There is no reason for it.

Without a reason. What is this fire?
Burning slowly. My one and only.
Desire.

-Desire. Ryan Adams.


I'm always off guard at midnight.The quiet always makes me wonder what he's doing.

Female strength!

I dropped my tv about a month ago and there was a big hole in it [not the hello kitty, don't worry]

I wasn't sure if it worked but I moved it to the new place anyway.

It didn't work. And I had a feeling it was interfering with my feng shui.

So tonight Coconat and I moved the tv down the stairs. A forty kilo tv.

We laughed and screamed and slid the thing all the way down to ground level.

I love girl power.

The unexplainable randomness of being

I read a lot of Murakami. And sometimes just sometimes I wish I was in a character in a Murakami book, all his heroes and heroines seem so cool. Strange happenings in late night coffee shops. Philosophical conversations on the nature of love and life.That's what I aim[ed] to emulate. Romantic romantic stuff.

Of course there is a really fine line between being a character in a Murakami novel and a character in a David Lynch movie. Also lots of late night coffee shops and philosophical conversations but more likely than not a midget will come up to you and talk backwards.

Last night, I was a character in a Lynch movie.

I went to bed at eight because I had an early morning shift but for some reason I woke up at one and just then, my phone rang.

Drunk diallers. Saturday night. Right on time.

It was my friend Piratehead and he was smushed and talking about.. possums and old people and all the stuff that drunk people find infinitely amusing and sober people don't understand. I could get the absurdity however.

Anyway he wasn't in any condition to do anything so he asked me out to have a coffee and I agreed. Partly because I was concerned about him, partly because the romantic in me sees midnight jaunts as adventures and partly because I was awake and I knew that if I didn't move I would spend a long long time staring at my phone like a looney. [Am I being proactive about being ignored again? no.]

So I picked him up and we spent a little time in the coffee shop and he was really really far gone. But my head was sort of not really there either, it was kind of off with someone else on the other side of the city. So if the conversation was stilted at some points, I'm thinking that it's my fault.

And then somewhere down the line he sobered up and started very earnestly arguing about Eminem being the new Elvis and I wasn't really arguing back just because well I wasn't in any real headspace to put together a proper argument and I didn't know of the chances of him remembering it tomorrow!

I think he was disappointed I wasn't biting actually. I don't know if I was just tired but I felt it was very out of body to be sitting there at three in the morning pseudo-arguing about Elvis.

So I dropped him back and as I was about to park in my space, I saw a body collapsed on the ground.

Now you know I'm a huge believer in circularity, and I figure if Piratehead hadn't asked me for a coffee, I wouldn't have driven home at that time to rescue this guy [sort of, as you will] and so everything happens for a reason- but I'm not sure what this reason is. It just fits in with this plan which seems random but is not. That didn't make any sense. Let's just say I came at the right time ok?

So I parked in the middle of the road and I shook him, you know that when I get nervous I start to babble.

"Hey dude, wake up. Wake up. You can't sleep here- someone will run you over and it's not going to be me, although it's a good thing I didn't. I have to go to work tomorrow. Do you want to at least move? Where do you live???"

So I called Piratehead

"He's collapsed in my parking space! What do I do?"

[And this'll teach me to ask a drunk guy for advice]

"Move him to the grass and leave him there."

"That's not very helpful." And I hung up on him.

About another fifteen minutes of cajoling and babbling and finally I said

"Ok, if you don't move or at least try getting up, I'm calling an ambulance!.. I'm dialing!...."

He groans and starts to mumble "Alright, alright I'm getting up."

And he's a young guy in what looks like a tuxedo, and he reeks of Jim Beam. Good Ol' Jim.

So I help him up and he's like "Where am I?"

I ask the requisite questions

Me:Where do you live?
Him:I don't know. Down there.
Me:Where are your parents?
Him:I don't have any.
Me:An orphan. Fantastic. Where are your friends?
Him:None.
Me:I figure.

So he's leaning on me and I'm dragging him down the street. He is not walking straight at all and I say to him [assumingly]

:You really shouldn't pop so many pills.

He gets indignant: I didn't pop any pills! And this wouldn't be the reason that I do pop pills.

:what.

So we do more of this leaning, walking, zig zagging down the road and I'm getting exasperated and I say to myself out loud:

How do I get myself into these situations where I'm dragging a eighteen year old pill popper down the road at four in the morning?!!!!

he looks at me and says: I'm not eighteen, I'm twenty.

Me: That is not making a huge difference to me right now!

We finally get to the end of the road and he pings. He literally pings, turns to me and says "I've come to!"

Me: Great, where do you live?

Him: Kurraba Point.

Me: This is Kurraba Point

And he points back down toward where I just dragged him from, I live down there!

And then he kind of dances/ Willy Wonkas his way down the street [I'm serious- he just woke up like nothing I'd ever seen. Totally reanimated]and disappears into the building next to mine.

And I'm just kind of left gaping at him and what the heck just happened there?

I've wandered into a black hole of completely random events. Which for the life of me have to mean something.

I park my car- sleep for an hour and then go to work. I'm just baffled by the night and pretty sure that I don't want to be a Murakami character anymore.

Things that stress me out #625

Parallel parking on a hill.

Stressed

All of a sudden, it's messy.

Why the heck has everything deteriorated? Do I need an exorcist?

I lost my meatball and other random stories

I was too late to document the pigeon putting his [her?]head in the coffee cup and drinking out of it

--

So here is my meatball sub, I took it with me onto the edge of a cliff [as you do] and it was very very windy. I went to take a bite and the wind blew the first meatball onto the ground, over the cliff and into the water.

Can I just say that I only thought stuff like that happened in cartoons???

Straight.over.the edge.
---



Here is the website that says you can't break an egg with the palm of your hand

Here is a whole egg.

The website was wrong because Dylmah is mopping himself up.



---

While walking with Betty, I had to stop and clutch at myself with laughter. I'm five years old. Anyway.

Last day

I finally have the flu that has been going around, so please don't expect a particularly coherent post.

Apparently there is a tsunami alert going on and I have a feeling my apartment [which is on stilts] is going to slide straight into the sea. It serves me right to pick water over the safe middle classness of Chatswood. At least when in any previous houses there was never any chance of me being washed away. I guess if you don't hear from me in a few weeks you'll know my complex turned into an ark. I have wireless- so I guess you'll hear from me anyway [Holy Shit. My sense of humour is so morbid today- blame it on the flu.]

Anyway in addition to this, I have that Nickelback song in my head playing in my head constantly... ahem. 'If today was your last day, would you say goodbye to yesterday?' I love the song, so please props to top40 playlists.

Yesterday [haha, I'm talking about yesterday and the song says.... sigh] I thought I would play that game. If today was my last day, I would:

Spend it with as many people that I love as possible.

I would run a marathon of fricking love.

So I did.

And here is how it went= It started off great and then it kind of veered off into the ditch and then it was okay. But only okay.

In the morning, it was sunny. Sunny! God, you'd think we lived in the Alaskan wilderfields with the amount of heat that we're getting.

I spent most of the daytime window shopping with Betty. Which was awesome. The two of us have quite similar taste and so she'd pick up something and I'd be all "Hey! I was just looking at that!". Shiny sparkly things make me happy. Since it wasn't really my last day- I couldn't very well go ape with the credit card. In all honesty, if it was my last day.. I wouldn't buy clothes cos when the heck am I going to wear them???

So the beginning of the day was fun.

And then I organised a tapas dinner for Red Bull, Campbell and Lucifer. I didn't do this with any misgivings because I thought that Lucifer would be better [I am so naive!] and we're a fun little group generally. Generally.

I should've known it would go awry when Campbell sent me a sms of

:Dinner and drinks?

Me: What. No drinking. Red Bull is driving, I am sick and you know that Lucifer cannot drink.

So we go to the restaurant and everyone is happy and Campbell orders half a litre of sangria. My head does a 360 exorcist headspin. And Lucifer taking his cue, orders a bourbon and coke.

And another one.

And another one.

And another one.

I realise that it's not right to pin all of this on Campbell because she is not responsible for his behaviour, she is not his mum, his girlfriend or whatever. But whatever happened to leading by example. Don't give the alcoholic a loaded gun and needless to say, I was annoyed and mentally decided to stay away from Campbell if I ever have a heroin addiction. I don't like my chances of her not passing me a big fat needle.

So he got louder and more slurry and he was rude to the waitresses. And he kept squeezing my goddamn hands. My poor stupid blistered hands. I was struggling to hold it together by this time and I said as nice as I could "Lucifer, please let go of my hands- they really really really hurt." but he couldn't hear me or didn't want to hear me and he just kept grabbing for them.

The bill came back for two hundred dollars! This of course, was because of two half litre sangrias and seven bourbon and cokes. None of which I drank but still helped to pay for. Bitter what.

Lucifer: How is that two hundred dollars?! That was the worst meal ever for two hundred dollars!

The waitress glares at us.

Me: ..........

Campbell [in a whisper to me]: Oh my God, he's so drunk.

And then I mentally pictured roasting the two of them over a spit.

By this time I was breaking my ankle to get out of the restaurant, and what do you know Coffee is there and he didn't pike! [Well ok, thats not fair- he doesn't answer smses but I've yet to see him pike.] I trip over myself getting into his car.

He looks at me concernedly: Are you ok?

I figure I look a little stressed.

So he takes me back to my car to fix up the metre and there's a penalty on there for parking backwards. Seriously. I didn't even know you could get those.

He's amused at me and I've given up. It's going to be one of those nights. He suggests that I turn my car around.

So I turn it around and as I'm reversing, my car thumps something.

That something is a black lexus.

Oh My God. Nothing about that can be good.

We scramble away and do a runner.

He is doubled over with laughter, 'your car was pushing that lexus backwards!'

No-one believes me when I say my car is a tank.

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful and we just hung out.

See. I don't know if that would be my ideal last day. Granted, I had fun and I love [most] of these people. But there was something a little lacking. There was a lack of giddiness, of bubble wrap stomping and of dancing in the rain type business.

It wasn't.. it wasn't memorable enough for a last day on earth adventure. Ha. Maybe I'll try again next week.

You know I'd spend it with you, if it was.

Let it rain!

"Heartbreaker, you got the best of me
But I just keep on coming back incessantly"

-Heartbreaker, Mariah Carey

Its supposed to hail tonight. But I won't let it! I'll do a little rain dance. La la la- doing a little twirl now.

I have a feeling something is going to go down. I'm in a brave mood.

Did you miss me?

So it's been a week and I really don't have much news to report.

My hands still look .. blistered.. and so I'm wearing white cotton gloves to keep the masses from vomiting all over my shoes and my hands [which would make them worse]. The Michael Jackson/traffic controller/leprosy/mime jokes just keeeep coming.

Q: What did the leper say to the prostitute?
A: Keep the tip.

--

It's been five days and I have heard neither hide or hair of Coffee [and no returning of messages] so I presume he got bored of me. Again.

In which I have to say: There's no way in hell that I am doing this whole run around rigamarole. Again. So Game Over. Aren't you glad that I have actually achieved personal growth??

--

Of course my body is not getting it, because every night for the last week, I will all of a sudden jolt up wide awake at 3am. Yes, 3am. Clearly my body is not listening to me very much lately anyway.

And I'll lean over to check on my messages and there will be drunk dials from Sydney and Thailand. I guess it was the weekend after all.

--

Coconat: You are the drunk dial queen! No wonder you can't sleep! You should switch off your phone.

Me: I think I'd still wake up anyway.

--

Me: I don't smoke.

SB: I checked your blog. You did last week.

Me: Crap.

I always have to be accountable for what I say on this blog lately.

SBv3.0: Aveda and I were talking about what you wrote...

Me: Aveda and you read my blog?!

--

I haven't spent time with Minnie in a while- I miss her little waddle. She's better off here than in my apartment though. [Sorry, here* is my mums place.] She's stalked off again.

--

I need to feng shui my little studio. I never believed in it before but I figure I need all the health/wealth luck that I can get- heck stuff the love bits.

--

SB was over today painting the ceiling when my mum called.

Mum: Are you helping?

Me: No.

Mum: Good girl.

--

As he was leaving he gave me a hug. I almost fainted with the familiarity of it. No-one hugs like he does.

Here we go again!- Or Mush, you are a fool.

Or maybe I'm a tool.

It's been six months and I'm doing that thing again, where I'm sitting by the goddamn phone waiting for that call.

And I don't mean to be.

But my eyes keep sliding towards it.

AND IT'S NOT RINGING.

Coconat and I were discussing it yesterday- how much smarter and emotionally acute I am than six months ago.

Apparently I know better- but she very coolly appraised me and said "You're going there again. You are running towards your impending doom. You're fighting it- but I can see it."

She was right- "and also you look like you want to run towards it."

Crap. I am so obviously transparent.

And so for the umpteenth time tonight, my eyes slide to the left. And I don't know why I can't just pick up the phone and call him. Oh God, what is it about him that reduces me to a rules-playing doormat?

Sick of black hair! Back to the ganguro style

Isn't she pretty? I do so want to look like her. Le sigh.


So I said to myself at the beginning of the year that I would not touch my hair for the rest of 2009 and I dyed my hair back to the colour black.

I have had black hair for four months, and you know what? I hate it.

I look sick and tired ALL the time. I have to overcompensate with piles and piles of makeup which in turn is making me break out.

I asked Red Bull the other day should I go back to blonde? and the resounding response has been nooooo.. black is so much more classy!

Well no-one is not accusing me of not being classy.. just less classy..

And in case anybody wants to throw around the snide "you wannabe ganguro girl"- I like looking like a ganguro girl. I like blonde hair and hair extensions and sparkly accessories and big socks. I only ever use white eyeliner anyway so suck on that. [Ironically, black eyeliner also makes me look exhausted.]I'm not fond of the orange tan thing but I'm kind of orange anyway so it naturally works.

I find it curious to have to defend how I look- that somehow the blondeness makes me less asian. I'm afraid that the pigment of my hair doesn't affect my ability to hold chopsticks people.

The most common judgment of all is that because I choose to go lighter, I am somehow trying to be more western. This really really annoys me. I am not wanting to model my look on Miley [although she Is pretty. And sixteen.] or Jessica Simpson, I am simply picking a hair colour which is more suitable for my complexion. That's it! It is that simple! There is no deeper sociological experiment going on. Also if I wanted to model my look on a western celebrity- I would certainly be shedding the big bucks on plastic surgery and not just hair bleach.

Of course I get the irony that I want to base my look on a Japanese subculture who want to look less Japanese because they want to rebel against traditional Asian beauty constructs such as white skin and black black hair. Here a construct, there a construct, everywhere a construct. Ha Di Ha.

Anyhow- next week I'm going back to being a blonde. They have more fun.

Itsumo Kawaii.

Burning down the house!

I have a really bad case of unpacking guilts. I see all these boxes and clothes and I don't want to touch them! So I look at them and I feel bad because I've never been so messy in my entire life. And thus a vicious cycle of looking and pretending not to see. It's a shame spiral.

Last night I almost burnt down the place. I turned on the stove and I turned on the wrong hotplate. I turned on the hotplate which the ricecooker lid was sitting on.

So I walked back to the kitchen wondering what was taking my kettle so long.

Oh Shit. The plastic handle of the rice cooker has begun to melt. I quickly pulled the melting handle off with the sleeve of my pyjamas and I thought well I guess I can still use the lid without a handle?

Not so.

I turned around and the glass lid exploded.

Shards of glass went everywhere. Luckily none of it into me. For hours afterward I could hear clinking noises of glass popping.

My ricecooker now doesn't have a lid.

I would take a picture but I can't find my camera in this mess of a flat.

Moving weekend in bits and pieces.

Friday night:

We're sitting around the dining table just shooting shit and he says to me:

You know I never thought the two of us would get to this point. It's utterly amazing that we've bypassed everything and come so far.

Saturday morning [no sleep and seven red bulls- two coffees and six cigarettes later:

Me: OMG. I have so much stuff. Why do I have so much stuff?

Friends[in a bizarrely simultaneous chorus]: You don't have any stuff! What stuff?? That's not stuff.

---

Mum: You have friends! Good friends!

Me: Why is that so amazing to you? I'm quite lovable.

---

Friend: Holy Shit. Is that Sb? Why did you ask Sb to help you move?

Me: Can you fuck off? He IS NOT SB. Just because he is CALLED Sb. Doesn't make him Sb.

Friend: Hahahahahaha.. so your criteria needs to be that he's from China and needs to be called Sb? Do you go around poking asian boys til you find one?

Me: I'm going to stop talking to you now.

---

Me: Is that a van? Omg. My mum hired a van instead of a truck.

Stupid Removalist: We need to do two trips!

Me: Oh really. You think so. I think I hate you and your stupid van.

---

Saturday Afternoon [everything is done]:

I'm so tired that I'm microsleeping as I drive- I'm also swearing at all the bad drivers, of which there are many.

Me: *&^*&^*&$#%$

SB v3.0 [who is utterly baffled that I'm not the sweet cookie that I am at the office]: Why are you swearing so much? Why are you complaining?? Do you think it might be your driving...


Me: [rears up and kills him dead on the spot] I AM TIRED! I AM A GOOD DRIVER! AND IF YOU COULD DRIVE- YOU WOULD BE SWEARING TOO.

SB v3.0: .....

---

Donnie: You have a hello kitty tattoo?? Since whennn?

Ms Smith: You have seen it 17,000 times and you ask her about it everytime.

Me: Yes, I have a hello kitty tattoo.

Donnie: Really?

Me: Yes.

[My mum decides to walk past]

Me: Also my mum doesn't know about it. And now I think she does!

---

Saturday Night:

I'm exhausted and about to fall asleep. I hear a crashing noise from my teeny weeny carpark.

Stranger: Fuck! fuck! [Gets out of car] Fuck! Look what you did, you moron... [mumble, mumble]

It's a testament to how small the carpark is, that there's a crash on the first night.

---

Sunday Morning:

[talking to Betty on the phone]

Me: I forgot to pull the ceiling stars down after all that talk! and now I have no chairs to take them down. So now not only is it going to be emotionally hard- it's going to be physically hard! Maybe Staph-face can give me a boost.

Betty: Haha.

[Later on]

Staph-face: [pulling the stars off by standing on a ladder, not my shoulders]Um. Mush? These stars are taking off your... paint..

Me: FUCK! they are! fuckfuckfuck!

Staph-face: How much were those stars?

Me: Probably ten dollars??

Staph-face: And how much is your bond?

Me: one thousand and something...

Staph-face: ten dollar stars for a thousand bucks.. nice.

Me: Shuttup. *Wail. It looks like my ceiling has the measles!! Stupid ceiling stars.


Sunday Night:

Me: It's so quiet. Why is it so quiet here? I can't hear anything! What if I screamed?? Would it be sucked up into a vacuum?? Am I talking to myself??

Packing Blues 2.0

If it's a broken part. Replace it.
If it's a broken arm, then brace it.
If it's a broken heart then face it.

Details in the Fabric- Jason Mraz

I'm sifting through more things. And I'm starting to have a panic attack. Which parts of me should I bring with me? Should I bring photo albums? Will I miss them? Which birthday presents do I take? Which ones mean more to me? Which mean less?

My breathing starts to get a bit hitched and good ol' Jason Mraz is not making life that much easier.

And I put my hands under a side table and pull out this.



I seem to find stars everytime I really really need it. I take a deep breath and I keep packing. I wish this wasn't so hard.

Another reason why I don't want to be a man.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/5694913/Man-uses-nail-clippers-in-DIY-circumcision.html

I have my legs crossed just reading this.

Queen Bees.

So I wasn't going to talk about this but I had some time to think it through.

There's this girl at my work called Kyra, she is just so very very self entitled and therefore everyone hates her. I've tried being nice to her and we'll do okay for a while and then she'll give me attitude again and then we're back to square one.
My nerves are not taking all these damn teenagers very well lately. Anyway point. She's burnt all her bridges in our bar.


So in his quest to turn the casino from a pseudo brothel into an actual one, the new CEO decided that hospitality should be filled with nubile young eighteen year olds fresh out of high school. There's seriously not an overweight one among them. You'd be hard pressed to find a pimple if you lined them up against a wall. I'm supposing that in the future he'll draw up a new menu- fresh coffee- optional with sugar and blow jobs. [Where are the guys in this? Oh, we're not hiring them anymore. They don't look good in skirts. Good call.]

Among those, we have a new girl called Wifey. At first she seemed nice and amiable. And then her colours showed. She was tres bitchy. And none of this vitriol was directed at me, it was directed at Kyra.

She would pull faces at her back. Talk about how cheap she is. And just bitch about her constantly. Just a never ending barrage of insults when she left the room. This was to the point where it wasn't funny and I didn't want to talk about Kyra anymore, I wanted to talk about anything but. Politics. Hawaii. Rat Balls. Can we talk about anything else?? But I didn't stop her and I just nodded or mumbled something unhelpful. Thinking about possibly taking a shower in some aura cleaning crystals from just standing there soaking all of this up.

At some point, I asked Wifey exhaustedly "Why do you hate her so much? What did she ever do to you?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. She's a bitch."

"Oh."

OK, so she's young and thinks that nothing is a legit reason for bullying behaviour. Gotcha. Oh my God. Larry Mullins? I beg you. Please stop hiring people straight out of high school. If that's too much for you- consider declawing them first.

Anyway I mentioned to Ms Smith my concerns. If I don't solve the problem- am I part of the problem? Am I a bully?? and if I am- how the heck did I get here? I was bullied in high school. That was no fun time and I would never want to be part of something, anything even remotely like that.

In my fantasies, I am a perfectly morally upright person and would have told Wifey to shut the fuck up. Crusader for the underdog. Diplomatic yet flexible. Alas it's real life and I am not as ethical as I like to think I am. Sigh. I'm trying to be a good person.

And so I wrestled with my guilt a bit and I put it aside. Til Monday.

And this is when the tables turned and I knew the vitriol was now aimed squarely at my bystander-y head.

Chrissy came in and when she's in a mood, she will literally come in and call you a spastic, a whore, the c-word. Pick a nasty name. I was in no mood on Monday to be called anything so when she came in and said "What are you fucking doing, you spastic?" [in which I am supposed to reply "None of your business, you stupid ho"]I could only just roll my eyes and keep wiping the benchtop.

Well that didn't go down very well.

Needless to say, Chrissy and I were short with each other and then Wifey got involved.

Now when Chrissy and I have been short with each other in the past. We both just kind of got over it after a little while. But there was none of that, that day.

And then Wifey stopped talking to me and I knew what was going on.

Since Kyra wasn't there, I had taken the much wanted role of staff target practice. There were the freezeouts and the faces when they thought I wasn't looking.

And I thought "Jesus Christ. How is it that I'm twenty six- eight years out of high school and somehow I'm still there???"

It really was the world's longest shift. I missed Campbell. I missed Lighto. and RedBull and everyone who didn't make me feel like I had a bullseye attached to my head. Heck, I even missed Lucifer.

When it was all over, I remembered that I had left my keys upstairs. Shitshitshitshitshitshitfuckfuckfuck. I went back to get them and as I came upstairs, a silence descended. Yeah, I know. I've never had one of those before- I wonder if I should feel important about it.

I bypassed the stone faces of Chrissy and Wifey and as I walked back out again, Gelato gave me a 'I'm very sorry but I know that you know that they were talking about you and I have to listen to it otherwise they'll take me and use me as tomato sauce and I've only just started here so I can't really afford to offend anyone...'smile. Or I guess I could just be projecting.

Here it is: That really really was a long shift.And I was in no way fond of it. But I guess I'm not as mad about it as say I would be when I was seventeen or nineteen? If I was very pissed off about it- you would've heard about it on Monday night as opposed to four days later. And I've had some time to mull on it.

I deserve some of this cake because I didn't tell Wifey to shut the fuck up when I had the chance to and so thus let her it think it's ok to go around mauling everyone behind their backs. On the other hand, if I had told her to close her yapper [I'm running out of expressions] I think that it would've hastened my way up to the head of the line, but regardless I would still be in that queue!

So I guess that in one form or another, it was coming.

I realise that is how some people make friends- they have no proper social skills and so they form allegiances against other people to create stronger bonds [I don't know if this is worded right- anthropology is not my strongest suit] It's all very Queen Bees and Wannabes. I don't hate Wifey, in all honesty I feel really sorry for her if thats the way she chooses to make friends in this bar. Actually I feel worse for her if that's the way she makes friends, period.

You can't see me shrugging but I'm shrugging. Next roster I'm working mostly with Campbell and Wifey. I don't think she can pull this kind of shit when Campbell is around, well she can try. I'd like to see her try. I'm curious to see what she'll do when there is no-one around to play bitches with her.

Watching this space I guess. Going back to packing.