Monday, March 29, 2010

Last night.

*Sorry I am deleting and re-leting things. Something just happened. And I'm a bit stunned so I have to go and think about it for a bit. But not about what an idiot I am. I guess I'm going to keep this post since it's about nothing. I hope your rss feeds didn't just go crazy.

Well I certainly was mope-a-licious last night and a good chunk of this morning. Aren't you glad I snapped out of it?

So last night I was abandoned, cranky and hungry and I was not a happy camper when I logged on to msn. As I sat there, some movement caught the corner of my eye on the desk.

Fucking Campbell left the window open and now a big fat cockroach was trundling its way across my table.

Did you forget I'm phobic? I'll remind you that I'm phobic to the point of incapacitation. I had no phone credit so there was no way I was going to call someone to save me. And who the hell is going to save me here? They can't find parking!

So as I'm backing backwards for the spray, the mofo keeps walking and he starts walking to my goddamn keyboard!! I scream at the top of my lungs 'Get away from my motherfucking keyboard!' Or course it's kind of pitchy so it probably sounded more like 'Grrrawwwayyyykeeeeboddddd!', By some miracle of sonar hearing, he hears and goes around the keyboard. And I keep spraying.

He keeps walking. He starts to head toward my Hello Kitty vibrator [which by the way, feel free not to ask why it was on the table in the first place], and once again I'm squealing bordering hysterics 'You CAN'T TOUCH THAT. THAT'S IMPORTED.' By another miracle of God and sonar hearing, he swerves it, falls off my table and heads towards my bookshelf. Oh crap. Fuck.

Where he proceeds to clamber my books going vertically across. I do not know why. And I'm still spraying. And my Pratchetts are wet with chemicals and my Evanoviches have been contaminated. And I'm leaking tears at the thought of how many books have been ruined by him and me.

And none of this would be happening you know if I'd just grown up phobic of sharks and snakes like the rest of the world. And lucky for you buggers, how many sharks and snakes do you see in everyday life? That's right. None.

So anyway, I've exhausted my can of spray and I'm standing rather dully against the wall watching him deathspaz his way across my living room and right into under my couch. That's right. Under my couch. At least have the decency to die where I can see you so I can vacuum you after I've injected myself with adrenalin for shock. But of course, cockroaches have no decency which is why they are cockroaches.

I wonder what the neighbours thought I was screaming at. Pratchett! Keyboard! Hello Kitty!

And then two minutes later, when I'm slightly more collected. The phone rings. I was hoping it would be a good call. It was not.

A: Hullo? *staticky. staticky.

Mush: Hullo? Who the heck?

A: It's Ant [my designer, whose ass I've been covering for for six weeks].. how are you?

Mush: I'm great. No need to get into details. What's up.

A: My visa has expired and I can't return to Australia yet, they won't let me on the plane.

Mush: Excuse me? I'm mishearing you because I think I just heard you say that YOU ARE NOT BACK YET.

A: I'm really sorry.

Mush: You're sorry. I'm dying here. I am overloaded with work up to my eyeballs. Easter long weekend is coming up. The chances that I'm sleeping over on Thursday night is high.

A: I'm really really sorry. Please let the boss know.

Mush: Do you have any idea when you will be back?

A: I have no idea, I have to go to the embassy tomorow.

M: ............

And thus I hung up, and then the guilt set in. Well fuck. I just kicked a guy when he was down. I officially felt like shit. Abandoned, cranky, hungry, phob-ey and now guilty.

The next day came [which is today and now I can completely confuse the holy moly out of past and present tense] and I was a little more calm. The cockroach was dead. I can handle the workload. I was no longer hungry.
I walked into work and Egg2 said 'Hey cutie' and that's all I really needed to feel better. A sign of affection. An hour later, his phone rang and he walked out of the office. When he walked back in, he gave me an instant IM.

Egg2: I got the job! I start next Tuesday.
Mush: That's great! Congratulations! [You're going to leave me! here! and right now I'm fighting really hard not to burst into tears and hold onto your leg like a baby!]
Egg2: Are you ok?
Mush: Never better. I'm really happy for you.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

The politics of accepting a drink

So I'm flailing away on the dance floor, very very happy to be letting off steam after a long week at work [and by the way, on a side note, my boss and I have started to talking to each.other.like.this. gritted teeth and angry tones are always conducive to a productive relationship.]

So anyway, I'm flailing when a very very good looking Irish guy comes up and puts the dance moves on me. He gets in front and starts pulling out the fancy footwork and then it's my cue to follow.

Campbell and Dealergirl start giving me shiny eye, open mouth, thumbs up faces.

What the heck, I'm hardly going to pull a Run DMC vs Jason Nevins in heels. This is not fair. Life is not fair. Oh what the hell, you only live once. [On the other hand, I love each and every one of my shoes as my children so breaking them is not really an option.]

So I gamely follow and you know it was kinda fun? But everytime he came too close, I had to slide [!] backwards and pull the 'ohnoyoudont' hand motions. And then he would give me apology hands. We were a mime's delight.

"So do you want a drink?" I nodded and we went up to the bar.
"You know in Ireland, we have a saying 'you better put those eyes away.' And you know what those eyes are doing to me? "
It then occurs to me that that this exchange has become some sort of transaction, what do you get and what am I supposed to give for a free drink? Is there an etiquette behind it that I'm missing? What are the politics behind it? Is it just a drink for accepting compliments? Bugger, I'm shit at this. Maybe I'm completely misreading this and he really just does want to exchange apple pie recipes.
I'm staring at my gin and tonic, lost in thought when the barmaid slams the money on the counter and stalks off.

I look up and I'm surprised because she's done with it such violence.
He gives me an easy grin "Oh, she's just mad because I slept with her last week. She's just jealous of you."

I almost dropped my fucking glass. I had alcohol and lime all over my hands. What the fuck dude! I didn't need to know that! And thank you for clarifying your intentions because I really needed them crystallised. And also, your hoebagginess is not something you should advertise like that, but thank you for the upfront hoebaggery honesty. No wonder she was frigging upset. Lastly but not leastly, I really didn't want an angry bartender to glass me in the eye for accepting a GnT.

What an expensive drink.

I gave a nervous laugh. Ahaha. And I start to back off onto the dance floor. Thanks for the drink! I'm not sleeping with you for it!

I head back to Dealergirl and mouth 'help.'. She leans into my ear and says 'He says he's going to kiss you before the end of the night.' She's delighted. I have a headache. All I wanted was to dance like Run DMC.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Exposed

Here is my heart, it's small and cracked and it really looks so pathetic out there in the open, all exposed. But I wonder if you realise how few people have seen it as it is looking like that.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Inappropriate tutor behaviour

On the phone

Campbell: So I was with Smiley last night, he was tutoring me in long division.

Me: Smiley? ... How is the douchebag?

Campbell: Good. He sucked my leg last night. Is that weird?

Me: Excuse me. He sucked your what. The phone is cutting out. I don't think I heard you correctly.

Campbell: He sucked my leg.

Me: ............................ for what reason?

Campbell: I made a joke about being wack and he sucked my leg.

Me: .. Was this a big suck or a little suck? Wait. This is just wrong. There are so many things with this that my head just exploded.

Campbell: Don't freak out, it means nothing.

Me: Um no, tutors don't usually do those kinds of things to our legs! I used to tutor you what if I had decided to go for your legs everytime you misplaced a comma???

Campbell: ..

Me: He's in love with you. Or he has a thigh fetish.

Campbell: It was weird.

Me: Yes.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The door that closes and opens.


"And if you flash your heart
I won't deny it
I promise

Our love was lost
In the rubble are all the things
That you've, you've been dreaming of"
-Love Lost, Temper Trap.

So I am massively tired [5 in the afternoon!], at any moment I am going to fall unconscious and my head is going to hit the table like in the cartoons. Except without the benefits of a pie in the face.

Can you tell this is going to be a rambly incoherent post? Sorry, bear with me. It's going to get more incoherent, lucky for you.

So I met someone on Friday night, we'll call him R6. And be happy for me because he uses long words and he's nice. I'm not implying that long word usage and being a nice guy are mutually exclusive concepts. But good spelling is high up on my list. I might shove the New York Times crossword in front of him at some point and see if he can do it. Anyway, Friday night/Saturday dawn I was happy.

But by Saturday morning I was slightly, slightly panicky. And I guess you can put it down to sleeplessness. What was I doing? I don't know to play the game! My life was finally entering a stage of normalcy and what I was going to do with that normalcy? I was going to bin it to put my foot in the relationship merry-go-round. Oh God. Just the thought makes me want to burst into tears and lie on my couch with a cold compress.

Anyway. The game. Oh God. Did I say Oh God yet? Again. Oh God.

By Saturday night, I was calmer. And as I took a ferry to Campbell's party, I passed Circular Quay. I had been giving Circular Quay the deep swerve for the past year because it really held a lot of significance for me and SB [well maybe not for him, but for me] and as I walked down it, I was like hey! This is ok! I can walk down here! I'm fine! This is great! More exclamation marks!

God/Og/Allah/Ron L Hubbard has an awesome sense of humour. THE MULTI-ARMED DEITY IN THE SKY THINKS THAT SENDING ME SIGNS IS FUNNY. I can't fkn think of another explanation for what happened two hours later.

I'm sitting there at the openbar/party playing with my camera and I look up and there he is with that ... that woman.

What the fuck.

SB and Mutant X are walking towards me. Uh, what are the chances.

So in my head, a thousand times before, I'm cool and calm, I have a scathing remark to say. I have a rotten chicken leg to pitch. I reduce her to tears. I am woman, and you stepped on my turf ugly lady.

Of course, in real life, the only thing I have is the remnants of dignity and my camera in hand. What would happen if I threw my camera at her? I'd have to get a new one, that's what.

And then came the split decision to be an adult [or to reach something resembling adulthood], what would I achieve from any of this? Nothing. I've moved on. None of it would be worth it. The only thing that would happen is that I would ruin not one but three people's nights.

So I looked back down at my camera and continued to scroll through my pictures, my hand was so shaky that I was worried that I was going to drop it.

I don't know if he saw me and I don't really want to know. They passed me.

The connection broken in the most ironic place possible. Yes, God you are hilarious- I get it. You can stop poking me. Thanks.

I left with my dignity, my intact camera and my good self. I have my fingers crossed for something good and new in my life.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Wow.

Wow.

Let's see where this goes.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The offending car



And I thought I was angry about parking around here! Apparently my neighbourhood is in consensus -why wasn't I asked? *miffed*
Anyway I have a feeling that someone is going to snap her wipers eventually. They've moved her back wipes as well. How much does it cost to replace a wiper anyway?

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Superannuation and my beneficiary money

So as we were sitting down to dinner last night, my mum passed me some letters and one of them was from my superannuation company.

When I opened it, I was pleasantly surprised that my actual superann had reached 5 [5!] digits and my death insurance was $148,802 dollars [I'm worth more money dead than alive. How sad.]

and oh, my first beneficiary is my mum on 65% and SB is still on there at 35%. And sometimes I have to practice timing when speaking out loud at the family dinner table.

Mum: He's still your beneficiary??? Why???? Why?! WHY.

In all honesty, I'm just lazy to show up at the superannunation company because I don't think they'll do it over the phone for legal reasons.. and I just keep forgetting to do it.. and.. and..

Mum: Why benefit him for? Why not benefit me!

Me: I'm not dying soon... I don't think. Hey, you're getting a share!

Mum: That's not the point. If he gets that money, he will spend it on that... that.. woman. [I love the disgusted tone, haha.]

I think my mum has visions of him showering her in furs and then taking her out and buying her seventy five hundred tins of truffle and abalone with my death money. They will yell "I'm rich" and roll around on my insurance benefits like Scrooge McDuck and Scrooge McDuckette, which is funny and macabre and so very very wrong.

Of course, she's right. I don't even want to give her a rotten chicken drumstick and if I ever see her and I'm coincidentally holding a rotten chicken drumstick, I might just peg it at her head. But then that would just be waste of rotten chicken drumstick. [Or not.]

Ok, so my mum is right. I need to change it in case I get run over tomorrow by a bus and not be such a lazy smurf.

Mum [still talking]: You could give it to anyone! Someone! Heck, name your cousin Matty!

Matty: I'll take it!

Me: ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! Gawd!

---

Sunday, March 14, 2010

This week at work and why it's pointless to get mad at my boss


So I'm running out of things to say: Blog entries tend to dry up when your heart isn't broken. Odd that. And so my guess is that for a while blog entries will be few and far between. I could bitch about work but since I blog/write/copywrite for a living, it would be ridiculously unprofessional of me right?
Hmm.

So this week my boss was being a tool and he sent me this instant chat message.**

Boss: "Your listing was not good. [Rival website's] listing was much more attractive. Don't you agree?"

Well that was the world's most passive aggressive way to invite me to step on my own work. You know I am not going to step on my own work unless I feel there actually is something wrong with it. So I blithely replied.

M: If you feel so.

I am a child. I know.

So I took a deep breath and went home.

The next day, I came into another instant chat message.

Boss: You just copied that listing! Where is the box photo?? None of this is good enough!

And now I was mad, it's one thing to imply that my writing is unattractive and another thing altogether to say that I'm plagiarising.

So I sat down and I typed him a 1000 word essay calling him out on his tooliness

  • Why writing is subjective and why you should have an actual reason for calling it unattractive.
  • If you think my listing is unattractive, you better point out concrete reasoning so I can fix it
  • How I didn't copy anything
  • How I'm expected to know to psychic-ly provide a box photo with no prior precedence

and twenty minutes later I was done and sent it. All that rage and energy poured into it. I was exhausted.

And then a day later. A reply.

B: No worries, I just follow my own style.

What the feck does that mean??? That's not even a reply! That's a non sequitur!
Seriously my boss is just a waste of energy. Like literally a waste of energy. I wonder if I should have spent that twenty minutes and 75 extra wrinkles on doing something useful. Like frantically licking an ice cream or something.

I guess the point is: Save your wrinkles and time on dessert. Punch a pillow. Kick a football. I know I'm going to go clothes shopping the next time he pisses me off. Screw the reasoning thing.

And here's a joke to cap off the night

Q: How many writers does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: I'M NOT CHANGING ANYTHING.

**He's never at the office until 5 at night so we communicate mostly by IM. The chances of me yelling at him for a thousand word time period is very minimal.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

It sucks to be me

Well today was a waste of [frustrated] talent and sheer willpower to get out of bed. God, I feel miserable. I hate everyone. I should have stayed in bed.

And now I have this song in my head. The chirpy strains of 'It sucks to be me'.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

What you do with a spare bin

In case you're wondering- that's not me under there. But this is what happens when you give a group of bored people five empty bins.

Saturday, March 06, 2010

The Bitch list

This is exactly what I mean. This list goes to 90. 90! Where are your parents, little girl? And what type of night-time reading are they giving you???

Thursday, March 04, 2010

Dinner! and talking to myself

Normally our conversations range from Australian Idol to potatoes, but no-one said anything, because we were just way too busy eating. You see my uncle Andrew is practicing to be a chef. Late career change.

Seafood Pasta baby!

Wagyu Thai Beef Chilli Salad ..mm..


My latest acquisition! Swarovski crystals with Onyx stones. The colour didn't turn out right but the crystals are actually a muted bronze. Actually this photo is so un-bling that it doesn't do it justice. I had to take off my Pandora because it was getting ridiculously heavy.


Must camwhore with giant mirror... can't resist... It's probably a good thing I don't have a giant mirror at home. Nothing would get done. Which reminds me I should vacuum.

It really is good to have dinner with loved ones

Which segues into this..

---
I work at a Chinese workplace, where everyone talks Chinese [specifically mandarin] 24/7. Everyone except me and Egg2. Poor blonde Egg2. Now I like Egg2 and he's a very nice guy but he sits diagonally behind me so if I want to to talk to him, I have to do some major acrobatic back twisting. Secondly, his favourite topics are sex and hating on the company, neither of which I want to talk about out loud while doing back calisthenics.

So I pop in my headphones and listen to Florence and the Machine for give or take eight hours, if I remove them I can hear 'rahrahrahrahlahllahlahmahmahmahnini.. ..ah' in Mandarin. So for eight hours a day I don't talk to anyone and then I go home to my little studio and there's no party there either so I can literally go for twenty four hours without talking to anyone.

There are two problems with this:
1) I am starting to talk to myself from lack of interaction. Not serious conversations about the meaning of life and whatnot.
But more like: "Do you feel like ice cream today Mush?"
"Of course, I do."
I figure I'm not going mad but I'm getting there.

2) It's making me highly susceptible to otherwise innocuous talk [which I would ordinarily ignore under ordinary circumstances], I picked up the phone to answer some customer issue and as I went to pass the phone to someone else, the customer said
"You're very nice, I like talking to you!"
Heck, I was flattered. I thought about it for longer than ten minutes! [Ironically, I had only talked to the customer for two.] Is this weird? How long has it been since I've talked to someone much less received a [genuine] compliment. I need to get out more or I need to start having more dinner with my parents or I need a new job. Probably the new job thing.
 
/>