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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Wow.

Wow.

Let's see where this goes.

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?

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!

---

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.

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'.

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.

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???

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.

It's a fun night.

"Hey soul sister, ain't that Mister Mister on the radio, stereo,
the way you move ain't fair, you know!
Hey soul sister, I don't want to miss a single thing you do...tonight"
Soul Sister, Train

The discounted entry is still twenty five dollars! It must be fun being a millionaire.

See those expressions now? Happy right? They'll look even happier when they see how much they have to shell out after waiting in line for two hours.
[Yes, we left. Of course]




Cheers!Camera is that way apparently.

Er, we have an arm issue. I don't know why.

I took Genki's ring! Looks awesome on me right? Then I took it back and proposed to him with it and when he said yes I bit him on the hand. [I really have marriages on the brain lately. Wtf.]

Also besides swapping jewellery, we also swapped shoes..
Much love for the girls.

Bathroom shot! Don't I look completely and utterly sober for four in the morning. We call that good lighting.

And karaoke to top off the night. I love the emote.

My lemonade is a liar

My breakfast bottle says 'No artificial colours or flavours'. Sprite is a liar! That's not real lemon in there! Where's the honesty in this relationship? I know it's fake lemon, they know it's fake lemon but they still say it's real! Don't trust the big brand corporations. [Also no-one is buying Sprite cos it's healthy.. Juss sayin']

Nothing is certain.

So I was rolling around in bed last night and I had a mild epiphany:

I think I've shut up shop. With men. with romance. Twu Wuv. I'm not looking to replace what I had before, I don't even know how how to go about replicating something like that and you know I've had a good run. No matter what I've said about it - it was a good run and how many people can say they've had a relationship like that -so I won't push my luck with God/Allah/Og/Tree Nymphs any further and ask for anything more.

And that's that. Shop is shut.

And then I rolled around some more.

And then a traitorous voice in my head says "Ok, you've decided to be alone. And you're okay to be alone... Hell we hear you on the mountain screaming about being an independent woman like an ethnically challenged Beyonce impersonator. But here's the question: Do you like being alone?

Small voice: No. Don't ask me anymore questions.

Well then what are you? a masochist?

No, I am not alone. I have friends!

Traitorous voice says sarcastically: The princess's friends in the fairytales never rescued her.

You are a traitorous voice! and you are created by society to make me believe that I'm deficient because I don't have an 'other'. And the shop is shut! It's decided! So go away!

Traitorous voice: Fine. Don't come looking for me when you're old and mental and talking to wooden spoons and paper plates. If I come back it's only going to be to say I told you so.

I roll over again, independence is one thing, being alone is another. I waver in my certainty.

I look at the clock. Fuck. It's four thirty in the morning. I have been arguing with myself for close to six hours. Apparently I've already gone cuckoo and I haven't lobbed thirty yet. Sixty more years of argumentative insomnia to go.

--

In the morning [three hours later] I don't feel very much more awake but I'm a bit more sure. I chew over it while staring at the computer monitor at work. I don't want to ask any of my friends because I don't want to hear reassuring responses about how Mark Ruffalo is waiting for me at the convenience store. He's not and I don't really believe it. The person to give me an honest response is always my mum.

--
And then I forget sometimes that my choices also affect her to some degree. So when I sat next to her at the dinner table tonight, I mentally palm slapped myself. Of course, she wants me to be in a stable relationship so she can worry less. Forever in her eyes, I'm nine and a half years old. You want to entrust your nine and a half year old to someone responsible in the event that one day God wants you to leave the building.

So I could only phrase it as delicately as I can. "Mum, what if I decide that I want to be alone? Are you ok with that?"

She looked like she was sort of expecting the question. "Well, I want you to do whatever makes you happy"

"Grandkids? Are they a big deal?"

She shakes her head "No, just live your life as best as you can live it."

I can't tell if this conversation is making me relieved or sad.

---

[An hour later]
My aunty looks at my palm and goes "Hey, you've got a really long life!" [Another sixty years to argue with myself? Right on the money.]

"Oh?" I say "How's my love life?"

"Late," She says studying it. "See this? theres no line until the middle. Nothing happens until much later. But you know? No rush." She turns over my hand. "And, see this line? and this one? Two kids. First one is very certain, second one you have to decide the fate of that one."

I turn to my mum, "Your grandkids are still somewhere in my palm."

She smiles.

Eggtart.

Happiness comes in a freshly cooked eggtart. Sugar and comfort and always in good company.

The word bitch.

Definition of the word bitch as defined by UrbanDictionary.com
1. Annoying and whining female.

2. Female Dog

----

"I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed"

-Bitch, Meredith Brooks

----

TG: He drives like a bitch.
Me: I'm sorry.. what do you mean by the word bitch?
TG: A female. Not a female dog.
Me: [Can't think of an appropriate reply to counter this misogyny so I just look up at the sky and pray for patience]

----

Calling someone a bitch is for me, a dealbreaker. Calling me a bitch personally will likely be the end of you, because I will have got in my car and run you over with it. I hate the word. And I hate all of its connotations. Feel it out, there is no male equivalent to the word -the closest thing you can probably get to it is bastard, but calling someone a bastard on the road and calling that person a bitch is the difference which will get you a tire iron in the face from a random stranger.

Calling someone a bitch reduces them to something animalistic, something lower than human. And it's a word which implies female. You're lower than human and female. What could be more degrading to call someone? [Which by the way, my actual dog is not that impressed with the human race either so it goes both ways].

I would personally rather be called a cunt then a bitch. I guess that would mean I'm still a body part of some sort, but hell at least, it's more upfront about the sexism.

I get that some women want to take the word back and by normalising it giving it less power. So we get songs and web zines and hell, even I've noticed that it's entering regular speech. We've entered a culture of normalcy where its ok to call someone a bitch. Heads up, it's not okay. If you make it normal then no-one willl think about what it really means, and then effectively we're closing our eyes and nodding ok to public misogyny. It's not okay.

By the way, do not give me an email of words are just words. I am not inferior by definition of my gender and I will never be ok with you implying so.

Good Vibrations 2010

**Photoshop still uninstalled. Blah.


So last year Good Vibrations was the mother of all shoddy festivals, I didn't know better. Firstly, I was up the front being squashed like a bottlecap under a four wheel drive. The line-up was .. meh to say the least. And I was not prepared for how rainy it was going to be.

This year I was an army general! I brought a parka, waterproof gym pants, two pairs of socks, garbage bags, a waterproof satchel, and I drove so I wouldn't have to deal with mud and drunken numbnuts on public transport. Oh, and also I wasn't stoopid enough to try and stand up the front.


So this year was so so so so so much better.

And also they had two groups that I really wanted to see..

Salt N Pepa [Get up on this! Na na na naaa na na. Push it real good!]

And Gossip [I heard it through the bassline- how much longer will you be mine baby?]

Yay. I love girlpower.



Salt N Pepa didn't disappoint. I love those three ladies. I was a bit concerned that I would be surrounded by eighteen years who think Salt N Pepa is a food flavouring. However not to worry, everyone that I was standing around knew all the lyrics to Shoop, Whatta man, Push it and Let's Talk about Sex! Just like me! Can I get a w00t yeah! There were some sound quality issues but I think it's because we were off to the side.

And then at the end Pepa asked us if we believe in God, which is really the wrong thing to ask an entire park full of high/drunk adolescents. I wonder if she was offended when people started to wander off.


And then.. and then.. the highlight of the festival. Friggin' Beth Ditto. I say friggin because I can't convey my sense of awe. Other than lady, you are awesome. Please invite me out for a drink so we can sit around with pork rinds, coronas and tell each other dirty jokes. Firstly, I loved her sense of humour, and I loved that she talked to the crowd with the same ease of an over the bar conversation.
Secondly, I am wildly awed by her body confidence, I have never seen anything like it. I have never seen anybody so comfortable with themselves. She just didn't care what anyone else thought -what mattered was that she knew she was beautiful. And not just in a superficial sense. At one point, she ripped off her dress, threw it into the crowd and just sang in her spanx.
Thirdly but not leastly, she really has an amazing set of pipes. So Beth, howsa about that drink?

This guy was dancing like a crazy person, and as he was dancing his pants kept slipping lower and lower. If he hadn't moved away I'm sure he would have danced himself nakey. Speaking of nakedness, there was one smashed guy who lost his pants and was just wearing a t-shirt and tightie whiteys, I didn't notice him until Bel poked me 'That guy is not wearing any pants!" and also there was a gigantic wet patch which indicated he wet himself. He was weaving by himself in a circle and he was liking what he was seeing because OMG something was moving under those wet tighty whiteys. I didn't know whether to point hysterically and laugh or vomit on my gumboots. Of course, the smartest thing was to move away before I did both.

I also saw:
-Two girls expose themselves to Naughty by Nature [The MC yelled "titties!"]
-A girl sleeping in a pool of her own vomit
- Another girl fall off her boyfriends shoulders
And enough regurgitated gozleme to turn me off mashed potatos for life.
[Haha, put like that I am too old for this festival]


Well prepared for the rain with my spare garbage bag!
And at the end of the night. Basement Jaxx who were the most underwhelming band of the day, What no 'Where's your head at?' 'Lola's theme', 'Do your thing' or even Hush Boy? Hell, not even an inclusion of 'Raindrops'?. I say Bah. And everybody around me was noticeably underwhelmed.

Anyway, by the end of the night I resembled a drowned cat but I was a drowned cat in a good mood! I don't know if I'll do it again next year .. maybe if Lady Gaga shows. Anyway Happy Chinese New Year everyone!

Melbourne Boys

**My photoshop has been uninstalled so you won't see any of me until it's reinstalled. Until then there's nothing wrong with a moose wearing a hat.

So I kind of went AWOL in the last few weeks, I am/was about to turn twenty seven and I went 'Oh fukkit. This year I don't want to do anything, so take that age twenty seven. Imma just going to pretend you don't exist. Lalala.'

And then Noodles asked me if I wanted to come to Melbourne and I said very calmly "Sure. Why not?" But of course I was frantically dancing around like Austin Powers when I got off the phone.

I get to go home! And drink good coffee! And browse independent bookstores! And people smile there!

And I guess I've been a frigid nancy over the past year [or so people keep telling me] and I decided to take myself out of the nunnery. Cue 'How do you solve a problem like Maria?' As the movie says when you remove yourself from a nunnery, you fall in love with a colonel and end up with six [7?] adorable stepchildren and a singing career. Well why the heck not.


I'm walking down the street at night off to get food, Noodles had disappeared off to a gig and Flinders was looking good for a Belgian waffle or a hot dog. Mm.. street food. When all of a sudden, this guy appears next to me and starts talking to me in a broken english accent.

Before you jump on me for stranger danger, please remember that everyone in Melbourne is this friendly. It's kind of part and parcel.

So whatever we're walking and talking [passing the electronic dictionary between us] and he mentions he's looking for a job. Well what do you do? I'm a model!

Well he definitely looked like a model. He was all dark and chocolate-y and built. Hm.

I'm still keeping an eye out for food when he commands [!] me 'Take me somewhere beautiful'

Oookay. His english was really not that good so I didn't have the heart to say something like 'But isn't this entire place beautiful?' so I thought .. Crown. Why the heck not.

As we're walking, he turns to me and says Why are girls so open here? And I'm open? what open?

Him: With a-sex. [Sorry, I'm putting him in a mario accent]
Me: Oh, what.
Him: You know, everyone is already opened. Why?
Me: Still not understanding.
Him: *pointing to a girl in front of us. She's opened.
Me: OH. Right.
Him: How come all Australian girls are opened? Italian girls are all closed. Have you been opened?
Me: Uhhhhhhhh, yes.

[Fine. He's right. There are no virgins left in this country. Good luck finding one.]

So we're on a bench in front of the water and it's kind of nice? Weird but nice. What the heck, we're just exchanging conversation about God and the meaning of life. And he keeps saying 'Imma so comfortable with you.' which you know what? I've never had that compliment before. So ok.

When he pops out with 'Do you want-a make-a sex with me?'

What is the right response to that by the way, if you can email me that. Well my response was to burst into hysterical giggles. He looks confused. 'Why are you laughing?'
'This is hilarious.'
'I'm a kind guy. I'm very kind.'
'This is too random.'
'What's random?'
I show him the dictionary meaning.
'Oh... but this is-a good random? .. Look, I can have any girl in the club but I'm comfortable with you."
'....No.'
'Is it a decency thing? You are decent.'
'That's not it.'
'Then...' he grabs my palm and traces a pattern in it before brushing the hair out of my eyes 'why not?'

And I'm a deer in the headlights. Why am I turning down sex with an Italian model? Is my head broken? Well some part of me is broken. Maybe my uterus. I can't think of a reason so I just shake my head.

I make excuses to get up and leave and pick up Noodle, he comes with me and just as suddenly as he propositioned me, he comes up with another mind blowing proposal [pardon the pun]

'It breaks my heart to know you live alone.. you know we can make make each others lives better, would you-a marriage me?'

Holy Fuck. What.

He repeats it again 'Would you-a marriage me?'

'No! What!'. My wind is gone and I wonder at the absurdity that someone who has barely known me for two hours can audaciously ask me what my ex-boyfriend of eight years couldn't lift his lips to say [albeit in different accents]

I don't have much time to ponder this but I stand up straight and say the most reasonable thing that pops into my head, 'We have only known each other for two hours.'

'Two hours, two days, two years! When you know, you just know!' And by this time he's doing that frantic Italian gesture thing and people on the street are staring -they think he's yelling at me. I can't decide if this is the craziest thing I've ever heard or the most romantic. Crazy seems more likely.

For two seconds I'm swayed. I'm swayed by fairytales and apparent certainty. But here's the thing: I don't know anything! I will never be certain of anything! I have never been certain of anything in my entire life. I expect the floor to open up and I expect promises to be broken. Frequently things that I think are red are actually blue and vice versa.

No.

He smiles and says 'I will convince you.' I don't think he will.

When I leave he calls 'I love you' to my back. This entire situation is nuts.

***

This post is heaps heaps long and so I don't even want to go into what happened with the next guy. Needless to say, he was nice but the chances of him entering rehab [at the tender age of 21!] are about a 99 in a 100 chance in the next three years. Also I am a lot of things but I am not a cougar [ no matter how much I'm starting to feel like one]

Here is something I've forgotten about men, boys and dating in general. Most of the time, it's absurd and sometimes you'll hit a real pebble in your shoe but more than that it's fun. How I forgot that I don't know. Nerves of anticipation, the high of getting a returned sms, the fun of flirtatiously smiling at each other, daydreams of possibility.

So I guess I'm coming out of the nunnery [well that was some interesting exit], and I'm finally ready! So hooray for that. It's time to have a little fun with the opposite sex.