Sunday, November 29, 2009

Time for a holiday

"New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There's nothin' you can't do
Now you're in New York
These streets will make you feel brand new
Big lights will inspire you
Let's hear it for New York, New York"
-Empire State of Mind, Jay Z

I'm leaving! See you guys in three weeks.

[Lock up your kids! Imma coming!]

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

I hate tours

So I was on the phone to my stepmum today finalising details of flights.. and she was excited "Oh, we're going to go to Disneyland and Vegas, and I think we're going to take a tour!"

I said politely, "Oh, A tour. How nice" and then I got off the phone and started doing a frantic dance of eurrrrgggggggghhhhhhh.

At the risk of coming off completely bratty [and what the hell I am bratty, but I don't dare you to say that to my face] in a world where there are people who can't afford holidays and are barely putting food on the table...

I hate tours. I hate them. I hate getting shepherded on and off buses like sheep. In fact, I hate buses. I hate tour guides telling lame jokes that they've told til they develop permanent monotone. I hate not properly being able to explore a place without being ushered back into the bus. I hate stragglers that make the bus wait. I hate looking at the back of people's heads for seven hours, I've already sat on a plane for seven hours. I hate when tour guides point out something that only one side of the bus can see. I hate being seen as a tourist [even if I am- I don't need you locals to excess judge me more than you already are!]. I hate being taken to places that are so obviously tourist-y, and cater exclusively to idiots on tours with overpriced elephant carvings and fridge magnets. I hate that everybody buys those fridge magnets.
I hate the line getting off the bus. I hate the people that come back early instead of exploring so they can snag a seat on the bus- those people are the biggest douchebags of all time.

Do you get that I hate tours and all that they represent? Argh. Give me a map and some sneakers any day of the week.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Shipwreck by Dan Rhodes


I read this and at first I yelled "WHAT!" and then I re-read it again and I laughed. And then when I did another re-read I was once again outraged. I love it.

Why I miss my parents

I mentioned to Coconat vaguely the other day that I really miss my parents. And she was like "Why??" and all I could say was.. It's just been a really rough year.

And so I came home today and all my clothes were laundered and neatly folded on my bed. I could see my mum had left me a beanie, a pink jacket and a travel kit to take to New York. I wobbled and then I was.. trying really hard to be good and adult and not sob all over my neatly laundered clothing.

I opened the travel kit and there was a sleeping blind fold, earbuds, socks, a toothbrush and ..a bottle of Plax

And that was pretty much it. I was crying over a bottle of mouthwash. Foetal mess that I am. And that's why I miss my parents. After a really long day at work, I know that there are people in the world who care about me and my oral hygiene. It's good to feel loved.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Pool Party Etiquette

So I'm sitting on the edge of the pool last night [It was a pool party, I thought I should get out more] next to Ms Smith. And I was just staring into the distance, not being the life of well, anything. W squeezed in front of me to talk to Ms Smith and suddenly I was not staring at pool, I was staring at the back of her shoulders. If I leaned forward I could have headbutted her into the water.
She picked a really bad moment to get into my personal space.

And so I iced it up as only I can do "W, I don't know if you realise it but I'm still sitting here."

"Oh sorry Mush, I was trying to squeeze you out." she [half?] joked.

"Clearly."

She moved back awkwardly and tried to talk over me to Ms Smith, but it was probably not that much fun with me glaring at her. Oh, for fucks sake- if you want to talk to her so badly- she actually has another side to her body. You could try sitting on her left hand side, and then talking to her would not involve leaning over me. Look the left hand side has metres and metres of space!

Two more minutes of withering looks and she gave up and disappeared inside. And then all of a sudden I was exhausted, and it occurred to me that getting worked up over someone as trivial as W was pointless. I was not in the right mood for this and I was definitely not pool party material. I didn't belong there and I wanted to go home.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Tim Burton at MoMA


Omg. Omg. Omg. I just realised that they'll be having a Tim Burton exhibition at MoMA while I'm there. I'm off to do some squealing and then I might just pass out in a dead faint.

How you doin'?

I don't want to date you:

- If you have a moustache, look like Mario [the plumber] and have a girlfriend.

- If you've slept with two of my workmates already and wake me up with text messages in the morning asking if I'm in bed with someone [It's none of your business, you inappropriate tool]

- If the only thing you've read since high school is the daily telegraph and a golf magazine. I really believe that we have nothing in common and you should continue on your way.

So I wish the three of you the best of luck in your future endeavours but if you don't bugger off and stop contributing to my already overwhelmingly negative view of the male population, it's going to get really ugly when you finally see me snap it.

[I'm somewhat cranky today. I'm road-raging. Work-raging and just raging raging. Thank God I leave the country soon]

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Mush's Animal Rescue

I was walking home yesterday after dinner with my parents when I saw a kitten sitting in the middle of the road crying.

Seriously, what kind of heartless mofo would I be if I left it in the street to get killed? So I coaxed it into the nearest apartment garden and I was stumped. Now what?

[It was now blissfully ignoring me and stalking an insect. It was very cute]

I looked up and I saw a guy on his balcony watching us. He was also kinda cute. But now was not the time.

"HEY DUDE, IS THIS YOUR CAT?"

"No, Is it lost?"

We backed and forwarded a little bit but he was clearly as stumped as I was. And it looked like it was about to start pouring rain.

The cat lost interest in the insect and started crying again. At the guy on the balcony.

"..Do you want a cat?"

There was only one thing to do, and that was take miserable kitty here to the shelter except my car was parked ten blocks down and I am not adept at cat holding. Dog holding, I'm a master. Cat holding, no. So I called Egg to pick me up. Except that today he didn't have the car. Fuck. I would have to pick it up and hope to God it wouldn't want to maul me. For ten blocks. I didn't like my chances.

For the 45,000th time this year I wished that Mexicana or Sb were still around to tell me what to do. The two of them were much more cat-oriented than I am. But of course life moves on and we [cat and I] were about to get soaked, so I hauled up my courage and I picked it up.

I don't think I picked it up right.

I know that technically I'm supposed to pick it up by the scruff but that looks like it would really freaking hurt. So I put two hands under the body and held it away from me so it wouldn't scratch me. It cried the entire way and when I mean the entire way, I mean the two blocks that we managed to walk. With me panicked, and the cat entering mewing hysteria.

So two blocks in and cat had finally had enough of being carried like a leprous football and it squirmed out and hid under the four wheel drive.

Eight blocks to go.

And then another round of coaxing. Once again, dogs are easier nad come when you call them. I called Egg again.
"She's under the four wheel drive! Now what?!"
"Crawl under there and get her."
"What."

I was not going to crawl under there so I waited and waited. And this is absurd. Stupid cat.

Finally she [I don't know why it's suddenly a she] came out and I picked her up, she did another "I don't like this!" squirm and disappeared down the path and up a tree.

Ok, chances of me climbing a tree on my wedge busted ankle: none

Sometimes you just can't save something that doesn't want to be saved.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Do you believe in God and karma?

I was really pissed off with this stupid dinky mazda for parking in two spots, I'd been driving for half an hour looking for car space and I was giving myself a headache from being furious.

So the best solution rather than snapping off their windscreen wipers or giving the car a good kick was to write a note.

A really really angry note. Preferably starting with "Hey. Asshole."

However when I finally parked and started to rummage through my car and my bag, I gave a big fat sigh when I realised I had no pen.

I would just have to deal with lifting their wipers up and hopefully he/she would get the message. It wasn't the 'you have a face like a pizza' that I had planned but it would do.

And then wouldn't you know it, I walked past a pen. A pen just sitting there on a wall with a little halo shining around it [ok, I'm kidding about the halo]

If I haven't talked up my neighbourhood enough these last few months, it's not the kind of suburb where you find random items laying around. Especially pens at eyeline. I wasn't sure if it was some sort of a miracle. Or a sign that God wanted me to write an angry note. Why would God want that right?

And so I dithered around the pen and I called Egg. He said it was a sign and that was good enough for me. While I was talking to him and starting the epistle [which did actually begin with "Hey. Asshole."] a pretty redhead walked past me, she gave me a sideways glance when she saw I wasn't doing anything interesting scribbling away.

A short and sweet note: Hey Asshole. You're a douche. This is a double space. Be more considerate.
Ok, so it's not Shakespeare but it was to the point. I put the pen back on the wall so it could continue on its holy journey.

So I walked down my street holding the note firmly in my clutched hand, sure that God was sending me on some sort of mission when I saw the redhead get into the mazda and drive off.

........... This is the part where I ask God what exactly do you want from me? Why give me a pen to write a note if you don't want me to place a note on the car? This is absurd right? On the other hand if I had not dithered around the pen and went straight for the wipers- the chances of her catching me and putting me into a choke hold would be around 99.99%. So maybe the pen saved my life. What were the chances of her walking past me while I was writing her an angry letter? I can't figure it out.

Just really really odd.

---

Pictures from the weekend.

Our feet. I'm on the left. You can't see but those are seven inch wedges. I really stupidly wore them shopping.

Egg and I were going to go to Sculpture by the Sea. However there were so many people that we decided to go be tourists somewhere else and so we hopped it to Watson's Bay.

Action shots! you know I've never taken one before. I think it turned out pretty good~ considering I look like I dropped out of the sky.




Yes, that's right. I'll be remembered forever in the lighthouse registry with 'Action shots are awesome!'

The road to anywhere.

I couldn't be bothered to photoshop my bags or my regrowth out. So nyeah to you Anna Wintour.

---

"One is the loneliest number
That you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number since the number one"
One, Aimee Mann.

I've started to inhabit the places that we used to frequent, thinking it's time to see them in a new light but all I see are visions of the two of us holding hands- where we used to sit- what we used to say. I close my eyes and when I open them, I hope that the landscape readjusts accordingly. But it never does.
In my minds eye, I see you leave me in thousands of ways. There are not many places where your shadow doesn't fall. I thought I was ready but I'm not.

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Existential Angst

So I guess for a week or so now, I've had a nagging dissatisfaction pulling at me. I put it down to being overworked and overtired and just hoping that it'll go away if I focus on being optimistic.

And then it intensified these last few days and now I've started questioning my whole fricking existence.

Excess thanks go to Coffee - the only person who calls me at one in the morning to ask me what the meaning of life is

I have no purpose. No real reason for living. I wake up and go to work to pay my rent and I'm just chugging along thinking that there'll be some sort of breakthrough eventually. A light will shine on me and I'll yell "Hurray! That's why I'm here!"

I don't think that that's going to happen.

So I guess the whole point is that I have to look for it- but where do I find purpose? It's not something that you buy [actually you know what? That's not true. Some people live to buy a nice car] or something you find under the bed.

Where to start?

[This has been a remarkably short post about nothing, I did mention that I'm running out of words]

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Run out of words.

"If you just realized what I just realized
we'd never have to wonder if
we missed out on each other now."

-Realise, Colbie Caillat

I don't feel like blogging much lately. I've run out of words. I'm fatigued trying to sell people on the advantages of tube clips.
 
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