Come they told me, pa ra pa pum pum

Ah Christmas time. A special time for all and a confusing one for some.

Tell me exactly what is the point of a salad spinner? And does one ask for one on Santa’s wish list? 

I know I didn’t ask this year but Santa must have mixed his lists with someone else and delivered a beautiful salad spinner for me this year.

Now I remember being told that I was not to expect any presents, maybe chocolates, but no presents.

I was mighty fine with that but instead I unwrapped a salad spinner, and the moment my mum left the room, I turned to dad and said, “huh?”

And it was followed by “don’t ask me, I have no idea!”

All good… at least Christmas lunch was friggin fantastic.

We had course after course of an Italian feast. I love it! For me, it beats having a turkey and some potatoes. I know many of you love that. You can have it. I want my antipasto of Italians meats and cheeses, lasagne, creamed prawns, beans in vinegar, finished off with Italian small desserts and finale, Tiramisu. Bring it!!

We had an addition to Christmas lunch this year, my boy, who enjoyed himself immensely but that could have been the fact my parents were topping his drink throughout the entire day. I think he may or may not have had five wines … I did see them sneak in a few top offs. ;-)

It’s all part of Christmas. Well, my kind of Christmas where all the people I want in the world (except for Ryan Gosling who wasn’t there this year so that was a little bit of a downer), in one room, having fun, eating, and drinking. Perfect.

Plus it wouldn’t be Christmas without my mum getting me an odd/questionable present. Seriously, a salad spinner?!!

All in all, a good Christmas had by all.  

Breathe, just breathe!

Christmas shopping.

There is nothing worse than attempting to buy last minute gifts for family on Christmas Eve but tomorrow I will be forced to do it.

My mother just informed me that she wanted everyone to buy something small for Christmas Day. This is after years of saying, don’t get anything, I just want my family all together. WTF!!!!

We don’t do presents and now I have to buy presents for my family.

Tomorrow I will brave the crowds by putting on my mp3 player, listening to my music and pretending that there is no one is in the shops but me. 

It can be done, I just need to channel my inner calm self.

Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean.

Love Actually = Christmas chick flick!

You can’t have Christmas without watching the movie, Love Actually.

I can hear the groans of men who are missing a romantic bone in their bodies, and some women rolling their eyes at the possibility of something greater than chocolate or a shoe sale... the feeling you get after watching a chick flick.

It's a lovely glow.

That’s what I feel and I am not even a romantic. Maybe a closest romantic at heart but sshhh don’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want that bit of information getting out there.

A romantic chick flick is just what it is. 

It doesn’t pretend to be anything else than one man, looking for one woman.

And it's usually the same kind of scenario:

The man is a douche bag for most of the film before realising his douchness' has cost him his leading lady. The audience falls in love with the leading man as they watch him get his shit together, and eventually realising his love for his leading lady, and running in the rain to tell her he can’t live without her.

See, it’s no different from a movie with Stallone/Willis/Thomas James / or another big armed whatever star that is famous for the next 15 minutes, who is hiding a secret/broken heart/ingrown toe nail, while trying to save the day at the end of the movie.

See, exactly the same!

At least my movies I get to see Ryan Gosling in a wet shirt!

Christmas and what means to me, you, to everyone

For me, Christmas Day is very simple. I wish my family and loved ones a merry Christmas, hug them, and then spend the time unwrapping, drinking some good wine and eating my mother’s delicious food.  

There isn’t any fanfare. 

Any religious connections. 

There isn’t any pressure to do anything you don’t want to do. 

It is simply a day to hang out with family and loved ones, talk, relax and enjoy each other’s company.

To you, Christmas Day may mean something completely different. It might just be another day. Or a day you want to spend the time on your own. Or a day to remain in solitude and reflect on what has happened, what is happening and what will happen tomorrow. It is a different way to celebrate Christmas Day.

To everyone (or some, or all), Christmas Day means a celebration of religious beliefs, of remembering those you love and those you’ve lost, or simply a day to spend giving back to others, those who are less fortunate than you or me.

For me, I believe Christmas is all these things.

And I choose to spend the day surrounded by my family and loved ones because they are my energy. They are the people who spur me on to do more, to reach further, to want more in my life.

On my Christmas Day I will be spending the day watching my 18-month old niece unwrap her presents, while we sit around chatting, and drinking some good wine, while the smell of my mother’s delicious Italian feasts oozes through our family house.

Bring on the elastic pants!!

Merry Christmas and participate in work Christmas games or else!

It’s actually going to be mandatory to participate in games at our work Christmas party.

Where did Santa go?

Where did the meaning of Christmas go?

Where is it stated that it is mandatory to participate in stupid arse games at work Christmas parties?

NO WHERE!!!

Now leave me the hell alone so I can enjoy my wine and one day of the year where I am not nagged or whinged up at by anyone.

Noooooo! Instead there will be parcel parcel, awards and whatever group activity they can think of!

Why? Why I ask?

Why should I participate on the day I want to relax and not do anything that requires using my brain?

And if you don’t participate, then what are you? Scrooge? Anti-Christmassee? It’s a word!

I am happy to go along but when I have to pay for my own Christmas lunch and then have to be told that I have to participate in games then I say… bugger off!

I don’t want to. I don’t have to. And na ah!

Tomorrow is the D-Day. I have to pretty myself up and be all I LOVE CHRISTMAS and Jingle Jingle but if anyone, and I mean anyone, makes me wear a hat and guess who the celebrity is, I will chug my Sangria and run to the nearest pub.

I love Christmas. I do. It’s just that I don’t like being told what to do (one of my positive attributes) when we are supposed to be celebrating a very long hard year at work and toast it all away.

Hopefully my bosses surprise me by leaving me alone to drink my Sangria!

UPDATE

My Christmas Day lunch ended up being quite nice. Only one game, parcel parcel. And I won. A doll with chocolate inside. And the food was lovely. There was no musical chairs or any stupid games. It was lovely.

I was able to relax and enjoy the day.

Oh I rocked it! I rocked it with the Foo Fighters in Radelaide!!

I rocked it so hard that after standing upright for six hours at Adelaide Oval, I walked away nursing a sore back. I rocked; i rocked it like a rocking chair!

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I karaoked my arse off with my boy.

Pretty cool!!

First, a crazy band from god knows where played at the beginning of the festivities … I saw crazy cause the lead singer had hair all over his body and screamed (instead of sang) all the songs. The bad part was that his band was actually good and could sing and he was ruining it.

Tenacious D jumped on stage after that and surprisingly they were pretty good. I am not a fan of Jack Black but the man can hold a note. And the songs weren’t too bad either.

The rest of the night, I spent singing my lungs out and rocking it while I watched Foo Fighters belt out the classics.

Foo Fighters was my first rock concert.

Prior to them, I went to Canberra’s Stonefest and loved hanging out with mates while wearing a blue condom (otherwise known as a plastic poncho) for protection from the rain.

Before that it was London’s Hyde Park, where I watched Powderfinger and other international bands rock it while having a Pom’s butt crack in my face. Bloody cow. Nearly had a fight with her… she didn’t even know who Powderfinger was!

Before that (and in my teens) it was Alanis Morissette and then ......

                                                      

                                                      Craig David.

Now don’t judge (and you know who I am talking to!!)

I love Craig David. Everyone should love Craig David. How could you not love him. The man is smooth. Barry White smooth.

And since my introduction to rock concerts, I am now secretly searching which bands are coming to Australia. I have a taste for rock now … Florence and the Machine; Lenny Kravitz; Foster the People; Michael Bolton?

But my heart belongs to the Foos.

I heart the Foo Fighters, yesterday, today and tomorrow.

       

New Year’s Eve is overrated… the day and the movie

It’s that time of year again where the evitable question comes up…

What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?

Again, I say…

I DON’T KNOW!!!

Stop asking me!

It is the most overrated night. You spend the night trying to push through the crowds of teenagers drunk off their arses on passion pop (losers) while squinting to get a glimpse of the fireworks and then spend the next five hours in a queue waiting for a taxi, along with the other thousands of people with the same idea.

I don’t want to do nothing but I want to do something that doesn’t require any effort … on my part.

So what to do? What to do?

I could organise a dinner with the boy, followed by a moonlight toast in a quiet spot, no crowds, no noise, no fireworks.

I could organise a barbecue (using my new bbq) with the boy and all my friends and celebrate that way… and then have to pre and post clean every inch of my place.  

I could do nothing and pretend nothing happened and wake up the next day, all oblivious and sedated.

What to do? What to do?

P.S The movie was good but where was Ryan Gosling! Where? Where was he! And with no shirt on please.

Shazza? Tazza? Shoot me now!

Sitting at Bangkok airport waiting for my flight back to Australia, my worst flight nightmare came walking in.

Two girls wandered in wearing inappropriately tight (tiger print) dresses that didn’t cover enough, with their fake Louis Vuitton carry bags and fake brown tans, and talking loudly to one another … this was not the worst part.

One was named, Shazza, the other Tazza.

I kid you not! They actually called each other that.

I scanned the waiting room and saw everyone give a collectively sigh and hoped and prayed that these two idiots would not sitting next to them. I even hoped I would be sitting next to babies just to avoid sitting next to the bogans.

How these women were given passports and able to represent our country overseas makes me shudder. Bad Australian Government, Bad Australian Government.

They were rude to everyone around them, including a Muslim family, and talked about meat and boys (I am not elaborately), and then proceeded to talk rudely about everyone people in the room.

Then they locked on to two Indigenous men and asked about their “cutar” … I think they meant guitar… that they were carrying. They too were unimpressed.

I had to put my head down and my hand over my mouth to stop the laughter from escaping my mouth and prevent them from seeing my eyes roll permanently to the back of my head.

At least I wasn’t the only one worried about sitting next to the bogans. I saw two people look at me and asked where I was sitting and the proximity to those bogans… I managed to find out that I was no where near… but they were. Poor bastards.

As everyone walked on to the plane (the girls a few rows ahead), one woman behind me muttered that she would have to drink as soon as she gets on to get through the eight hours of the mindless chatter from the bogans.

I ended up finding my seat directly across from two infants but I breathed a sigh of relief as I noticed the bogans were safely sitting in another section from me. There is a god!

And while I spent the rest of my flight trying to avoid chatting to the man next to me who was clearly flirting with me and kept talking, despite me putting on earphones and an eye mask. Get a clue!

Ah flying… you need it to get to places but if I could avoid it, I would…  

Farewell, So Long, ah what’s the word for goodbye in Lao???

I know Sabadee is welcome/hello or maybe thank you in Lao but that's about all... damn it!

After farewelling Ceci, Bec and I made our way to Bangkok where we shopped till we dropped, and shopped some more.

We were primped, primed and perfected to an inch of our lives. We had massages, manicures, pedicures, head massages, facials, and my hair was dyed. The end result, I was an L’Oreal commercial.

MBK is my new home. Home to thousands and thousands of shops, filled with shiny goodness and all things cheap. I am so happy.

After Bec left that morning for Dublin, I decided to spend the rest of my day until my flight, shopping till my heart’s content. I managed to score three bags, one wallet, five pairs of earrings, one pearl ring, one pair of shoes, and two necklaces.

Not too bad. Not too bad at all.

So as I boarded my plane back to Australia, i pried my hands from the airplane doors and sat my booty on the seat and remembered how fantastic my trip to Laos was.

I love holiday me.

She has a spring in her step, she is more relaxed, happy to do whatever and go with the flow.

Holiday me is fun.

Anyway Laos is certainly an unexpectedly beautiful country.  And I wouldn’t hesitate to visit again. The people are so friendly and accommodating, the food is delicious, and the landscape is untouched and beautiful.

Sabadee 

Can you tell me how many Prime Minister's have been elected in Australia?

I have no bloody idea!

Ceci asked Bec and I to come into one of her English speaking classes so that her students could participant in conversation English… two Australians.

Believe me, my accent is pretty thick and I talk fast. 

So I was expecting some simple questions from a room filled with Lao students, however these Lao students had other ideas.

They asked:

How many Prime Minister’s Australia had? (I knew this was coming)

Who is the most famous actor in Australia?

What is our national dish?

How many joeys can Kangaroos have over a lifetime?

Where is Uluru?

What is the significance of Uluru?

What is Uluru?

What is our national sport?

It keeps going.

Bec and I had to actually Google how many the question about Australian Prime Ministers before the class so we wouldn’t look stupid and get it wrong. I thought 20, our friend, Seamus thought it was 45 but in fact its 32 Prime Minister’s (or 27 different elected PM’s). History lesson for you there.

The kangaroo question threw me. I have no idea how many babies they can have over a lifetime.

One student, Mr Sit, asked so many questions about Australia, like where is the best place to study English, is there a lot of business schools, how long is a flight to Australia from Laos, and how much? I suspect he was sussing us out to immigrate to Australia. Me thinks!

Mr Sit liked us so much he actually took us out for dinner after class. Where he proceeded to ask more questions about Australia and buy us a yard glass of Beer Lao! 

Good night had by all!

Mopeds and I don’t mix

I told Ceci not to hire a moped.

I told Ceci on a number of occasions before I left for Laos not to hire a moped.

And what did she do?

She bloody well hired one for me to ride around through Vientiane and I managed to stay upright and only screaming into the wind for nearly a week before slipping off.

And the worst part is I didn’t fall when a car hit me, or when a car jumped out at me…

I fell off the moped on a driveway. On a friggin driveway, doing 20 kilometres. So basically the speech of a casual walk!

I am not a real bikie at all.

I blame gravel and my ability to stay on a bike and distinguish the difference between accelerator and brake.

Not too worry, Bec bandaged me up and we were off to the pool for a swim (paddle for me) and sunbaking in the hot sun.  

My knee is a little worse for wear and my modelling days are now over… although it never really began but hey I needed a job to fall back on and knee modelling was it. Damn it!

Time flies when you’re sitting on your arse

I spent three days in Luang Prabang eating, drinking, sunbaking (not intentional), shopping, and cycling around the town all day long.

I am also managed to take a cooking class while I was and cooked traditional Lao food and drinking Beer Lao. 

I now have a long affair with sticky rice. There is nothing like it. I cooked pork/chicken lab (a Thai salad) and chicken in coconut and chilli sauce. D.E.L.I.C.I.O.U.S!

Luang Prabang is stunning. I would come back. It just so beautiful, cheap (all the markets), food is incredible and Thong Bay Bungalow where we stayed at, completed it.

No complaints… ok one thing, the bed. It was incredible hard that I pulled my neck muscles and couldn’t turn my neck for a few days , plus I buggered up my back before I left, and cut my finger while cooking.

So the consensus… I shouldn’t be allowed outside with the real people. I am a bloody mess!

Back to Vientiane for me!

Christmas presents, friend or foe?

The question of gift giving has come up a number of times in recent days and it’s has me thinking.

The whole idea behind gift giving on Christmas Day is really not based on any scientific or religious significance but a simple way of gouging parents to buy something expensive and plastic which will simply be collecting dust in back of the closest three months later.

I love Christmas.

I love the lights, the spirit and the fact I have can booze in the middle of the day (or early morning) without any judgement.

I am 30 years old. My family haven’t done gift giving in many, many years after the debacle of 2005 where I was given Kath and Kim DVDs (I don’t watch the show) water bed conditioner, a roll of lollies, and fifty bucks. Awesome!!

After that incident, gift giving came to an immediate halt.

I have a great paying and secured job (for now) and it affords me the luxury of buying things that I want. I don’t have to wait entire year to get something that I want, I can wander out to the shopping centres and the online world, and buy whatever I want.

So is Christmas gift giving still relevant after you turn 30 and don’t have any children? I have an 18 month niece and will gladly buy her something but do I need to get anything?

I am still in the undecided box of the survey.

The subject came up during a conversation with my boyfriend and with colleagues today at work – one was unfavourable towards gift giving and had really good reasons, the other was for and had good reasons too.

I shouldn’t have to have a day to give a gift when I can give you something anytime of the year

It’s not about a present but giving something to someone you love

That was two reasons I heard, and two very good ones.

Meh! I don’t know.

I am staying in the undecided box for a little while longer. 

Luang Prabang how I love thee

What can I say, I love this place. Thongbay Bungalows is heaven.

This place is stunning and I get to spend four days sitting on cushions being revered as a queen. Ok maybe I am overstating it but this place is beautiful. I have never stayed in a bungalow before and thought it would be a little worse for wear but I take that back.

The bungalows are surrounded by a tropical garden and private terraces, scattered amongst trees, ponds and the Nam Khan River.

   

I spent my first day lying on my stomach being bruised and pummelled by a little Lao man. I asked for a traditional Lao massage and I swear there were tears in my eyes from the amount of pain being caused by my masseur.  Iron fist!

The night markets in Lao are fantastic, rows and rows of stalls, filled with beautiful, colourful, shiny things. From jewellery and lights, to traditional Lao skirts and toys, it was heaven. I managed to nab two Lao skirts, three heart shaped pin cushions, one scarf (adding to my collection of a million scarves), one necklace (apparently I am the Imelda Marcus of jewels) and one necklace for a present.

Not too bad for one hour in the markets.

This was followed the next day by climbing on top of an elephant before being dunked under water in the Mekong River. Yep I was dunked under water by my cheeky elephant. My Mahout (elephant handler) said something to my elephant and then the cheeky bugger dropped fast into the water and then started dancing under water … so I was swaying side to side without any harness, trying not to fall off.

Sweet Jesus I thought I was going to fall off onto my arse. I was relying purely on my wonder woman thighs and my palms on the elephant’s head to hold me.

Ceci and Bec had it worse than me. Ceci’s Mahout convinced her to turn around (backwards) to wash her elephant back and then he signalled to the elephant and it threw her off into river. Bec’s Mahout was even worse. He unfortunately grabbed her breasts (to balance himself, of course) and then when they got into the water, her elephant dunked her completely under water. All of her.

The best part though, I rode an elephant, washed it and scrubbed it. It was such a fantastic experience. Nothing like it!

I have to say it’s not a bad way to spend your 30^th birthday, riding an elephant.  

Are you kidding? A 12 hour sleeping bus!

There is no way in any shape or form I am getting on a sleeping bus.

No way.

No how.

For some reason my protests were ignored.

Ceci kept repeating:

It’s all part of the adventure.

My ass!

I don’t want to be on a bus overnight as it tries to negotiate through the roads of a mountain, which is just big enough to fit a bus on one side and a car on another… with some parts not offering any guard rails.

Yeah you can see my reluctance to get on the stupid bus for 12 hours.

The only reason we are getting on the bus is to go to Luang Prabang, a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Side note… here is the history lesson (courtesy of Wikipedia):

Luang Prabang, means: "Royal Buddha Image, is a city located in north central Laos, where the Nam Khan river meets the Mekong River about 425 kilometres north of Vientiane.

Thankfully, after arriving at the travel agent, we were informed that the new sleeping bus was broken. Yes a bus that was brand new, and only been on one trip that week, didn’t work. Yeah I was pushing out of the way to get on that bus!

Anyway after weighing up getting on another 12 hour bus or a 30 minute flight to Luang Prabang, we all collectively agreed, to book a flight out of Vientiane the very next day.

This gave us an opportunity to head to Ceci’s favourite Lao restaurant where we gorged on traditional food – chicken larb, spiced chicken in ginger and coriander, with desserts like pumpkin and coconut cake, and pineapple with palm sugar and coconut ice cream. DELICIOUS!

Suffice to say, I waddled home filled with food and BeerLao.

Laos... where is that exactly?

On Tuesday 16^th November I started at the immigration office in Laos and smiled and repeated…

Yes I am teacher. Yes I am teacher. Yes I am teacher.

For the record, I am not a teacher but I am going into a Communist country and what I do for a living kind of makes some people nervous. I have experienced that nervousness in China, Egypt and India and just thought this time I would be a warm, inviting, softly spoken teacher.  

I had spent the previous weekend, laughing, more laughing, and being my ever loud self with family, friends and my boyfriend, celebrating my 30^th birthday.  

After eating, unwrapping pressies and drinking Woo Woo cocktails, I was ready to head over the one of the most bombed countries in history.

I thought instead of sitting on one’s arse for their 30^th birthday, I decided to head overseas and visit an old friend, home I lived with in Tuscany, building a house and being an au pair to four little rat bags (or boys).

The plan was to spend some time shopping till my heart’s content in Bangkok but the recent floods changed it all and so I made my way to Udon Thani on Thailand’s border to cross into Laos.

To cross to Laos you need to take The Friendship Bridge via a rickety old bus and then stand before immigration and pretend not to look nervous, despite the fact, I have never done anything illegal-ish.

Once that was all over, Ceci was waiting for Bec and I on the other side and made the announcement she has booked a moped for me… something I said no to because of my inclination to fall off them, get burnt by the exhaust or just scream bloody murder every time I hit a bump in the road, a car came anywhere near me or wind happen to blow in my face. I hate them and they are not fans of me.

Laos’ capital, Vientiane, is a beautiful place.

It’s not too big for a capital city and is filled with little streets and dusty roads, and is riddled with mopeds, banged up cars and smiling faces everywhere.

I am definitely liking Laos!

Bon voyage

Well i'm off again for another adventure.

This time's Laos, land of the ...

Well I'm not entirely sure because the lack person in me neglected to read up about it because I thought I would have plenty of time on the plane... a whole seven hours to read cover to cover about Laos.

So I can't really say what I am doing but I know I am going to Laos.

Sorry I can't be more helpful but hey that's all part of the adventure... not planning every single detail!

xo

Joke for the day...

I had to share this after reading a reply to a blog about relationships...

I like to sum up the way men and women veiw relationships with one simple joke.

A man, arguing with his wife says: “how can you be so damn stupid and so damn beautiful at the same time!” she quickly responds: “easily, god made me beautifil so you’d be attracted to me.. and god me me stupid, so i’d be attracted to you!”

I actually laughed out loud! Too funny.

FYI - the same blog said men knew more about relationships than women... sure!  

Today I become an old tart

Today is my 30th birthday!

And so far, I have been spoilt.

I have myself a giant bouquet of flowers sitting on my table from my boy, and endless list of calls and texts from family and friends. And on top, I have been pampered to an inch of my life, which will continue later today with a new hairdo.

And its only 1:30pm... more fun to be had.

Ah birthdays, I love them! Mine, family and friends and boyfriends.

xo

Seven days and counting...

I have seven days left of getting away with showing my ID

I have seven days left of getting away with wearing pig tails (not in public) while singing and shaking my booty to Ricky Martin

I have seven days left of saying, no no no I am in my 20s

I have seven days before I have to wear bed socks to bed

I have seven days until my taste buds go awry ....

Ok seriously I know its an over reaction but I can't help wonder what my 30s have in store for me... because my 20s were friggin' AWESOME!

I loved my 20s, I travelled, I explored, I meet many people, lost some, and had a wake up call.

So bear with me as I sit here with a mud mask on my face, a glass of red wine, while Fraiser is playing in the background, and a delicious Italian sponge cake calling my name.

Ah 20s!

Awesome!

Why does being honest and assertive get me in hot water?

Why does being honest and assertive get me in hot water?

Today, two of my colleagues were asked to give references for me for a job I had applied and was keen on winning.

Now I am an outsider and know that two internal people are vying for one job, so my chances are not extremely good but ill cross my fingers (and toes anyway).

Anyway back to the references, one colleague gave me a glowing references about my skills as a writer, a communicator and a team player. So essentially, two thumbs up.

While the other colleague gave a somewhat glowing reference where she was referred to my excellent writing abilities but raised the issue of my directness. Now, references are supposed to be accentuating my fabulousness, not pointing out something that she may see as a flaw when I see it as an attribute.

The thing is I don’t see directness as a bad thing. I see it as a person who is honest and assertive and is willing to get on with the job, not like others, simply sit still and wait for work (and eventual crisis’s) come to them.

Yet, my colleague thought it was appropriate to point it out, and then proceed to seek advice from our boss (who did not know I applied for the job) and see if the reference was correct. He agreed! Yeah you can imagine my reaction.

After saying nothing to no one, I spoke to my manager and he said that he was miffed that I had applied for job but he would have liked to have known about. I disagreed. I told him that while my honesty might not being everyone’s cup of tea, I am not changing for anyone, not now, not ever.

Anyway at the end of the day, I believe being honest and assertive is part of what makes me bloody awesome at my job, and it is these two attributes, which has seen progress quickly up my career ladder at the tender age of 29.

Those who criticise are only reflecting their insecurities, not mine.

So to all my criticisers… blow it out your arse!

What happened to Friday night drinks?

Tonight I had the pleasure of enjoying a drink with a friend at a pretentious, overtop, mediocre bar in Canberra’s suburb in Barton.

And while I did enjoy catching up with my lovely friend, I didn’t appreciate watching a parade of orange-tanned women, dressed like thosr women from Sex n City crossed with a hooker, trying to get the attention of men wearing tight shirts, pants and over styled hair.

I swear I spent half the time saying…

Did you see what she was wearing? Oh dear god!

If I could I would have posted photos of said outfits because it was incredible the lengths these women went to in order to get the attention of men.

The very men who looked like they spent more time in front of mirror then I would in an entire week.

What happened to going for a drink on a Friday night after work in jeans and a top, and it being a-ok?

I swear my friend was probably one of handful of people in jeans, and I was in a sun dress that was over 10 years old, and handed down to me.

Also what happened to casual?

Was there a memo that casual meant dressing in one of those dresses from Ice with stilettos from Novo? I remember jeans being acceptable in a bar.

Ah how life has changed… or is it just the yuppies wanting to show off their pay cheques and their inability to save money for … I don’t know… food?!

I guess taking the piss out of these people tonight landed me in trouble with karma… cause I got a parking ticket later than night. Ah bittersweet.

At least I can walk further than a street in my shoes and bend over without showing … well everything!

I knew I was right!

Man I should really buy myself a lottery ticket… I would probably win!

Today there was a development at work… well actually a realisation that I am right.

I don’t know why people think they are right, sorry, you’re wrong. When I’m involved, you’re wrong, im right.

My boss thought he knew better when he decided to change my job and make me a manager… don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind managing people; it’s just, I don’t want to.

Anyway, today the realisation, that one person cannot do my old job on their own finally hit him. A very stressed look on his face confirmed what I had known for three months… I am right.

Ah bless him for trying something different but when you move into a position I don’t want, and never asked for, and think that somehow the work will still get done – you’re sadly mistaken because I don’t do two jobs for one pay cheque.

I also believe in karma.

And the mantra, don’t mess with me.

So today is the slippery slope to change.

I will soon be back in the job that I loved and want to do for the short term because everyone should have job where they get up in morning and want to go to. Not a job, where they dread the pain that might kick them in the arse, repeatedly, until it’s time to knock off. And even when you do, it continues at home because the word “manager” means you can never switch off and someone will always be invading your personal life.

My old (soon to be new) job can be frustrating, tiring and make me scream out in bloody murder but it’s rewarding and I get to write something that is heard, read and soaked in by one person, five people, a hundred people, thousands, or even millions. And that is what I want from a job.

I knew I was right!

I hate the waiting!!

The tickets are booked.

The travel insurance is ready.

Passport is sitting nicely in my draw.

Backpack now ready to be packed.

Now comes the waiting.

I hate waiting for a holiday... everything between the time you book it and the time you arrive at the airport feels like years. And the worst part, you go on a holiday and its over in a flash.

ARGH!!

I have two trips planned... the first is two weeks in South East Asia, specifically Thailand and Laos with my girls; the second is four days in Adelaide with my boy.

So I have to wait four weeks. Four bloody weeks!

All I have contend with now is reading about my holidays.

I hate waiting … I hate waiting for holidays; waiting for service; waiting for words; I hate it!

Ah time...

Four weeks to the day I will be 30 years young.

Thirty years of happy memories, sad memories, the challenges, the drama, and of course, the travelling.

November 11 will be the next phase… Oh seriously that sounds like complete bullshit and from those stupid-arse Hallmark cards that people get every year.

It’s a birthday, I am not having a lobotomy!

My life is not over, the ticking clock of whatever is nowhere in sight, and I am not thinking of what is happening next year… I am thinking of what is happening now.

I guess the only thing that is bothering me is … well actually nothing. I had to think about that.

I tried to think about what (if any) was my issue with turning 30 and nothing. When I was 21, I always assumed by the time I turned 30, I would have achieved everything.

Life doesn’t work that way – thank god!

How boring would the next 40 years be if I achieved everything by 30!

I am actually looking forward to spending my birthday with my boy, my friends, some good food and good wine; and that’s enough for me.

A nice reminder...

I sit here a little teary because an old friend appeared today.

I was logged on to Facebook and pictures of an old friend who passed away four years ago appeared.

I found myself clicking into all his photos, seeing that lovely and cheeky smile of his… the very one that used to make me laugh and put me in stitches. The very same one I don’t see anymore.

When my friend passed away, it was the wakeup call I needed to realise that I was wasting my life being a moody bitch who just fault in everything because it easier than doing about it.

All the plans I had set myself for had been ignored and put in the too hard basket. When my friend died, I saw these beautiful photos of him, smiling, enjoying life and it was the wakeup call I needed. After the funeral, I walked out and book myself a ticket to London.

It was the best thing I ever did because it changed my life and it brought me back from the doom and gloom I had built all around me.

His photos just reminded me of how far I have come and how grateful I am to him for making me open my eyes.

xoxox to Josh.

Listen to you about safe driving when you...

I see a policeman in Canberra’s city centre, driving a paddy wagon, while talking on a mobile phone!

Funny thing is, they preach about not driving while speaking on a mobile or flash message on the highway that they will fine me $280 if I am caught with a mobile.

So why is it ok for policemen and women to talk on the phone?

Hypocrites!

P.S i hope no one was in the paddy wagon.

Five month mark...

It was brought to my attention that I have been dating my boy for five months now - five whole months.

This is officially the longest relationship I have ever been in. Don’t judge.

I have had relationships before but they have never lasted beyond three months and that’s because I get bored with them.

They never seem to:

A) contribute to the relationship
B) know what they are doing with … you know what,
C) know how to carry an intelligent conversation with another human being
D) feel emasculated if I happen to earn more than them or on a higher/ more responsibility job
E) know when being racist is just plain wrong
F) tell me how they feel without me having to prompt them (even once would be handy)

Ok I could keep going but I could run out of the alphabet.

I am in now uncharted territory now because I’ve never been with one man this long before.

I have been single a lot longer than he has been single.

He has been in relationships a lot longer than I have been in relationships.

We have similar interests and little patience for idiots, princesses, jackasses, and pretentious people, people who happen to speak with accents despite only visit London for week (ok that’s my thing) or anyone really remotely annoying.

We love cooking together (although he cooks, I bake), we hang out and chill on the weekends, and I don't feel like I have to hold back for fear of saying something that might make he feel uncomfortable.

Can it get any better? I think so; I know it can.

There isn’t any plan, or path, that each relationship takes because each time it’s different but it would be nice to have some sort of road map… even if I can’t read the bloody things!

Can one foo with a fight?

Right come 5th of December, I will be doing the following:

A) Rocking it out to the Foo Fighters
B) Rocking it out with my boy
C) Rocking it all night long!

I’m pretty excited and now I have to wait three months!

What the hell!!

Who is answering these surveys?!!!

Right RVSP took upon themselves to conduct a thorough and quantitative survey which concluded that 46 per cent wanted sex three times a day or more in the first month of a new relationship.

Apparently 5300 randy people from across Australia were surveyed and this was the result.

I am … speechless.

In my entire life I have never been asked or participated in a survey, so I wonder who are these people are being surveyed? What mindset do they have when they are filling this survey out? They are probably crazed sex teenagers.

The same survey found that Generation Y are most likely to want sex up to six times a week!!! Do these people have jobs?!?

Bloody surveys!

What men want from women?

Really? Someone thought it was wise and worth spending a dollar trying to ask this question?

I came across this study today where a useless git of a research company went out and posed the question to men, what do you want from women?

The answer: We want a "good sort"

Wow... enlightening!

They want a woman that is trusting, loving and supportive, down to earth, with an attractive smile and eyes and an adventurous spirit. They openly valued traits such as togetherness, honesty, respect, a sense of humour and a best friend.

Aw that’s so after school special but there is more… always is.

They want a woman who has a good set of boobs, a nice bum, a focus on fashion and similar interests.

Fashion? Who are these men?

Every year, these studies come out trying to give women further insight into the world that is men and this is the best they can do. Seriously, who are they interviewing?

When I was reading this report in the news, each article seemed to include the picture of our very own Miss Universe, Jennifer Hawkins, is this supposed to tell me that Miss Universe is the bar woman all need to work towards?

Because I can tell you now … it’s never going to happen.

I would look like Jennifer Hawkins if (a) I stopped eating and only breathed in non-calorie air from Antarctica, (b) worked out for all hours of the day in the gym, and (c) didn’t have a job so I could work out all hours of the day in the gym.

To paint all men with same brush is ludicrous and just bad journalism.

I want to know how many men were asked these questions and where they were from because it sounds like these men spend longer in front of the mirror than I do, kiss their arms after a workout (and generally most of the other time), and drive a done up barina, bought by their mothers… one can paint the same brush (see how easy it is?).

Interesting, I read that some women were interviewed and the response was that women placed importance on personal hygiene and their friends' opinion of their partner.

That brush is certainly getting a work out!

Costco in Canberra, really?!!?!?

Ok so I managed to get through the secret chambers of Costco today.

The only reason is because my dad has a card (which he paid $60 for) and in my opinion, waste of money.

Unless you have a family of eight, i see no reason why Canberra should now become another state of the US of A.

Hersey Syrup, 2kgs of Philly cheese, 1 kg apple pie, 48 rolls of toilet paper, a $500 bottle of cognac, an extra large pizza, jeans, diamonds... i can keeping going but this is some of what I saw... and quite frankly, I don't understand why we have a Costco.

The worst part of it all is when my dad went to buy something he used his card, and for me, I decided to pay my part separately (strawberries) but because I wasn't on the fancy shmazy card I couldn't pay separately.

Huh?

I am paying you for goods but can't pay for it separately? My dad is paid $60 for a bloody card to shop at your establishment?

My response to Costco, the customer is making you money, and you want them to pay on top of their groceries, the privlege of walking through a giant shed.

Imagine Woolies, Coles or Aldi making you pay for a card to walk inside a shop to buy theirm marked up to the hilt, goods?! Bugger off!

I say, bugger off to Costco.

Americans likes their bulk, Australians their quality. I didn't see anything of quality, just quantity today.

It was first visit and my last.

We deserve this damn it!

There is nothing like getting a call from my gorgeous friend to make me feel all gooey and happy.

After my crappy crappy and CRAPPY week, it was nice to finish off the week (and weekend) hanging out with my boy, and getting a call from my gorgeous friend.

And the best part is, she is happy. So happy I could actually hear her grinning from ear to ear and I was delighted. Absolutely freaking ecstatic.

I am happy to eat the laughter in my friend's voice. Her path is now much clearer than it was just eight months ago and now she is happy in herself and everything around her and that's gives great pleasure and joy.

It actually made me smile and feel good for her, and for myself. Because both her and I and are finally in a great place and we bloody deserve!

It was nice to be reminded that despite my crappy, there is something good happening... the bad part is I needed to be reminded. My bad!

One gold panther cuff with diamond, onyx and garnet - total $58,000 - huh?

When did it become responsible journalism to advertise jewellery in a fashion magazine that was greater then my house deposit?!

I know its a fashion magazine.

Believe me, I understand its not Time Magazine, the New Yorker, The Times, The Australian, or the Big Issue, but did all the airheads get together and decide advertising a piece of an overpriced, gaudy piece of metal justified paying $58,000 for?

I don't think the women paying $8 dollars for the magazine would be able to easily afford that piece of jewellery without mortgaging their entire future and the future of their children on.

Hey, maybe i was brought up differently. Or maybe the airheads have been breathing in too much of the airspray to be in touch with reality and the current economic climate.

The moment I saw that cuff advertised, I decided there and then, that would be the last time I would ever buy that magazine!

Good bye fashion magazine... its been a lovely and beautiful relationship but I've decided its you, not me. We have just drifted apart, gone in different directions, I don't like your hair done that way... you smell funny... ok that was low.

Thank you and good bye! ;o)

I'm channelling Steve Bradbury right now ...

So this week, my boss of seven years walked into my office, sat down and told me a job a delightful piece of news.

I have been working in a higher duties job for more than two years, and three months ago, I applied for my job to made permanent and went to interview.

All good so far.

I felt confident and assured that my role was secure and that the splitting of my into two would finally give me the role I had been waiting for, for two years.

So, this week, my boss sat down and explained to me that I in fact came third in my job, effectively meaning, I didn't win it.

The first position was given to someone who wanted the other half of my old crappy job (fine, have it... hated it anyway) but the other half, was all I wanted. He told me that someone outside my work, applied and had won it, but then declined.
So... "we decided to give it to you, cause you were next..."

Oh gee thanks so much for the opportunity but how about you jam that up your tight arse and mind you manners. (I am aware by using that language, i in fact need to mind mine but .... no).

Before I had a chance to utter any words, my boss then tells me that, when he realised I had come third he started looking around for second rate jobs for me. Ok, he didn't use those words but after he told me where he was looking, it was.

"Luckily, it never came to that."

Thanks for that. I really appreciate you putting me forward for the crappy, second rate jobs, you believe I would be perfect for.

And then, last but not least, proceeds to tell me that he has ideas for my career and that he is going to look into other opportunities to further me in the organisation.

WHO THE HELL ASKED YOU!

I screamed this in my head, and avoided the urge to grab my keyboard. Of course, I am not one of those people but in the moment my whole body was blotchy and hot from holding the anger in. I felt humilated.

Last time I checked I was responsible for my career... but apparently I was wrong!
The worst part is that I don't feel like celebrating a job I worked my booty off for because they never picked me. They saw my corporate knowledge, my ten years experience in the field, and strong work ethic, as something to be disposed because someone else was at level. That was the only reason.

So I feel a little like Steve Bradbury.

I won the gold but don't quite feel like parading while the others are scattered all around me.

Steve Bradbury trained hard for his sport and frankly won the gold cause other idiots couldn't stay upright. It may have been a fluke but he still trained his entire life for that race and kissed that gold medal like he should have.

And maybe a few days from now I will feel like doing just that but right now I feel like tripping one of those smug Germans ...

Basic rules for driving in Canberra

I saw this and had to share it...

1. Indicators will give away your next move. A real Canberra driver never uses them.

2. Under no circumstances should you leave a safe distance between you and the car in front of you, or somebody else will fill in that space, putting you in an even more dangerous situation.

3. Crossing two or more lanes in a single lane change is considered "going with the flow."

4. The faster you drive through a red light, the less chance you have of getting hit.

5. Never get in the way of an older car that needs extensive repairs. The other guy doesn't have anything to lose.

6. Braking is to be done as hard and as late as possible to ensure that your ABS kicks in, giving a nice, relaxing foot massage as the brake pedal pulsates. For those of you without ABS, it's a chance to stretch your legs.

7. Speed limits are arbitrary figures, given only as suggestions and apparently not enforceable in the metro area during rush hour.

8. Please remember that there is no such thing as a shortcut during rush-hour traffic in Canberra.

9. Always slow down and rubberneck when you see an accident or even someone changing a tyre.

10. Everybody thinks their vehicle is better than yours, especially 4WD drivers.

11. Learn to swerve abruptly. Canberra is the home of High-Speed Slalom Driving thanks to the Urban services, which puts potholes in key locations to test drivers' reflexes and keep them on their toes, not forgetting the 'Test your skill' chicanes in suburbs.

12. It is traditional in Canberra to honk your horn at cars that don't move the instant the light changes.

13. Seeking eye contact with another driver revokes your right of way.

14. Never take a green light at face value. Always look right and left before proceeding.

15. Remember that the goal of every Canberra driver is to get there first, by whatever means necessary.

16. Real Canberra women drivers can put on pantyhose and apply eye makeup at 75 kph in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

17. Real Canberra men drivers can remove pantyhose and a bra at 95 kph in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

18. Heavy fog and rain are no reasons to change any of the previously listed rules. These weather conditions are God's way ensuring a natural selection process for panel beaters, junkyards, and new vehicle sales. It is an acceptable practice to increase our speed in comparison to the rate of rain fall, i.e.: the harder it rains, the faster you go.

19. There is a commonly held belief in Canberra that high-speed tailgating in heavy traffic reduces petrol consumption as you get sucked along in the slipstream of the car in front.

20. It's OK to cut off fully loaded semi-trailers, road trains and buses because, hell - they have brakes.

21. It is an essential duty of the driver to preserve the life of his passengers. Hence no matter how much of an inconvenience it may be, always find a detour around The Causeway, Lower Kambah, Lower Wanniassa, Scullin, Areas of Ainslie, and Oaks Estate.

22. Always anticipate oncoming traffic while driving down a one-way street.

23. It's O.K when driving in Belconnen's suburbs to air your grievances at bad drivers by giving the "one finger salute" while screaming out "#%*#". However, it is imperative you are driving at least a 5-litre V8 with a crow bar in your lap.

24. Canberra drivers are experts at merging, when in two or more lanes travelling in the same direction, ensure that if you see someone politely indicating, waiting slowly trying to merge into your lane, show them that they must 'Wait their turn' to use your lane. Speed up, try to cut them off, should they succeed and get into your lane never mind that it was actually legal for them to do that, ensure that your flash your lights, honk your horn, use extreme hand gestures, even tailgate them, just to let them know, IT WAS YOUR LANE.

25. Ensure that when merging into traffic travelling at any more than 40kph that you stop in the merging lane, backing up traffic for miles behind you, ensuring that you have given yourself or no-one else that opportunity to merge. Again, forget that the traffic handbook states that you should speed up to meet traffic speed then merge. If you are travelling in a lane near a merge lane, don't changes lanes to make it easy for them, instead see rule 24, after all they deserve it.

26. While using Canberra roundabouts, particularly two lane roundabouts, ENSURE that you are in the left lane to turn right, or the right to turn left, hell lets keep those people in those other lanes on their toes.

27. If you are an Action bus driver, you must win at all costs, getting to your destination prior to any other driver is life and death. Never worry about your passengers bouncing round in the back like tennis balls, hell it's a cheap form of theme park, in fact Canberra's very own.

28. Canberra Cabs, see rule 27, except you are now qualifying for the GMC 400.

29. Pedestrian crossings - What are they?

30. If you are a cyclist, remember YOU ARE INVINCIBLE, you are stronger than ANY vehicle travelling at speed, MAKE SURE you take the whole lane for yourself, and at night NEVER use lights, remember They Will See You

Ok don't panic... everything is going to be oookkkk

This week I bought wrinkle cream.

That fandangle Garnier stuff that makes the skin all supple and soft and apparently helps smooth out fine lines.

See my slight hiccup is that in exactly 12 weeks I will be turning the big 3-0.

Now I am not hearing any drumming, ticking, explosions or anything that sounds like a parade of random words that I apparently should be hearing when you near 30.

All I hear is wrinkle cream.

Why!! Why did I buy it?

I was sucked in by those stupid advertisements about youthful skin! I'm a sucker I know but come on, if you could see my skin, you would be buying a jar or two. Its pretty soft, baby bum soft.

Now, who knows if this stuff will work but soft skin, is soft skin and this baby loves soft skin.

So in 12 weeks I will be 30 years young. I was wondering over the weekend and these past few days about pathways, if I signed the dotted line and joined the Australian Airforce, where would I be today?

What if I decided to stay in London instead of emailing my boss in Australia and telling him I was coming back (I had the letter of resignation attached to the email too).

But I haven't regretted a thing, or any decision I have made in my 20s because my 20s were fucking fantastic!

Sorry about the language but seriously my 20s were spent travelling world, living in different cities, building a career, and finally finishing it off by buying my first home.

And without sounding too Disney (as I like to call it) I have a boyfriend who is wonderful, is smart as well as a smart arse, makes me laugh, and knows how to cook. Not too shabby!

And 12 weeks out from my birthday, I can reflect back and smile.

I might have bought wrinkle today but maybe when I turn 40 I will look like a 30 year old. If not, well my breasts better be naturally death defying and have an arse that won't quit!

I'm not sure... pole dancing; really?

Ok a friend of mine asked me today if I am interested in joining a pole dancing class and my immediate response was yes.

Now I wonder if I am up to the task?

I googled pole dancing and saw pictures of women holding themsevles upside down with their thighs! WITH THEIR THIGHS!

Ok also when i googled pole dancing, it came up with other websites but i just choose to ignore those ones... I am a lady after all.

So my dilemma is that I am a size 14, curvy, with a nice toosh and pretty good set of breasts but can i hold my weight on a skinny pole with just my thighs? My inner cheerleader says yes... reality says no.

These women are also wearing short shorts, with leg warmers and heels and quite frankly, bogans... I am nothing like that. If anything I would go just purely to take the piss and judge them, its the only way they know that square french tip nails are wrong; just wrong!!

My first class is next month, so fingers crossed I can shake my booty the way I only know how.

Oh I forgot to mention...

Daytime television SUCKS!!!

Being trapped in your own home because of little teeny tiny thing called tonsillitis is torture enough but having to watching Bert Newton's daughter sell bedsheets with her every fake smile and unnatural happy attitude makes me want to watch a three hour documentary on snails crossing the Sahara.

I swear I have no idea how Kerri-Anne, Morning Show, The Circle, and whatever other crap I watched this week, actually exist. Why are they allowed to be on television? I swear mums at home with their bubs are busy enough and don't have time to watch a wannabe chef (really they are cook) flog another one of their crappy cooking books.

To the chick that one the first season of Masterchef, you are not a chef, or even a cook! You took old recipes by other people with skills, someone used photoshop to make the sludge look good, and someone else, who is paid peanuts, put it together. Ta da!! A cookbook!

Ah! Whatever!

I say again, daytime television sucks!

I should give an update...

I noticed looking back on one of my blogs about the current state of my parents marriage that it now requires an update.

Well after a year apart, they decided to give it another shot.

And that's all jack.

I've decided that in order for me to have my sanity I am playing not part in their marriage anymore. It's too hard and its not my problem.

I can't help them, I can't advise them, and I can't tell them what's right and wrong. And I don't want to because I am their daughter, not their counsellor (anymore).

The good news is though they saw sense and sensibility but all on their own.

Good luck to them.

xoxo

I am a prisoner in my own home

This week I was ordered to stay indoors after my doctor told me I had a severe case of tonsillitis.

I now have to stay indoors, amusing myself with lame arse television, DVDs I've watched hundreds of times, and goggling random things on the world wide web.

I've looked up the last episode of Roseanne, apparently Dan dies! I didn't know that.

I've been re-watching Sex and the City and now I hate Carrie. She is a little princess, who is not only high maintenance but pouts and chucks tantrums when men don't kneel to her whim, even if she is being unreasonable. Seriously, she is a pain in the arse!

I've read every gossip magazine I could get my hands on and I don't know half of the people in them, and I couldn't care less that (a) their apparent marriage was on the apparent rocks according to sources close the couple, (b) someone famous bought their coffee, making them a real person, and (c) how to please a man by making him dinner. Sure!

Seriously, there is nothing on Australian television and in magazines. It sucks!

If I could go outside, I would but NOOOO I'm a prisoner in my own home. Stupid tonsillitis!

I have done my washing, cleaned my kitchen... basically I'm cleaning to keep my occupied. I hate cleaning!

I've eaten my weight in soup and all I really want is a juicy meat burger, with caramelised onions, beetroot, lettuce, and tomato sauce, with crunchy chips on the side, and a beer.

Is it wrong to fantasise about a burger? Hopefully, my boyfriend doesn't get too miffed about that. Kisses!

I have to go back to Carrie! Seriously whingy pain in the arse! She was unhappy because “Big” didn't introduce her as his girlfriend to his mother but was taking her to the Caribbean for a holiday! The bastard. How dare he!

And then, she says, just tell me I'm the one (while pouting and shifting from foot to foot like a child in tantrum mood) and he says nothing. If you have to ask, then you know you're answer, I say. I wanted to slap her. Ok I know it's a show but she is annoying me.

I wondered if women are actually like that? If I am like that? What if I don't even know if its there? What if it hasn't been unleashed yet? Oh dear god! Everyone run for the hills! LOL LOL.

Anyway back to the couch, drinking my lunch and dinner cause I can't eat anything solid. Wah!

Coming second, sucks!

My time flies and then you realise crap...

Crap being the word of the day for me!

I have spent seven long years at my current employment and now I want out.

The only reason for my flat attitude is that I had hope to have happy news today... that a job I applied for – basically a employee I had been aiming to work for since I started working – sent me a lovely and curt email saying thanks for no thanks.

I came second.

There is nothing wrong with coming second; its just that I really, really wanted this job.

Second isn't always bad...

I love seconds of food; kisses; hugs.... but coming second to someone else sucks!

And now I have in the fight for my current job.

The job I have been for the past three years was advertised a few weeks ago and now I have been short-listed for an interview.

I am no arrogant flower but it sucks to have to be interviewed for a job I do every day, and have been, for three years.

Next Tuesday is D-Day... and I have to blow everyone, on the interview panel, away.

The nervy part is that I have worked with each other these people for many, many years and now I have to pretend I don't know them and that I am best thing since sliced bread.

I hate talking about myself in interviews and I hate that I know that I blank and forget everything. I know many people hate interviews but seriously, I am god awful at them.

So I have something to look forward to, I guess.

Girl in the City: So how does this work?

Girl in the City: So how does this work?

So how does this work?

I'm in a relationship with a man that makes me laugh, makes me happy between the sheets (sorry it had be said) and can hold a conversation without it being all about him.

So why did my ex douche bag of a boyfriend send me an email through the wonderful world of Facebook and say:

I hear you're with a ranga? Hope his a top bloke and treats you nice...

And before you ask, I pressed delete! No response, no thought. Why bother.

The man never gave me the time of day to pay any slight attention to me while we dated (if you want to call it that) so I gave him as much attention as he gave me.

Delete! I love that word.

I did tell my man about that email and true to form, he smiled, laughed a little and said at least I know what I am doing. Love it!

So its been two months since we started dating and I am still finding my way through this whole relationship... I am not sure if that makes sense to you all but I am not entirely use to a man wanting to spend time with me, and actually wanting to spend time with me. And kids, I have to say, I love it!

I love holding his hand.

I love kissing him. It actually sends shivers down my spine? WTF! Didn't even know that happens – except for mills and boons books.

I love sitting next to him while we play Wii (especially the onion chopping game and Mario Kart)

I love waking up next to him.

I love hearing him say sweet things to me... and surprisingly, I thought I would hate that soppy shit but nope... lapping it all up! Who would have thought!

The thing is I am a little scared of becoming one of those 'we' people, the ones that forsake all their friends for their boyfriend … because I think I understand why some people do it.

At the beginning of a new relationship all you want to do is spend every minute with your man and the idea of anything else seems a little... meh.

Don't curse, don't even judge me cause we all do it. I am just new to it all.

So I am interested to know what other people do in the beginning of a relationship?

What makes a good friend?

The question was put to me by a friend who sent a text message venting her anguish and stress after having a bad day.

She called out asking for the family and friends that never supported her, and who never listened to her to sod off.

In her words, a friend is someone who provides a whole lot of support, a huge amount of listening (not hearing) and a large quantity of talking through (not solving) problems and only a touch of judgement if required.

She’s right!

My response to her text and the people who continually pull her down and make her question herself was ‘fuck em, fuck em all I say’.

These people are only pulling her down because they are jealous and insecure about themselves and the lives they have lost out of sheer fear of failure.

So they sit at home and criticise everyone else and make them repeat their failings so they can feel better about themselves. It has nothing to do with my friend or me.

They just want to bring you down, put you in your place, and make you feel insecure because it’s a reflection of their insecurities, not yours.

The thing that pisses me off is that they are supposes to be your friend.

Yeah you’re friend can advise and tell you that it might not be a good idea but in the end if you choose to go the opposite direction, you expect your friend to say, I will still be there.

That’s their job! Because you would do that for them.

When I came back from a year away overseas, I made the decision to rid myself of the insecurities and negativity that had dogged me for years. These people I believed were my friends. In the end, I got tired of always listening to their problems, their issues and their insecurities. I got tired of always having to be there for them and they didn’t bother to turn around and say, hey what’s going on with you, and actually mean it. Not use to then talk about themselves again

These people who are no longer in my life, and if they were to read this, they know they deserved it. And if the selfless arses don’t then I am better off without them in my life.

My year overseas opened my eyes.

I saw myself for the first time.

And when I came home, I made the promise to myself that no-one, NO-ONE, would ever make me feel insecure, question myself or make me feel bad about myself.

No one would make me feel that I couldn’t do anything.

Or tell me that I was only in my position because of them.

Or second guess myself or poison relationships with friends or more in order to have my full attention.

No one will ever have that control anymore.

And if the fuckers want to try, all I have to say is,  fuck em, fuck em all I say!

Well cupid has a funny way of showing its arse!

For the past three weeks, I have not been able to hide the stupidest grin on my face and acting like a 16 year old school girl whose milkshakes bring the boys to the yard.

I shall put it in context before I shame myself, and my poor mother.

A month ago, I went to a dinner with a friend of mine, whom I have had strong feelings for some time but thought it wasn't wise to poke that bear because of the strong friendship.

So at this dinner, I decided to.... well poke the bear.

Let's keep it clean people!

I decided to flirt and see what the reaction might be and since I am worst flirter, he didn't pick up a single thing... not the brushing of my leg against his, playing with my hair, possibly brushing my hand up and down my chest (sorry mum) and staring at him intently. Yeah see a normal flirter would be able to make it obvious but alas, I am not gifted with the art of flirting. So nothing happened.

He dropped me off at home, and drove off. Whatever!

Anyway, me being me, started to get in my head about what to do and should I say something. I am such a chicken shit that I said nothing for a whole one day. Ok half a day!

I called in a friend of mine at work into my office and decided to tell her that I had feelings for said friend and …. nothing, nothing, nothing and then a cute smile. She said I had to say something to him because there was no way I was going to be able to be comfortable here on now.

So when he came into my office (yes he works at my work, and yes he works in a different team), we did our usual chat about how we had fun at the dinner and blah blah blah. Here is the abridged version:

Me: How that dinner good fun, right?
Him: Yeah I had a great time.
Me: I really did have fun and it was so cool just hanging out with you and chilling.
Him: Always is fun.
Me: Oh did you hear the others bugging me about you and I making a go of it.
Him: Yeah, same old, same old,
Me: So about that, what do you think?
Him: __________________________________________________

That went for a few seconds or minutes, I couldn't tell. He just stared at me.

Yeah that was frigging uncomfortable!

Anyway he says "am I serious", I say "yes" and then he walks away. "That's it?" That's exactly what I said out loud.

Fast forward a few days of awkwardness (all on my part cause I'm a freak) and very nice flirting back and forth, I decided a call to a dear friend of mine was in order. Happened to be a three hour and 45 minute conversation with darling friend who was a little stressed out and I decided to drink wine without eating food... not a good idea but she made me realise that I needed to calm the hell down.

And while I was slightly ill when he kissed for the first time, everything else seemed to calm down and I stopped being in my head and go with it. And that's where I leave it - a girl never kiss and tells.

And while its only three weeks, I am enjoying every minute of it. I am going with flow.

There are no expectations of each other. He knows me already because of our friendship so I don't even have to try to win him over. I'm good.

You can say: I am one happy camper!!!