How I feel about Lindsay Lohan

I haven't done a pop culture post since... I can't even remember



I'll be honest back way when (and yes, this is pop culture blasphemy) I didn't really enjoy Mean Girls. I mean it was a nice enough movie and there were a few smiles raised but I didn't rabidly want to quote it (stop trying to make fetch happen), rewatch it and Lindsay Lohan certainly didn't ping my radar.

In other words, while every saw her as the second coming of Julia Roberts, I was kind of meh.

Fast forward 5 to 6 years, several car crashes, rehab stints and multiple arrests later and I am still meh on La Lohan.

I am meh, but I can't stand the Lindsay vitriol that thrives on the internet so here I vent. One visit to the Celebitchy forums and a glance shows you that people are calling her the Cracken or talking about she's ruined her face or joking how she's been passed around (what hilarity) or what kind of STDs she has from being passed around. It's like the done thing to do to kick her in the head from the comfort of a keyboard.

To step in her shoes for a second (and I don't really want to be in them, Louboutins though they may be), if I was a 23-26 year old girl (or whatever age she was when her breakdown started) and I started reading on the internet that people thought I was a hopeless junkie and that my face was melting off /not heading in the direction that they liked, I would probably be driven to drink as well (actually no, I'd have a needle permanently situated in my arm- a heroin drip). In fact, I'm not sure how many of us could take that kind of criticism day in and day out and still be a reasonably well-adjusted person.

I mean the withering Liz and Dick reviews are just the tip of an iceberg. But (and I say this with utter exasperation) it was a Lifetime production, who the heck acts well in a Lifetime show, what kind of Shakespearean dialogue are you expecting? It caters to middle aged housewives and people who are bunking off sick for the day. If you google Lifetime, the first tv show that comes up is called an Amish Murder. Really. So did it deserve the panning that it got in comparison to 'Murder on her Mind' and 'Last Chance Cafe'? Come on, it's Lifetime. Please stop kicking Lindsay on her way out.

Which brings me to: yes, she really doesn't come off too good in the personality department. She runs into things constantly, she kidnaps people for fucks sake, she's frequently caught stealing jewellery, she is terrible at commitments and couldn't turn up to something on time if the US was depending on it to stop a war. She is one hairs breadth from having a permanent home in LA County Jail. She is like your fuck-up kid sister that won't stop doing the wrong thing.

But that doesn't mean we should chase her around with flaming pitchforks, you understand? It's very iffy territory about what she deserves for her actions. Frankly, it looks like a Lindsay pile-on from this vantage point.

So this is what I want for Lindsay (who most likely is not going to listen to me). Take whatever money you have left and go away. Buy a farm in Missouri, attend a community college, spend some time in a hoodie and thongs, crack open some history books. You don't have anything to prove to anyone and the sooner you realise that the better off you'll be.Your career? It is stuffed so let it go woman. Get out of LA (which doesn't mean you should head to NY either. Try somewhere without paps)

Maybe not a farm in Missouri. Whatever it is, do something more useful than being a moving target for bloggers and commenters hey?

It feels like this is the year I'm hanging up my keyboard

As above.

I don't know.

I appear to be getting slacker and slacker. And also because I'm no longer toting around a point and shoot, I'm not taking as many photos (cam-hoing on my phone, yes. But I don't know how many photos I can possibly post of me pulling faces. Lots?)

I've been writing since 2005 when Geocities was still a thing. Eight years later and I'm not sure exactly what to say anymore.

So here's the compromise (always willing to compromise) I'm going to try and write at least once a day, even if it's a damn sentence and I'm going to climb up that mountain til my 30th birthday. If by my 30th birthday, I just can't document anymore then I hang it up and write blogger a nice little farewell note.

If somehow by then I get my mojo back, well then I guess you'll see it. I have my doubts though.

In the meantime, they've discovered water on mars!

 

Funny right?

Luckier than I realise (or how I spent today dodging bullets)

So this morning, I was shuffling around getting ready for work and it's been quite muggy lately so I had the fan on.

I stopped for a second (to stare into space I think) when all of a sudden the fan fell off its perch. split out of its cage and proceeded to continue whirring about 5cm away from my toe.

5cm more and my fourth piggy would have been shark food.


I  sat down (far away), really relieved that I wasn't spending my morning in the hospital.
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So I went with my boss to a meeting close to home today and when we finished we both headed home in our respective directions.


When I got back to home comp, I was greeted with this image.

That's my building (I can wave to you from my window on the other side), that's a crane on fire and that crane is about to topple over into construction.

So they closed off the road, evacuated the building and sent everyone home. Lucky, lucky, lucky that no-one was hurt because it doesn't look like it from the photo but that crane is extraordinarily close to some windows (there must have been quite a few people wetting their pants from the view. Or maybe they were already halfway down the stairs at that point)

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 I will be extra careful today and not go outside and not tempt fate (also not turn on anything which is likely to kill me)

You are who you are

My cousin Matty looked at this photo today and said "Mush, this is awful. You look fifteen. It looks like one of those Japanese .... (trails off) magazines!"

I didn't ask him what magazines he was referring to but I am taking the fifteen year old thing on board as a compliment. Please everyone tell me that I look fifteen and I will do my best to accentuate with graphic tees and coloured converses.

Which leads me to..

I interviewed a lady the other day (and I cannot believe I'm calling her a lady, but that's what she is.) She is just a few months older than me and she is just so poised and unlikely to spill coffee down her white top or sit on yoghurt on the bus (you know, I don't think she even takes buses). She doesn't eat muffins, she always wears heels (without slouching) and standing near her I kind of feel like Pig Pen trailing after a very clean Linus. I've had two meetings with her and each time I've felt like there's a tumbleweed of garbage following me.

 

But you know here's what I figure (other than if I don't see her for a long, long time I'll be really relieved): I am who I am, I wear scuffed shoes. My hair will never be 100% neat, I'm goofy, I make really bad puns, I sing to myself in public and that's fine. Reaching towards the looming 3-0 is about fundamental accepting who I am and if that means I'm not a person who can wear a pristine white blazer then so be it!

Which brings me to..

My mouse broke at work the other day so I had to run to Kmart and buy myself a new one. My choices were the navy blue, silver and hot pink. I picked up the hot pink and made my way back to the office.

When I got back, my boss turned around and said "What did you get?"
I showed her the mouse, she laughed and said "That's so you! It's such a mush mouse!"

And so it is what it is and you are who you are.

Coffee is giving me a heart attack.

I was never the kind of person that had to have my morning cup of coffee, I have family members who say that if they don't get their dosage, they get headaches, they feel sick, the world comes off its axis when then go without. It just doesn't seem like a fun place to be.

Anyway I kicked my coffee habit a while ago, and this morning I was like 'why the hell not?' I had two back-to-back meetings- what could be wrong with two coffees in a row?

I met someone who said they used to have 15 coffees a day and now they're allergic to caffeine (True story. Maybe.)

That was at 11, and now it's four in the afternoon and I'm still struggling with heelarious heart palpitations.

So here we go, recorded for posterity. I. am. old. and drinking too much caffeine in one sitting is threatening to kill me.

If you don't hear from me in more than two months time, it's because my heart spazzed out and I'm playing the harp in the Holy Diner in the sky.

When you cry, you cry together

So I had had a long day and I was sitting outside on the ferry on my way home. It was a cloudy and overcast and I was pissy and feeling sorry for myself and I was tempted to bury my head in my hands and have a good weep.

That was when I noticed that sitting 2m away from me, there was a young guy imperceptibly crying, reading a text on his phone.

There was just two of us on this bench in the blasting wind, getting teary. It was like the ferry seating of doom.

What would you give your ex? Would you give him a liver?

Back again! (see? doing well)

I was going to write something about difficult it is to be friends with a republican. But then I shelved it in favour of this.



 So if your mouse doesn't work and you can't click the link, basically the story is of a Chinese lady who decided to donate a portion of her liver to her ailing ex-husband to save his life.

And because China only allows donation from spouses and blood relatives... they then had to get remarried.

Good for her. There are some really selfless people in the world who will gladly donate body parts to their exes.

But you know if I put my hands behind my head, leaned back on my chair and thought about it, I don't think I would.

 I think that if you're my ex and you've buggered off into the ether and then returned to ask me for my liver. I would briefly admire you for your sheer brazenness but I would still show you where the door is (it's over there!). Seriously, I don't think any of my exes deserve my liver.

On the other hand, you know if I came to a grisly end under a bus (erk) and my 'donations' could save someone, I don't really care where it goes, as long as a) you leave my eyes alone and b) it's not going to a notorious serial killer/paedophile/dictator. So exes, if you're reading this, you may help yourself when I'm dead.

Which brings me to..  doesn't the liver regenerate anyway? Or is that just a Greek myth?

So what would I give my exes (when I'm feeling kind and generous and not bitter)?
There are boundaries everywhere: I would offer them a chip if I was holding a packet of chips.
I would not shout for coffee.
If they were homeless, they would most certainly not be sleeping on my couch but I would gladly point them towards Airbnb.
I wouldn't lend any of them anymore books because frankly no-one ever returns them (and I pet hate it to death) and who knows if they would disappear into the ether again with my book??
 But then if they asked for money, I probably wouldn't begrudge them twenty bucks (hey big spender!)

So in summary: Boys of the past, you may ask me for chips, twenty dollars and directions and that would be about it.

Also if your ex-wife willingly donates you a liver, you might want to think about keeping her.

Another ten things post

I thought I would camho to show that I still exist and that my blog hasn't been taken over by the government and that I haven't been run over by a bus- although the photo shows no body so I could very well be a robot or a head on a stick.

I am not going to take a photo of my body so you will just have to take that leap of faith that me is still me.

It's 11:15 at night and waaaay past my bedtime (I am 29 going on 84) but my guilt is keeping me typing.

So very quickly ten thoughts of the last two weeks in no particular order.

- Watching the presidential election map on the NYT cover page was giving me major heartburn. Looking at that middle strip of red made me think that Romney was going to take out the crown. Thank God, he didn't. And when Obama's victory was announced, I had to stop and cry a little.

- I am too lazy to put on nail polish anymore

- There's a mythological Malaysian monster who separates at the neck and flies with her entrails behind her. That isn't scary per se but that is legitimately gross. And I would run simply because I wouldn't want her to flop me with her big intestine.

-Which reminds me. Cabin in the Woods is a great movie. I spent a lot of time afterwards counting monsters on my fingers. Good times.

- George Lucas doesn't look like a greedy guy but his actions sure make him seem that way.  I think you have enough money George.

-I had always thought that Brunei was located in the UAE. I was really wrong.  Why a sultan then? Aren't sultans specific to the Middle Eastern area? What am I missing?

-If you were one of those kids that tried to make money as a kid, chances are you have that entrepreneurial spirit as an adult. You can't really be a successful entrepreneur without one of those stories about you trying to sell off your baseball card collection for money.

-I am 700% more wary about female colleagues of partners than before. It was only just something that I noticed today - not jealous, just wary. The only way to solve that is to a) date a guy who works in a monastery or b) not date at all. It's seriously easier to lean towards the latter.

-Don't walk your dog in the eye of a hurricane even if he really needs to pee. Let him pee indoors if you have to. If you venture out with your partner (!) and your dog into the middle of a natural disaster then yes, an electrical cord is going to snap and set you on fire, leaving your dog an orphan in a puppy pound.

-Next year, I am going to try for Nanowrimo. I am aware that no amount of eye cream will ever make up for it.

Guilt abolished. See you all next week!

On marriage: a case study

So at least two of my friends have said to me in the last month "I can't look at my Facebook anymore because I can no longer bear to look at everyone getting married."
I am not sure if I'm surrounded by emotionally stunted adult-children or whether I'm selectively ignoring the wedding stuff but none of my close friends (all ten or so or them) are even close to getting married. Not even teetering on the precipice and we're all about to tip on over to the grand 3-0.

The not-so-close friends I have that are married, I'll be honest, are Chinese nationals. They have kids, they have station wagons and they have baggage coming out of the damn wazoo. I say this because I feel that most of them marry less for love but more because they feel that they *are* supposed to and this leads to more problems than it's worth.

I don't know how many times I've sat with one of them or the other and they've asked me if its time yet. Why the heck am i not married? I don't know how to explain to them that tripping to the altar is liable to lead to a broken neck. I just say impatiently "I don't know. I don't want to be" and then they look at me like I just poked myself in the eye on purpose. Borne of love and pity and complete cultural misunderstanding.

So in guessing that none of these friends read my blog. Here are two really fun examples of why you shouldn't get married too damn early (and how I couldn't stop the train from driving off the cliff)

Sailor: got married when she was 25 to her first boyfriend and has been bored out of her mind ever since. Except that she won't admit that she's bored, and because she's been bored, she's been having emotional affairs with other men. One, while she was pregnant with her kid and the other one just last year. She knows this is wrong but she has decided she won't leave her husband because he's a good man and he provides her with a sense of security.

So in this just past affair, she very blatantly hid the fact that she was married with a kid to this oblivious guy. I exasperatedly said "wth lady. What is the point of this? what do you think is going to happen once he discovers that you are married! And you have a little boy! Are you going to leave your husband?" and of course, the answer was no.

I get why she's bored. She's isolated out in the country and her husband is so staid that he won't try pasta (for dinner!) to try something new. But how many affairs can you have before hubby figures it out and then the train falls off the cliff creating a catastrophe? (Personally, I think she's being subconsciously self destructive but who the heck knows what's really going on in the human brain.)

Mooncake: is not the prettiest girl you've ever seen, so when she got pregnant, at a "marriageable"age to a guy she had been dating for six months. She took the offer, it was a readymade family and he decided to spirit her away to China after the baby was born.

Before she got pregnant, she had said to me that she wasn't even sure that he really loved her. Sound the alarm bells. Before she left, she mentioned she wasn't even sure she wanted to go.

Two years later, she's completely stuck and she doesn't want to be there anymore. She can't get divorced because the family will take the kid away from her (they have money and influence in their home town and custody battles are a cinch) and she's pregnant with another one- which she can't terminate because it's too late.

What can you do? What would you do? He doesn't beat her and he's perfectly nice to her most of the time, but she has really well and truly dug herself into a big hole.
So what is the moral of the story here folks besides a) just because people say you should get married doesn't mean you should and b) it's not just about pretty white dresses- it's a lifetime commitment that you have to seriously think about. It's sounds so stupid and basic and it never occurs to people until they wander into a shitty marriage without properly thinking about it and the ramifications.

(out of pure curiosity, I wonder how the kids of both marriages are going to turn out)

Bubble wrap, bumper stickers and golden retrievers.

If you ask me where I've been, I'm just going to say I was right here.

I have five different hats on this point and have had no time to dedicate to this blog. You may now commence scolding me on my disloyalty (are we in eight years in now? Jeebus.)

So I have my day job (my super awesome day job), I'm trying to put together a zine, I'm ever so slowly writing a novel, I'm still freelancing and I'm event managing for ND and so if you'd like to imagine how my apartment looks like right now- I don't think it's ever been this messy.

I am complaining and I'm not complaining. I love what I do- I love to write, I love to talk to people and there's been a plethora of cute boys coming by the office to shake my hand of late, but sometimes I want to just go home at 5 o clock, cook a roast chicken and watch back to back episodes of American Gothic/The Tudors/Freaks and Geeks.

And that means that my personal life is taking a backburner in more ways than one. About two months ago, my stepbrother and his partner flew in from Perth and we had all dinner together. They came again just recently and it was mentioned that I hadn't seen my mum the entire time. It was the running joke that they should visit more often so I can attend family dinners. It's not like me hey?

(I called my cousin Hexagirl just then and to multitask as I type this, it turns out that my great-uncle Jim just passed away. I don't think anybody was by his side and it occurs to me that the elders of my family are slowly slipping away. They worry that no-one will go to his funeral. How's that for an Ebenezer Scrooge type wake up call? I asked her what about his friends? won't they be at the funeral? And she said 'He was eighty. He probably had no friends left.' Which is probably true that no-one keeps a full social circle at that age)

My mum keeps telling me to call my dad. I think the whole Julia Gillard father thing has affected her more than she lets on.

--

I'm letting my friendships slide too, and for once I think I'm okay with it. Who knew. Speedy and ND always tell me that I'm good at making friends, that even if I moved overseas and was there by myself, I would have nothing to worry about. I'm bubbly (when I want to be) and I'm good at establishing connections and keeping them there. It made me think about the stability of my friendships over the years, they lapse when I let them lapse. Of course some of them will be there forever like Dylmah and MD, I don't have to talk to them every week but there they are.

I just received a box of makeup in the mail and it was parceled with absurdly large bubble wrap. Which of course made me think of Mexicana and when we took a roll of bubble wrap and ran over it with the car (which today remains one of my favourite memories of all time) and so I just sat there popping this stupid large bubble wrap missing her. How do you like that for morbid sentimentality? It's not as if she's dead or anything, she's just 800km away and I want to talk to her about boys, stupid tv and zombie cannibals.

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(excerpted from the Gloss. Love that site.)

Ashley: Also, do you just look at the world in terms of who you could be friends with and who you couldn’t?
Jennifer: Of course. Don’t you?

Ashley: I do not!

Jennifer: Frankly, I could probably be friends with anyone who was just really, really nice to me. Like, if Hitler came up to me and was all “Jennifer, I am such a big fan! I think you are so pretty and smart and nice. I bought you a goldfish. I like dogs.” I would probably say, “You know, Hitler, you and I disagree on some points, but I think I see the real you.”


Ashley: To everyone out there reading along in Gloss land, she is absolutely fucking serious.  I think that can be an admirable trait, though, because I have really high expectations of people and become absolutely crushed when they fail to meet them, whereas you’d be friends with someone forever if they found out your favorite cookie and baked a batch for you. And then, if that person killed your family and fucked your dog, you’d be really angry until… well, until they made those cookies again. It’s crazy! You’re like a golden retriever in this way.

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 ND and I went to Melbourne the other day (i.e I went home) and for the first time, I was not feeling it. I do not know why. If that's not home- then where the hell is it? Here's hoping it's just temporary diaspora.

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And then in an mmmbop you're not there. Signing out.

Away

Everything looks perfect from far away

They won't see us waving from such great heights

- Such Great Heights, Postal Service