Upgrading and Tattoos

The windscreen wipers of course!

Not that the government is getting rid of the old and slowly shrivelling ones and replacing them with sparkly new ones..but the fact that i've noticed that they're all upgrading their equipment. (with exception to the really old and shrivelled one)

My winscreen might actually get a bit cleaner when they pounce on my car for once. :)


Moving on!

I'm just cleaning my desk.. and if you saw my desk - Oh look, a dead cockroach (no, i'm not even kidding) Evidence.

Anyway, digressing, I found an envelope that i'd written a future (or now past.. or is it present?) post on. Let's see if I can decipher it...

Love, Tattoos and the Black Sheep (But Not Necessarily Told in That Order)

I was going to write this last night so i'm not really sure what the love part is all about but moving on... Looking at a friend of a friends recent tattoo got me thinking about them. Don't get me wriong, i'm not against the ink stains but sometimes youve just gotta wonder why.
This tattoo in particular was in giant old fashioned block writing with the word "MICHAEL" across said friend of friends shoulder blades.
Now, normally i'd be thinking "what the hell?" (who am I kidding, I did) until I remembered this 19 year old was indeed a father and using my super powerful elephant memory remembered that his son is called Michael.
So I guess that's cool...

I'm sure there should be rules about tattoos.
Here are some I prepared earlier:

1. No girlfriend and or wife names. Unless they're dead or you're too old and wrinkly to bother looking for another.

2. No birthdates, especially not yours. (I was going into the tattoo/ piercing parlour a couple years ago to get my ear pierced and there was this scrawny "tough" kid who was getting a huge tattoo of his birthday on his lower back.. In fact, a guy a used to work with got one too.. and he was under 18 and trying to get into clubs. Really smart, I know.) I mean... if you can't remember your own birth date, well.. it goes without saying really.

3. If you've had a near death experience and want to remember it, a tattoo is acceptable.

4. Do not get your wife and or girlfriend/child/mother/brother/mother-in-law etc etc's face tattooed on you. More than likely it will look 1000 times uglier than said person.. (unless it is your mother-in-law)


OH SNAP.

I'm A Freaky Sex Adict With A Nice Ass Who Slept With A Bag Of Weed Because I'm A Pimp And You're Jealous

ROAR.

I was going to go into a speil about this but then my computer was taking it's sweet arse time so I started writing what I was going post.. and looking over it, there's more coarse language than necessary and I just don't think I should let you, dear readers, ruin your eyes with my dirty words.


On a side note, the title was generously donated by a stupid facebook quiz. :)

Blog Sweet Blog

One of my greatest flaws in life is that I tell a terrible story. I think it's because I don't get enough time to actually think about what the hell is going to come out of my mouth. Unlike paper or this wonderful device where I can write, think about it, delete and correct. Which is excellent. Thank you paper/technology.

My friend recently got me into "How I Met Your Mother" Which is, infact, one of the greatest shows ever. But I was trying to tell him about an episode and being rather complicated I think I basically told him the whole episode. In the wrong order. Ruining the punch line at the start.
Go me.
And then.. half way through i'm thinking
"what the fuck are you doing? Shut up. SHUT UP."

But you see, it's kind of hard to do that mid way through an epic bout of verbal diarrhea. So like a trooper I powered on and eventually found my way back to reality, face to face with the pity "oh my god you suck" look from said friend.

*awkward pause*

Me: So anyway.. you should have probably just watched the episode..

K: Yeah...

I think I'll just stick to blogging.

Is it the Crack of Heaven or Fires of Hell?

I mean I knew there were lots of words for it.. But not this many.

www.vaginalady.com/words/words-all.htm

Sorry I'm computer illiterate and the link thingo mabobby won't work... I'm just making you less lazy okay?

Mmmm Socks

Turns out my toes are carnivores.. or.. cottonivores.. at least I think my socks are cotton.
Either way they are eating a holes in both my socks and it's a little bit distressing as they are my only black socks. For work, no less.

And my button is trying to escape off my pants.. It's convinced the thread to let go a little so now out of the 4 holes it could tied to it's down to two. But i'm watching...

If I Can't Post It Here, What Are My Options?

RANT – Creative Writing Class 22.07.08

I’m going to say it bluntly.
It’s like verbal constipation.
Or rather, writers constipation.
Seeing as it all comes out on paper first.
What makes writing great anyway?
Is it the use of big words, people get impressed by big words?
I think I’m just frustrated because the biggest word I know I can’t remember and I’m pretty sure I could only use it in psychology.
Psychoneuroanalytic, or something along the lines. Three words fused together.
I keep feeling like I need to write something brilliant, or that it’s already there waiting to come out but I think it’s got stage fright. Like if it came out maybe it’d change the way everything is right now.
It could be fun? Right? Imagine if this ever became notable. What a joke that would be. If they performed it it’d have to be with malice, rage, frustration, exaggeration.
Why not? But with that you have to wonder how long, how many questions can be asked and responded to with that stupid little three letter word. I dread the day my children learn it. Perhaps I’ll buy a parrot and teach it, it and then, when my children ask why, I’ll stick them in a room together.. and perhaps go clean the toilet to award my efforts.
But kids and that word are a digression from the issue and many years away.
Was there an issue to begin with?
I can’t remember.
Therefore, the point of this conversation/ monologue/ words is that…
Is that…
is that words are words are words are words. Anything can be great if you accept that it is.
However, I don’t accept that this is and it hasn’t cured my writer’s constipation.
Just to be blunt.

Black Is The New White (If My Cat Has His Way)

There's a problem with having three jobs where the uniform is all black.
Possibly because lurking around my house, is a huge white fluff ball that I sometimes affectinately like to call my cat.

Do you know how hard it is to get away from him? Even the de-linter can't handle such mammoth proportions of hair and I got to work looking like the abominable snowman.*

And if my uniforms were white and I had a black cat, i'd totally become a gansta.**










*Perhaps a slight exaggeration.
** I'd probably still be too white. Damn skin

hahaha My Life Is A Joke (Titled By Drunk)

ahhh excellent..

Typing in a drunken stupor.. or stuper.. or something like that.. I tell a tale of well.. confusing and hilariousness.

Dr Guru is right, my life could definately be a sit com.. or a movie.. or you know.. i could blog about it. So here I am.

Pretty sure I talked about this boy before.. and not really sure what happened tonight..

You know that super hot guy you thought you could never get? Well I got him
and a confession that he's a dickhead.. which I already knew but you know, tended to overlook in times of wall and body contact.

but I totally have the upper hand and it feels great.



UPDATE: this is embarrassing.. WHY do I write this shit?

Annonymous Love letters and TV Shows That Hit Home

I know the title leads you to believe i'm going to be talking about love letters first.. but i'm not. HA.

I'm pretty sure this is making me out to sound like I watch the telly a whole lot.. which is partly true, but due to working my arse off pretty much every day, aswell as playing hockey twice a week there's just not much time for that part of my life anymore..

It's probably for the best.

Today, one out of the three jobs I have, which I was working today, was cancelled (unfortunately, because it is the highest paying) so I used this rare occasion to my advantage and stayed in bed till an outragous 12pm. Then I got up, checked emails and migrated to the next comfy thing - the couch - and started watching Sex and the City.

Carrie (the main character) was dating this cool dude and she goes and meets the family and instantly likes them.. then they leave and go back to her place and lets just say he has a false start. Then she has lunch with his mum and then he was a bit too quick off the mark again that night.
ANYWAY all through the episode I was thinking "this reminds me of my ex". Not the bed problems mind you, but the family thing.
Yeah, I liked his parents better than him.
I'm a terrible person.

Which makes a nice segway to the next part of this post:

Annonymous love letters. I totally got me one in the mail a couple of days ago. Handwritten and scented (Yeah you read right, SCENTED! with really nice smelling aftershave, mind you..) Well apparently it's an "appreciation letter". And, apparently, according to this letter, i'm a wonderful, amazing person and I make this annonymous letter writer's life a little bit brighter whenever i'm in it.

WIN.

Middle Aged Women Need Love Too.

And to think that I, An 18 year old girl, was having trouble bagging a man. I didn't even realise there are middle age women out there struggling with the same problem.

A couple of days ago it was slow at the cafe and I just happened to eavesdrop on these two ladies having a conversation about their sex lives (or lack there of).
I'm pretty sure one of them was telling the other how she's still keen to have sex but she went away for a couple of weeks and the man that she thought was unavailable actually found a girlfriend when she got back.. and she doesn't want to do the long distance thing with some other man.
I was thinking to myself "Good god. they're talking about sex at their age!" Given they were only in their 60's but no one wants to hear that!... okay so it was my own fault.

Moving on..

I've been watching a lot of TV lately eg- Farmer Wants A Wife and just a general observation of adults in public and I realised they flirt like we do!
I was watching this woman dangle herself at this man and thinking "Do I do that?.. I think I do.. oh my gawd."
I'm actually embarrassed.

Note to self- change flirting habits.

What's In A Name?

Tonight my friends, I become a hypocrite.

I never really got how people who share the same name become couples.. I mean.. isn't that weird? In fact, I even know of another (boy) Alex having a (girl) Alex as his girlfriend and I gave him shit about it.

However, this is before I met Alex the cute boy at work (it must be an Alex thing). Sadly, I even started making up excuses as to why we COULD be together.. here are a couple (because I only got to two):

1) we could laugh about the fact that we have the same name?

2) Love conquers all.

Not that this has any kind of hold in reality but hey, a girl can dream can't she?

30 Days Hath September

I suprise myself at how daft I am sometimes. Here I am writing out my life in my book of Antics when suddenly i'm trying to figure out how the hell I missed two days of this month without even doing anything.

Turns out feburary only goes up to 28 days.

I Have My First Aid Certificate But Why Would I Use It?

as I devour this delecatble moresel of tenderloin from work tonight I bring an interesting afternoon to share.

I pretty much had my chance to shine and use all that money my mum spent in me learning first aid today but I didn't...


I was in the city buying new work shoes when I realised that it was almost 5 and my freak (wow I actually typed freak..) I mean friend, Keaghan was getting off work. (this is the one who says i'm a lesbian) Because he lives in an amazing share house (spa AND outdoor kitchen PLUS indoor kitchen), which is actually his good friends house and his parents have just gone traveling Australia for a year, Fran and I decided to intrude once a week, cook dinner and watch the new season of skins.
Realising I wouldn't be able to make it tonight, due to work, I offered him a lift home.

As we were walking to the car and discussing how much i'm missing out on this new incredibly lesbian filled episode of skins keaghan looks ahead and goes "Oh" I look up too and see that a car has just screeched to a halt and there's a woman faceplanted in the middle of the road entangled in her bike.


Me: Shit, do you think she's okay?

K: She's getting up

Me: mmm yeah..

K: Should we go help?

Me: nah she's alright, there's plenty of people helping.

K: You're the one with the first aid certificate. Aren't you like, obligated or something?

Me: No way, that's how you get sued.

K: You probably know more than them?

Me: Oh she's bleeding.. Nah.. they've got it under control. They should probably get her to sit down though..


I'm so helpful. BUT in my defence, there were at least 3 people helping her and they seemed to be getting her to sit down as we rounded the corner and they went out of sight... and I would have been late for work.

I'm a terrible person.

WTF Girls?

Yeah yeah, I know i'm a girl but seriously- what tha fuck?

So I got invited to my new friends (let's call him Tallboy as I still haven't figured out if I should put real names down.. this is realistic enough...) farewell last night and I met him through my other friend TheGunt (wow I should really encourage her to make a blog about all her boy escapades) anyway... I digress- so farewell right?
For future reference in this story TheGunt and Tallboy have a little history- not much, but some.
We hang out at his house and meet some of his mates and then we all decide to head out for a saturday night in civic. I wasn't going to go but then TequilaMonster, Tallboy's rediculoulsy drunk friend, ranted a little and TheGunt pulled a little peer pressure so I went along.
Tallboy ended up buying me a drink and TheGunt sat there looking mightily unimpressed. Anywhoo the night wore on and we headed to Transit. I ended up talking to Tallboy along the way while TheGunt hung back with Tallboys other friends. I followed TheGunt to the bar on arrival (although it's kinda hard to miss being the first thing on the right..) and asked her what was wrong. I get that pathetic "nothing" all girls love to use when it's obvious something's wrong and so I leave it. We go and dance a bit and then go back to the bar for another drink and this is kinda how the conversation goes (you may use this as a guide to stop any conversation dead in a second):

TheGunt: *orders drink and turns to me* "Do you mind not flirting with Tallboy?"

My mind: -Blank- wait.. what the? flirting?? OH MY GOD SHE'S JEALOUS OVER NOTHING.

Me: Sure...? Although we're just talking but yeah... okay?

My Mind: and not even in that "yeah we're just talking" lying kind of way people say when they're CLEARLY not "just" talking.

- End conversation-


Trying to pretend Awkard isn't standing next to us, I munch on the ice in my glass as TheGunt sculls her double shot vodka and lemonade until Tallboy comes and tells us to dance. Finding her confidence in alcohol and confrontation TheGunt does her sexy dance and I do my I-can't-dance-to-save-my-life-and-i'm-too-effing-sober dance. And then I notice Biggest-asshole-from-social-hockey is sitting with his mates real close like and the girl-i-just-met-at-work-and-not-really-sure-if-shes-friendly-yet is over by the pool tables. Feeling too sober to handle the situations I bail and go to my friend Francypant's house to grab my bike. Which, might I add, took us at least 15 minutes to squeeze into my relativley spacious volvo.