Friday, March 30, 2007
For the first time ever, I had forgotten to put my phone on silent before entering my Newswriting lecture last Thursday afternoon. And for the first time ever, my phone rang during my lecture. My ringtone, by the way, is the Pokemon theme song.
"I WANNA BE, THE VERY BEST, LIKE NO ONE EVER WAS," sang my phone earnestly while my lecturer was talking about news sources.
Horrified, I dove into my backpack. "ShutupshutupshutUP!" I hissed, mashing the keys. Phew, I managed to hung up. Using my lightening fast mobile phone skills, I attempted to quickly change the profile to silent. Alas, just before I could do this, it rang again!
"AAAGHH," I said, and proceeded to bolt from my chair out of the lecture. I had wisely chosen to sit down the front, so everyone in the lecture could have an optimum view of me running out to the strains of, "TO CATCH THEM IS MY REAL TEST, TO TRAIN THEM IS MY CAUSE..."
I answered the phone.
"Ellie! Wanna come to trivia night at the Guild Bar on Sunday night with me?"
"... I'm busy that night. AND I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF A LECTURE!"
Attempting to compose myself, I decided to sneak back into the lecture as quietely as possible. I opened the door slowly. CREEEAAAK. Wow thanks, way to reverberate across the lecture theatre there.
I tip toed down the stairs like a fairy would tip toe among mushrooms and things like that. However, my plan was foiled as I stacked it, flying forward and nearly falling down the stairs. "FUCK!" I squawked eloquently, hitching up my pants.
I had cleverly forgotten to put a belt on that morning and I had a feeling that half of the KJB120 students were receiving a pleasant view of the granny undies I'd worn that morning.
As that high quality adolescent magazine Girlfriend would say, "How embarrassment!"
I had an Amelie moment the other day. I was walking through Carindale shopping centre en route to work the other morning, when I saw someone bent over and fiddling around with the photo booth. Curiously, I looked down. At that moment, a man with amazing green eyes looked up at me. Amelie, meet Nino. "Mmmmarf!" I squeaked seductively and walked on, trying not to let him see me blush.
How many people are having orgasms right now?
I spent my shift's pay on a dress the other day.
Not only that, but said dress was from the portal of neon-lit, loud-head-throbbing "dance" music hell...
I don't think I've bought anything there since I was 13. And that thing was probably something sparkly so I could wear it to an underage Blue Light disco to impress 14 year old boys.
It's okay though guys. The dress shows neither gratuitous amounts of my cleavage or my bottom, so you don't have to worry about being confronted with such visual terrors if you see me next.
Despite me ranting to everybody for the last few weeks that being single is awesome and relationships are for chumps and chumpettes, I have a crush on someone. Bloody hell. One of these days I'm going to have to get my hormones removed.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
My friend Linda got hit on by two guys today. I teased her about it, of course, because this is the second story I’ve heard recently about men en masse vying for her affections.
“You stud,” I said.
She paused. “You know,” she said, “it’s always when I’m not looking or feeling my best. Today I was sleep deprived and stressed out from assignments. And I haven’t washed my hair for ages.”
Let’s look at case study two. My friend Aaron was having a jolly old stroll around the Queen St Mall just the other day. His self esteem was kicked up a few notches when he caught a few apparently cute girls checking him out. “You sure get all the ladies,” I teased.
“I know,” he said, “and I haven’t showered for the last three days either.”
Case study three: A man who wouldn’t look out of place as the lead singer of a band, with long scraggly hair, stubble and dirty jeans, almost always gets me swooning. I have absolutely no idea why.
I was also once chatted up on the bus (by a disgusting man I might add), on a day in which I had a remarkable blizzard of dandruff in my hair. Really, it was not me being paranoid, it was very obvious and in giant white flakes that sprinkled all over the black shirt I’d unwisely chosen to wear that morning. This did not stop the man on the bus from giving me his phone number, however.
What does this mean? It can only mean one thing, ladies and gentlemen, something that could benefit all of mankind and explain a lot of things.
UNWASHED = SEXY
Who knows why this phenomenon exists? Perhaps it is an ancient biological urge dating back to when we were Neanderthals and deodorant wasn’t invented yet. The human race got started somehow, right? Perhaps we are all too used to perfect, airbrushed, make-upped people, and dirtiness is like a secret, forbidden fetish. Perhaps BO is actually a pheromone.
What does this explain, you ask? It explains why some mind bogglingly disgusting people I know have gotten laid.
So, if you wish to attract a member of the opposite sex, do the following:
- Let them inhale your sweet, natural scent, by not showering.
- People like shiny things, and you know what’s really shiny? Greasy, unwashed hair.
- A lot of beauty advertisements tell us that looking natural is the way to go. You can’t get any more natural than unshaved armpit and leg hair.
- Let people know how much of a sexy, devilish night owl you are, by not sleeping and growing some sensuous bags under your eyes.
I hope this has been of some use to you. You’ll be shagging like wild monkeys* in no time!
* Eating each other’s nits optional.
Monday, March 19, 2007
I wish I could write something profound and witty about politics right about now but let's face it, Australian politics are absolutely ridiculous right now. The entire Brian Burke "drama" sounds like a particularly juvenile bitch fight.
John Howard: "Like, oh my god, you can't be friends with Brian Burke! He's such a fat skanky slut. How could you! LOL!"
Kevin Rudd: "Whatchoo talkin' about girlfriend?! We are like so totally over. I haven't seen that bitch since like, ever."
Ian Campbell: "I HAVE."
John Howard: "Oh my god you are like, SO out of here."
And if there's one thing I know well, it's juvenile bitch fights. Hell, I went to an all-girl's school for 12 years.
Ellie's Guide to the Bitchfight
In this guide, I will identify the people involved in bitchfights, and how to deal with them.
A not-so exotic creature, the bitchee is the one who inevitably starts the drama. Everybody ends up ganging up on the bitchee. She comes in two varieties - the totally innocent victim of a bunch of angry bitches, or a totaly idiot.
- The Boy Stealer
She will have done a social no-no that relates to boys. OH NO, NOT BOYS. Their opinions mean everything! This means "stealing your man" (because it's not like the guy has consciously chosen to feel her up instead of you or anything like that) or hitting on a dude you like or who you are going out with. But really, the possibilities are absolutely endless when it comes to boys. The bitchee in this situation can occasionally be a total idiot who brings it on themselves.
How to deal with The Boy Stealer:
First of all, be very sure that she actually IS trying to get into the pants of a certain dude. If she's saying very obvious things like, "Well, I guess I'll just STEAL YOUR BOYFRIEND", then you can be pretty sure she's going to do something lame (seriously, this has happened to me) . Sometimes these bitchees are quite innocent and can get the rap because they're touchy feely or affectionate people. This isn't a cause for concern really, unless the dude in question is getting a boner over it, but that's his fault, not the Boy Stealer's.
So she's cracking onto your dude? That's never right. Ever.
It is an unwritten law in the social code to make moves on a guy you like, a guy you're going out with, or an ex you're not over. It's wrong on so many levels. What to do with her? First, ask the dude in question what's going on between you two. If you trust him and he says, "nothing", then that's okay. As for the boy stealer, make it very clear and very obvious that the dude is YOURS. Not theirs. YOURS. And that their association with the guy is making you uncomfortable. If for some reason they're so dense that they don't get it or that they'd rather play grab ass with some guy than be considerate towards your feelings, then they're crappy people. Don't bother with them.
- The Loser
She's the loser that some patronising dimwit felt sorry for and let into your totally kool group. She's okay at first, but she starts getting to everybody. Her terrible jokes, bad haircut, the way she tries to join your conversations about stuff she clearly knows nothing about... yeah guys, this was me at one point. Huzzah!
How to deal with The Loser:
As I'm speaking from personal experience from the Loser's point of view... I really have no idea. And I'm embarrassed to say that I've been quite rude in the past to losers in other groups. I guess the best thing to do is be polite and try not to give off any sort of impression that you want to be close to her. She'll probably get the message and move on to other friends.
The bitch is quite a mysterious creature. She can come in many illogical, cruel, and manipulative forms and varieties.
- The Leader of the Gang
You've wronged her, you skank! And therefore, nobody deserves to be your friend ever. She'll complain to all your friends about you about what a horrible person you are. The incident in which you pissed her off so badly will be forgotten as your bad qualities and all the lame things you've EVER done will resurface. Bombarded with this overload of evil information, your friends and even perhaps people you don't really know that well will turn against you.
How to deal with the Leader of the Gang:
Seriously, if your very own friends are turning against you, then they're pretty crap friends. Unless you've done something really bad, then you probably deserve it. The best thing to do is LEAVE. You do not need to be around people like this. Do not try and defend or patch things up with the Leader, nor the gang. It will get extremely messy. Leave them alone so they can bitch about you, who cares. Besides, you can always make new friends. There's a lot of people in the world, you know.
- The Batshit Insane Nutbar
Why is she so angry? No one knows. Some ambiguous event will trigger off her psycho button and she'll burble ill-formed reasons at you at why you fail at life. You'll hear all of this either screamed down the phone or TYPED IN CAPS!!!!LOL!!! on msn. Oh noes. You'll either have no idea what the hell she's on about, or it will be glaringly obvious that her reasons for wanting to kill you are completely wrong. Most of the time, though, she's brought it on herself, but she'll act like a victim of your evil ways.
How to deal with the Batshit Insane Nutbar:
Haha, what a psycho. You don't need to give someone like this the time of day. You can give as many excuses and logical reasons as you like, but she'll make the argument go round in a circle. Usually this sort of person thinks that they're fantastic and right all the time, and will probably ignore everything you say. Probably because she's screaming too loud. Just don't bother. Laugh at her stupidity and leave.
- The Two Faced Wonder
I probably hate these type of bitches the most because they make me quite paranoid. They act very nice to you. In fact they'll dance with you, give you hugs, tell you that you're their bestest friend ever and generally be quite lovely. But sometimes you'll detect a tiny hint of sarcasm in her voice, or just something a bit off. Later, you find out that she actually hates your guts and has the entire time. She was just being nice to you because she felt sorry for you. Or didn't have the balls to end a friendship, either way.
How to deal with the Two Faced Wonder:
Eek, this is a tricky one. Most of the time you won't even suspect that you're dealing with someone like this. And when you do, it's a kick to the gut. The most humiliating thing ever. If you do suspect someone is like this, keep your distance. Don't get too close. If it gets very obvious that they're not feeling very cool towards you, just ask what's going on because they'll most probably answer.
I have no bleeding clue why girls are like this. This stuff can either end in a lot of laughs at whoever was the most psycho, or something more serious like getting your car vandalised (I know a lot of people this has happened to).
That's not to say I've ever dealt with bitchfights in the best way. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I've probably been all of those things above, both the bitchee and the bitch, at some point. I'm not the most mature of people at times, and I'm sure a lot of other people aren't as well. If you're ever in a bitchfight, just try to think through things the most mature and rational way you can. Because most of the time, you'll rise above it and realise that you've got better things to do than fight about boys.
Friday, March 16, 2007
I live in a suburb about an hour away from the city. Far enough to be classified as "The sticks" and technically not a part of Brisbane. What's it like? Think of every bad redneck, bogan, lower class Aussie stereotype ever. Yep, that just about sums it up.
I hate living here and I want to move out as soon as possible.
Whilst driving to the shopping centre this afternoon, I was cut off by a singlet-wearing hoon in a ute speckled with fraying surf brand stickers. I got out of the car to nearly be bowled over by a group of scooter-riding 13 year old boys, clearly intent on exhibiting their hardk0re factor by loitering in the carpark.
Intent on buying a sparkly hat for tonight's party, I waited in Crazy Clarks for 15 minutes before I got to talk to anybody. Why? Because the entire 5 person staff walked past and ignored me, to help ONE person on the till. Then they walked past me AGAIN and had a long, loud chat (peppered by the word "farkin") at the back of the store. I finally got some help, in the form of a boy who may or may not be slightly braindamaged, who pointed vaguely at a shelf and said "guhhh, uhh, i dont think we have any."
While waiting for some attention at Crazy Clark's, I watched a group of scantily clad teens yell obscenities at another group of scantily clad teens in a bombed out old car. None were wearing shoes.
I drove home to again be cut off by zillions of guys in what look to be very bad attempts at making a shit car look "fulli sik." Urge to flip out on a ninja rampage. Rising.
I have decided that I will never, ever go out with someone who lives here. Everybody looks like they've fallen into a tub of some variety of chemical. Or maybe it's the inbreeding.
I have never once seen an attractive male in this area. Actually I worked with one very good looking fellow in the local shopping centre, but he lived in St Lucia so that doesn't really count.
There are parties almost every night here. Which normally I'd be okay with, except for the fact that they mostly end with drag racing and people screaming at each other at 3am. That can't be good for the 16 year old mothers trying to get their kids to sleep. Oh wait, they'd probably be at the party.
I was on a bus with a bunch of try hard emos who were discussing excellent ways to self-mutilate themselves.
Ugh. Why do I live in the vicinity of these people? It sucks.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
There are far too many ideas to choose from.
Femininity could mean motherhood, nurturing, gentleness. That femininity, if it were embodied in an actual female, is a woman like a Pagan goddess of fertility or the Virgin Mary. She's your mum, the mum on TV who makes the best chicken roast in the world and laughs desparingly of the hijinks of her teenage sons. Not to mention has strange conversations with her daughters about tampons.
Femininity could also be busty, seductive and slutty. She's the girl you see stumbling around nightclubs in a too-short skirt and the too-blonde hair rubbing against a football player, waving her pink and very expensive mobile phone around (Hopefully, not like your mum). She has a myspace wHeRe sHe tYpEz LyK dIz.
It could mean lipstick, dresses and high heels. She's into things like getting roses on Valentine's day and dressing up to go to some fancy social occasion. In the 50's she would have been a housewife; nowadays, she'll probably be in uni and earn a respectable job somewhere. I guess a good majority of girls are like this.
There's nothing really wrong with any of those definitions of femininity (well, maybe with the slutty one. I wouldn't encourage anyone to be like that. Aids epidemic and all that).
However, today I took it upon myself to browse the shelves of Target. Suddenly, I got "Shoes" in my head. What the hell is shoes, you ask?
This very stupid music video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCF3ywukQYA
Anyway, I suddenly had a craving to buy a sexy pair of high heels. God knows why. Burst of estrogen, perhaps?
I tottered around for a bit in a particularly ugly pair of shiny black heels that, for some unknown reason, showed random bits of my toe. Unfortunately they were they only vaguely nice shoes in the whole place. My feet looked weird. I looked weird. I looked like a little kid going through their mum's wardrobe, and felt as uncomfortable as a butch girl trying to convince people that she wasn't a man.
"These shoes SUCK!" I exclaimed, throwing them back on the shelf after nearly dislocating my ankle.
I sighed with familiar relief as I put my ratty, grotty Chuck Taylors back on. What was I thinking anyway? I never wear high heels. I hate them. I threw them off halfway through my school formal.
I hated wearing a dress. I hated getting my makeup done. I picked off my nailpolish. I didn't give a toss at all at what everyone else was wearing.
And then I realised that I fail at femininity.
I hate children and you'd have to give me some pretty damn good reasons to pop some out. I feel more maternal over puppies than babies.
I am not busty. I tried on hot pants once but was instantly disturbed at the sight of my own thighs. "I FEEL NAKEY" I recall shrieking in horror. I'm painfully shy around most people, even more so if I fancy a male. Oh and I can spell.
I can count the very few reasons I'm feminine on my hand:
- I put on makeup to cover up the shininess of my face. I am like a freakin' beacon. And sometimes eyeliner because it makes me look older. You know, more so than 15 years old like everyone seems to think i am.
- I get a bit giggly over cute boys. But then again, so do gay men.
- I just bought a really sexy pair of stockings. With LACE.
- My nintendo DS is pink.
THAT IS ALL.
What does this prove? What is the significance of this blog post? The anwer is nothing. Go home. I'm tired and I dont know what I'm on about.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
I had the following thoughts while listening to it:
Andrew W.K thinks he's the Ramones. Not just Joey or Dee Dee, but ALL of them. The entire song consisted of three chords - two of which followed a natural progression, and one thrown in for fun I suppose. Classic Ramones. Except their guitar didn't sound like an over-distorted mess with too much reverb. Johnny's style was playing an unrelenting wave of chords that, when combined with the drums, gave the song a pleasing rhythm. And despite the fact that he played like that, there was still some subtlety to the whole thing. W.K's song is basically every instrument turned to 11 and never stopping, with very little regard to rhythm. I actually felt a migraine coming on after a while of listening to it.
Also, "party til you puke" was repeated thousands of times. What does that mean? What activities does the word "party" actually involve anyway? Judging from Andrew W.K's, video clips, jumping around with the cast of Jackass. So, jump around until you vomit? I imagine that is possible, if you eat a lot of food then jump around a lot. It would have the same effect as shaking up a Coke bottle. You could at least have the decency to pause partying and visit the lavatory. But no! Andrew W.K is suggesting you party until you puke, suggesting that you are partying and in the midst of your partying, you vomit. How disgusting! It will spray everywhere, and then everyone will be jumping/partying in it too. Yuck!
To sum up, Andrew W.K wishes he was the Ramones and has no regard for health and hygiene. Thankyou.
MEANWHILE, IN REAL LIFE...
Because I don't have anything better to do, and my black belt grading is coming up, I have been doing a gratuitous amount of taekwondo training.
In taekwondo, an important element is the 'ki-hap'. This, in short, means shouting while you execute a move. We do it to intimidate and scare the enemy and release energy. A lot of kids are scared to do it because they're embarrassed. I'm not anymore - our instructors encourage us to be loud, so I'm loud. I'm beginning to out-yell the boys, and even I'm getting a bit scared at how gutteral my scream is becoming.
Today, I found myself coughing a lot. "Oh bollocks," I thought, "I have some dehabilitating throat disease and now I'm going to get sick."
After taekwondo, and now that I've attempted to sing/shriek along to "Love Don't let me Go", I realised that I indeed don't have a disease. Rather, my throat is sore and I sound like a 50 ciggies a day smoker simply because I've been yelling too much.
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