Hail Mary, Full of weekends

I find that I only truly want to blog when I'm upset. I am not upset, therefore no blog posts. Much.

Also we can attribute my lack of posts to my taking of Executive B Stress vitamins. Seriously. Vitamins. Not Prozac.


I've been fairly mellow the entire weekend, when I should probably have been more upset.

Anyway. I don't want to talk about the stupid casino. Repress. Repress. Breathe. Better.

Friday Night.






Eastern European vodka. Only for sadomasochists.

See the shirt? This is what I wear to my new job and i went straight from work to the restaurant. Saint Mary asked where I'd been

And I looked at her like she was nuts: work. I was at work.

She took one look at said shirt and said: You wore that shirt and tie to work, don't you think that it's overly sexualised?!

I think if I didn't find it funny, I would be well on my way to being offended.

so I turned to her and said "of course not, I am a stripper"

By the way I don't think it's too tight. So Nyeah.

There was a girl at that party we'll call her Pachinko who was dressed like a harajuku girl. I was quite impressed by her gumption [and I don't mean that sarcastically] because down to the last detail, she had thought about how to look Japanese. From her fascinator to her handwarmers to her dolls hanging off her belt to her hot pink Doc Martens, she could have stepped off the pages of Egg magazine.

Except for this one thing, she was very distinctly Chinese, she leeched Chinese from her pores. I don't know why. It was like undistilled essence or something. It was bizarre.

So we moved in different circles [and I honestly did admire her, she really did look unique in a way I couldn't have pulled off] and when I stepped outside to the smokers circles, she stuck her head outside the window.

She called out to me [and we'd never spoken before]: You look Japanese! You look so Japanese!

I smiled at her, being polite: Yeah, people tell me that a lot.

And she sighed: You look so Japanese. And then she dipped her head.. in resignation?!

Can i just ask what is the correct thing to say in that situation??

Here is the correct thing to say in that situation: I may look Japanese, but you're dressed Japanese, and if you put my head on top of your clothing, I would look like a fuckwit and a half, so really you should appreciate having your head and your body, and not try to be something that you're not.

Of course, I didn't say that- but you can be damn sure I was thinking it.

--

Saturday Night: Same Restaurant: Yes I went twice in two days. I am obviously insane.








--

I was coming out of the locker room today when I saw Coffee, I walked straight past him and kept on walking, I knew that if I stopped and talked to him, I would just immolate myself later, I would wait for the phone call that would never come. I would beat myself up for using the wrong tone of voice. For not saying the right thing. For scolding him too much. For letting it go too easy. Do you see where this is going?
So I did the right thing. Sometimes the self preservation kicks in. It just takes a while.

This feeling

When everything is done, I still feel like coming home to you.

I want to close my eyes,lay down on the couch and tell you about my day.

It's a little ache.

A little bit about work

So it's my third day at my new job and you know what? I think I like it

I am off my nuts exhausted, but maybe being exhausted is a good thing. Being exhausted means you don't think as much.

Seriously, in the morning my brain wandered off to Coffee guy because I was typing something about audio visual inputs [the irony, it hurts] and then I realised I hadn't thought about him in a while and I was going to give that some thought but then my brain kept saying something to me about beaches. And I lost my train of thought and started thinking about the Isle of Capri. Apparently being tired means I now have the attention span of a seagull.

Try looking for the positive inside of everything!

Most people in the office are pretty nice, well they're not sooper dooper nice but they're nice. Right now, I'd settle for co worker who doesn't want to make me cry. I don't really ask for much.

When I talk about my last job at HiTV communications [I'm going to type that out in full so when people google them, my blog will come up and they'll know that they are bad employers. BAD. Don't buy their products.] I was not entrusted with a single thing- that is everything I did was scrutinised and monitored to a fault. I had to be micromanaged in absolutely everything. I couldn't be trusted to write a f*&^*&^*^ing press release. And I can write press releases in my sleep.

They couldn't trust me to do my job. And I think you shouldn't hire anyone that you don't trust but my hackles were already up from the beginning when I found out that they went through designers like I eat ham sandwiches. So it really was a relationship that was doomed to fail.

One more time for posterity. HiTV communications. Bad employers. Terrible.

I can't stand being micromanaged.

Anyway.

The important part of this is that I'm pretty sure that this place trusts me! I don't need babysitting! I can be given tasks and not have them quadriple-y checked and changed! That in itself is the awesome.

Of course, I'm starting to feel it doesn't take that much to make me happy, but maybe thats a good thing too.

First day at work.

The truth is that lately I'm v v lazy to blog lately and I'm chalking it up to the fact that I am bone numbingly exhausted. I spent the whole weekend

a) fighting with co-workers

b) trying to sort things out with Sb

c)looking for parking spots

d)shaking drunk friends off toilets [which seriously is an entire story in itself]

I have sixteen billion things to say but no energy to type any of them

Needless to say< I was so buggered that I almost fell asleep at my computer at two in the afternoon. It was an auspicious start

Dance like you think no-one is watching.

The good thing about me [I have good things!] is that I bounce back quickly so firstly if you try to appease me, the likely thing is I'm going to go with it and secondly I'm partial to absurd situations so after I sulk about something, I'm usually done- I won't go on about it for three days, unless I'm using it as some sort of anecdote.

I had a horrible case of the moops this morning connected to last nights moops and I slept like.. someone who couldn't sleep.

So when I rolled into work this morning, I was a wet eyed bundle of joy.

I was trying to explain myself to Campbell and she wasn't getting it, and finally I exclaimed at her "Can you hear what I'm saying! Why don't you get it?!"

And she replied "I get it."

And this is how I know that Campbell knows how to handle me better than I know how to handle myself.

She said "I get it. Let's dance."

And then she proceeded to contemporary dance all over the bar. Complete with twists, little jumps and handflicks.

She extended her hand to me

"Dance."

and together we swivelled and pirouetted til we were tired.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Not one but two fights today.

A goodbye sms.

An inabliity to destress via usual self destructive methods.

Angry. Tired. Angry. Tired. Angry.

Mush. is. slow.

Mush says:
are you getting.. married..?

Betty says:
yeah next friday - are you free?? oh no you have work!! damnit

Mush says:
you're off next friday oO

Betty says:
Heheh no i'm off on monday though

Mush says:
Whats happening next friday?

Betty says: I was joking

Mush: Oh frick. Whoosh.

---
Alv also did that to me today and I had a long roundabout conversation on toyboys where I had no idea what was going on. And ended up with "I'm just joking" and me headslapping myself. I. am. so. slow. today. I think I'm going senile in my old age.

---

So I was carrying a tray of drinks and I felt the need to sneeze.

First sneeze. Ah-h-h-h... And the bottles starts to wobble.

Second sneeze. Choo. And the bottles tip from my tray and go all over the floor. Glass smashes everywhere.

Someone yells TAXI! and the big beverage managers come running up and asking me if I'm ok.

I wheeze amid the liquid debris "I'm.. fine... I just have allergies...".

They look at me like I'm crazy.

Easily happified

This is all it takes to make me happy:

A tv that works.

A close parking space

A packet of cheezels.

A haruki murakami novel.

Boys, boys, boys.

Boys are confusing. And stupid. They come into your life and try to complicate everything and then they fuck back off right out of your life.

It'd be somewhat of an understatement to say I'd appreciate some stability.

I'm not mad or anything about it.

---

Well this is how I got Coffee back into my life for a total of an hour and ten minutes. I called him at two in the morning and was as stated in the previous post. Completely goneskis.

Me: Hullo?! [I honestly didn't think he would pick up]
Him: Hey hey [And just him saying hey hey made me a little fuzzy in the brain. A little fuzzier than usual.]
Me: What are you doing??
Him: My friend just crashed his car and I have to pick him up from the police station.
Me: Oh. [Shitshitshit, why the heck is my brain not functioning properly?? function!] That's ... terrible.
Him: Yes. Are you drinking?
Me: No. [Shut up, I had stopped]
Him: Where are you?
Me: I'm at the Cross.
Him: ... Well.
Me: Rightio. Well you do your thing. And. Call me!

I then hang up and slink back to my friends. Ohmygod,ohmygod, what have I done? Who the heck tells someone to call them after they tell them they're going to the police station?? I give myself so many headslaps that I may be permanently concussed.

So I give him a message the very next morning, because there's no way that I can keep on injuring my head in this manner.

"No more champagne ever. I'm v v sorry. I hope your friend is ok."

And he calls me back! I almost fell off the bed because I seriously was expecting another two months of mind-exploding silence.

And ... he's drunk. It's officially a game of drunk dial ping pong.

He talks to me for a little over an hour before I tell him he had better sleep because he has work.. in seven hours. And can I just say I have no idea how to feel about that? Like I'm obviously no stranger to the drunk dial and who am I to be so judgey judgey when I called him first? But can I just say that I find he reciprocates and responds so much better when he's on something and should I be offended by that??? And this is what I mean by he turns me into a spazmoid. If it was any other person this would be so clear cut and I would instinctively do the right thing instead of flip flopping like a dying fish on a hotplate.

Anyway he asked me to play human alarm clock but I haven't heard anything since.

Sigh. Next.

--

There's this customer at work, he is just a very very nice guy and he's been crushing on me for a while, but I am just waving my hands in a frantic semaphore of "no.". I would never date a poker player. I cannot fathom the amount of time I've spent in the casino unwillingly and then try to wrap my head around the fact that someone would spend the same amount of time in there for fun. Nice guy but no chance.

So I'm attending to him yesterday and suddenly the hand gets big and he's paying attention to the cards.

and he says very quietly:

Mush, I love you.

In all honesty, what kind of reaction would you have if someone said that to you, so spur of the nothing?

And so I did something, and it was completely unintentional [seriously, he should pick someone more classy for a declaration like that]

I laughed.

M: AHAHAH.. sorry? what?

Him: ....... nothing.. I love your work.

M: Fantastic.

And I left him to it.


--

The return of Smiley guy.

http://lifeimitation.blogspot.com/2009/06/relationships-that-are-short-and-bitter.html

In all honesty if I never saw this guy again, I probably wouldn't blink too hard at the thought. In fact, I probably wouldn't blink.

Campbell thinks it cute, and he's cute and I'm probably misconstruing everything by my oversensitivity.

C: He probably thinks you're pretty and just doesn't know how to say it!

M: How about.. you're pretty?!

Anyway, I hadn't seen him around when all of a sudden before my shift he slides into the chair across from mine. Seriously, the presumption.

And this is how he starts the conversation [bearing in mind that I was in a good mood and I actually thought I was having a good hair/face morning.]

S: Your eyes are so red and watery. Are they ok?

Is he aware that ordinary people don't start with the insults until after the obligatory greeting of hello/hi/konnichiwa or hey hey?! No? Someone missed a class in social niceties growing up.

M: [Icy as can be] It's seven in the morning. They are. fine.

S: Oh well they look painful.

Someone is going to get a dose of pain in a minute, and it's not going to be me. He changes the subject before I can kick him in the weiner.

And then we go back down that road of incredibly random conversation and I'm weary of talking to people who I don't really want to talk to. I spend four days a week talking to people who I find mind numbingly repulsive. [The cause of my extortionate phone bill that I'm trying to overcompensate by talking to people that I love.] And he's making me exhausted before my shift. I don't think it shows on my face however because he probably would have commented on how wrinkly I'm becoming.

I mention it to Campbell when I get upstairs, and she coos "That's so sweet! It shows that he really cares! He probably thought you were crying!" And I've said it before sometimes I question how Campbell and I ended up in the same universe, in the same dimension much less the same bar.

The weekend to end all weekends

"I love you in the morning,
When you're still hung over
I love you in the morning"

-Sunday, Bloc Party.

So I am twenty six.

At twenty six, I should not:

throw up at clubs.

be ejected from clubs.

Drink til I'm semi unconscious.

Call people in my state of semi unconsciousness

Steal peoples burgers.

Instead I should act like a perfect little lady and sit with my legs crossed and my pinky up and tinkle politely instead of laugh.

Huh, as if any one believes thats going to happen.

Lets just try and start off acting sober first.











I wasn't going to post this picture but I love Dylmah's expression. I'm bored. Take the photo already!



That Eric is such a stud muffin, he just naturally attracts women. See what's going on there?!











I love this photo. It makes me happy. I can honestly tell you now that I have no idea what's in that drink. I remember vaguely asking for a vodka cranberry. That is definitely not a vodka cranberry.





Pulling a pose.

And who the heck is that girl???

When the armwarmers have come off, it means I am goneskis.



And I thought I would end the photoes on a happy note. That's in McDonalds as well! Score for good lighting.

Paper Heart

Can I just say sigh. Oh, Michael Cera. You get me everytime.

Confession

I'm glad that seven other people in this world feel the way that I do.

Instructions on how not to drunk dial.

Instructions on how not to drunk dial.

This is actually quite a basic feat which seems easy but is actually much more difficult than it seems.

1. Take the phone out of your bag.

2. Resist urge to dial. This can mostly be achieved by turning the phone upside down. Or by holding it at arms length

3. Tell yourself that waking up ex-boyfriends/current crushes/irritated friends with "iloveyouiloveyouhowcomeyoudontlovemeiamsonotdrunkiamnot" is not productive and will only be conducive to tears and lots of headdesking later.

4. Take the phone which is hopefully at arms length and hurl it across the room, if you're picky about scratches, try hurling it at your bed or at the nearest couch.

5. Collapse into a puddle on the floor from sheer effort, if you can reach around then pat yourself on the back.

Rinse, lather repeat.

The final outcome is that when you wake up, you will most likely have dry mouth and a headache but not heartache from saying the wrong thing to the wrong people.

What the hell/ employment opportunities.

Well I got my first bite of the interview line today.

And I was a little bit really...? already? well ok.

They sent me a pre-interview package and as I scrolled through it, I started to get a funny feeling. It was not a good funny feeling.

I saw spelling mistakes.

Now spelling mistakes can mean one of two things in an application form. It either one) means that the writer/admin person is ridiculously lazy. or two) that the person writing it is from a non english speaking background.

Question number seven- what do you think for working in a multicultural environment?

Ok non english speaking background, right I am for. what.

And then I got to the bottom of the page and my heart made a little sinking noise when the brain confirmed that the admin guy was chinese.

And the company is chinese. Oh Lord.

Here's the thing: I don't know if you would call me an inverse racist. I like chinese food, some chinese people, I like chinese pop songs [mostly], I however don't like working for chinese people. And I am not fond of being considered/hired based on the fact that my last name is chinese. It annoys me.

The last job I was hired for very pointedly considered me based on my last name. how pointed do you ask? Well they actually told me so during the interview. And should this have scared me? yes. And did I venture into a crappy job where I was eventually let go in a deceitful and shitty manner? yes. [One day, I'll talk about it but to this day it makes my head spin like a mad person]

To put my finger on why this annoys me so much- drum roll it up. I am talented! I am good at everything from admin and marketing to graphic design and writing. I can multi task like nobodys business. I have spent five years and tens of thousands of dollars to get a number of degrees to impress future employers... and all of this is moot when someone sees my ethnic name and thinks that that is the reason that I'm good enough?

That's just .... fucking irritating. Blah.

And so now I'm sitting here debating whether I should even bother to write out this pre-interview stuff and apply for it. It pays ok, total sigh. What am I doing?

Insights at the bar

Me: [in a state of semi outrage] I can't believe he is ignoring me again! How can I have walked into just being ignored again?!

Campbell: You're supposed to ignore him. That's the way of these kinds of relationships. You're not supposed to talk to each other anymore. There are just so many people that you shouldn't be talking to and you talk to them anyway.

Me: Come again?

Campbell: You form attachments to people way too easily.

Me: ...

Campbell: You do. And you expect too much. He's probably just busy.

Me: Sure. Busy.

Campbell: This is how it is with sex these days.

Me: !! We're not having sex! This is not about sex! This is about being ignored!

Campbell: Your problem is you're really really bad at being single.

Me: I haven't been single for eight years. I am not used to being ignored.

Campbell: If you're single, I'd advise you to get used to it.

Me: Great. Something to look forward to.

So Coffee is still ignoring me and six months ago,I would have wailed and paced around the room until there was no carpet left, called everyone I know and pretty much . But six months later, I'm too buggered [thanks casino, lack of parking, jogging routines and dickhead agents] to do anything but lay here and say mean things to him in my head.

Sometimes I think Campbell lives in her own airy fairy world and I get exasperated with her trying to send her back down to earth. And then sometimes shes so observant and emotionally in tune that I just have to sit down for a minute and really really absorb what she's saying.

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.

A day full of surprises.

As I was pulling things apart, I opened this plastic box in my closet and I saw this cocktail ring that I had forgotten about it.

I used to think it was ugly and but now I kind of think it's pretty. We used to make fun of it.

I then knocked over a little box as I moved and stars spilled everywhere. I thought I had destroyed them all in my bonfire.




I had to have a little cry. What I thought was gone was still here. It gave me a little hope.

In and out of my life.

So there are some guys who are fairly constant in my life like SB and Dylmah.

And there are some guys who are in and out of my life like a revolving door like Lighto and Teddy.

Two weeks ago, I got an sms.

"Hey Miss Hottie, Miss Stripper! How have you been??"

When I read this. I said to Polish "Excuse me, wtf. Who the hell calls me a stripper? When I find out who this is, I'm going to kick his ass so hard that he's going to create a hole in the time space continuum.And also I don't strip!"

I smsed back very politely. "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong person. Who is this?"

There was no reply. So I went on a hunt. I went around waving my phone in everyone's faces. "Did you send this? Did you?" and when they laughed and said no, I eyed them suspiciously, just in case.

Anyway I let it go, thinking no-one was going to fess up and if it was someone who I couldn't even remember he/she couldn't be that important right??

I saw Teddy online tonight and I had never seen him online before. I hadn't seen him since he left the casino and I missed sharing the craziness with him. It's still crazy there but it's also a little more bitchy there- which is what happens when you start hiring 18 year old girls who haven't finished sharpening their claws from high school.

Further in the conversation- I found out that he was studying to be a designer! and I didn't know what to say because that revelation just blew my brain away. I am surrounded by would-be should-be designers! [And while I like the idea, in theory I don't really need more competition. I really don't. Stop competing with me for jobs, people.]


So while I'm reeling from this sudden change [he really couldn't have surprised me more if he had told me he wanted to open an opium den in Bondi.]. I mentioned that I lost my phone and therefore his number.

Oh, he said, you have my number.

I do not.

Yeah, you do! I msged you last week.

You did n... THAT WAS YOU! WHY DID YOU CALL ME A STRIPPER??

---

Packing Blues

I'm starting to pack. My bedroom is the first to go. This entire process is making me ridiculously sad. Everything is covered in memory. I look up and there are still stars on my ceiling. I really don't want to pull them down.

The unhappy business of being an ex.

"Why the fuck would you want me back?
Maybe it's because you don't know me at all"
- You Don't Know Me. Ben Folds.

A friend of SB's frequents the casino every couple of months. He doesn't see SB very much because they run on different time schedules- so I actually see him more than SB does.

He still thinks that we're together.

No-one has told him.

So he'll come up to me and say "Mush! Where's SB?? Let's get together and have dinner!"

Me: ... I don't know where he is.....

Him: It's a public holiday! Isn't it his day off?

Me: .. I don't know... It should be..

Him: *looks at me like I'm the ditziest person on earth for somehow managing to lose a live person. Right. We'll catch up later!

I was on the phone with SB a little while later and I complained. COMPLAINED.

Me: It's fucking embarrassing. He thinks I'm the worst girlfriend ever. Why haven't you told him?? TELL HIM.

SB: ..... I don't go around announcing to everybody that we've split up. Hello! How are you? Mush and I are not together anymore!

----

I was talking with some girlfriends the other day about missing ex-es. And I said [thinking this would get a laugh by the way] that when I feel really lonely at night, I sleep with my back against the wall and pretend that it's him. So when I didn't get mocking and I got agreement- I was flabbergasted.

One friend said that she hugged a pillow as a boy substitute

And another said that she wrapped herself really tight in a blanket to pretend that they were arms.

I really thought I was the only one, but it turns out exes everywhere do the same thing. Who knew?

---

Staph-face royally pissed his ex off on Friday night, and so on Saturday night she had cut me from her facebook friends. I had nothing to do with their fight and I cannot for the life of me see how I am involved.

Here it is, deleting me from facebook and not actually talking to me about what your problem is, makes you a child. And also quite possibly makes you a social retard.

Generation Y and their passive-aggressive ways. Mouths are helpful little things- use them.

---

I joined Lighto outside smoking a cigarette, we were quiet for a minute.

and then he said "My girlfriend and I just broke up."

I didn't know what to say, partly because whatever I say would just sound like soothing nonsense and partly because I saw it coming and was not feeling like it was what he wanted to hear.

"Oh, your call or hers?"

"Hers."

"Will you get back together? What were her reasons?"

"She said I don't care about her enough, I never have time for her, and we've been together for a year but it feels like eighty."

*Can I just interject here.That eighty year comment is ridiculously harsh! And makes her out to be a complete bitch. On the other hand, if you feel that time is dragging when you're hanging around that person then... let go? I don't know. I have never/ would never date someone who makes me feel like time is going backwards. Life is short but you want it to feel longer? That's just weird. I hope she returns that Louis Vuitton he bought her. Carry on.

"And then she hung up on me."

I could tell he was trying to be cheery about it, but wasn't really succeeding. I'm supposing that the reality of it will hit him harder when he's alone.

I patted him on the shoulder and left him sitting there still smoking. A picture of the unhappy business of being an ex.

Feel better soon

Everything will be ok. You'll get through this! Trust me.

I believe it when I can see it for myself.

I asked Mystic Meg how long I was going to be hurt for.

She looked at my palm and said "This guy has hurt you so badly, I think the damage is life-long. However... two years, you will feel hurt for two years."

---

I looked at her and I yelled "If I feel like this for two more years! I will roll myself off a cliff! in a barrel!"

---

I was sick of feeling mopey and depressed. And I was sick of those people who had left, having such an intense effect of how I was feeling every Goddamn day.

---

The next day, I woke up and I promised myself that this was going to stop. And it was going to stop as of that morning. I think my friends were a little dubious at this prospect. I can't really really blame them. I had cried for three months straight by then. At home. In public. In restaurants. At work. I had permanent tear tracks on my face.

---

Three months later, I figure that this is the week God [God?] has sent both of them to see how well I'm doing.

---

I'm still alive.

---

And there were no tears!

---

"Will you be ok?"
"I'm honestly in a really good place"

---

And I wasn't just saying that to make him feel better.

I think in some weird way, I have circumvented fate. All of these things that were meant to be.. and I just thought I would go around it.

I don't feel damaged. This is going to sound completely drippy but I don't want to give them the power to damage me. I'll decide when I'm beyond repair, thanks very much.

And thus closes another bizarre period of my life. Moving on to greener pastures, pleasant roads and waterfront views.

Night at the football.

A night of intestinal fortitude and pictionary. No words.

Night Outings

"It's the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fine."
-End of the World, R.E.M.

And this is how I know that I'm over it:

At two o clock this morning Coffee called me.

Two o clock is the time of night when everyone's defenses are down. And mine were a little blurry.

So we talked and talked and he asked me out for food.

I agreed.

When I met him, I wasn't feeling anything. I think because I was tired [and a little numb] I had no expectations or pretenses or any of those weird social barriers that I put up with other people.

And so we hung out, and we were just two people talking about nothing, just enjoying each others company.

I had forgotten how cool it was to hang out with him and just talk.

I didn't have any leftover feelings of anger, resentment or whatever. There was nothing and that really surprised me, because as you so obviously know it wasn't that long ago that he was helping me make myself into a weeping mess.

As day broke, he asked "Do you have to go?" and I just laughed and waved goodbye.

No regrets, no issues, no ache. It's all gone. When I wake up I feel it's going to be an exceptionally pretty day.

Quietest at night

All day long my head is filled with people and conversation. Customers, friends, family. I talk to people sixteen hours a day.

But it all goes quiet at night when I'm driving home down a long stretch of road. I have the window down and Jeff Buckley on the stereo and there's nothing going on in my head. I could drive like this forever.

It's the best time of the day.

The state of being happy.

I had a niggle today.

Last year I made a conscious decision to exclude all the people from my life that I thought were bad for me/didn't honestly care about me/ were using me in some way. This ginormous list included Dakota, Tatergirl and a whole host of other people who were only around for the good time haul [Tatergirl has called me twice last year- both times to borrow dresses. Huh.]. This also sadly included some family.


I was singing at the top of my lungs today in my car. Doing the squinchy emotive face and all. And I had another epiphany [woo! all the time lately!]



But here it is: Not everything in my life is honestly going the way I expected but I'm surrounded by love. And laughter.

And I'm happy. Despite. Nevertheless.

It took me a long time to get back up there.