Who said chivalry was dead?
I went to the pub after work tonight and met up with some friends. T was standing around talking to some random guys and I said hello as I went to the bar. She came over to me and said, "those guys want to know if they can touch your boobs. They reckon you've got really big knockers and want to have a feel".
I really don't think so.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Not the rock in the sky
I went to see Steve Malkmus and the Jicks last night, kind of begrudgingly because I am old now and don't go see bands four nights a week and besides, I got up at 5am yesterday and I was dead tired by the time I even got in the car to drive to the venue. But surprisingly enough I actually enjoyed myself and only once wondered how long we were from the end and maybe twice hopped from foot to foot trying to figure out which leg was the most tired and which ankle was in less pain.
There was one moment though, in one of those songs that have a long noodly guitar bit in the middle, followed by a bit of intense rocking out where the guitartist goes from bending over to play, to jumping up and down to play and the song always ends with a return to, well, usually the first chorus again but you know, the refrain from the first bit comes back and it's meant to be all epic and everything but really? Mostly boring.
Anyhow, those songs either come smack back in the middle of the set or it's the one before the last song (oh yeah, the penultimate one, dumbass) before the end, which isn't really the end because there's always an encore and it's always written on the set list and I'm sure it must feel stupid to plan an encore but I guess it's good planning. So last night that noodly song comes along and I was really hoping it was the penultimate song but it wasn't last night. My feet got sore at that point.
Afterwards, we went to the Moon, not the rock in the sky, but a late night cafe with the lunar name. It was awful and good. Awful service and good food. They took our food (45 mintues after we ordered) to the wrong table, right in front of us. And the people started eating the fries on the side before the waitress realised, took it away from them and bought it over to us. I was kind of horrified but also hungry. And hungry won out. The service was bad in other ways and dammit, if we tipped in Australia, that women would get nothing left over on the table when we left.
Today my sister left for London for six weeks. This is sad and a little stressful for me. We are very close these days and it's a rare day that we don't at least talk on the phone to each other. I am going to miss her a whole lot. Plus, there's a bunch of stuff to be done for the store (did I mention that I'm opening this store with my sister? Well I am) and I'm going to have to do a tonne of stuff on my own while she's gone. I'm not very good at decision making on my own. I hope I don't fuck up. Sad and stressful baby.
After my Mum and I dropped the sibling at the airport we were going to go out for something to eat. I suddenly got a jonesing for a drive in the country so we ended up scooting out to a little town called Toodyay which I like to pronounce as it's spelt: toodie-ay, rather than the proper way which is toodjay. Anyhow it's a pretty little town on the other side of the hills to the east of Perth, only about 45 mintues away and the drive is beautiful and picturesque if you like undulating hills filled with low-rise forest, wheat fields and grazing sheep. Which I do. Very much. We had a counter meal at the pub and then came back home. A very nice way to spend the day.
There was one moment though, in one of those songs that have a long noodly guitar bit in the middle, followed by a bit of intense rocking out where the guitartist goes from bending over to play, to jumping up and down to play and the song always ends with a return to, well, usually the first chorus again but you know, the refrain from the first bit comes back and it's meant to be all epic and everything but really? Mostly boring.
Anyhow, those songs either come smack back in the middle of the set or it's the one before the last song (oh yeah, the penultimate one, dumbass) before the end, which isn't really the end because there's always an encore and it's always written on the set list and I'm sure it must feel stupid to plan an encore but I guess it's good planning. So last night that noodly song comes along and I was really hoping it was the penultimate song but it wasn't last night. My feet got sore at that point.
Afterwards, we went to the Moon, not the rock in the sky, but a late night cafe with the lunar name. It was awful and good. Awful service and good food. They took our food (45 mintues after we ordered) to the wrong table, right in front of us. And the people started eating the fries on the side before the waitress realised, took it away from them and bought it over to us. I was kind of horrified but also hungry. And hungry won out. The service was bad in other ways and dammit, if we tipped in Australia, that women would get nothing left over on the table when we left.
Today my sister left for London for six weeks. This is sad and a little stressful for me. We are very close these days and it's a rare day that we don't at least talk on the phone to each other. I am going to miss her a whole lot. Plus, there's a bunch of stuff to be done for the store (did I mention that I'm opening this store with my sister? Well I am) and I'm going to have to do a tonne of stuff on my own while she's gone. I'm not very good at decision making on my own. I hope I don't fuck up. Sad and stressful baby.
After my Mum and I dropped the sibling at the airport we were going to go out for something to eat. I suddenly got a jonesing for a drive in the country so we ended up scooting out to a little town called Toodyay which I like to pronounce as it's spelt: toodie-ay, rather than the proper way which is toodjay. Anyhow it's a pretty little town on the other side of the hills to the east of Perth, only about 45 mintues away and the drive is beautiful and picturesque if you like undulating hills filled with low-rise forest, wheat fields and grazing sheep. Which I do. Very much. We had a counter meal at the pub and then came back home. A very nice way to spend the day.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Tomatoes, mushrooms or orange juice
Oh yeah, TV and cake did the trick. There's nothing like numbing yourself with pop culture and food to cure what ails you. Which explains my intimate knowledge of Law and Order episodes and the size of my arse.
But that was yesterday. Today was all about work, but a good day at work where I was the boss, a weekend day even, which are the funnest of the fun days because it's all busy, busy, busy and there's lots of eggs and bacon and coffee flying everywhere (and the customers are cuter) and when I'm organised and when I organise everyone else well, the days fly by and every one is happy.
The day started off at 3:30. AM. That's when I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Eventally I just got up and went into work just after 5, which is a really nice time to be there because everything is still clean. And there are no customers yet. I proceeded to get really pissed off because nobody had done the big veggie run the day before which means it was highly likely we would run out of tomatoes. Or mushrooms. Or orange juice. Or all three.
We didn't though.
So I grumped out about that, made someone do it on their way in later on and all was well.
Now, I have some pumpkin and asparagus roasting in the oven and I'm about to cook a steak for dinner. The Gimore Girls starts in 15 minutes (oh shut up!) and that's my thrilling Saturday night. C'mon, I start work at 5:30 again tomorrow morning.
But that was yesterday. Today was all about work, but a good day at work where I was the boss, a weekend day even, which are the funnest of the fun days because it's all busy, busy, busy and there's lots of eggs and bacon and coffee flying everywhere (and the customers are cuter) and when I'm organised and when I organise everyone else well, the days fly by and every one is happy.
The day started off at 3:30. AM. That's when I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Eventally I just got up and went into work just after 5, which is a really nice time to be there because everything is still clean. And there are no customers yet. I proceeded to get really pissed off because nobody had done the big veggie run the day before which means it was highly likely we would run out of tomatoes. Or mushrooms. Or orange juice. Or all three.
We didn't though.
So I grumped out about that, made someone do it on their way in later on and all was well.
Now, I have some pumpkin and asparagus roasting in the oven and I'm about to cook a steak for dinner. The Gimore Girls starts in 15 minutes (oh shut up!) and that's my thrilling Saturday night. C'mon, I start work at 5:30 again tomorrow morning.
Repression and Cake
All I want to do is talk about how much I hate my job. If I had any balls I would just quit right now instead of next year but I have no balls (literal or metaphoric) so I just tell myself things like,"well, I'll just see what next week's roster is like" and "surely I can tough this out until February".
I just don't want to tough it out for another two months. I want to be happy now! I don't ever want to work another night or have less than eight hours between shifts or train another teenager how to wash dishes or deal with broken fridges or be upset that they're offering a fellow supervisor more money that me from right this minute, not many weeks worth of minutes.
So yeah, I'm all about the work hate but I just have to stop obsessing about it because it's not really helping. If a friend of mine was going through this I'd just want to tell them to either quit whining or get another job. It's a solveable problem, so either solve it or shut the fuck up.
Because I'm way into conflict avoidance I will just shut the fuck up. Repression, yay! I think I just figured out why I'm starting to get panic attacks again. I have a day off tomorrow I'm going to tread carefully and fill it with happy making things. Even if that ends up involving my arse on the couch and some kind of cake-like substance. That long list of things to do can just bloody well wait another day.
This Holidailies updating every day things is also causing me angst. I don't really feel like talking about how down I'm feeling at the moment because I don't think misery guts Isabelle is particularly entertaining or interesting. But I really want to keep up with the daily entries, so I apologise to anyone that I'm boring to tears or annoyance, whichever the case may be.
I just don't want to tough it out for another two months. I want to be happy now! I don't ever want to work another night or have less than eight hours between shifts or train another teenager how to wash dishes or deal with broken fridges or be upset that they're offering a fellow supervisor more money that me from right this minute, not many weeks worth of minutes.
So yeah, I'm all about the work hate but I just have to stop obsessing about it because it's not really helping. If a friend of mine was going through this I'd just want to tell them to either quit whining or get another job. It's a solveable problem, so either solve it or shut the fuck up.
Because I'm way into conflict avoidance I will just shut the fuck up. Repression, yay! I think I just figured out why I'm starting to get panic attacks again. I have a day off tomorrow I'm going to tread carefully and fill it with happy making things. Even if that ends up involving my arse on the couch and some kind of cake-like substance. That long list of things to do can just bloody well wait another day.
This Holidailies updating every day things is also causing me angst. I don't really feel like talking about how down I'm feeling at the moment because I don't think misery guts Isabelle is particularly entertaining or interesting. But I really want to keep up with the daily entries, so I apologise to anyone that I'm boring to tears or annoyance, whichever the case may be.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Two Hands
On one hand, there's this: Ruck Rover General Store. Yay!
On the other hand, I had to hide in the fridge at work so I could cry undedected, not that it ever works, because you have to come out of there at some point.
Work sucks to the nth degree. Everything that could possibly suck, sucks really fucking hard. I'm sick of investing so much emotional energy in the place that I really don't want to talk about it any more. Just let it be known - I'm hating the place.
So thank fuck there's the first thing. In March next year, my sister and I will open the door to our very own business, where we will sell cool clothes and accessories and things that we like. And because it's our own business, it will not make us cry, even if we know we will have to work harder that we can imagine. The hard work will be fun, because it's all for us. My project for the next few days is to get a bit more of a website happening.
We're going into brand new premises, which means we have to fit out the whole place from scratch. Partly fun, partly mind numbingly scary, what with all the extra jobs to do. I have to get quotes for partitioning to make a back store room and change rooms. I have to get quotes to gyprock the walls and finish the concrete and put in a basin and put in seventy squillion lights and all that stuff. All this while my sister flits off to London for six weeks on a trip that has been planned for ages before the store stuff all came together. I may also have shed a tear in stress about this earlier today. I'm not really confident about handling things on my own because I am lazy and disorganised and need my bossy sister to activate me.
The one thing that motivates me? It's too late to back out now!
On the other hand, I had to hide in the fridge at work so I could cry undedected, not that it ever works, because you have to come out of there at some point.
Work sucks to the nth degree. Everything that could possibly suck, sucks really fucking hard. I'm sick of investing so much emotional energy in the place that I really don't want to talk about it any more. Just let it be known - I'm hating the place.
So thank fuck there's the first thing. In March next year, my sister and I will open the door to our very own business, where we will sell cool clothes and accessories and things that we like. And because it's our own business, it will not make us cry, even if we know we will have to work harder that we can imagine. The hard work will be fun, because it's all for us. My project for the next few days is to get a bit more of a website happening.
We're going into brand new premises, which means we have to fit out the whole place from scratch. Partly fun, partly mind numbingly scary, what with all the extra jobs to do. I have to get quotes for partitioning to make a back store room and change rooms. I have to get quotes to gyprock the walls and finish the concrete and put in a basin and put in seventy squillion lights and all that stuff. All this while my sister flits off to London for six weeks on a trip that has been planned for ages before the store stuff all came together. I may also have shed a tear in stress about this earlier today. I'm not really confident about handling things on my own because I am lazy and disorganised and need my bossy sister to activate me.
The one thing that motivates me? It's too late to back out now!
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Our Faith is What Helps Us Through Life
Okay, so that is what is says on the front of the pink girlie notebook I found under my bed earlier tonight and started writing in.
Faith.
The first thing I think of is religion and I roll my eyes and/or scoff. Is scoffing and rolling your eyes basically the same thing? I fear I am not smart enough to tell the difference. My brain withers a little more with every passing day. I used to say my brain was atrophying because atrophy is a really smart word and using it makes me sound smart and so people might thing, "she is not so dumb if she knows the word atrophy". But I am so dumb.
But what is faith? Webster's Dictionary defines faith - only kidding! Faith is belief or trust in something, right? What do I believe in that helps me through life? I am not religious or spiritual. I don't know if I believe in anything. Am I a nihilist? Do I even know how to spell nihilist? Am I misconstruing the meaning of nihilism? The answer is yes! Does this whole train of thought make me sound more teen-age pretentious than my real teenage pretentious self? I fear the answer is again, yes!
I was a fucking pretentious 17 year old. I real Sartre's Being and Nothingness. For fun! I majored in Philosophy for my first year of university and then I had to read Being and Nothingness for not-fun and I changed my major to history and I wrote about genocide and cruelty in the Australian outback. Fun!
Some else I know majored in Philosophy. Because of that and the fact we had the same favourite band, we fell in love. Briefly and intensely and to tell you the truth I still love him today. Just a little bit in that place where you still love boys you once loved with every bit of your heart. No matter how misguided you were. Or stupid and hopeless the situation was. Even if years later you let him touch your boobs and you have him head and that story became the story of your weirdest sexual experience of your life.
Yes, it beats the foursome.
He's not the only one I still love. There are two others. One still breaks my heart nearly every day. It's been three years. Or four, I lose track of that but I haven't learnt not to think about him yet. How do you do that? How do you learn to forget about someone? I suppose it doesn't help that there are still reminders of him around the house. Even earlier today I found a love letter (of sorts) from him. As close to a love letter as he would ever send me, anyway. It hurts to see it but I can't throw it away. I think I need to have proof around me that someone once cared about me. And the longer it goes since I got that letter, the more I need that proof. What if no one else ever cares for me? What if I never get another letter to replace that one? What will I have then?
Can you tell I'm kind of depressed at the moment?
I'm not quite sure of the order of things. What I mean is, do I feel depressed because I am ugly and alone and stupid and irresponsible and a failure or do I feel all those negative things because I am depressed?
So what did I start talking about? Faith! And how it helps us through life. I guess I need some faith right now. I need to believe in something. I do believe we're free. And that I'm free to choose. (Hear that Jean-Paul? I paid attention) Choosing something doesn't necessarily make it happen though. Making it happen is the tough part.
So I'll start small. My first choice? Let's start a journal again.
Faith.
The first thing I think of is religion and I roll my eyes and/or scoff. Is scoffing and rolling your eyes basically the same thing? I fear I am not smart enough to tell the difference. My brain withers a little more with every passing day. I used to say my brain was atrophying because atrophy is a really smart word and using it makes me sound smart and so people might thing, "she is not so dumb if she knows the word atrophy". But I am so dumb.
But what is faith? Webster's Dictionary defines faith - only kidding! Faith is belief or trust in something, right? What do I believe in that helps me through life? I am not religious or spiritual. I don't know if I believe in anything. Am I a nihilist? Do I even know how to spell nihilist? Am I misconstruing the meaning of nihilism? The answer is yes! Does this whole train of thought make me sound more teen-age pretentious than my real teenage pretentious self? I fear the answer is again, yes!
I was a fucking pretentious 17 year old. I real Sartre's Being and Nothingness. For fun! I majored in Philosophy for my first year of university and then I had to read Being and Nothingness for not-fun and I changed my major to history and I wrote about genocide and cruelty in the Australian outback. Fun!
Some else I know majored in Philosophy. Because of that and the fact we had the same favourite band, we fell in love. Briefly and intensely and to tell you the truth I still love him today. Just a little bit in that place where you still love boys you once loved with every bit of your heart. No matter how misguided you were. Or stupid and hopeless the situation was. Even if years later you let him touch your boobs and you have him head and that story became the story of your weirdest sexual experience of your life.
Yes, it beats the foursome.
He's not the only one I still love. There are two others. One still breaks my heart nearly every day. It's been three years. Or four, I lose track of that but I haven't learnt not to think about him yet. How do you do that? How do you learn to forget about someone? I suppose it doesn't help that there are still reminders of him around the house. Even earlier today I found a love letter (of sorts) from him. As close to a love letter as he would ever send me, anyway. It hurts to see it but I can't throw it away. I think I need to have proof around me that someone once cared about me. And the longer it goes since I got that letter, the more I need that proof. What if no one else ever cares for me? What if I never get another letter to replace that one? What will I have then?
Can you tell I'm kind of depressed at the moment?
I'm not quite sure of the order of things. What I mean is, do I feel depressed because I am ugly and alone and stupid and irresponsible and a failure or do I feel all those negative things because I am depressed?
So what did I start talking about? Faith! And how it helps us through life. I guess I need some faith right now. I need to believe in something. I do believe we're free. And that I'm free to choose. (Hear that Jean-Paul? I paid attention) Choosing something doesn't necessarily make it happen though. Making it happen is the tough part.
So I'll start small. My first choice? Let's start a journal again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)