| Saturday, April 30, 2005 |
| Ah, life is good sometimes |
I have new, clean linen on my bed (I only change my bed linen every 6 or 8 weeks. I know it's gross, I know. But trust me, ain't no-one doing anything in my bed but sleeping!) I have new, clean flannel jammies on (bright blue with surprised looking cats all over them) I have a grape-flavoured face mask I have pink champagne (Killawarra Dusk, strawberry-flavoured, yum) I have mini-croissants I have a rainy and windy night outside (I love rain. Love love love rain. Hate wind but don't mind it if I'm inside and warm) I have a trashy-looking scary book to read I'm set for the night! If only I had a gorgeous punky boy to worship me and give me a massage . . . *sigh* |
posted by Bug @ 11:04 pm  |
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| I'm so dumb. I should be put down |
So I went out last night (and went all black, like gothic and slightly evil looking - I looked wicked. Oh, but I had white earrings and white undies? Does that count?) and got silly and did silly things. But the silliest thing I did was actually WELL before I started drinking: Ok, Boo and I have this routine. We used to live together, back when we had money, and we went out with various combinations of our friends every single night. I don't know how I did it - I was earning $320 a week (I know. SLAVES get paid more than I did), paying $120 a week on power, rent and phone, and drinking the rest. I do NOT know how I lived. But anyway. We would drive to the pub in Boo's car every night and if we ended up having a bender, we'd just leave the car there, taxi home and take my car in to pick up the other one in the morning. All good? Understanding so far? Cool Alright, so I had this black and white 21st that started at 7.30, but I mean, it's a RULE that you don't turn up to a party until at least an hour in, right? And Boo was working till 11 so I couldn't muck around with her. So I drove around, went to visit my friend Arnie, had a (non-alcoholic, I'm a P-plater!) drink at my favourite pub with my favourite bartender (so cute, so so cute), and turned up at the party a bit after 8.30. I left my car under a street light in Salamanca Place so Boo and I could pick it up today, then went and had a drunken, silly, quite fun night (I'm just going to interrupt myself here to say that Boo is NOT my girlfriend. I know I talk about her all the time and I don't seem to do anything without her - although I do - but we're just mates. Was it Jay and Silent Bob who described themselves as "heterosexual life partners"? Yeah, that's us) ANYway, I was lounging around in bed this morning and Boo came in and we were gasbagging about last night when she sat BOLT upright and said "Oh my god, where did you park??". I told her where and she said "The market!!". Every Saturday, the whole of Salamanca is closed off and there's this enormous, kind of cool, market. And any car parked in Salamanca after 4am? TOWED!!! And I KNOW that! Arnie is a bouncer at a Salamanca club - I've seen the cars be towed! Oh god. So she rang the police (she's got the uniform fetish thing) and asked where the car would've been towed to and the cop on the phone (who was apparently flirting up a storm at his end, cos Boo was all silly and giggly at this end) said he'd find out and call back. The upshot was that the council doesn't impound towed cars from Salamanca - thank CHRIST - they just tow them around to another carpark not far from there and leave them. No charge. No worries! We chucked on the grossest clothes (don't EVEN ask) and she drove us in to the carpark. Where my car was NOT Gah Tried the next carpark over. No car GAH Boo told me then that the cop had said that if it wasn't in the carpark, it was quite possibly stolen. Oh gee THANKS! GAH GAH GAH She parked her car and we walked over to speak to someone at the council's information stall when what did we see? SITTING RIGHT WHERE I'D PARKED IT? Go on, guess. Two points if you get it right Yup, it hadn't been towed at all, there was just some takeaway food van blocking it into the space So it's all good! After AGONISING all morning over WHAT THE FUCK I was going to DO and HOW THE FUCK I was going to PAY for this (I have no real job, remember!) and WHEN THE FUCK was I going to get my car back, all I have to do is wait an hour and a half till the market closes and drive my baby home Actually, I'm going to go for a BIG drive because I CAN p.s. Oh, and in case you were wondering (and I know you were cos you SHOULD have been), Ethel the Frog were GNARLY. And Jeremy, the lead singer, makes my knees all wobbly, he's SO SEXY |
| posted by Bug @ 2:48 pm |
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| Friday, April 29, 2005 |
| It's a lovely day todaaaaaaay . . . |
actually it's not. It's a weird nothing kind of day. I woke up at 5am (when Attila the Puss wanted to be fed) and it was blowing a GALE and sort of windy raining. Then it stopped about 9am and the sun came out. Then it started raining again about midday. And then it was almost hot and wearing a long sleeved top while I was shopping was too much and I felt all sweaty and yuck. And now it's overcast and drizzly and windy again and just blah
BUT. It's a LOVELY day today because my best friend Adrian, who lives in a whole other state and who (whom?) I've not seen for months, is having his 21st tonight! I mean, granted, he's having it at Irish, which is so very much not my sort of pub (although I had a GRAND old time there a couple of weeks back) but I'm hanging out to see Age cos it's been so long and Ethel the Frog are playing and I LURVE Ethel the Frog. They're a cover band but they're GREAT and the lead singer is TOO SEXY to have a girlfriend (although he does. Shit)
Problem though: it's a black and white party. As in, I have to wear black and white. Now, I always wear black. ALWAYS. I even dabbled in the goth look a few (like 8) years back. I own shedloads of black clothes. Black make up? No worries. Black shoes? Check. Black nail polish? A very punky uh-huh. But white? No. Oh nooooo. One of the advantages of black is how well it hides dirt. And white DOES NOT. And I lounge everywhere. So the only white thingie I have is a black and white sweater that I love but kind of makes me look like I'm 'off for a spot of tennis'. Or maybe like a Russian sailor. Do I wear that? Do I just wear all black? Do I ring my sister even though she hates me and see if she has something white? Do I call Boo's sister and borrow her white accessories??
I'm no good at this sort of thing! I'm not a girly girl! I like football and scotch and cars and politics and my trackies and would rather bum around in my jammies than go shopping. I don't even OWN a skirt!
But not going is not an option. Did I mention I haven't seen Age for MONTHS? I mean look at him: How could anyone not love a face like that? |
| posted by Bug @ 5:06 pm |
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| Wednesday, April 27, 2005 |
| Aye aye aye! Mucho excitemento!! |
So I start work tonight! Well, actually, I start training for my new job tonight (and no, in case your mind's running on the same thought train as my mate Hangman's, I will NOT be working as a prostitute) and then actually working next week But work! Yay! I always thought it'd be SO COOL to win the lottery cos then I could be independently wealthy and spend all day at the beach or the pub or buying shoes or whatever, but having been off work now for A WHOLE FREAKING MONTH, I've discovered that I actually LIKE to be busy. Don't get me wrong, I've not had one single, solitary moment of regret or doubt about quitting my job - it was the right thing to do, I knew it then and I know it now. But I think I like working in general. At least I have the opportunity now to find a job I really like, rather than one I happen to be good at BUT. Work starting 17.30 hours tonight is data entry, which I happen to be good at but I'm such a nerd that I actually kind of enjoy data entry. It's methodical. I just tune out, sing along to something and type. It's all good So I'm still looking for a groovy job but at least this new thingie will give me some money to AFFORD to be looking! Ooh, and to pay off my credit card - yikes! |
| posted by Bug @ 1:09 pm |
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| Tuesday, April 26, 2005 |
| A tribute to Arnie, the best man in the WORLD |
. . . and no he's not my boyfriend. Or a relative. He's a really, really good friend whom I just ADORE. He's a bouncer and looks it, all tree trunk sized thighs and massive biceps and hugely tall and shaved head and dresses in black. You know the look
But Arnie's the best guy I've ever met (with the possible exception of my brother, who's a fucking cool kid, really)
I was out with Boo on Saturday night - duh, Bug, you WROTE about it! - and when the evening was winding down it went kind of pear-shaped (for a reason I'm not going into now, still feeling rocky about it - and no it wasn't because of PSYCHOTIC DONKEY CLIFF) and I had a leeeeetle bit of a meltdown. And I don't cry. Ever. Well I cry sometimes cos EVERYone cries sometimes but it's a really rare thing for me to do. Although I did cry at the finale of Dawson's Creek. But come on! Jen died!! ANYway, even though he was meant to be bouncing out the front of his club, Arnie came over to see me and gave me a monster hug (he DEFINITELY gives the best hugs ever. EVER) and let me sit in his (really comfy) car till I calmed down and called me 'tiger' and basically just looked after me and made me feel halfway worthy again
And I went to see him this afternoon and he wanted to know how I was feeling now and gave me a little shoulder squeeze and generally just disproved the whole thuggish bouncer thing (which I've seen him pull - scary with a capital SHIT!)
Best man alive, just fantabulous. If I was in love with him, that'd be gnarly. Unfortunately I'm not but I really, really, REALLY adore him
Just thought I'd say so |
| posted by Bug @ 11:49 pm |
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| Monday, April 25, 2005 |
| You know what I love? COLD WATER |
I must've drunk (drank? drinked? I can never work that out) about 3 litres of water yesterday. Now I know nutritionists and skinny cows alike will all tell me that I need to be drinking up to 4 litres of water a day but yeah, no. I really can't be bothered - I have other things to do! But yesterday? When all I could do without dying was lie on the couch and read or watch quiet TV (or even The X-Files, since I'm rediscovering my old teenage nerd self)? I was drinking SO MUCH cold water. It was fantastic. I love water I also love scotch, which is the main reason I NEEDED so much water yesterday. Blecch Oh I had a bender. I don't normally end up drunk cos I drink so much during the week (it's not unusual for me to have a bottle of wine after dinner while I'm watching a movie or reading before bed) that I'm kind of tolerant. But I MIXED all my drinks on Saturday. There was scotch (can guarantee that if I drink scotch I'll at least have a headache the next day but I can't stop; it's just yummy). There was tequila. There was Bacardi (my normal drink of choice). There was vodka. There was gin. There was even a Fruit Tingle shaker in there somewhere. Oh GOD I ended up drunk! And I'm normally pretty good about drinking lots of water as well but I only had a glass or two so I felt CROOK yesterday! Ugh, and I ended up kissing a YUCKY guy. We-ell, he wasn't TERRIBLY ugly but let's just say that in a normal state of mind (or sobriety) I'd not have gone there at ALL. You just can't really see what someone's face is REALLY like under a strobe light though! And then when we left the dance floor and I saw the actual face? He wouldn't LEAVE! He was like human velcro, his hand stuck to my thigh! GET YOUR HAND OFF MY THIGH, LIMPET BOY! But guess who came along? My sister's TERRIBLY gorgeous, insanely lovely ex-boyfriend Evan (I DON'T know why she broke up with him, I do NOT understand it. He is SERIOUSLY good-looking) who, good man that he is, instantly pretended to be my boyfriend so the LIMPET boy would FUCK OFF. Ugh. Blecch. Gross gross gross And I tripped over on the dance floor. I WAS wearing 4 inch wedgie heel thingies (they look like Barbie shoes, I love them) so it's not totally stupid but I felt like a goof God, I need a keeper! I should not be allowed out in public. Oh, and it was a club I would normally NEVER go to cos it's for 18-year-old-recently-legals but I actually had a really good time except for limpet boy Ooh, and Psychotic Cliff was there with his latest victim. GUESS WHAT??? He told his friends that I slept with him! For a start we only saw each other a few times so it's not like I'd automatically just shag him but I DIDN'T SHAG HIM!! And he ALSO told his friends that I kept ringing him and ringing him and I've NEVER rung him. HE IS A PSYCHO! AND I DIDN'T SLEEP WITH HIM!! Stupid donkey jerk, I hope he gets herpes or something Except for a couple of the idiot men, I had a good fun though |
| posted by Bug @ 5:11 pm |
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| Sunday, April 24, 2005 |
| I'm never drinking again (part 417) |
I would write about why but I'm too hungover to type and the computer screen's REALLY bright and hurting my eyes and the TV's on TOO LOUDLY in the background and oh GOD I need to lie down! I'm off to die now. Bye-bye |
| posted by Bug @ 4:16 pm |
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| Friday, April 22, 2005 |
| TRY to justify yourself, SOE |
You know, when he was a shit I TRIED to be affectionately disarming. When that didn't work and he was still a shit, I TRIED to be accommodating. When that didn't work and he was STILL a shit, I TRIED to be mature and distant. When THAT still didn't work and he was still being A COMPLETE SHIT, I TRIED to be strong and ignore-y Yeah, that didn't work for long. The SOE is too far under my skin for me to ignore him. He's like heroin. It's like I need a fix. I don't even LIKE the jerk, I just can't not have him around About six weeks ago he was in a car accident and I spent the four or five hours after I chanced to drive past it and see what had happened shaking and shivering. I'm guessing it was a reaction to the scary as arse fact that he might've been killed, and I don't believe in a god but if I had I would have been giving thanks as hard as I fucking could because the SOE was alive and even though I don't LIKE the bastard, I can't imagine a world that he's not in But tonight? After TRYing to be affectionately disarming and accommodating and mature and distant and strong and ignore-y, I caved in and asked him out for a drink. Not a DATE, just a drink to catch up, compare lives, chat - like we used to do every fortnight or so SHITHEAD DIDN'T EVEN REPLY. And text messages are FREE for the SOE So my question is this: if scientists are able to treat hundreds of horrible diseases and disorders and illnesses, WHY can they not find a cure for an IDIOTIC obsession over a complete PRAT? |
| posted by Bug @ 11:55 pm |
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| Wednesday, April 20, 2005 |
| Viva la bombshell |
Anyone who's ever met me knows how much I love Marilyn Monroe and the old movies and musicals, and so I was watching Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (possibly the best movie in the WORLD, ever) last night and I realised something:
You know how Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell are bombshells? Women with a capital W? I'm not like that! It's just not in my make-up! Sure I swing my hips when I walk (my Nanna always said I walked arrogantly) but that's more because I'm rushing everywhere. And I do have good posture (the only noticeable thing to have come out of my ballet classes - can't even SPELL the steps anymore, let alone do them!). But you know how that type of Woman just has men prostrating themselves at her feet so her shoes don't get wet? Yeah, not me. I'll chuck on some eyeliner and a bit of lip gloss but I can't be bothered with the whole package the way a Bombshell can
Clothes? Not really interested (I tend to dress mostly in black, at least that way there's no chance I can clash)
Fashion magazines? Nope (although I LURVE a couple of the trashy Hollywood gossip ones) Hairdos? Hardly! (I may love my straightener, it means it takes me ten minutes to have normal hair - doesn't mean I have fancy hair) And I DO flirt. A lot. Constantly, really. Although I'm going to defend myself by saying that I don't always mean to - I'm just kind of touchy-feely and most of my friends are guys anyway so . . . but yes. I flirt. But I don't do it as well as Jane and Marilyn do! They had lovely men offering them diamonds and marriage and whatever. I get offered one-night-stands a lot
Blah
So how do I become a bombshell? If anyone wants to give me lessons, tips, pointers, I'm HAPPY to take them |
| posted by Bug @ 12:29 am |
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| Monday, April 18, 2005 |
| Just to prove my age . . . |
I am in serious, deepest lust. I'm crushing in a terrible way. None of the boys in my city (and oh, they are ALL boys, not men. Never men) even come CLOSE to him for general ZING
ZING is that most important of gifts. You cannot fake ZING. You are born with ZING, you cannot learn it. ZING (and it's usually only guys who have ZING, at least in my experience) makes girls weak at the knees, makes them make allowances they never would for anyone unzingy, makes them bat their eyelashes, makes them shiver when the ZING comes near
And Benji Madden has it. Oh boy does he ZING me! For the last ten years I've fancied clean-cut, blond-haired, blue-eyed PREPPY sort of guys. And then there's Benji. He's a punk rocker, he has full-sleeve tattoos, shedloads of piercings, ever-weirder hairdos, a husky voice and I ADORE HIM. I PINE FOR HIM! 
Oh the hotness |
| posted by Bug @ 8:58 pm |
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| A big shout out to Tom in the pink wife-beater! |
You know it takes a VERY secure man, especially a straight one, to open a club in my city where not only are the patrons predominantly HIGHLY camp and OBVIOUSLY gay but to make his own personal uniform a pink wife-beater with a flamingo embroidered on it. You've got to love it. And you really have to love a little cramped club with pink crushed velvet curtains, suede couches and UV lights that make my tonic water glow blue. Snaps to Tom - you've done well, mate!
Ok, so I got dumped yesterday. Shocker. Turns out that instead of being a nice (if slightly fried) blue collar builder slash DJ with a gorgeous face and a surprisingly low sex drive, Cliff was a PSYCHOTIC COWARD who did NOT tell me he had a kid and for NO REASON - no seriously, no reason at ALL. I'm not oblivious, I know when I've been over the top. And I was NOT with Cliff - decided that he would suddenly stop replying to any text messages (which was fine with me, I deleted his number and wrote him off as a dickhead) and then, when I ran into him in a club last night, actually left the club AND his friends (who like me! What the fuck is HIS problem??) and go home RATHER than talk to me. I wasn't GOING to talk to you, you WANKER!
I hate men. I loathe men. I loathe and ABHOR men. I despise them. Oh, but yeah, actually I don't. I really like them. And even after prats like the heathen Cliff and the SOE and bisexual personality-changing Mike (who's actually lovely now but was a rat bastard at the time), scary stalker Ryan and rich boy Vincent, I still end up NOT instantly distrusting any new guy when I meet him
What's UP with that? Where's your self-preservation, Bug? I mean, they might be good for kissing (OH kissing is fun) and hugging and making fun of and watching scary movies with and giving massages, but besides that, why bother? Why not just get a cat, a tub of mango ice cream and a personal account at adultshop.com?
Know why? Cos they're cute :( Fucking hate men. Or wish I did!
p.s. SNAPS to Jeremy and the red contacts. If you were hot behind an accoustic guitar, you're positively lethal slamming around with an electric guitar. I pine. I perish. I pant |
| posted by Bug @ 12:29 am |
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| Friday, April 15, 2005 |
| When did Elton John become my muse? |
I don't even particularly like Elton John. We-ell, his music anyway. I actually have a bit of a weakness for terribly camp men. I always want to make friends with them and have them give me a makeover and go 'nipping' around London in a black cab and drink lurid cocktails while they tell me equally lurid stories about the hot young thing they picked up the night before. You know?
But anyway. His music never floated my boat. But tonight I'm dedicating this post to 'Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word'
I had a bit of a whinge and a ponder a couple of days ago about a certain person I was avoiding. We'll call him the SOE (Sort-Of Ex). He was cruel, I (from his perspective, I'm sure) overreacted, we're not longer speaking/friends. And it's weird. It FEELS so weird. For better or worse (and it was mostly worse, honestly - the boy LITERALLY fooled around with - or tried to - every single one of my female friends AND my sister. Seriously. All of them), he's been a constant, important part of my life for close to four years
And now he's not there. When I have some completely random musing on the day, I can't message it to him. When I feel like company for a drink after work (when I worked), I can't ask him to meet me. When something momentous happens like me finally quitting my job or being shafted by yet another cruel but pretty playboy, I can't tell him about it. I don't know what he's doing, who he's with right now, what's going on with him. I'm USED to him being around! For almost FOUR YEARS he's been a sort of bouncing board for me and I adored that even though we'd had our problems - fucking major ones, really - we still had that friendship
But not once in those four-ish years has the SOE ever once, EVER even a smidgen, acknowledged the way he's treated me. It's not like him just coming up to me and saying he's sorry would fix the problems we have, cos I think at this point they're fairly insurmountable. But at least I'd know that I wasn't just an ego-boost or a booty call or a convenience, all for lack of a better word
Sad thing is, I think that that's really all I've ever been to him. I've been a constant to him and he's been a constant for me, and now that's been dissolved. I just don't think it matters to him at all
Fucking matters to me though |
| posted by Bug @ 10:27 pm |
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| Thursday, April 14, 2005 |
| Well, there's a first time for everything! |
Ok, so you need to know something about me: I have a long and complicated driving history For a start, while all my friends have full, unrestricted licences (and therefore can drink - a little - and drive, damn it!), I am only 6 months into my provisional licence. I am a P-PLATER!! And that should really give me the irrits because my sister's friends are P-platers and they're 17! But no, I'm really, really, REALLY happy to have my P-plates cos it took me 3 and a half GODDAMN YEARS to GET THEM! I didn't get my learner licence when I turned 16 like everyone expected me to, mostly BECAUSE everyone expected me to - if you ever meet me, keep that in mind: push me to do something and I'll do the exact bloody opposite, most likely. But anyway. I only got my Ls when I was 18 because I needed ID. And I stayed on my Ls until October last year (read: WELL into being 21). Not through lack of trying though! In the first year of my being licenced I went for my test twice and failed twice. Bastards Then the rules were changed and I had to log 50 hours with a licenced driver before I could even re-test! Did that (after a year or 2!) Went for a test again in August. Failed Went for another test in September. Failed Went for my fifth, final fucking test in October and PASSED, GODDAMN IT! I KISSED my tester when he said I was through! Thank GOD! At LAST! The thing is, I'm actually a good driver - I don't speed (I tend to go AT the speed limit and I REALLY hate slow-pokes who drive at, say, 60km on the highway), I always indicate, I brake for pedestrians, I slow down in the rain. You know? I'm ok! I'm safe on the road! In the 4 years I've been driving (cos even with my Ls I drove a LOT) I've never been pulled over for ANYTHING besides random breath tests and the like. I drive legally. No speeding tickets, no fines, no points lost, I've never crashed (not really, anyway). Nothing UNTIL TODAY I was on my way to a friend's house this afternoon and noticed a policeman with a speed camera waving me over. I checked and I was doing 60 and it was a 60 zone so all good. I pulled into the street and had another - quite handsome - policeman come over and tell me it was a school zone (as in 40kms between 2.30-4) and it was 2.40. Bugger shit damn. But being the LOVELIEST policeman in the WHOLE WORLD he only gave me a caution. He even wrote on the ticket that I was going 6kms slower than I actually had been so that no-one could possibly contest it. Lovely man, just LOVELY I had been planning to drive my entire life without getting a single ticket EVER but I suppose that's gone. Although I can still say I've had NO fines, NO points lost. HA HA HA! (God, there's just something about policeman that make me nervous and shaky and start to rabbit on about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Witness this ENTIRE entry. Sorry!) Gah! |
| posted by Bug @ 4:44 pm |
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| Wednesday, April 13, 2005 |
| I realised something scary today |
My cat? Attila the Puss? He does more with his day than I do. I mean, he can't go for a drive or hang out laundry or try new make-up (although sometimes, watching him watching me, I think he quite fancies my black eyeshadow. And there was The Nail Polish Incident. Oh I laughed), but for a start, he gets up at LEAST three hours before I do. He only eats three times a day (though he'd eat constantly if he had the choice, I'm sure of it) AND he exercises it off IMMEDIATELY by doing laps of the underside of my bed - must interrupt myself to describe, cos OH it's funny! Attila will lie under my ensemble base, hook his claws into the lining thingie and whip around the entire queen-sized frame in about three seconds, dragging himself along on his back. He does this about four times in a row, probably twice a night; he's like a little furry P-plater trying to drag an imaginary VL Commodore - before he gives me a quick, suffocating cuddle (across my neck, as you do) and races out of the room to fight those terribly vicious predators, the $1 from the pet shop fluffy catnip toy mice Whereas I get up at the crack of 11am, make breakfast (lunch? brunch?) then sit on the computer for an hour or four. After that I might go for a leeeeeetle drive, and I'll probably talk to Boo for a while, and there'll almost certainly be some reading but besides that? Nada. I'm rarely getting to the gym (although I'm eating like a beatch at the moment!), even though I'm still paying membership fees. And I've had a couple of interviews but I REALLY need to pull my finger out and seriously think about a new job because I'm RUNNING OUT OF MONEY, and that's NEVER a good thing. Especially when I just found a great wad of new shoes I want! Motivate me! Someone, anyone, get me motivated! p.s. Oh, forgot to say, I did the WEIRDEST thing today! I pulled my car door shut by the outside frame and ended up jamming my hand in the door. Not that weird, I hear you say? Want to bet?? I had managed to SHUT the door, completely, with my hand still stuck between the door and the car. How does that happen?? I felt like Elastigirl from The Incredibles!! To anyone driving past, there'd have just been a normal-looking car with a CLOSED DOOR but with four FINGERS hanging out of it - !!! Much weirdness |
| posted by Bug @ 6:40 pm |
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| Tuesday, April 12, 2005 |
| I know it's not healthy . . . |
. . . but you know how the Australian man's preferred dinner (if there isn't a barbecue handy) is hot pizza and cold beer? I just had what I'm declaring the Australian woman's breakfast: cold pizza and slightly warm bubbly. Delight! But before you get grossed out because the wine was warm, it's not like it was boiling! It was just not fridgey-cold. Oh, but it was grand. I've been drinking shedloads of Killawarra for the last 18 months and this was the Killawarra Dusk - it smells exactly like someone's stomped on a great stack of strawberries, yummo! To further pretend that I have a never-ending source of income and that I have no cares in the world, I'm off to lounge around in hot baths for a couple of hours, then I'm going shopping - *sigh* I don't WANT to go back to work! Jealous? |
| posted by Bug @ 11:26 am |
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| Sunday, April 10, 2005 |
| Oh, and Mr Lottery Man? |
You BASTARD! Why did I not win? WHY?? I could have USED a holiday in the Greek Islands! *sob* Fine then, be mean |
| posted by Bug @ 11:03 pm |
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| Stupid mean arsey bastards |
Why are they so prevalent? Why?? And why oh God WHY can I not resist them? They're MEAN. They're ARSEY. They're BASTARDS (to be fair, they're rarely stupid but STILL!) Ok, imagine you're a girl. Who's more likely to be described as curvy than svelte - I would just like to interrupt myself here to say that no, I'm NOT calling myself fat, I don't think I AM fat, I just have hips and boobs and a bum (which gets more and more comfy to sit on the more weight I put on so I don't CARE) - and who has a family where looks are not only important, they're commented on. A lot. At the dinner table. At Christmas. WHILE you're eating your third helping of potato bake. Which is why I no longer have second or third (or fourth) helpings Ok, imagining that? Got it? Now, would you not be reasonably sensitive to criticism about your looks? So ok, now you're in the girly mind frame, imagine the 'man' (ha! BOY!) you've been mad on for almost four years (and who's a cheating, slutty bastard - but cute. Oh, SO cute) tells you, pretty much out of the blue, that you need to do 'some ab work'. What do you do??? Do you laugh it off? Smile indulgently and change the topic like you have forty times before? Or do you decide that enough's enough and that you're not taking it anymore and that you're cutting off contact for good like you should've done three years ago? And then when he's on MSN Messenger writing to you and you're not replying and he's saying things like 'lol and u reckon I was an ass', do you reply with something suitably scathing or do you take the mature road and ignore him still? Especially when despite your resolve you really WANT to talk to him cos it's a HABIT now, by God! HELP! I need advice! And possibly some more wine. Ooh wait? I have some? Oh gnarly . . . ! |
| posted by Bug @ 10:52 pm |
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| Saturday, April 09, 2005 |
| Not long to go . . . |
. . . until I win $19 million! Oh yes! I have my ticket. I will win. I will WIN! And then I can pay off my credit card *sigh* I'm not even interested in buying a small tropical island or a bright purple plane or my own personal movie theatre - I just want that bastard VISA card cut up :) |
| posted by Bug @ 11:59 am |
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| Friday, April 08, 2005 |
| Alcohol is goooood! |
Find me a greater relief than a couple (read: ten) drinks on a Fridya night, and I will give you a million dollars. No, seriously. I'm not even WORKING and I'm getting to the end of the week and hanging out for my drinking buddy Boo to hurry up and be my designated driver so I can PISS IT UP! Alcoholic? No chance. Just REALLY loving that sort of numbish vibe you get from drinking! Bacardi people? Anywhere? Make me your spokesperson! I'm dropping your name EVERYwhere! I'm keeping you in business, babes!
p.s. For those too old to remember, Fridya is from "Sabrina the Teenage Witch". I know, it was poxy. But wasn't it FUN??
p.p.s. I KNOW it's early to be home on a Fridya night but Boo has to work at 7am, and good wench that she is she came out drinking with my anyway, and I have a bottle of pink bubbly at home so it's all good. Kisses Boo-boo, have fun with the footy boys |
| posted by Bug @ 11:28 pm |
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| Thursday, April 07, 2005 |
| Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck |
Nope, didn't get it. So, still unemployed. I'm going to end up doing temp work, aren't I? Oh Lordy |
| posted by Bug @ 3:46 pm |
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| Gah! I loathe interviews! |
You know, it doesn't matter how many times you go to them, interviews are always going to suck arse, aren't they? I'm guessing that in my whole working (or trying to work) life I've probably been for 100 interviews, give or take. And that's not an exaggeration. I've had every comment, ranging from "your application was unsuccessful at this time" (what, it'll be successful tomorrow?) to "we'd love to have you but you're over-qualified". Blecch. Doesn't matter what they say. Doesn't matter if I've been GIVEN the job, I hate the things. Probably the best interview ever was the one where they tried to convince ME to take the job, rather than me selling myself. That was a bit of an ego boost. But generally? Yuck, no. Lottery's for $19 million this Saturday - oh come to me, sweet independent wealth, come to Bug! Interview today? Not bad. But I still don't want the job. Now, who can I bribe at the Lotto office . . . ? |
| posted by Bug @ 3:23 pm |
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| Wednesday, April 06, 2005 |
| Oh to be a lottery winner! |
Ok, so I'm maybe, possibly, potentially, hopefully starting a new job on Monday. And I really don't feel like it. In the two weeks since I ignored the fact that I have a car to pay off, a credit card, a phone contract, blah blah blah, and QUIT MY JOB, I've become REALLY used to sleeping till 11am, lounging around the house in my jammies, playing on eBay for a few hours, maybe doing some shopping and drinking as much as I want whatever time of the day I want. Probably not the kind of work ethic they want in a call centre, huh? Bugger |
| posted by Bug @ 5:13 pm |
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