became like tastey rubber. the vegies rocked, i grilled those with garlic. I honestly can't understand how i am so spastic in the kitchen. i don't even know what will go with what when i'm grocery shopping. no concept whatsoever,.

Food and me have always had a tempestuous relationship. one of us is always trying to be the boss. i want to master it, and it refuses to cooperate under my rule. Baggins will back me up if anyone ever wants a more indepth idea of how retarded my body is with rejecting food stuffs. just ask her about the sinus-ham at the wintergarden centre. or the attempted home-cooked cordon bleu when v-rad swore was just chicken stained pink by the ham. no love, that shit was still ruling the roost on my plate it was so alive.. we ordered pizzas. 

the way to anyones heart is through their stomach. I'm affraid I'll have to find an alternative route.

morning, sunshine!

forgive me, for i am not a fan of eating in the morning. it's not that i subscribe to the kate moss theory, i just feel ill when i've only just woken up and the thought of anything beyond coffee makes me want to roll over and return to the land of nod. the texture, the timing.. just wrong. however, in an effort to avoid damage to the body and mind in the future, i have taken on the challenge of breakfast. i found some muesli? is it? and poured into bowl. felt bowl looked too small so found soup sized dish. i shit you not, i had to consult someone nearby as to how i go about preparing this meal. do i add milk? or just yoghurt? if so, which flavour goes best? will it be too dry? sweet or savoury fruits atop my new found feast? confused and over-thinking the concept way too much, i went with muesli, plain greek yoghurt and a banana (which i hate. maybe i'm sabotaging this for myself from the kick off...). i won't lie, it was shithouse. way too much crunch for the thick sour blob and bananas, well they can suck it. smug mushy bastards.

I'm not sold on the idea of early eating at all. it was my own doing, i realise. if i had a clue about it, i could have combined some more exciting flavours. i lost.

breakfast - 1, Lady A - 0.

simply the best

How do you tell someone they are NOT the best you've had? Good, yes, satifying, maybe adventurous, well about as adventurous as a telephone cord. Best? well thats just a darn big word to be tossing about the room. Even sadder, (in my sour & cynical mind) is when they look at you with these big bright eyes, adamant to do whatever it is to be the winning challenger at this game called shag. Through the aforementioned sour and cynical view my beadie eyes hold, i feel as though i have to crush the spirit and say, look, just forget it. You didn't 'wow' me, and I'm not one to let the challenger win by default. In my books there is no such thing as sharing the rules, they just have to be known. Honestly, it's not rocket science... but sometimes it is like telling a dog how to bark. seems like you're just a double-dosing dorothy.

 (help me O-B wan, you're my only hope!)

so; here's to my merry men and women. the above may not be a yellow matter, but it is certainly a matter of some kind. if i know my friend angela, her posts will be much of the same. a matter of some peculiar kind. i can make no guarantee on what, in fact, i wouldn't dare. 

i have set this blog up on behalf of your unknowing and soon to be host. angela is full of dry, wry wit that is often best read and absorbed as opposed to heard. 

eloquent? 

specific? 

obnoxious?

hilarious?

ambiguous?

sharp?

lovely? 

a toke of everything i'd say. 

read on, visit often and may you never be disappointed.