Morning!

I'm sitting here munching on my cream cheese and barbeque flavored potato chip sandwich before I have to chuck my riding boots on and head out the door. I had a bad ride yesterday followed by a grown up decision to not drink and drive myself home so I could be in bed at a reasonable hour, which kind of died in the arse when I found Chef had been trying to order hidden camera's to spy on my through the DVD - apparently he seems to think a) I'm so stupid I wouldn't see all the porn he watched whilst I was gone for 2 hours at my cousins house, and b) that I am having sex with people on our couch instead of trialing for a job. So I'm kind of not totally pumped for my job interview like I thought I would be.

I'm running late! I'll be back with news re: the job later!

P.S This is one of those moments where there's an awkward silence and no one knows what to say, right?

Last night.

I'm trying not to crack under peer pressure (or at least the one comment where Kat mentioned I hadn't explained why last evening was so funny). Last evening's antics weren't something that would be particularly blog-friendly (that might be a hint to Kat that no, perhaps I WASN'T a very good girl last night...) and perhaps may only be funny to myself and Sarah. Still, I'll mention the more tame parts...

As our server led us to our table at TGI's, she asked if we'd been watching a movie, as the restaurant is in the cinema complex. I said no, we'd just been doing a spot of retail therapy, as I was still under the impression boys sucked, and I need a new sport, like trying on 47 dresses in 3 hours and disliking all of them. She immediately said "ugh, I had boy trouble ALL last week" and took our order for delicious carbs and saturated fat cunningly disguised as Potato Twisters.

After she left, another girl popped up to take our drink orders, and - I'm unsure how - ended up sitting down with us giving us suggestions for the place we like to call Vag Valley - where only women roam free, unfettered by men and their silly ways - and where only a single Spanish butler exists, simply to tell us our slender our ankles look and to casually mention our beauty as he passes us another margarita. Men would be shipped in every 6 months for a 'service', and conveniently leave again after 24 hours. We would live happily in our village of Danoz direct (so we could get our jars open) and a lifetime membership at Sexyland (so we could get our...nevermind). We would each have a horse - and as many pets as we wanted without anyone questioning our authority on just how many puppies are too many puppies - and have unlimited access to Cadbury, which would clearly be re-invented so it contained no calories. There would be no dirty socks laying around. No half-arsed attempts at finishing the kitchen cabinets. All would be...

I'm losing my point. As she put forth her own suggestions - after clearly thinking we were insane for all of 3.2 seconds before realizing what a totally fabulous idea it really is - she dropped the startling bombshell that there was Happy Hour between 9pm and 11pm. Well, after she poured a nice little Smirnoff shot into my soft-drink at the very table, she told me it was cheaper - i.e HALF PRICE - to order drinks from the bar. Sarah was driving home; I naturally needed no further encouragement, and soon had 4 Long Island Iced Tea's lined up before me. Ahhh. I know it cuts into my 'not drinking ever again' theory after last Saturday, but heck, it was cheap, the barman was vaguely attractive, and I was in an awesome mood (unlike last Saturday...).

If Sarah and I were giggly before, this soon upped the ante. The table behind us soon vacated, and each time the male waiter - who clearly thought he was God's gift to women, but was sporting some sort of disturbing 1970's porn star facial fuzz - scuttled past, it seemed to be at an inopportune moment whilst I was saying something rude. I think he may have thought we were lesbians. We just about covered every topic of hilarity - which was mostly NSFW- last night. Or so it seemed at the time. We laughed until our faces ached, and our bellies joined in, too. And here endeth the bits I can share with the world.

See? I mentioned it would only be amusing to me.

Chicken - if you're reading this - Ahoy Sailor! or whatever the Army equivalent is.

TGI's & retail therapy.

I just had the funnest night ever. Ever.
But I do worry how I end up in these situations at times.
I'm fairly sure Sarah and I intimidated - and pissed off - most of the staff at TGI's, but boy, did we have a blast.

What do we think...

Of the new blog prettyness?

Anyone...?

The new man in my life.

His name is Izzy, he's off the race track and he's gorgeous. He's also mine to cuddle and canter anytime I want.

...And! I start my trial at the stables Sunday morning!

I have a rather sore...

everything. After breakfast at Boys with all 9 of us yesterday, I was raring to go for a ride - and ride I did! I booked in for a private, 3 hour ride through the bush, and although sadly Captain had cast a shoe just before I arrived, I had a lovely time with Diesel (who was just a little bit small for my liking at 15.2hh, but still enough of a handful to really make me feel alive). We tore it up through the scrub, and had fun shying at kangaroo's/trees/anything that moved - and found out two completely and utterly wonderfully amazing things. Firstly...the girl I was riding with, Zoe, offered me the use of her horse - dapple grey, 16.2hh, just off the track and needs some work any time I like. Any time I like! I told her she wouldn't be able to get rid of me. I'm awaiting a reply for what time I can take him down the beach today. I am so damn excited! (and my pockets are heaving a sigh of relief at not having to pay to ride someone else's horse...).

Secondly...she said I should try for a job at the trail riding place - so I did, and I'm starting a trial there! Which would mean I'd be spending my summer riding horses through the surf all day...and getting paid for it. Am I seeing something wrong with this picture?

No. No I am not.

Sweetness...

was the gift to me!

I just opened the door to find a large Express Post box awaiting me (I'd wondered why the dogs were barking insanely at the door whilst I was in the shower, and presumed there was an ax-wielding maniac in the house. This was a much nicer surprise).
It was addressed to me, from a lady called Corinne. Corinne? I don't know any Corinne's.
As I tore open the packaging thinking all sorts of thoughts about Anthrax and wondering who I'd pissed off lately, I was curious as to who it might be from - and then I saw the gorgeous card from Chicken, which held my attention for about 3 seconds before I realized there was a box of my favorite truffles next to it. The Mango & Raspberry are first on my hit list.
Now I feel like massive cow for being abusing Chicken when he stood me up.

(And even more of a bitch when I considered calling the Chocolate Box to tell whoever wrote the card 'truly' doesn't have an e in it).

Alright. All is forgiven Hen.
I'm such a pushover.

On a side note...I wonder if this Corinne had all sorts of interesting thoughts as to why Chicken was 'truly sorry' - rampant affair with the pool boy, maybe?

Sometimes I fell like my only friend...

...is the city I live in.

So.

I got stood up.

*swears profusely*

After 75 minutes aboard the train wondering why my fellow passengers have such an aversion to soap, and a further 25 spent waiting at the station with a meeting of Crack Whores Anonymous (who clearly, weren't so anon.), I was just about ready to call Chicken to tell him I was wasting valuable shopping time and he could meet me in Myer, when he TEXTED me to say he would be unable to attend. Riiiiight.

Let's just say he copped a rather offensive text in return. And another, telling him he owed me a pony.

Just as I was about to stomp my way to the nearest Starbucks (which happens to be my favorite Starbucks, what are the chances?) I received a call from my father. This was strange for two reasons: One - we'd talked in the past few weeks and thus he knew I was still alive and/or not pregnant with twins and living co-dependently with a crack habit and a pimp and Two: I usually call him first, thus making him call me back and saving my phone bill. Bizarre.

But not as weird as what was to follow. He called to tell me he needed to go to hospital to have what is presumed to be bowel cancer checked. More strangely - he asked me to drive him to and from his surgery. I can, quite honestly say, this is the first time my father has asked me for anything (except for maybe all that money back that I owe him).

I said yes, then chose not to dwell on it, for fear of actually comprehending what that might mean. And that would lead to a whole lot of heavy - and probably contradictory - emotions flitting about my skull. So I skulked on to my coffee shop in an attempt to lighten my mood - and, just like all other times, Starbucks did not fail me...

Me: Yes. Hello. I would like a Venti extra dry ginerbread latte with caramel in a holiday cup, please.
Server: Sure! Would you like whipped cream with that?
Me: Absofuckinglutely. I just got stood up. Pile that shit on.
Server: Bastard!
Raging queen barista: (pretending he's a black woman) Mmmhmm girlfriend!
Server: Aw honey, better now than when you're at the altar.
Me: Oh! No. It's not like tha....
Server: No, it never is, because they just can't commit. (Yells my order to the barista). Now honey - never mind the whip - do you want some whiskey with that?

And when my bucket of coffee wore off, and my caffeine hit fizzled, I wandered around my city wallowing in self pity, for reasons I couldn't quite put my finger on. I felt so extremely alone - and that was fine, I would have appreciated some company, but I'm a big girl now; I wasn't scared, or upset that it was just me. It was just realized I was so lonely - sure, I could text Sarah and joke about my coffee experience, or send mock-abusive ones to Chicken for standing me up, but when it came down to it - there was no one there to share what I'm thinking about my Dad, to know that every time I saw a man in a suit my heart gave an involuntary jolt thinking it was Him, or to stand and watch the heavy mist descend upon the city and realize my amazing city's weather was matching my heart.

Lost Girl lives on.

Is my posture always this bad?!

I'm meeting up with my good old pal Chicken tonight. Although we had the chance to catch up whilst we attended the horse races a few weekends back, I was a little pre-occupied trying to not snap my ankle in my heels, and he had to rush back to his Army base pretty early. So tonight I'm taking him to one of my all-time favorite places, World Bar - it's also home to some awfully-hard-to-think-about memories of Alex & I having dinner there. I think it's time I built some bridges and got the hell over him, and can think of no better place - and in no better company - to do that in and with.

Krispy Kreme brings out the best in us.

Unfortunately, on our last encounter, Chicken made the foolish choice in telling me I seemed to have grown up slightly. As I have a rather large Neverland fantasy, in which I plan to be a Lost Boy forever more (regardless of the fact girls are supposed to be too clever to get lost in the first place).
This revelation startled me. And then it got me thinking. Chicken rarely saw me without my famous sidekick and partner in crime, BB. When BB & I got together...well, it was always a laugh (although I think mainly just for us, not the general public). Since my best bud is living in another state and doing all sorts of exciting Grown Up things, it's up to me to defend our honor and carry on our legacy into our old age.

I was thinking of going to dinner dressed not dissimilarly to this.
Jeez, we were sexy.

I'm just a little unsure of how best to prove I am not the mature, responsibility worthy chick people -worryingly - seem to think I now am. I'm not above screeching seagull noises in public, or changing my voicemail to make me sound like I am David Attenborough on safari -two things we always found hilarious - but when it's just me, I fear I shall only come across as insane, and potentially get locked up. I'd considered meeting him wearing head to foot camouflage gear, complete with war paint and bits of shrub in my helmet, but again, the locking-up thing comes into play.

I really should have sued the woman who cut my hair before my deb.

Growing up is no fun any more. So I'm going to dwell on some of BB & my more amusing incidents in photographic evidence, just to cheer me up.

It's almost like being speechless.

The rules?
Answer the following questions in one word and then pass it on to seven others. Seven? Ahaha! Bec, this is yours next!


Where is your cell phone? Bed.

Where is your significant other? If only I knew. (That deserves more than a single word).

Your hair color? Mishmash.

Your mother? Brilliant.

Your father? Drunkard.

Your favorite thing? Animals.

Your dream last night? Freaky.

Your dream/goal? Happiness.

The room you’re in? Dining.

Your hobby? Bitching.

Your fear? Living.

Where do you want to be in 6 years? Comfortable.

Where were you last night? Decorating.

What you’re not? Reserved.

One of your wish-list items? Pony!

Where you grew up? Beach.

Last thing you did? Blog.

What are you wearing? Robe.

Your TV? Dusty.

Your pet? Pus-filled.

Your computer? Burning.

Your mood? Indifferent.

Missing someone? Yes

Your car? De-fib :)

Something you’re not wearing? Bra (hehe!)

Favorite store? ALL.

Your summer? Sweaty.

Love someone? Deeply.

Your favorite color? Pink.

When is the last time you laughed? Top-Gear (almost one..)

Last time you cried? Saturday.

Nuff said.

Failblog makes me giggle.

But LoLcats ALWAYS make me laugh.

Stuff. And Things. And stuff.

* I started putting my Christmas decorations up on Friday night. I was worried about Phoenix after discovering his lump, and getting really edgy, so I decided there was no better time for a lovely distraction like rolling in tinsel.

* I am totally digging the song Poker Face by Lady GaGa.

* I had a fun time at Sarah's girls night on Saturday, although there may have been some excessive consumption of alcohol on my part.

* The event of the weekend was Sarah finding me upset in her back bedroom on a call to Alex at said party, and her subsequently proceeding to absolutely rip the shit out of him, profusely, publicly and with many profanities. Twice.

* I woke up this morning with extremely sore buttocks. I am unaware as to why this is so. It may have been the badminton, the soccer, or the lawn bowls I played yesterday, or perhaps a combination of the three.

* Sahara, Phoenix and I are in a constant battle for supremacy. Because of this, going downstairs practically turns into a fight to the death. Both are convinced they should be going down in front of me; I disagree. As a result, I often leave 'obstacles' in their way to stop them knocking me over; alas, I tripped on a cardboard box this afternoon and landed in a heap at the bottom. Fortunately, Sahara was unable to rush past me, and therefore, I still won.

* I'm enjoying my brothers Long Lost Pal - Bec's - blog.

* I should really be doing something productive with my time - i.e finding something nutritional and delicious to gnaw on/hanging out another load of washing/attempt locating all 7 drawing pins Cleo has removed from the tin before they get embedded in my feet, but all I really want to do is dance around the living room decorating it in layers of tinsel and shiny things.

Goiter was a funny word until today.

I found this on Phoenix last night. It's nearly doubled in size this morning. I'm on my way to the vets, and I'm terrified. There's another one on his 'boy bits'. Please keep your finger's crossed it's something innocent and non-cancerous.

There is a God.

Richard Hammond and the Top Gear team are coming to Australia!
I am so there.

100's & 1000's

...of photos on my Mac. Here's a random sample of low resolution photos that make me smile.

Chai as a puppy. Doesn't she look like a bat?

For me?! You shouldn't have. But...ok!

This just absolutely cracks me up. It's so typical of a morning with Phoenix and I.

I don't recall when we took these, but they make me smile. We were so happy then. The third photo is in my wallet.

My bestest buddy BB & myself at our most sophisticated. It was her 18th birthday.

My Nan just after she came out of the Land Army. She's so beautiful. I found this when looking through an old album a few years ago, and couldn't believe I had never seen it. I copied it and have a black and white version on my wall.

Chai and her pearly whites.

Basil used to love sitting in any flower arrangements Chef had given me. He particularly loved Stargazer pink oriental lilies. What can I say - the boy had taste.

The view from my Starbucks at Christmas. I used to love sitting there, drinking my ridiculously over priced coffee, feeling like someone completely different in my huge sunnies as I people watched and made up stories about their lives.

The chain of events from the bushfires on the way back from a weekend in Lakes Entrance. It was pretty hairy - we stupidly didn't think it would affect us, and then the wind changed and we were smack in the middle of its path. It was pretty frightening to have bright sunlight, then to see (1) the sun and sky turning orange, followed by everything (2) turning grey with ash moments later, then (3) complete darkness. All there was to see was red ash landing all over the windscreen. The emergency radio telling people which roads were closed kept dropping out, and I had to try and calm Mum, who kept calling me because she knew we were getting trapped in the centre. Luckily after about an hour, the darkness lifted and there was only (4) smoke clouds.

This was the day I helped my Mum move from our beloved house by the beach. I was trying to put on a brave face, but went and laid under the tree in the backyard to have a few quiet minutes, when suddenly a yappy, chewing puppy was all over me, trying to cheer me up. She succeeded.

My tiny puppy has her first visit to the beach. She was less than enthused.

Home sweet Home all the way over in England.

The good with the...well, effing horrid, actually.

Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life. And I say that without flippancy - even through plane engines blowing up, taking care of my family when my grandfather died and those other painful days I've been witness to, yesterday was excruciating. On the way to the city to do some Christmas shopping with Mum & Nan, I had a slightly detour to pick up my things from Alex. Ouch. Crying is not something I enjoy having anyone witness; to do so in public was mortifying, and to know I'm never to see him again just made those tears keep flowing. I went with the objective to comprehend what the past few days of agony were about, and although I guess I'm a little closer to understanding it, the hurties are still here. It's like I can't function correctly - from the fact I hadn't noticed until yesterday I've eaten barely anything but a sandwich since Saturday afternoon, to realizing I'd been walking around the house turning taps on without turning them off again, and the biggest fuck up of all - meeting my family yesterday and bursting into tears in the middle of a busy food court. I don't think my Nan has seen me cry since I was in nappies, and especially not sobbing into her fruit salad like I was yesterday.

So, after a fitful 4 hour sleep filled with bad dreams which didn't seem too far from reality, and waking up dejected each time I check my phone for new texts, I'm going to try and look at the positives today. Take the good with the horrendously shitty, you know? Here goes.

1. Netti Pots. They're some bizarre contraption designed to dry out your nasal passage, and in theory, help with hayfever. Mum's been using them to help her sinusitis, so I thought, seeing as I've been rattling around Melbourne like a chain-smoking asthmatic lately, I'd give them a go. It's kind of like a squeezy ketchup bottle you shove up your nose, and it squirts up a solution that is meant to come out the other nostril. Very sexy. Unfortunately, due to the fact I haven't been able to breathe properly for nearly 5 weeks due to hayfever, my passages are so blocked it all comes out my throat. Eww. Still, I dried up for nearly 2 days, and it amazing to not have to labour to breathe. Ahhh.

2. Rebecca. Bec was my brother's best mate in school when we lived in England. When we moved back to Australia, they lost contact, and it was only last week that she found me via Facebook, asking if I knew a certain Bretty. Well, ever since, I've practically hi-jacked her as my very own, and there has been some hilarious, and often thrice daily, emailing going on between us. I can't believe there's someone else is the world just like me! (But quite obviously much more mature and much nicer!). She's been my rock the past few days :)

3. Saturday night. Sarah has decided to throw a little soiree in honor of a Boys Suck/Girls Night. Although guests are arriving in the evening, we've decided to kick off a little early - we're thinking around 6 hours should be enough - and designing my Boys Suck Punch. All I have to say is - there will be penises. They will be fake. They will be floating. And they will, most likely, be desecrated after the champagne is flowing and girls get a-chattin' about their own All Men Are Bastards story. We have every intention of chill-axing for a few hours and doing postmortems on all the man trouble we have been having lately, and naturally, watching Van Wilder and thus spending the evening quoting the most hilarious bits to a lot of inebriated girls. It's go time.

Thus endeth my pep talk unto myself. In times like these, when one doesn't have enough money for new shoes (*gasp!*) one must at least take oneself window shopping for them. Or at least try and take my mind off the urge to dial his number.

3 years and a few hours.

I have things to do. Amongst others, the dogs need walking, the house needs cleaning, and I need to get a few job applications off before this evening. But right now, I just want to be horribly selfish, sit in front of the TV & let Sex and the City wash over me and take away the fact I can't stop thinking about how deeply I'm going to miss my own Big. I'm struggling to function today, and although yesterday was much harder and full of tears and 'what ifs', I had my mother there to tell me everything would be all right. Today, although one of the most gorgeous Springs days we've had, just makes me wish it was raining and shitty outside to match my gloomy interior.

It's one of those cruel ironies that everything points towards things I want to forget. On the way home last night, my iPod randomly chose Phil Collins' Take A Look At Me Now, and if that didn't make me want to wallow in self pity for the next few months, when Linger by the Cranberry's came on I practically drove into a tree through my tears. Going to the supermarket means walking past the clothing shop with a tee shirt in the window depicting two adorable panda's telling me to Love The One You're With. The Mac background I so love of a photo I took at the races only reminds me of the exact moment I realized he was going away forever, and there would be no more Saturdays like the one before.

I know I need to get out of the house. But my car smells like him. The beach has memories associated with it I don't need to be reminded of right now. And I've already canceled my trip to the city tomorrow so I don't need my heart ripped out pointlessly when I arrive at the station and see our Starbucks looming over me.

It's devastatingly painful to know that after 3 years, it would come down to only a few hours of excited expectation of the sort he must have known for all that time, to come to the excruciating hurt realizing he was slipping away the more I tried to find him.

I've known for a long time I've been wasting my life for several years, but I had no idea I'd realize just how badly until now.

S&TC it is.

Wonderfully Weird

After reading this post, and having no brain function left from a ridiculously hectic few days, I decided to take the easy way out and post about my own weirdly wonderful quirks as opposed to typing about anything real.

As we're all mostly aware I have nearly all of my baby teeth left, I've broken a hell of a lot of bones, and I'm so addicted to Christmas I made the above last night from a lump of clay because I simply cant wait another 49 days, I didn't think there'd be too many more idiosyncrasies I'd care to share with the blogging community. Then I got to think...all those things I think are natural? Perhaps they're not. You be the judge.

1/ Just like Melisa, I have a deep seated and unnatural fear of men dressed in costumes. Now, I'm not referring to the half assed attempts most guys make at Halloween, I mean the sort of outfit worn by someone hawking something - the oversized shark trying to sell my child/ren swimming lessons last week at the shopping centre springs to mind. My friends are so aware of my phobia, they grab my arm and walk me firmly past on the other side of the street before I can run, screaming in the opposite direction faster than you can say 'irrational'.

2/ I don't eat cheese after 9pm, because my mother told me it would give me nightmares, and it did.

3/ My dog bit half my ear off when I was a small child (and yes, it was completely and utterly my own fault and no, the dog was not put down) and I refused point blank to have stitches, opting instead for sticking it back on with steri-strips. I have a very attractive scar around my left ear as a result, yet can hear far better that side than with my right ear.

4/ I lost a baby tooth on the play equipment at primary school, and was so distressed I wouldn't receive my $2 from the Tooth Fairy, I left her a detailed letter with instructions to find my missing tooth, so could rack up my pocket money so I was closer to buying my pony.

5/ I find gay men strangely attractive.

6/ When I was flying to England in 2004, as the plane leveled off from our stopover in Hong Kong, there was a massive explosion and the wing on our side of the plane burst into flames. I squealed, had hysterics, and then had some more hysterics. The flight attendant behind us rushed to contact the pilot, but the in-plane phone wasn't working, so she joined me in hysterics and eventually the pilot was contacted to be informed the plane was on fire. Not long after, the engine was shut down, and an announcement was made that 'on the scale of disasters, the explosion and fire were on the lower end'. We circled over Hong Kong for hours, dropping 400 tonnes of fuel into the ocean before we could land at the airport. When we eventually did, there were fire engines flashing left right and centre, and we were taken off the plane by armed militia men covered in strings of bullets and rifles. But the time we'd waited the few hours for the 'emergency' plane to be ready for our takeoff, I fell into an exhausted sleep with my forehead resting on the back of the seat in front, which continued nearly the entire flight to London. I did, however, stay awake long enough to notice all the lights and computers had shut down, as the 'emergency' plane was in for repairs and hadn't been fixed.

7/ Until that stopover, I thought Hong Kong was the capital of China.

It's that time of year again

...and all I have to say is...

YAAAAAY!Phoenix didn't share my enthusiasm.

Thank goodness I can rely on Sahara to be crazy with me.

Old friends, new friends and a weekend in color.

Sunday @ the races with the winner of the Mornington Cup, Chasm.
If it weren't for my aviators and enormous bottle of h2o, I'd almost be classy.

I spent the day with one of my best -and oldest- friends who was in town, Chicken. I had an absolute blast, and am v. sad he wont be back from his Army duties until Christmas time.

Sarah, myself and her work colleague Rebecca get our pose on @ Bec's Halloween party Saturday night.

Feel the love between Chef & I.