One More Night

Also, I'm not even going to bother putting "lose weight" down as one of my New Year's resolutions.

Since starting to regularly exercise (again...) this time last year, I've lost no weight but have gained muscle, worse knee crepitus and a need to wash my hair more regularly (you know, besides the monthly thing I usually abide by).

In honour of all those shitty fashion and lifestyle blogs I religiously (and sadly) follow, I have decided to do a year in review. It goes as follows:

1. Started second year med school. I do not want to elaborate.

2. Started exercising. I managed to not crush my skull with a stray weight but did manage to bash my knee with one resulting in a delightful bruise (for evolution of bruise over a one week period, please refer to instagram). I still cannot hold a plank for over 2.5 minutes. I can do a respectable bicep curl and bench press, however. Hm, turning into a man?

3. Turned into a man.

4. Turned back into a female. Had more periods. Bye bye, eggs.

5. Had hilarious "romantic" dramas. Following on from the F-travesty of last year, I took it a step further and made an even bigger ass of myself. Later that day, I went to Little Mishelle's house and ate about 30 pandan microwaved baos to consolidate my losses.

6. Decided to go to Europe next year.

7. Managed to NOT horrifically embarrass myself in a largely public setting (as far as I can remember). This is a feat for me as I have pretty much done this every year since I was born (I pissed my pantaloons in year one and, in year two, barfed all over the school bathroom floor).

8. Went to karaoke and sang a lot of Taylor Swift.

9. Bought more <$5 tops and clothes. I have also recently developed an obsession with those bodycon tube skirts and have accumulated about five or six so far, all for under $5. Yes, I am just that great. Unfortunately, I do not look like this whilst wearing them (who would want to though, right?):

10. Went to see Taylor Swift in concert; one of the best nights of my life so far. 

11. Got my Ps and crashed into a tree. Just jokes, it was a small child.

12. Developed some excellent split ends that I have proceeded to search for and split for the last couple of months. Unfortunately, I got my hair trimmed a few weeks ago and many of them have been sadly lost. I still find one every now and then and they give me hope for the future. 

13. Developed an unhealthy obsession with getting a dog. 

14. Acquired employment at Officeworks (once upon a time, my one true love) and found retail to be satisfactorily entertaining. Speaking of Officeworks, gripes so far from customers have included some European woman chastising me for charging 15c for bags (step the back off), an older bogan lad for "gasbagging" with my colleague who was teaching me how to find stuff that was put on hold and, lastly, this piece of bitch who gave me shit for saying $9.44 instead of $9.45. Yay, logic!

The next time I write to you... it will be 2013. Don't get too krunk!

J

Croquembouche

Yesterday afternoon, my very old family friend, Amy, came over to make a croquembouche with me. It was her birthday (party) yesterday so this was meant to be her birthday cake. She'd already made the choux pastry and we intended to make the custard and toffee at my house.

In case you don't remember, it was something like 40C yesterday.

She had used 30 eggs to make the choux pastry. We used a further 19 egg yolks for the custard (I cracked one yolk with the shell and it was hilarious then I cried). We tried to make toffee. It didn't turn brown. We held each other and wept. We piped custard into choux pastry. All my custard came out the top of the piping bag and onto my hand. I ate it. We dipped our profiteroles into our sad, non-toffee-coloured sugar/glucose syrup and attempted to stick said sad profiteroles onto our cardboard cone.

It started off fine. We saw our dreams came to life... And then, sadly, things began to slip. Literally. It collapsed onto itself. At this point, it was almost 6pm and her party was due to start at 6.30pm.

Amy said to me, "Fuck it, let's just make a pyramid and stack them onto of each other," except with less profanity (my mother was there). We stacked furiously for some 15 odd minutes. We got tired and started shoving cashous and Maltesers in every and all crevices.

There was sugar syrup all over the floor. Then Amy had the brilliant idea of just pouring cashous on top of our sad mountain.

"Nooo," mother screamed, alas too late as a scatter of cashous (accompanied by that delightful sound of pebbles bouncing) spread across our dining room floor.

We kicked Amy out after that. I scrubbed sugar off of me and showered up. I went to said party and ate a shit tonne of profiteroles.

It was good.

Happy New Year, folks.

J

Messi and Cuppi

Holy shit, so much fucking snark and bitterness: http://getoffmyinternets.net/gomi-forum/fashion-bloggers/page-2/

Now, I can never read Cupcakes and Cashmere or What I Wore ("Messi") ever again without some insane judgmental thoughts racing through my head. Those girls on that message board (I'm assuming girls...) tore those motherfuckers to shreds. That being said, I'm pretty sure most of what they wrote and theorized was chiefly bullshit.

Still.

Also, does Cuppi remind you of Hallie's doll from the Parent Trap? It looked like it had been urinated on.

J

The Blobbit

I read this on a message board and now I am imbued with a new sense of urgency to see The Hobbit (going this Saturday):

"Everything I love about LOTR is basically in The Hobbit minus the oppressive feeling of doom."

I feel this person greatly. This person (or someone else, can't remember) went on to talk about how relatively boring the hobbits are compared to the other characters. Agreed wholeheartedly. Whenever I watch it at home, I fast forward through nearly all the hobbit parts (particularly when Gollum, Samwise and Freddo go gallavanting through marshes and swamps and crap) and only watch Gimli (son of Gloin) and the other dudes go adventuring.

Seriously, it is so boring to watch two dingy little hobbits and their wrinkly bedfellow wade through dirty water and eat fish. It's also incredibly depressing. Poor Sam.

Going to eat froyo later. Very excited. It's hot.

J

Breakfast Poll

I wrote that last blog post because I've been deliberating for the last 20 minutes about what I want to eat for breakfast tomorrow morning.

Consider the following:

1. I bought plain and pineapple Chobani greek yoghurt today and ate neither because I was too busy/not hungry. Tragic. 

2. I love microwaved eggs.

3. I love cereal with banana slices.

4. I haven't eaten hot oatmeal in weeks and have been looking at pictures of creaminess on food blogs since I got home from work.

Too many damn options. Get back to me ASAP. 

J

Family Friendly

Why is breakfast such a great meal? Not only does it "break the fast" but it also offers the greatest food options (in my opinion). Sweet (of all varieties), savoury (of all varieties), beverages (of all varieties).

Other than that, my parents had a family friend party on Wednesday night. I thought it was going to be terrible and the only thing I was looking forward to was the cheese my dad bought. Brie and this apricot cream cheese. Both were disgusting; the brie was kind of tasteless and the apricot cream cheese tasted like it had been dipped in sugar. So I just ate the water crackers by themselves (ya'll know how much I love a good water cracker... Or bad water cracker. Doesn't matter, so long as it's a water cracker).

It was actually a pretty enjoyable evening. I also learnt that I'm literally the most lightweight person in the entire world. As in, I drank one cider and was acting like a drunk. That being said, a lot of people have accused me of acting like a drunk in the past when I've consumed nothing but coke (a cola). I think it's a good thing that I can get naturally high off my own and others' company. I will avoid liver failure this way.

We played multiple rounds of thirteen in our back room until it was time for a pitiful dessert spread (seriously, desserts at family friend parties are usually so ace. This one was tragic. All I had was fruit. Sad). I told everyone my great jokes (profitability/profiteroles, generic/genetic, self-deprecate/self-defecate). EVERYONE laughed. That's not even a joke.

I worked this afternoon/evening. They're changing the whole Officeworks layout to prepare for back to school. So a bunch of my fellow Officeworkers are staying at the shop tonight from 9pm to 4am to rearrange. I nearly died when I heard that.

Now, I'm watching Sherlock because everyone always raves about it. It's okay..? So far, I only like the bits where Watson is eating pancakes and when I realized he plays Bilbo McBagALot.

J

A Tradition in the Making

Two Christmases ago (it may have been more), my family and I sat down on Christmas day while I forced them to watch 28 Days Later. Since then, we have continued watching horror movies every Christmas day (which isn't that many). This Christmas, we watched Psycho by Alfred Hitchcock.

It was really, bloody good. It was scary but tolerable. It was weird and suspenseful. I was also weirdly attracted to both the leading lady's lover as well as the murderer who had boyish charm that appealed to me greatly despite his stabby tendencies. Black and white seems to smooth over all imperfections and makes everyone infinitely more appealing:

Psycho (spoiler).

Doomed lovers. Soz.

Tonight, I will have nightmares and be perpetually (well, for the next two weeks) scared of taking a shower.

On that note, merry Christmas to you and yours.

All my love.

J

Fun Fact

My right hand hurts when I cry. It's like a stinging nerve pain. It usually happens just when I'm starting to cry or when I'm trying to choke it back.

What is the scientific explanation for this?

Go.

J

Regifting

In honour of the looming festive season (or I guess in honour of the current festive season as it is currently Christmas Eve), I wanted to write a short article on regifting.

Let us start with a definition.

Regifting: to regift
(source: me)

I have employed the strategy of regifting numerous times in the past. Unless it's something I like; then I'll keep it for myself and scrounge around in my under drawers (not my underwear drawer but my bottom drawer where I store shit I don't want anymore but am too lazy to chuck out) for something disposable (but potentially revered by the somebody I am gifting it to).

Regifting can oftentimes be good. You pass on the love. Stuff that you don't want but you think somebody else might really appreciate is passed on, loved and cherished rather than left to sit idly in the boot of your car and melt (if it's chocolate... Unless it's really bad chocolate full of delicious anti-sun preservatives).

But when is regifting bad? Let me give you some instances:

1. When you don't bother checking inside the original wrapping and just regift it with original wrapping paper, even original card and the present turns out to be a surprisingly intimate underwear set from a coworker who was trying to get with you.

2. When you know the present is 100% shit and don't even bother trying to convince the recipient of regifted gift of its potential goodness.

3. When you regift aforementioned gift and try to convince recipient of regifted gift that it is a fantastic gift thereby perjuring yourself because everyone can see it is shittastic and you're being a twat (speaking of twats, it was my year nine maths/science teacher that alerted to me and maybe half of my class the true meaning of twat).

4. When you accidentally regift a really good present because you wrapped up the wrong one and thought you were giving away the teddy bear piggy bank (this was a real gift to me when I was younger. It would have been good if there was money accompanying said piggy bank but alas, there was not) when, in fact, you accidentally wrapped that super cool thingo that you always wanted and was a testament to your new relationship with that super sexy guy from work, Karl (NOT Karl Pilkington but Karl/Carl from Love, Actually, my first real man crush).

5. WHEN YOU REGIFT SOMEONE ELSE'S GIFT, NOT YOURS. IT WASN'T YOUR GIFT BUT YOU REGIFTED IT ANYWAYS, STUPID WHORE.

Who was that stupid whore, you ask? (Because you must realize by now that that last point was taken straight out of my own life and simply hologrammed onto this blog.) MY MOTHER. But she's not a whore. It's just a saying, guys.

The other night (after I worked nine hours... Yes, I know lots of people work that many hours regularly but this is for a girl that hasn't worked a real job in almost two years), I was in the car on the way to a family friend dinner party. I saw there in my mother's lap a box of Lindt (and Sprugli if we're being specific) chocolates.

Who doesn't love Lindt (and Sprugli), right?

"HANG ON," I thought to myself, persevering to maintain semi-coherent thought through my Officeworks-induced exhaustion. "THAT BOX OF LINDT (AND SPRUGLI) LOOKS A LOT LIKE THE BOX OF LINDT (AND SPRUGLI) GIFTED TO ME SO LOVINGLY BY MY TUTEES (AKA the girls I tutor. Is tutee the correct term? I think not)."

I turned to me madre. I could see the guilt in her eyes. Everything went sepia toned as the rage inside me built to a glorious roar.

"ARE THESE ME CHOCOLATES? DID YOU TAKE MY CHOCOLATES TO REGIFT THEM WITHOUT MY PERMISSION? WHAT THE WHAT."

I took that box of Lindt (and Sprugli) and ascertained from my mother that, indeed, they were the very box of chocolates given to me (alongside admiration and loyalty) from my two tutees just a few short weeks earlier.

I said to her, I says, "If you had asked me earlier, I would have said you could regift this box of precious chocolates... But because you didn't, I cannot allow this betrayal of trust to continue. I must take this box of chocolates back."

Determinedly, I tried to open the box of chocolates (to prove a point) and promptly RIPPED THE WHOLE BOX APART. I tell you, those boxes are like impenetrable fortresses (the antithesis of your mum, just so you know).

I gaped at said box. This was not my intention (I got so brave, drink in hand). There was nothing I could do. It was my plan all along to just make a fuss for my own amusement then allow the box to be regifted. Now, it was ruined.

There was egg on my face.

If this was a fable, there would be a moral to the story. In this case, I end with the following moral:

Lindt (and Sprugli) should endeavour to make more accessible chocolate boxes in the future to avoid further conflicts not dissimilar to this one.

That is all.

J

I Need New Black Flats

No energy to blog.

Today, I worked 8am-5pm. It was exhausting. Then I had an hour lunch break and didn't know what to do with myself. I met this sweet girl who is new too and we bonded over that. I found out she just graduated high school and felt mighty old. Goddamn, I'm almost not a teenager. Did you know I turn 20 in just over three months? Once I turn 20 I am no longer a teenager and hence not allowed to use that as an excuse for my many inadequacies.

Speaking of work... It's getting better and I actually kind of like it now. Bizarre. The girl I spoke of earlier (as in... about three sentences earlier) reminds me aesthetically a lot of a girl from high school whose name rhymes with Beara Miley (The Worst). I have told this story approximately 79 000 times and every time I bring it up, someone undoubtedly says, "I'VE HEARD THIS STORY LIKE 60 TIMES," but whatever, bitches. This is my life.

What happened was that in cooking class in year nine, I was walking with my bowl of egg wash and Beara Miley bumped into me and I spilled my egg wash on the ground. She said to me, "Watch where you're going next time," with this disgusting smirk on her punchable face. I wanted to sucker punch her in the uterine area and watch her writhe around in pain, the silly bitch. Henceforth, I hated and continue to hate Beara Fucking Miley with every fibre of my being.

So, this new girl at work (Zoe) is facially very similar to Beara Miley but is about the sweetest girl out. This creates conflicting feelings in me and I struggle through every conversation to not burst out with, "NO, YOU WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING."

Moving on (one day I'll get over this).

I got home about 30 minutes ago from a family friend dinner. It was boring but there was chocolate/coconut dipped strawberries and cherries.

Life is alright now. It's just kind of boring and I'm still wishing it would play out like a chick lit novel. Speaking of chick lit, I sat in the library the other day and read through the Princess Diaries 8. It was hilarious (I've never read a Princess Diaries book despite Meg Cabot being one of my favourite authors). I reflected on how shit funny Meg Cabot is and the brilliant things she comes up with. I don't care that it's unrealistic; it's escapism.

J

Taylor Swift - "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" + "Treacherous" + "22"

Seriously good. I don't know if it's doctored... but it sounds really good. She should sing acoustic all the times. I could listen to acoustic "Treacherous" 50 times a day.

I went through a short time of disliking Taylor Swift about a month ago. I was disenchanted (har har, see what I did there?) by her flat, whiny voice, terrible dancing and oversized teeth (yes, I really am that shallow). But after listening to the above, I realize she just needs to sing a particular type of song to sound really, really wonderful.

J

Sushi

Why is sushi so damn good? That perfect morsel of riciness and seaweedness all just clumped up and wrapped together. You want to take only half a bite because it's so damn good and you want to cherish every little grain of rice. But then you're also greedy and you know there's a chance that if you take a bite out of that morsel, the goodness will come tumbling out and you might be missing out on something spectacular.

Things that would potentially taste bad on its own taste good when in togetherness. Thank you, Japan.

I watched a pivotal episode of The Walking Dead last night. It was like I was pissing tears out of my eyes. This show gets to me.

J

The Walking Dread

As a lover of all things zombies (I want to live in that world but survive and preferably with my trusty German Shepherd by my side, a la I Am Legend), I can't believe I've ignored The Walking Dead all this time. It even has the poor lad from Love, Actually in it (the one who was ignored by Keira Knightley even though she offered him pie).

I ignore TV shows a lot though. Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead, that teenage wolf one (that was rather shit when I gave it a go). It's usually because when I do give recommended shows a go, they're rather bad. True Blood comes to mind. Sure, there was sex and vampires but there was no heart, no soul. Not like Pretty Little Liars (still waiting for the rest of the season to come back)...

I won't talk about Officeworks much (had my first shift yesterday) except it was rather bad and I'm surprised I haven't been fired. It also depresses me. I keep thinking to myself, "Europe, Europe, Europe, Europe, Europe." Hopefully I get the hang of things soon.

I'm off to buy Christmas presents for the family this afternoon. I have no idea what I'm going to do.

Off to enjoy more zombies. Enjoy the day, friends.

J

Toastie

I ate a toastie for lunch five minutes ago. Ham, cheese, tomato and avocado (classy). It was a pretty majestic lunch. Coupled with carrot sticks, I felt I was back in year three again.

I remember ordering ham and cheese toasties from the school canteen in primary school every now and then. Once, in year three or four, I ordered one and had it settled down on a paper bag on the ground next to me (don't worry; it was all very sanitary. Even at eight or however old one is in year three or four, I was very germ-conscious). There I was, naive and happy, chatting away with a friend, thinking about how I was about to relish my ham and cheese toastie.

"Eat meeee," the toastie cried out to me. But I resisted, every minute bringing me closer to a hunger that would culminate in a chomp of ham, cheese and toastness.

But then... It all happened so quickly. Before I had time to react.

There was Daniel L, blonde haired barbarian of primary school. Somewhat ADHD (diagnosis unconfirmed), running around like a youth in the little courtyard/quadrangle area in which I was sitting (with toastie). He, getting cocky about turning a corner, somehow managed to STEP ON MY TOASTIE.

He didn't even notice, the blonde bastard. Just kept on skidding around bends, flinging dog shit and whatever other filth he had on his shoes all over people's toasties and various other edible treats.

I, in my eight year old depression, looked down at my forlorn toastie. I can still remember the distinct imprints of the Blonde Bastard's shoes on the bready surface. The other half of the toastie was untouched but I couldn't bear to eat it. I imagined that specks of dog shit had settled all over my toastie (it wasn't even my toastie anymore; it was as if it had been marked and claimed by another as a dog pisses on a pole to mark its territory) and it was now unfit for human consumption.

I, being the outstanding citizen that I am, took said toastie and deposited it in a nearby waste disposal unit (rubbish bin).

I was hungry for the rest of the day.

J

1800 Who R U

Sometimes, I desperately wish my life was a '90s rom com. Which, in itself, seems like a wish straight out of a '90s rom com.

There would be me, wearing my straight leg jeans (or gaucho pants if I was feeling particularly Josie Grosie that day) and him, wearing some baggy suit (Lord, suits were ill-fitting inthose days). We'd probably work at some non-descript office/company. At first, we'd really hate each others' guts. You know what happens next...

My brief (ongoing) obsession with rom coms (particularly those of the '90s) has made me reflect greatly on the genre and romance and other shit. I asked Little Mishelle the other day what she thought of the damsel-in-distress plot and she said she didn't like it. Specifically, I was thinking about the final book in this series: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meg_Cabot#1-800-WHERE-R-U_series

In one of the final scenes, Jess Mastriani (or just "Mastriani" if Rob is feeling all casual and rugged) is getting choked by this child pornographer. Bear in mind, Mastriani is this feisty, violent thing that likes to punch people in the guts. In fact, technically we should hate people like Mastriani because she often resorts to violence unnecessarily. She is pretty much a bully. It is usually Rob telling Mastriani to cool her shit because she's such a little spitfire (as all '90s rom com protaganists really should be).

Back to the story. Rob punches Child Pornographer out and thusly saves Mastriani. I'm not gonna lie; this turn of events got me going. I completely buy into that crap. Maybe not the traditional damsel-in-distress storyline but, if you've ever read Meg Cabot (as really everyone should at least once in their life), you'll know that female leads are often slightly angry, feisty women and ultimately, they form some sort of partnership with male lead and work together to overcome Something Evil (Maria fucking de Silva). Usually, at some point, Male Lead will save Female Lead from ultimate death.

I love this. This is my favourite point of the book. It is orchestrated to perfection to make your heart beat wildly for Male Lead.

Am I buying into the misogynistic damsel-in-distress archetype? Am I anti-feminist for doing this? Should I not like the things I like? Am I being manipulated by the finely constructed stereotypes of evil males?

I think I'm pretty pro-woman but is it wrong to buy into these stereotypes? Am I doing a disservice to women everywhere or perhaps do my actions speak louder than the crummy chick lit books I like to read?

I'm not having a go. I'm just contemplating here.

J

Jennifer Paige - "Crush"

Good God, this song (har har):



J

Life Experiences

As some of you may remember, I recently went for a couple of job interviews and got both of them! Unfortunately, I had to turn down one (after initially accepting thinking I could swing both) and have lost the love of my life as a result. Her name was Nona and she was the sweetest woman in the world. When I went in for the interview, she said these words to me, "I liked you the second you walked in." From then on, Nona had my heart, my body, my soul, my mind, my spirit. We were planning a Spring wedding. For the present time, we are separated like a great Love Story ("You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess"). This also means that I may never see that other youngish lad that works there who I spoke about earlier (regarding Presence).

I have acquired the Officeworks job and look forward to toning my muscles whilst nightfilling and stretching my people-muscle as I converse and exchange witticisms with the good patrons of Officeworks. My first shift is on Thursday. Wish me luck! The other people working there seem nice and my supervisor is a nice enough lad who has a very firm handshake (I think he cracked one of my knuckles).

Yesterday, I went to buy ham from the supermarket. Who should be manning the counter but none other than Damian F from primary school. I pretended I didn't know him and was glad I was buying champagne ham and not polony because that is just embarrassing.

In honour of my newfound appreciation of "life experiences," I have been engaging in all manner of debauchery and hedonistic behaviour. Yesterday night, Kim, Sarah and I went to the beach to engage in wild chocolate conquests (San Churros. I had the choc bizcocho which was chocolate cake cubes, hot choc fudge sauce, strawberries and white chocolate ice cream. It was delicious the first few bites but I wasn't even hungry at the time I bought it so, as you can imagine, I quickly wearied of that shit). Afterwards, we went to the beach and walked along the water. It was very dark and I theorized somebody was hiding behind the bushes/rocks/in the water, either masturbating or holding a machete, ready to get us. Nonetheless, I carried on and hence achieved a LIFE EXPERIENCE.

Later, I mistook a very sharp and craggy rock as a pile of sand and stepped on it. I hurt myself. LIFE EXPERIENCE.

Before, as we were driving down to the beach, we hit a patch of wetness at a roundabout. Craziness ensued. We were in Kim's car and her steering wheel locked and we were swerving all over the place. Seriously, we cheated death yesterday night. We veered from one side of the road to the other. Thank God there were no other cars close to us. We pulled over at a bus stop thingo (correct terminology unknown) as we checked the car and each other. After a group hug, we continued on our way to San Churros. Nothing could stop us from getting our chocolate fix. Nothing.

LIFE EXPERIENCE.

I have stopped reviewing rom coms because it was SUCKING THE LIFE OUT OF ME. However, recently I have enjoyed watching Tamara Drewe which was a very good movie and one I had watched a couple of years earlier but had to re-enjoy. It reminds me of Hot Fuzz but with Dominic Cooper, Gemma Arterton and this other hottie who, unfortunately, turned out to be gay in real life. Not that being gay is bad. It's just bad for me.

J

McLovin'

Things I'm lovin':

1. How Karl Pilkington greats everyone with a surly but pleasant, "Awight." What does that even mean?! Is he meaning, "Are you alright?" as in, "How are you?" I need to start greeting everyone with "awight." I've slowly been adapting "innit" into my everyday vocabulary. It's been pretty brill.

2. Hello Ladies, Stephen Merchant's stand up comedy. He was in Perth like three days ago... And I didn't stalk him everywhere he went. Are you proud of me? I was tempted to. I was tempted to turn up at the Astor a few hours before his show and just wait for him to show up. It's difficult to miss him.

3. 16 Candles except for The Donger. Again with the Asian bullshit. Just fuck off already.

4. James McAvoy. I don't care that you're 5'7. You're perfect Scottishness and various other attractive characteristics are making me much in love with you.

5. This is something I'm not lovin'. I had to go down to the local ethnic cooking shop area to buy black "dress" shoes and a black button-up shirt. For work. Absolute bullshit. Why am I spending money on something I'm trying to make money off? IT JUST DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. Now I'm mad. I spent $19 on the ugliest pair of shoes I've ever bought. Someone calculate how many soft serves I could have bought with $19. It's ridiculous.

That's enough.

J

Animals

Oh Lord, Stephen in this video is making me grin from ear to ear:



I just want to love him. Is that so much to ask? It is superficial of me because I used to think him deathly ugly but now that he is moderately handsome I'm all over that shit. I spent last night watching Ricky Gervais stand up. His earlier stuff was definitely better (with great allusions to copulation in the animal kingdom and dolphins fucking each other in the blowholes and other really pleasant stuff) but I think I kind of enjoyed all of it.

I think I would enjoy Stephen Merchant stand up more, mostly because I get to look at him but also because he's a bit of a shut-in nerd and it reminds me of Somebody That I Used to Know. I mean, Somebody That I Still Know. I just wanted to throw in that song name there.

J

The Little Mermaid

Fuck my life. Now all I want to do is watch The Little Mermaid but I have to go to do volunteer Christmas present wrapping at Ikea.

The Little Mermaid is an amazing movie. I used to watch it almost every weekend on VCR and, on more than one occasion, I shed a few tears. Musical and dramatic masterpiece.

J

Here Lies a Secret

Since approximately July of this year, I have been trying to make my butt shaplier/more buxom. Not by butt augmentation (is that the correct term?) but by incorporating various (supposed) butt shaping exercises into my current workout routine. Since July of this year, NO RESULTS HAVE BEEN NOTICED.

I am understandably devastated/disappointed/heartbroken and a variety of other sad and negative emotions. I wake up in the morning and immediately feel up my own ass in an effort to see whether it has grown into something lovelier since last night. Every morning, I am sorely disappointed and go do more squatz to no avail.

I am at my wit's end. There are only so many squatz and lungez a girl can do before she decides, "Maybe Judy Blume was right. Maybe I must, I must, I must focus on increasing my bust instead by doing those awful chest exercises." Chest exercises scare me. You never know when, during one of those flailing motions, your tits are going to burst open and your mammary glands are going to pop out. Now I bet you're imaging that. It would be pretty horrible (and messy).

I think having a shaplier butt is good for a number of reasons. For one, when you sit down, it'll probably be comfier. That's just a guess. Less bone on chair. Having a comfier seat is always a plus. For another thing, your ass looks nicer in clothes. Sometimes I get sick of having my wildly attractive face being the centre of attention and want to draw some appreciative gazes to my ass instead. Lastly, I fall down a lot. On my ass most of the time (or my knees or my elbows or my hands then I die). I firmly believe having a more buxom ass would cushion the fall and maybe prevent me from fracturing my pelvis or hip bone (like an 80 year old which I so obviously am in spirit).

Unfortunately, like I've already said (you should really pay more attention), all this organic/natural/Kora ass augmentation has been a complete failure. If anything, it has just made my thighs bigger and ain't nobody got time for dat. Before this, I tried to acquire respectable abdominal muscles. This resulted in nothing except for sore stomach muscles and a desire to puke after every workout. Before that, I put a special focus on my arms. You may have noticed (if you've seen me recently) that my arms are just as flabby as ever.

A long time ago, I used to jog. Almost every morning. And then my knees started hurting and I realized if I kept jogging I really would turn into an 80 year old and I'm saving that for when I turn 27 and need a quick exit.

My friends, I believe the moral of this story can be quite succinctly summarized as follows: the ass is the window to the soul. If you have a flat ass, embrace it. It means you have a flat heart, are of sound mind and spirit and are appreciative of the stability with which you are able to sit (flat asses rarely roll). Conversely, those of the rounder ass are of large, buxom hearts, minds and spirits. They do not need to hire toboggans when they go up on those snowy peaks but can instead slide down on their generous behinds.

Tomorrow, I begin work on scultping and slimming my fingers. Wish me luck.

J

In Which I Talk More About Home Clothes

The last couple of times I have visited Big Michelle at her house, I have found her wearing jeans or something similarly binding. To me, this is a very foreign concept. Jeans + house? No.

For one thing, jeans are generally considered to be clothes you wear when you're out and about, right? Unless I put on a new pair of jeans, I'll be wearing jeans I've already worn out and, as you know, I am very averse to this. As a germ freak, the idea of sitting on my bed in jeans I wore on the bus is downright disgusting. Can you imagine rolling around in your bed at night (and I mean innocent rolling as you try to get to sleep. I only have a single bed after all) and basically smearing your body with the phlegm and snot of the various bogans and other filthy citizens that have used the bus in the last 10 or so years (I am guessing those bus seats are never cleaned)? I shudder just thinking about it.

Furthermore, I tend to wear fairly tight jeans (as pretty much everyone does these days. Do loose jeans even exist anymore?). I also like to sit in bizarre positions and rarely can be found sitting normally (unless I am in public). Usually, this involves one leg up on the chair or hanging off the side or tucked behind my ear. THIS IS SIMPLY NOT COMPATIBLE WITH JEANS-WEARING. You cannot get into these positions whilst wearing jeans.

Yes, I have resisted opening the door to the Avon lady several times in the past because I am wearing something ridiculous(ly comfortable) but I believe it is completely worth it. I am always comfortable at home. There is no such thing as "binding" home clothes. Sometimes I feel sorry for those that wear jeans and other disgusting garments at home. Do you know what you're missing? The cool breeze on your feral legs, the ability to sit cross-legged on the floor on any whim?

J

Tonight's Entertainment (Love and Other Disasters)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0452643/

I totally forgot to blog about this one!

Brittany Murphy? Santiago Cabrera? Yes, yes, yes.

Brittany Murphy has a charmingly American-trying-to-be-British-a-la-Renee-Zelwegger accent in this movie. Fortunately, it is not grating and is actually pretty convincing (despite the breathiness). Speaking of Renee Zelwegger, this movie reminded me a lot of Down With Love (one of my favourite rom coms) which, itself, is based on the rom coms of the '60s (?) and plays a lot on the sexual semantics of the time. Think split screen thrusting. It's pretty great stuff.

Back to the movie. The plotline (straight man who everyone thinks is gay but who is actually in love with the chick) is pretty repetitive (Kick-Ass much) but still, it's obviously a well constructed one that hits all the right notes. At times, you want to shake Santiago Cabrera by his beautiful, broad shoulders and scream at him, "JUST TELL HER YOU'RE STRAIGHT ALREADY (SO YOU CAN FUCK)." But that's part of the story, right? Building up all that (one-sided) sexual tension (because the chick doesn't realise the guy isn't gay) and emotional turmoil and, of course, inevitably leads to The Fight. You know the one; I talked about it before. The stupidly sexy one that is so masterfully manipulated right from the very beginning to culminate to this stupid screaming match that is, more often than not, based on something that doesn't warrant a fight of that nature.

Here are some examples:

1. 27 Dresses. Sure, James Marsden's very sexy character (whose name I've completely forgotten) posted a bunch of Katherine Heigl's moderately sexy character's pictures all over the newspaper. And yes, she was dressed a bit stupid in them but hell, I would've been flattered if James Marsden did that to me. It probably means he thinks you're beautiful enough to be in the newspaper and that he loves taking pictures of you.

2. The Nanny Diaries. Chris Evans' throws a big fat hissy fit (one of the few movies where the "fight" is started by the dude) because Scarlet Johansson won't go on holiday with him somewhere or other (can't really remember what happens). Um, grow the fuck up dude. I know there was more to it (shit about her hating her job and him being pissed she won't stand up for herself) but the whole fight just came out like he was being a self-absorbed twat and trying to push her into something she didn't want to. Maybe the only time I've ever been a little mad at Chris Evans (while simultaneously wanting to stroke his hair and tell him everything will be alright).

3. What's Your Number? Anna Faris throws a big shit on Chris Evans because he didn't tell her he had gotten the contact info of her long lost ex like she wanted him to (long story). Even though Anna Faris did it because she wanted to get back together with said ex-boyfriend but, since then, had gotten together with Chris Evans (in my opinion, the superior man). In reality, bitch was just pressed her sister told her Chris Evans was a womanizing tool. I get so mad when rom com twig bitches (thanks, Rebel Wilson) get all introspective and start reflecting on their "mistakes" and shit because they always just hype it up to idiot proportions. Anna Faris needed to sit her ass down and realize Chris Evans offered to cook for her EVEN AFTER she wouldn't have sex with him.

4. Pride & Prejudice. BITCH, MR. DARCY JUST PROPOSED TO YOU. SURE, HE ALSO TOLD HIS BEST FRIEND NOT TO MARRY YOUR (VERY VERY ATTRACTIVE) SISTER BUT THE MAN IS STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU, ALL SOGGY FROM THE RAIN. HE'S JUST TOLD YOU HE LOVES YOU "MOST FUCKING ARDENTLY."

Okay, so the last one wasn't exactly "stupid" and was probably pretty warranted (if Bingley and Jane got married they would "save her sisters from destitution") but I just wanted to throw it in because that fight is the perfect example of a very (sexually) tense "rom com" fight. I love it.

To be honest, the fights are usually the best parts of the movie. All that sexual tension. And now I believe I have used the words "sexual tension" enough in this blog post and must bid you adieu.

Oh yeah, I give this movie 4 stars. Good one. It was great seeing Sir Lancelot back on the saddle again (har har). He was just dashing, very sweet and very goodlooking. Brittany Murphy was legitimately beautiful in this movie. I never thought she was that pretty before seeing this movie but she looked outstanding here. A match for Sir Lancelot and that's saying a lot (because I think Sir Lancelot is a picture).

Besides that, the movie had a kind of Funny Face meets Down With Love feel that was very funny and bouncy and a good setting for a rom com.

J

The Importance of Being Present

I was talking about this with mah gurlz the other day. Presence. I guess it could extend to all sorts of people but, specifically, we were talking about boys (as we usually are).

Presence is the sort of atmosphere or feeling someone exudes when you're with them. I think presence is usually more important that physical appearance. I guess you could call it "attraction" but I don't because, to me, attraction is mutual but presence can very much be one sided. Like when you walk into a room and go, "Dayum," and the other person doesn't even notice you. Attraction would be a mutual, "Dayum."

I've had two recent experiences with presence.

The first was a couple weeks ago when I went to karaoke with a bunch of randoms. There with this guy called Alex. Kim and I walked in and I admit to feeling a touch awkward. My friend who invited us, Bee, forgot to introduce us to all her friends so we were standing there for a few moments kind of awkwardly. I think Alex was the first one who said, "Hi, I'm Alex," and shook my hand.

He stood up and yeah, he was tall and impressive and had a friendly face, but more than that, it was just this thing he exuded that was all friendliness and confidence. Presence, people.

My second recent encounter with presence was today when I went for my second interview at Homecraft. I went in to find Nona (the nicest lady ever) who was supposed to interview me but she was nowhere to be seen. I asked this youngish guy (around my age) where Nona was. He only said about two words to me but he just exuded such a friendly, open personality. He was genuinely not a goodlooking lad. He was, at best, average but fuck, he was magnetic.

And so ends my rant on magnetism and attraction and presence. I hope you enjoyed it.

J

Haylor Household

Just make some babies already, Haylor: http://ohnotheydidnt.livejournal.com/73883839.html#cutid1

I believe in you (I believe in you). That's a song but also represents my true feelings on this subject. Can you imagine those curly haired freaks running around? Little Fabio Styles or Ricky Styles-Swift. Image if they repopulated the earth with the spawn of Haylor. Can you see it?

Can you imagine the duets? Not just the duets but Brady Bunch style singalongs with all the Styles-Swift clan. Just singing. Singing their hearts out.

Then, the inevitable divorce. "You never listen to me!" screams Taylor. Harry, his British accent softened by years living in Dark Blue Tennessee, says to Taylor, "No, Taylor... No, you never WANT me to listen to you." It's deep. At the same time, little Ricky Styles-Swift and his twin brother, Fabio Styles (not sure why Fabio didn't get half of his parents), start crying and wailing, "FELL IN LOVE WITH A CARELESS MAN'S CAREFUL DAUGHTER."

Harry finishes it, holding to his chest the slender yet calloused hands (guitar player and all) of Taylor, "You were the best thing... that's ever been mine."

AND SCENE.

J

Can I Have S'more, Sir?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

I am nearly in tears, people: http://ohnotheydidnt.livejournal.com/73877121.html#cutid1

This makes me so happy and I don't really know why. Because I love Taylor? Because I love Harry? Because I love Haylor? Because I love British accents? Because Taylor and Harry are the same height? Because I just woke up? Because it's 33 degrees today?

I have two interviews today. Don't worry, I will smash them and get back to you. It's on.

The bad thing about having two interviews today is that I have to get up, shower, get dressed, look nice, smell nice (eaux), talk nice, shake hands nice and generally be nice. I hate being nice. In fact, I think I'm at my most delightful when I'm being rude and crass.

I'm kind of excited for my two interviews too because I told myself, "Hey, hey you. Regardless of whether you get the job/s or not, it's a LIFE EXPERIENCE." I'm all about the life experiences these days. Didn't you hear about my roguish attempts to break into the school last night?

But seriously. I lived the cloistered life long enough. I'm so ready to live while we're young.

I have to go now. Potentially shower or just look at Haylor pics s'more.

J

Dine and Dash

Musketeers dinner tonight. Don't worry, I showered and smelled delightful thanks to a generous spritz of Taylor Swift Wonderstruck. Yes, I think I Wonderstruck quite a few people tonight.

Dinner was a brief affair besides the inevitable fried ice cream (quickly becoming a recurrent theme in our dinners). Most of the time, we parked outside the local IGA and got Little Mishelle pregnant, the little skank.

We told secrets. I sang Ronan Keating to Big Michelle while she rejected my advances. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. They say you're supposed to show physical touch to show you like the person, right? I tried gentle stroking, hair playing, playful smacking on the arm/arse and all I got was a big fat, "GET OFF ME, BITCH." It's like sometimes I don't even know her. She might as well be a girl called Grace or something.

We briefly went back to the old stomping grounds (high school) and wandered through the front park area. I was, of course, the most anxious that there was some violent hobo about to jump out of the bushes and attack us. Big Michelle was trying to be valiant (or get away from me while I tried to express my affection through physical touch) and was the one who wanted to explore the area. Eventually, I suggested we climb/jump the fence and get in the school. Because what's more fun than running through your old high school at night? Not much.

Of course we did. Run through the school that is. Climbed the fence, ripped my skirt in the process, sprinted through the pathways screaming profanities...

Actually, no. I think I got confused with some movie or something. In the end, they convinced me that there were probably motion sensors (or violent hobos) lurking around and the police would come and how would we explain our tramping through our old high school?

We left. Parked. Got delirious off each other's company then went home.

J

"Parole Posts"

Holy shit. I was just casually editing my old blog posts (you know I do this sometimes, right?) when I came across this:

I can't even ever remember reading this comment. But I just read it and it is FILLING MY HEART WITH GLEE. I HAVE AN ADMIRER. I HAVE NO IDEA WHO THIS ANAAVU PERSON IS but am I possibly in love?

I've been writing this little ol' blog since I was 13/14 (I count my old ones as part of "this" blog) but I've never actually been part of a "blogging" community. Because, if I was, it would probably be part of a prison blogging circle (full of homicidal maniacs and paedophiles... Not because I'm a paedophile or a homicidal maniac but we do share certain traits. And did you know "traits" is supposedly pronounced "trays"?). The only people that read this blog are my old, trusted school friends. It's weird to think this one person (who I don't know, have no idea how she/he came upon this blog, if she/he is a person or an animorph) may have read this blog at some point in time.

Musketeers dinner tonight. Should I bother showering or just expose all who come within a 5m radius of me to my delightful stench?

J

Tonight's Entertainment (Singles, Take Me Home and Picture Perfect)

SINGLES

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0105415/

I couldn't really give you an accurate description/review of this movie as I wasn't paying attention half the time. What I can say was that the male lead was adorkable and Kyra Sedgwick has a strange face that is somehow still pretty and pleasant to look at. Other than that... it wasn't terrible but it wasn't spectacular for me either (that's what she said).

To keep it short and sweet, I give this movie 2.5 stars. Someone else should probably watch it and give it a review though because I may have been on drugs while watching this one...

TAKE ME HOME

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1261954/?ref_=fn_al_tt_2

Another one of those slightly indy "rom coms." Maybe a bit too dramatic for my taste but I thought there was good chemistry between the two leads (well duh, played by husband and wife duo). Again, it lacked that fluffy Hollywood feel (obviously or it would drive the hipsters away) that I long for.

The storyline was a touch mundane (again, very indy) but it sort of reminded me of Little Miss Sunshine in that respect (or maybe it was the whole road trip feel). Some of you will probably like this a lot.

My favourite part? The very last scene. It was the only part that made my heart race and made me feel really, truly invested in the story (too bad it was the last scene) and the characters. Probably because it was also the most cinematic scene and God knows I like a little glitz.

For the reasons above, 3 stars!

PICTURE PERFECT

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119896/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1

A classic, no? Jennifer Aniston is so bloody beautiful in this movie and I always thought Jay Mohr looked like someone's left butt cheek but he's pretty cute in this movie too. A typical (and classic) '90s rom com. It's sassy and sexy (thanks to Kevin Bacon). It's got an abundance of cheese and a really hilarious series of outfits that I guess were meant to be stylish or something?

You should watch this if you're in the mood for You've Got Mail or any other half decent '90s rom com.

You may notice this is a very short set of reviews but that's because I'm tired. Is it a sugar-low? Oh, McDonalds, you dirty bastard.

J

Nonsensical Nighttime Frenzy

THIS LIST IS ALL SORTS OF FUCKED UP: http://rateyourmusic.com/list/iawia/favorite__and_most_hated__rom_coms_after_year_2000

Down With Love, He's Just Not That Into You and The Holiday are three of the best rom coms I've ever seen in my short existence. Whereas No Strings Attached, Crazy Stupid Love (alright and Ryan Gosling etc. but otherwise, was just sub-par to me), Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist and My Sassy Girl? Bullshit, I call it. I call it here, folks.

And so what if I had fro-yo AND soft serve today? You can't tell me what to do! You're not my mother!

And now for late night girl talk/bitching with Big Michelle because that's what we do etc.

J