MS MR - "Fantasy"

What is this adorable perfection?



I want her hair, her moves, her clothes, her bestfriendship, all the things. I also want a tattoo so freaking bad. Still a map of the world on my feet or near my ankles or somewhere similarly easy to disguise if necessary.

J

Florence and the Machine - "Take Care"

I've said it and you've read it but, Jesus Christ, this is one of the finest things that has ever assailed my ears:



J

Fakecakes

Remember when I said I would report back with the results of my attempts at two ingredient (eggs + banana) pancakes? And you thought I forgot (which I did but then I remembered again). Here's an illustrative picture in case you forgot what pancakes look like:

I know what you are wondering; how too can you achieve such exemplary photography skills? The answer is you can't. These skills have been honed with years of fine attention and a natural ability. 

In regards to the pancakes, they tasted like French toast but without the bread (which means devastatingly horrific because the bread is obviously the best part). Also, the globs of cold yoghurt on top of hot pancakes was the worst idea ever because it quickly became hot yoghurt which seems to go against all that is holy and potentially safe to eat.

Although I didn't get that full stomach feeling I do after eating a very large bowl of oatmeal, I didn't get hungry as quickly (two eggs does that to you). A+ on that front. The lack of delicious carbs was disappointing though (I don't know why but I was foolishly hoping that eggs + banana would somehow taste like normal carbalicious pancakes). 

I shall not be making these again. Not that they tasted horrible but just no.

J

Katy Perry - "One Of The Boys"

I think this song has replaced "Thinking of You" as my favourite Katy Perry song:



Mostly because it's one of my favourite high school fantasies (get hot, hot guy/best friend realizes he wants me super bad, learn to shave my legs... Something I still haven't mastered).

I watched Kick-Ass 2 last night (illegally. Yolo). It was bad. I hate it when actors don't want to return to sequels so they just show up for two minutes and break up with the main character or something equally out of character or shitty. What was the point of bringing back Lindsay Fonseca at all? The break up didn't really make sense at all. There were also too many character deaths. One meaningful character death is sufficient. Too many and the plot feels cheaply strung together.

But perhaps my least favourite part was near the ending when (spoiler alert) Hit Girl/Mindy kisses Kick-Ass/Dave. I think it was meant to be one of those bittersweet, not-really-romantic/sexual kisses even though it was on the lips. However, earlier was a scene in which Kick-Ass is shirtless in Hit Girl's presence and she gets heart palpitations and sexual urges. This all feels very wrong to me. She was a child in the first movie. Not an adolescent. A straight up child.

I bought a Kobo Glo e-reader today. Such a nightmare. I have a $50 Officeworks gift voucher (end of financial year "bonus"). The standard Officeworks price is the lowest available and I can get a further ~$11 off with my employee discount (even though I don't have an employee card and thus would have to borrow someone else's). The unfortunate thing was that literally every Officeworks in the state is out of stock on the product. But oh wait, not just every Officeworks in the state but also every Harvey Norman and JB Hi-Fi. What is up with that? Not that many people even use e-readers. I am very confused.

In the end, I price matched at Big W (one of the only places in the whole of freaking WA that has it in stock and after literally calling every Officeworks in WA and being on hold for a good cumulative 30 minutes). Did you even know places like Big W and K-Mart price match? I did not (and, not surprisingly, they do not advertise this fact). They won't beat the price by 5% like most tech places but they will match it. If you bring in the catalogue. Except the e-reader isn't in the current Officeworks catalogue. Furthermore, the Big-Wpolicy says they won't match sale prices.

Is it just me or is that completely convoluted and ridiculous? Basically, they're saying they won't price match sale items but, to price match, you have to prove with a catalogue which is basically advertising sale items. What is this nonsense?

Regardless, I sweet talked/cleavage bared the acne-ridden technology guy at Big W and got him to price match. High five for mammary glands (jokes, mine are ineffective in the art of subtle or not-so-subtle persuasion). And now I have acquired a Kobo Glo e-reader. It's not for the $142 I could have gotten with my employee discount (and I also would have been able to use up my gift card which is burning a hole in my pocket) but I still got it for a decent $153.

My dad also bought me a Kindle case for it (the Kindle case fits the Kobo) for $10 on sale at another Big W. Can we talk about how disgustingly overpriced tablet/e-reader cases are? Some of them run for upwards of $50. For a case. For a case! That is freaking ridiculous. I need to start my own tablet/e-reader case business and sell that shit.

In R related news, I have proposed we have a farewell dinner for me, A and R as we are all leaving around the same time (mid/end November). It shall happen. I'm not really sure how I feel about him anymore. I'm pretty sure I've outgrown my sad little crush. I mean, I still enjoy "flirting" with him (which is basically just conversing with him like a normal person except, in my head and heart, I'm jumping around and having a panic attack) but I'm not utterly-devastated-Lord-save-me that he hasn't asked me out like I used to semi-be.

There are more fish in the sea, my friends. And I will have my fishing rod ready for when the time comes.

Study hard and stay cool.

J

I Heard it on the Grapevine

Legit because our grapevine is right near the fence the separates our house from our neighbour's house (the neighbour whose son is potentially a psychopathy. The very same, friends).

There I was, plucking my brows when I heard the daughter start crying.
"Be quiet," I thought to myself because I have no sympathy for crying children (worst future mother). Then I heard this from the mother:

Get up. Enough with the tears. You cannot say to your brother, "You're ruining my life." That's not on.

I have never had to stifle my laughter more than just then. It was excellent.

J

Dinner D8

Just came home from the best dinner with some uni friends. I forgot how nice it is to just talk to people and spend a lot of time laughing and not a lot of time making sense. I've spent so long trying to fit in and be a non-intrusive wallflower that I'd forgotten what it's like to be able to be myself and relax.

J

Pancake Humour

Ah, she is so good. She is so fucking good:



J

Two Ingredient Pancakes

Planning on makes these for breakfast tomorrow (from my new favourite blog. Can you believe she is only 17? Her .gifs kill me. I want to eat everything): http://www.topwithcinnamon.com/2013/01/2-ingredient-healthy-pancakes-gluten-free-dairy-free.html

Wish me luck. Field report to come.

Also, remember when I wrote a couple of days ago (or was it yesterday?) that I hate urology and all things related to the kidney? And expressed my explicit desire to never become a urologist? Well, as it turns out, I have been paired with a renal medicine doctor as my mentor. Just my fucking luck. If he asks me what my opinion about renal medicine is or why I selected renal medicine as a preference (which I did not. I selected general practice and women's health as my preferences. Bastards have wronged me), I will tell him I think renal medicine is the worst thing in the world and that I hate all things related to the kidney. In fact, if he even says the word "kidney" in my presence, I will spit on his shoes.

J

Agnes Grey

As it turns out, Agnes Grey seems to be a more depressing version of Jane Eyre and without the romantic bits. Not good. Well, it actually is very good. I am only about 30-50 pages in and have already gotten very worked up and emotional over some very annoying children and the hardships little Agnes has thus faced.

The thing is, I live off Romantic Bits. But nothing in Agnes Grey even seems to resemble Romance. No Mr. Rochester, not a Darcy in site (I don't even give a shit about Heathcliffe so let's not mention that fugfaced scoundrel. Oop, just did).

I don't know if I can go on.

I shall try a little longer because, hey, I spent $3.99 on that book. Speaking of those $3.99 books, can people please start buying them from the Co-op so they start getting new ones in? I'm tired of seeing the Moonstone and Vanity Fair over and over again. Also, they're all dented so I can't buy them. But speaking of the Moonstone, I finished that a couple of weeks ago and folks, it was a thrilling ride. I denied myself the masochistic pleasure of reading the spoilers online (as I usually do) and actually found out who stole the moonstone when it was revealed in the book. That part was a little anticlimactic but the rest of the book was really good!

J

A Few Notes To Self

• Never become a urologist. Ever. The urinary system is the worst thing in the world. Why are there so many types of renal inflammation? Why do they all sound the same to me? Why do they need different names? What does it all mean? Why do kidneys exist? What is a kidney lol? What's urine lol? Study, memorise, forget, mix up with other type of inflammation, pyelonephritis reminds me of pie
• Even the goopiest of noodles taste good with lots of chilli sauce 
• I think I am slowly falling in love with Hot Family Friend Guy (previously mentioned on this blog). He added me on facebook around Christmas (when he came back to Perth to visit his parents) after he came to our Christmas party. He is adorable, endearing and has this wit that is not arrogant at all (unlike so many witty people. Myself included because I'm oh-so-witty. See what I did there? Because I'm arrogant. I'm confusing myself). All of this has been judged from his facebook which is clearly an accurate representation of a person's character 
• I volunteered for stocktake mid-October. WHY? WHY? I don't even know anymore. I was originally rostered for the day shift instead of stocktake but then I swapped with A. Because I was feeling charitable? Her little sister's birthday party is on that day. Because R's stocktaking? Not sure (maybe...). Because I want the money? Well, yes. I always want money. But overtime is only paid after 10pm and I'm not sure if our stocktake will even go over 10pm. Because I'd forgotten the physical, emotional and mental stress that came from last stocktake? It's like how women forget the pain of childbirth the second after they give birth and are holding their newborn. My newborn in this case is the pretty penny I earned last stocktake
• I love tofu

J

I Must Admit

Bryan Cranston is ageing amazingly well.

I remember thinking he was the epitome of horrendous (like, middle aged, goopy dad horrendous) on Malcolm in the Middle. It doesn't help that Malcom in the Middle depresses me to no end. I remember watching the first episode (?) of Breaking Bad and having to turn away when Bryan's TV wife started jacking him off on his birthday (just didn't require that visual. In no way).

But then I saw him on David Letterman or some other talk show. Actually, my brother was watching the interview on YouTube and I just so happened to be walking past.
"Who is that?" I asked in awe. In awe because it looked somewhat like Bryan Cranston but just so damn... dayum.
"Walt!" he replied.
"No fucking way," I said.

He was clean shaven and had a full head of hair (unlike Walt). Perhaps this made him appear infinitely more attractive than his TV show counterparts. But in general, it's like he's undergone a Benjamin Buttonesque transformation and just looks amazing now. He's way too sexy for Lois now.

Similarly, I was on ONTD the other day and saw this picture:

"Fuar," I thought to myself. I had to seek an opinion from another human being on this topic so I called over my brother. 

"Look at this picture," I said to him. "Bryan Cranston looks so much better than Aaron Paul."

"What, seriously?" he asked, as if surprised. What? Surprised? Surely not because Bryan is absolutely killing it in this picture and Aaron's head kind of looks like he had seven rounds of botox.

Bryan, you are a majestic creature. I applaud you.

J

Ellie Goulding - "Only You"

I freaking love this song/performance so freaking much (double freaking to convey the depth of my emotion). It helps that she looks freaking hot in this video. Would bang (even with that jank hair):



J

Important Things in my Life Right Now

1. Food. Always food. First and foremost (should have probably put friends and family first but whatevs)
2. Exercise (lol, I know)
3. The fact that I have been called to jury service. JURY SERVICE, PEOPLE. I cannot wait (except that it is probably going to piss Officeworks off)
4. Friends and family (obligatory. Don't really care, to be honest)
5. Dogs. Dogs since I was five and knew what a dog was (slow development, clearly. Still thought fish were sparkly and rainbow coloured when I was 10)
6. Parents. It keeps rumbling around in my mind even though they're not fighting anymore. I guess I kind of accepted that my parents were always slightly dysfunctional ever since I was a kid but, now that I'm getting older, my mum is starting to talk to me more about her problems and feelings and shit. It's stressful and makes me sad. Also, I don't even know if I want to get married anymore. I just want the wedding cake
7. Music. I need music recommendations. Anything along the lines of The Kooks. Can't get enough of them, especially their two earlier albums (the third one kind of sucks comparatively) which produced classics such as "Do You Wanna" (which is like my catchphrase now. We all know everyone wants to make love to me)
8. Two words. Frozen. Pears. I used to hate pears. Now, I want to take all the pears in the world, freeze them then eat them all. In one sitting. That's a lot of pears but that's how much I love them

J

Squirrel

It just occurred to me that people with dreadlocks must have the most amazing split ends. The lack of cutting and the process of acquiring dreads (I assume some sort of physical stress is applied to the hair to get it like that) would likely both contribute to what would be a superb specimen. I will investigate further (not going to lie, sometimes I look at the hair of the person sitting in front of me and look for split ends. It takes a lot of willpower to not reach forward and pull the split apart).

My tutor brought in store bought M&M cookies into the tute today. I took two (there was an ample amount and she didn't want to take them home. Strange creature). She handed them out at the end of the tute and I spent a good portion of the tute prior to that tossing back and forth between eating one or not. There is my greed and lust for all food objects (especially if free and of the baked/cookie variety) but then the inevitable guilt and feeling of oily, sugary sickness afterwards usually nullifies the goodness from what was consumed.

In the end, I resolved to wrap it up and take it home to squirrel away for a later date (in the freezer). In the end^2, I wrapped two in paper and have stuck them in the freezer. I smelled them (no regrets). They smelled of hydrogenated goodness.

Mother found my food drawer (thanks to Little Mishelle for that inspiration) filled with dates, water crackers and honeycomb flavoured chocolate products. That was embarrassing but funny at the same time. I will be well prepared for the apocalypse (well, not really because I don't think dried dates, homebrand water crackers and delicious but not exactly nutritious chocolate will provide me with much sustenance. It would be a good last meal though).

My concentration levels (regarding uni work) have diminished to basically nothing. I cannot sit still for longer than two minutes without getting bored or distracted. Fun.

J

Coast

Can we talk about the fact that I have no desire to be a great person?

I was talking to my brother the other day about how sad it is that there are so many easily curable diseases that are killing so many people in developing countries.
"So, do something about it," he said because he's very gung-ho about all this social justice action stuff.
"Nah," I said.

I have told him about my plans to retire early and live in some greener pastures with my multiple dogs. I have very resolute intentions to do nothing but walk my dogs, eat good food, bake copious amounts of treats and write books.
"I could never do that," he said. "I'd be so bored. I'd feel like I wasn't doing anything meaningful."
"Well, damn..." I thought to myself. Is it wrong that I just want to coast through life and die happy?

My personal happiness is perhaps the most important thing in my own life. I'm a shit person, right?

In other news, I GOT CALLED FOR JURY DUTY. I squealed when I got the letter. Too bad that it's right before my exams so I'm going to have to defer (jury duty, not exams). I'm already having fantasies about a Veronica Mars-esque situation. I will be forewoman. Hear me roar.

J

Pad Thai

Just made pad thai. All I can say is, "HA!" What a tasteless lump of rice noodleness. I pimped it out with too much sriracha, homemade garlic chilli sauce and fresh lime juice. That made it marginally more edible. I was sad because I wanted to prove my dad wrong who said pad thai was too easily flavourless. Unfortunately, mine was not only flavourless but also incredibly gluggy. Like glue. Is that where the word "gluggy" comes from?

I paired the pad thai (it was vegetarian with tofu, carrot, baby corn and carrots) with Vietnamese pork chops (salivatorily satisfactory. Thank the Lord) and stir fried broccoli. It truly was a fusion meal (Thai + Viet + Chinese). I want to marry a Thai-Viet man so we can embrace fusion food even more. Better yet, Jewish man because I think I would love matzo and brisket and gravlax even though I don't really know what those things are.

J

Sad Scones

I am very disappointed that none of you told me about the whole "free food at work" thing. It is honestly one of the most redeeming features of working at any sort of establishment. Retail, office, street corner, band camp.

As for the yoghurt scones I made the other day... HAR! HAR! I laugh in the face of yoghurt scones... because they suck so much. Or at least mine did. Tough, dry, horrendous. I also did a milk glaze using my new pastry brush but did not realize that my new pastry brush sucks ass and was leaving brush fibres all over the scones. I did not realize until I was looking at my scones baking (as I often do. Grow, my children, flourish!). That was when I saw the fibres sticking up. And when I say "fibres," I do mean the bristles of the brush. Devastating. I took the scones out and tried to pull the fibres out but it was too late. They were baked into the scones.

Luckily, the fibres baked in the oven so you can't really tell that they're there and they have become somewhat crunchy/brittle and therefore pseudoedible. Except I can tell that they're there. I've only eaten one scone (will probably chuck the rest out soon. They really are that bad. I rarely throw out food) and it felt like I was swallowing a hedgehog. It was horrific.

The weekend is nearly over. I sad now.

J

They Say I'm Like Dr. Phil

I received a very concerning phone call at work today. It went like this:

Me: Officeworks ***********. Junaberry speaking.

Man: Hi, I'm hoping you can help me.

Me: Sure, what can I do for you?

Man: I need some advice about something.

Me: What was it concerning?

Man: See, my friend just got back from Thailand.

Me: ...

Man: And she did this thing I kind of want to do as well. Except it could be embarrassing for me and I don't know if I should do it.

Me: Um...

Man: Do you think you can help me out here?

Me: Um... Yeah, okay.

Man: Should I just tell you what it is?

Me: Yeah, okay.

Man: There's this nightclub in Thailand. And if you go to the bathroom, they take you out back and tie you up naked. Do you see my problem? It could be embarrassing for me.

Me: Um...

Man: So, I need your advice. Should I do it?

Me: Well, you're going overseas. Which means you won't know anyone over there so, even if it is embarrassing, it's not like anyone you know will see you do it.

Man: So, you're saying I should do it?

Me: I'm saying you should stay safe and reasonable.

Man: So, I should do it?

Me: I'm saying you should stay safe and reasonable.

Man: That's very good advice. Thank you.

Me: You're welcome. Have a nice day.

Bear in mind, this was a middle aged sounding man. Incredibly polite. He was speaking as if he was asking me whether we stocked Bic Clics (unfortunately, only the ultra colour pack of three, not the single black or blue ones). It was astonishing and nearly made my day. As I was taking the phone call, I started gesticulating wildly at two of my coworkers standing in close proximity.

"What? What?" they kept asking. I could do nothing but shake my head in astonishment. When I told them what the phone call was about and what my response was, they said I was like Dr. Phil. I told my manager later who said it was likely a prank call or a disturbed person and that I should have told them we have caller ID and that, if they call again, we'll call the police.

In retrospect, this would have probably been a good idea. You know, to not take a slightly (actually, very) creepy phone call from a potentially disturbed person. At the time, however, I didn't know how to react because he was so damn polite. And when someone, especially a customer, is so damn polite to me, it is my knee jerk reaction to be super polite back to them. So, I humoured his request for advice. I wonder if there really is such a club in Thailand but I am scared to Google it.

Someone do it for me.

J

Mawwiage

Do married couples ever stay happy? Can you be with someone for over 25 years and still be in love with them?

I don't even think I know of one married couple in my circle of friends, family friends or relatives who still show true love for each other. I feel like such a naive idealist because I want to still be in love with my husband when I turn 65. I want the whole Noah and Allie thing where we reminisce about our past days. I want the whole dancing by the fire with our osteoarthritic joints. I want the grandchildren at my feet and the children who look at us, their parents, and marvel at how enraptured we still are with each other.

That doesn't happen in real life. It all turns to shit at some point and married couples die as distant from each other as strangers. Or, worse, they die resenting each other and wishing they never met.

Taylor Swift should have listened to her younger self in "Mine." The music video only shows them up to the early years of their children's lives. We know that after that they start hating each other. He doesn't chase her out in the night at 2.30am after they fight. He locks the door on her.

When I look at the married relationships of all the numerous blogs I read, they seem so in love. Their online biographies talk about their "best friend" and how lucky they are. But all married couples start that way. They start in love and happy. As in love as we young ones are. Where do we go in 20 years?

J

Chocolate Shop

I just bought the following items from the Big W candy aisle:

1. Honeycomb Mars Bar (honeycomb flavoured nougat)
2. Whittakers coconut chocolate slab
3. Whittakers hokey pokey chocolate slab

As you can see, I am very much into the honeycomb flavoured items. Very much so. I cannot deny it; honeycomb sets my soul on fire.

All of the above items totaled $2.95. Yes, I am a very savvy shopper.

J

Swallow or Spit

The finest blog known to man: http://www.theoatmealartist.com

Dad bought me a 1kg tub of mango yoghurt the other week. I much prefer the thickness of Greek yoghurt (you could actually substitute "Greek yoghurt" with "Chobani" because that's the only Greek yoghurt I've ever had) but Chobani is so expensive. I guess the "so" is subjective but $2 for 170g (when not on special) is expensive to me when you can get a 1kg tub of normal yoghurt for $4 on special.

Back to the yoghurt. He bought this yoghurt and I've been eating it for breakfast. I mix it with cereal and nuts. It's delish... unless compared to my One True Breakfast Love, Oatmeal. Especially during winter. I have essentially been forcing myself to eat this yoghurt whilst fantasising about a hot bowl of delicious coffee banana date honey cinnamon oatmeal (yes, my oatmeal breakfasts are becoming increasingly complex but also increasingly delicious).

I was nearly at the end the other day. Choking down bowls of yoghurt in the morning was like choking down bowls of cold semen but, yes! I was almost done! And then my dad came home with another 1kg tub of the exact same yoghurt. The horror.

I'm at a loss. I don't know if I can eat another bowl of that white stuff. I contemplated mixing yoghurt into my bowls of hot oatmeal instead of adding milk... but then I got scared that the tartness of the yoghurt would be off-putting and ruin what would have inevitably been a delicious bowl of Hot Mess.

As such, I have decided to try and incorporate this yoghurt into some sort of baked good. This is difficult because most recipes that call for yoghurt call for plain Greek yoghurt. The last time I used yoghurt in a recipe (again, in an effort to get rid of yoghurt), it turned out a disgusting mess (lime rubber cake). I am apprehensive but have decided to try to make yoghurt scones. I will report back with my findings in one day.

Wish me luck. And God bless (always).

And yes, I am aware this blog post could be construed as containing "too many" references to semen/ejaculatory fluids. I remain unconvinced that there is such a thing as "too many" semen references or "too much" semen, full stop.

J

My Parents

My parents hate each other. On several occasions, I have had to hold my mother while she literally wept in my arms. My dad is filled with so much anger and he doesn't talk to anyone about how he is feeling or his problems. Every conversation they have somehow turns into an argument. They find reasons to be mad at each other. My mother feels demeaned, I have no idea what my dad is feeling.

I have seen this throughout my childhood and teenage years. I have never seen them hug except when one of them is going overseas. Even then, I suspect it is just because there are other people around in the airport and it is expected. I have never seen them kiss. I have seen them hold hands maybe twice.

I want them both to be happy because I love them so much. I told my mother today as she cried that things could improve. I could talk to dad. Maybe if he had someone to talk to about how he's feeling, we would be able to work on things. But, even as I was saying this, I understood that this is very unlikely to happen.

I don't want them to separate or divorce but, at the same time, I think maybe it would be best for both of them. I talked about it with my mother today and she told me she doesn't know what she wants and that she's scared of the idea. I'm scared too. I don't want them to be alone. I don't want to be staying with one parent and know the other is alone in their house. I don't want my parents to grow old alone. I don't want to worry that one parent might not be eating properly or looking after themselves. I don't want one parent to come home to an empty home after work.

J

Thoughts From the Day

Morning:

• Man, I really need to shave. Preferably before clin skills on Thursday (in which I will have people palpating my underarms for lymph nodes)
• My stomach is rumbling really, really loudly during a presentation by a really cool doctor. What posture can I sit in to make it quieter? Nope, none of these work. Fuck
• This doctor (Dr. David Joske) is really cool. How can I be more like him? Sex change
• Wow, I'm really hungry. It's, like, 10.30am

Midday:

• Wow, I'm really hungry
• I feel very hot in my coat but I can't be bothered taking it off. This bus is like a sauna. I hate my life
• That guy on the bus is really cute. I wonder if I can get him to look at me. Maybe I should take off my coat...
• Too late, he got off the bus
• 10 minutes from home, 20 minutes to eat lunch
• Wow, I'm really hungry
• Lunchtime!

Afternoon:

• I want to run but it looks like it's going to rain. And it's nearly 2.30pm; I'll have to run among school children
• I know the solution; try and sprint the whole way
• This is going well. I'm such a cardio-beast. Watch me
• Is that a stitch?
• Yup, that's a stitch
• Fuck
• Was that a school bell? I must run faster. I don't want to get laughed at by school children 
• FUCK THIS STITCH

Evening:

• Wow, I'm really hungry

J

Here or There

I like to look at pictures of mountains. Valleys and paths that wind off into the distance. I like to imagine myself on those trails, walking into the horizon. I wonder what's over there and how it must be so much better than that spot I am at now. I like looking at pictures of mountains so much that I started following a tumblr called fuckyeahhiking last night. It posts amazing pictures of mountains, valleys and paths winding off into the distance, all with a pleasant instagrammy hue.

But I have been on mountains before. In China with beautiful views all around me. And I have looked at those mountains as I drove towards them on big, unwieldy buses that wobbled precariously on dangerous roads that would be considered illegal in Australia. I've looked at those mountains with glee because I was about to climb them. But, after climbing up that mountain, I have gazed at beautiful views of forests and more mountains from the summit and thought about how amazing those mountains must be. How amazing it must be to hike that mountain. I forget I am on a mountain right now, the mountain I saw from that Chinese bus with the person two seats down from me that keeps spitting into a bag.

What do we like about looking at mountains? Is it imaging being on that mountain or is it the view we get when we're at the top? Because I am somehow never satisfied when I'm at the top of a mountain. I just want to climb more.

Similarly, I have thought about my perfect place. I imagine a beautiful green landscape with cool weather, still air and pockets of sunshine I can move to when I get goosebumps. What would I do in this perfect place? Go on Enid Blyton-esque adventures? No, I imagine myself sitting down with a good book and reading about someone else's adventures. What's up with that?

J

Power of the Hair

Yesterday, I wore my hair down to work for the first time ever. I received a double take from probably my closest coworker there, A, but she didn't say anything because she's a babe. But Indian Technology Guy did. He was eating lunch when I walked into the staff room and said, "Wow! Your hair! New hair cut?" I said no, I'd worn it down because it was wet (not really, just trying to lure in R. As luck would have it, he was rostered on but had to swap shifts because of something or other).

The hair gave me power, not unlike the pants gave power to Tibby, Bee, Lena and Carmen. I got on really well with two of my coworkers whom I'm not particularly close to. It was awesome, we joked and carried on.

That's it.

J

Ellie Goulding - "Wish I Stayed (Acoustic)"

And I jizz in my pants:



I even like the shapes her mouth makes. Enunciate the hell out of those words, gurlfrand.

J

Mooncakes

Mooncakes.
With your filling, oh-so-sweet,
And your pastry, heavy with lard.
Cut into eight small pieces;
Perfect to share among a table.

With hot Chinese tea to counteract that sweetness.
Maybe the densest of all pastries in the world.
I will love you forever,
(except the ones with egg yolk. Blech).

J

Taking This Blog Public

... will never happen.

First of all, I'd have to rebrand and create an entirely new blog with nothing to do with "Junaberry" or Junaberry-associated products so no one could ever trace it back to my old blogs. It'd have to be called... Spud or Croissant O'Clock or I Love Taylor Swift. Second of all, what would I even talk about? From the comments I receive on this blog (about one every other week. Seriously, I feel like a shut-in talking to myself on this blog. I do this quite regularly in my real life too, frequently Facebook messaging people when they're not online, just to share a few thoughts with them), people are most interested when I talk about "real life." Real life being when I make a fool of myself in front of others, have awkward interactions with boys I want to have babies with or stalk people on the street.

I frequently have Helen telling me to stfu when I write too many posts about Taylor Swift. And I suspect my inane ramblings about food get tiresome after a while. These posts are mostly for me, an archive of my life, my thoughts, my loves, my hopes and dreams.

If I was to make this blog public, I'd want it to be good. I'd want it to be ful of juiciness, to continue reporting on embarrassing things that happen to me (like the time I got a UTI... story yet to come) and post really quite concerning passages about boys and boy-related things.

But I wouldn't be able to if I made this blog public. Because I wouldn't want people thinking I'm a freak, I wouldn't want the boys I like even getting a whiff of the truly horrendous things I write. I wouldn't want any of that. Therefore, I'd have to filter everything I wrote and, ultimately, would end up writing about food and Taylor Swift all day, erryday.

Herein lies a dilemma and herein lies the reason this blog will never go public.

J

I Have a Problem (No, You!)

I read a lot of blogs. As in, a lot. Like an unhealthy amount. Since starting to use Bloglovin', I usually accumulate upwards of 150 posts to read per day. That is a lot of posts. Now, I don't read them all because that would be stupid and I'm like the opposite of stupid (diputs). This is obvi. But I do trawl through all of them and "mark as read" all the boring looking ones. Like the fashion ones where they dress in ugly NYFW type shit that I despise (but for some reason I never remove them from the blogs I follow? Why? This would save me so much time and heartache. I hate leather skirts and your ugly ass Chloe boots). But healthy living blogs...

They are my weakness. I probably follow around 30-40 now and they are all pretty much the same. I read them (or at least look at the pictures) with an unhealthy fascination. Because I'm a voyeuristic freak. If The Truman Show was real, you know I would be watching that shit on the daily. But sometimes I get tired of those blogs, usually because they are all so similar. I can't even really tell a difference between who's who anymore. All the damn pictures are the same. It's all paleo this and that, fake oats (made out of eggs, banana and protein powder. What the shit?), protein pancakes (PANCAKES HAVE FLOUR, YOU FREAKS), nut butter (fuck nut butter. Can't eat peanut butter, almond butter is probably $1000 and scarce in Australia. Obviously, not worth my time or stomach space), everything-but-the-kitchen-sink salads (these words actually make me irrationally angry. I read them so many times. It's a salad, people), bananas.

Bananas everywhere. Bananas in oatmeal, pancakes (they are barely pancakes. They are like sweet omelettes. You disgust me), with nut butter, on random shit. On everything. In tortillas. On your face. In every single orifice.

But the one thing that pisses me off more than any of these things, even more than fake pancakes, even more than everything-but-the-shut-the-fuck-up salads, is TAKING THE BREAD OUT OF SHIT THAT'S MEANT TO HAVE BREAD IN IT.

Burgers without a burger bun? "Open-faced sandwiches" (THAT AIN'T NO SANDWICH)? Buying a sandwich with two pieces of bread (like a sandwich should have) then removing one of the pieces of bread. And feeling the need to comment on it. I'm not admiring your aversion to carbs as I read that. I am pitying you with this intense feeling of I-want-to-slap-you because bread, my friends, bread is one of the finest foods in the world. Why would you remove one of the pieces of bread from your sandwich? How are you meant to eat the sandwich now? With a knife and fork (this coming from the girl that eats her burgers with a knife and fork)? That piece of bread is not just delicious, not just an integral part of the flavour, the mouthfeel, the goodness of that sandwich. No, that piece of bread has an integral structural role in that sandwich. It is holding the filling together. It is allowing you to pick up that sandwich with your bare hands, you fucking gnarly animal, and eat it without getting shit all over you.

I'm actually getting worked up about this, pounding away at my keyboard like a pubescent boy pounds away at his... Sorry, got carried away. I need to chill now. Off to eat an open-faced sandwich (note: only Scandinavians are allowed to eat open-faced sandwiches and not have me rag on them).

J

A Tale of Two Books

I bought these two books from the Co-op today:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Moonstone
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agnes_Grey

They were $3.99 each. They are from the same publisher from whom I've bought approximately 80% of my current books. They're all old classics so a lot cheaper than newer books. Except they sell for $5.95 from Harbourtown. Shocking and I henceforth refuse to buy them from Harbourtown anymore.

I initially picked up Agnes Grey and The Professor by Charlotte Bronte... but then I went outside and dropped them both on the ground as I was trying to package them in paper to cushion them from any dents on my journey home. Disaster. The opposite of fantastic. I picked them up gingerly, almost too scared to look. Initially, they seemed fine and then I began to notice all the dents and creases.

Devastation. Utter devastation, my friends.

I had a bus to catch but my mind was a'swirl with many emotions and confused feelings. It was like an episode of The OC. In the end, I went back into the Co-op, turned on my feminine wiles and convinced the sales guy to let me swap them for different copies (truth be told, I just asked him politely. I have no feminine wiles).

Except that all the existing copies on the shelf had some sort of blemish. I had chosen the two only pristine copies, both now irreparably damaged. In the end, I chose a moderately unblemished Agnes Grey and swapped The Professor for The Moonstone. I figure I should give another style of "old classic" a shot and stop reading so much Bronte and Austen. They say The Moonstone is the pioneer of the detective novel and the very best one at that. I'm quite keen to start. Additionally, The Professor is apparently not super fantastic (although I think I'd still like it) and was, in fact, rewritten by Charlotte Bronte as Villette which is supposed to be much better.

So maybe I will just wait to read Villette. I'm just trying to console myself because I really wanted to read The Professor. The plot? Professor who falls in love with his student. Hello, my favourite book is freaking Lolita. This plotline, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Of course I'd like The Professor!

Sigh. I love books and reading so much. Fucking pompous asshole that I am. They are the greatest inventions of all time.

J

Finger Limes

I really want to post some pictures of genital warts that are currently showing in the lecture I am watching on... well, genital warts. I fear you will be overwhelmed by these pictures and possibly have a mental breakdown. Instead, I will tell you that some of these warts remind me of finger limes:

Maybe the most disgusting of all limes? And now, for hilarity and to disturb you, a tiny pictures of the genital warts in question (I'm sorry):

J

Taylor Swift - "Tell Me Why"

This is one of my favourite songs to hear Taylor sing/play live. And this version is arguably better than my personal favourite (it involves dancing):



J

Taylor Swift - "Sad Beautiful Tragic"

This is really... really good:



J

Dark Doo Wop

Fuck these lecturers who don't know the meaning of a 45 minute lecture. Do you not know how to read a clock? Do you not understand that when the long hand points to the nine, it's time to get the fuck out and let me go home (or, in this case, resume reading food blogs because I'm at home)? Do you not understand that I'd rather get out on time than learn the signs and symptoms of chlamydia and gonnorhoea?

Hello, I'm obviously going to learn those things first hand. I'll have rampant sex with some dude from the Fremantle wharf or somewhere similarly virile. Two weeks later, I'll look down as I'm taking a piss and wonder why my vaginal discharge is green. Green discharge could very well be a sign of the clap or not at all. I don't really know because the lecture recording cut off at 48.58 like it's supposed to. Actually, it should cut off at 45 minutes exactly but, because the uni is so aware that its lecturers like to ramble about shit and cram as much into their lectures as possible instead of spacing them into two, they add that extra 3.58 minutes. 

How very charitable of them.

Off to call a doc about this green discharge now. But as a final note (and an edit after my initial publishing of this post), IS IT REALLY NECESSARY FOR THERE TO BE > 90 SLIDES ON DISCHARGE FOR ONE LECTURE?

J

Team Meeting

As you may or may not know, we had a team meeting at work the other night. It was compulsory but only about 10 people actually showed up (hilarious and also sad because they bought 10-12 pizzas, garlic bread, soft drink... If someone is reading this whom I mentioned my consumption of five slices of pizza to, this is not the pizza to which I am referring. My dad, in fact, ordered in pizza for dinner at home. We buy our pizza from a halfway gourmet (it's not really) place nearby and it is so much better than Dominos. I therefore ditched work pizza in favour of home pizza. And that, my friends, is how I came to eat five slices of pizza on Saturday night. Riveting stuff).

I, obviously, showed up. Because I am both an exemplary employee and an outstanding citizen but also because my shift was from 12-5pm so it's not like I could ditch anyway. Among the other attendees was R, who also worked 12-5pm that day. We had a union lady come in and try to get us to pay $3+ union fee per week. I had North & South flashbacks and suddenly found myself on my feet, screaming about the injustices of the union. I've a family to feed! Wife and kids!

HE WAS A GOOD MAN.

Only a very small handful of people in this world (or at least in this portion of the internet) will know to what I refer. And, even then, they may not as the above is not an exact quote but a paraphrasing of sorts because I can't remember the exact quote.

All of the above regarding jumping to my feet is a lie. I did not. I sat in my seat (the display office chairs from the furniture department. Har har) and fondled my new free pen lovingly. The free pen (from the union lady. The only good thing the union has ever done for me) was exactly my favourite kind of pen. It's a Bic round stick (that's the name from memory...) and it is exquisite.

Anyway, Union Lady talked for a while. I resolutely refused to pay $3 per week because do you know how many soft serves I could buy with that? I don't even want to think about it. Union Lady left then we ate pizza. I, in fact, have lied again as I did have a slice of pizza at work (I thought it would be rude not to) in addition to four slices at home. When eating in public, I tend to dawdle to appear civilized and what have you. I will not go up to the refreshments table until everyone else has. I will choose a single item, sit back down and eat very, very, very slowly.

There I sat, with my slice of pizza, slowly picking off bits of olives and onions and popping them into my mouth as sensually as I could muster (R was within a 3m radius. Must appear as sensual as possible whenever he is in viewing distance). I napkined routinely to avoid any despicable tomato sauce stains on my mouth or general person. Later, as I threw my napkin into the bin, my napkin fatefully did not land in said bin. It bounced off the edge and landed on the ground.

R, being a gentleman, picked it up for me even though it was covered in despicable tomato sauce stains, and placed it in the bin for me. I came.

The team meeting was boring as fuck. Except the end when we were encouraged to voice any grievances or gripes. R was one of the main ones who spoke out. And not in an annoying, just-shut-the-fuck-up-so-we-can-go-home way but in a thoughtful, intelligent way. I came a lot that night (this is obvious an exaggeration for comedic effect. I only came a little).

The meeting soon ended and I went to sign out. R was in the office, also signing out. We were alone. I sidled up to him.
"You didn't have any gripes to say?" he asked.
"No," I said, my buttocks resting on the desk. "I'm only here five hours a week. It doesn't really make a difference to me."
"True," he said.
"But I agreed with what you said!" I quickly added so as to appear like a team player when I am really in it for the money and the now very occasional interactions with R.

He signed off and went to get his stuff from his locker. As I was signing out, he popped his head back in the office and said bye to me. I said bye back. It was very nonchalant.

Out in the car park, I glanced around. It was well dark by then and there were a couple of pockets of my coworkers, mingling before they left for the night. At the far end of the car park, I saw R opening his car door. He happened to glance back at that moment and flashed me his signature hang-ten hand gesture. I waved back and we went on our merry way.

What has this whole very mundane experience taught me? That, no matter what I tell myself or insist upon, I will always like R. As I sat in the team meeting, watching him while he aired his grievances to our manager, I noted his many imperfections. Crooked, horse-like teeth. Acne-scarred skin. Slightly greasy hair (couldn't tell if it was product or not. Probably not a good sign regardless). Despite all of these imperfections, many of which I may have considered a dealbreaker (to be said in a Tina Fey voice or a Big Michelle voice, attempting to imitate Tina Fey) a few years ago, his good humour, intelligence, strength of character and openness to others makes him so unforgettable and a very special person.

When he leaves for Japan, I will undoubtedly have to move on. I will always wonder how he is and what he's doing now. Without Facebook to tie us together for lyf, he will persist as a shard of glass in my memory. To catch the light on sunny days or on rainy, wet ones when you can't quite tell where the light is coming from. I won't be so dramatic as to say my heart is breaking from his imminent departure but I will say that I truly feel sad about this and wish him nothing but good things in life.

J

Ackward

I've been mainlining Awkward for the last few days. I don't know why it's taken me so long to get into it. I particularly like the crazy school therapist who reminds me so much of another comedic actress who I can't quite put my finger on... But I also hate Sadie with this burning passion that makes me want to pee in her mouth (not in a sexual way).

J

I Must, I Must, I Must Increase My...

I must commit to eating better again. I must learn to say no again. To reiterate to myself that that chocolate biscuit/muffin/block/kilogram will taste the same as every other time. To remember that I will have another chance to have a piece of carrot cake so I don't need to hoard now. To stop eating when I'm full and learn to be hungry again.

J

Things I Love About Australia

We shit on bricks all the time. It's time we start focussing on the good. So, in no particular order:

• Ketut and Rhonda 
• The fact that bogans can be some of the nicest people in the world
• People actually make a huge effort when there's an ambo/police car with their sirens on to get out of the way 
• The beach (legit. Never thought I'd ever say that)
• Our minimum wage 
• Decent healthcare and welfare system 
• HECS help
• School uniforms (I would've died by year three if we had to wear our own clothes instead of uniform to school)
• Offspring 
• Chris Hemsworth (I'm proud of you, m'boy)
• Samboy chips 
• 30c softserve (it's one of the few things that we have cheap compared to the US. Seriously, it's like $1+ there)

J

Subacute Endocarditis

I feel incredibly down today and I don't know why. I sometimes wonder if other people feel like this. I don't know if it's mood swings or hormones but I feel like this so regularly that it just doesn't seem right. It's a feeling of emptiness inside or like there's nothing to look forward to. There's no pressing matter that's making me feel this way. I just feel sad, like I'm missing something that was never there.

J

My Jane

My favourite quote from Jane Eyre is this, "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong. I have as much soul as you and full as much heart."

J

The Jesus of Poo

I am listening to a lecture on haemorrhoids from a couple of weeks ago. Holy crap, I am laughing so hard. The lecturer is fantastic and is talking freely and with a humorous air about how satisfying a solid stool is to pass when the "toilet paper is barely even marked." I really wish I had gone to that lecture now.

This lecture is not just funny but also very educational. Friends, I have some words of wisdom to share with you:

1. Do not physically sit on the toilet until the urge to defecate is irresistible. OR YOU WILL GET HAEMORRHOIDS.

2. Try to get a solid rather than watery/soft/sloppy stool. With soft stools, people tend to spend more time on the toilet straining to empty their bowels completely INCREASING THEIR CHANCE OF GETTING HAEMORRHOIDS.

3. Don't be on your phone or bring reading material into the toilet OR YOU WILL GET HAEMORRHOIDS.

I'm like the fucking Jesus of healthy bowel habits. Spreading these words of wisdom and tidbits on how to remain haemorrhoid free and keep your anus... well, in your anus.

J

Brunchtime and Scenes From Year Two

First on the agenda is to talk about... brunch. I think I've had brunch about two or three times in my entire life and by "brunch" I really mean a late breakfast and by "late breakfast" I really mean second breakfast. Because who can really go out for breakfast at 10am and not eat anything before? Hello, I am starving when I wake up and I usually get up before 7am.

So, why is brunch so fantastic? Like I said, I've only had it less than a handful of times and yet I find it so exquisitely wonderful that I cannot even form words to describe its exquisite wonder. I think it's a combination of things. A likely part of the reason is because most of us (unless we're rich or unemployed) rarely eat brunch. Ain't nobody got time for that. We're at school or work or uni. Brunch is at 11am, a very abnormal eating time. If you were at work and took a lunch break at 11am, your boss and coworkers would probably be very puzzled. Unless you got there at like 5am or are 89 years old.

Another possible reason is brunch food. Have I already talked about this? I feel like I've already talked about this. Brunch food is a combination of breakfast and lunch. Lunch is often a combination of dinner and lighter lunch fare. Which means that brunch is essentially all the three main meals rolled into one. You want breakfast food? There's the pancakes. You want a full seafood dinner? Here's the lemon and tongs, help yourself. There are no limitations with brunch (except the coin). And I'm like a bird, I want to fly away. Brunch is essentially the most freeing, bird-like meal that has ever existed.

Finally, brunch is a social affair. Sure, people go out for breakfast/lunch/dinner with their friends but a lot of people, I would say the majority on most weekdays, do not. But people never go out for brunch alone (never in the history of mankind. I bet you 1000 rupiah). You just don't do it. Brunch is meant for talking things over with old friends or gossiping with chums or catching up with ex-boyfriends (and then having the sex behind the brunch place after... I'd watch that movie) or taking your parents out when they visit you (strange to juxtapose the sex with the ex with taking the ol' parentals out). You can go out for breakfast alone (excuse me, walk past any cafe or Croissant Express if you want to be all pedestrian and shit and you will see numerous, numerous working men and women sipping coffee and eating overpriced scrambled eggs. Eggs are like $3.50 for 12, guys) but why would you want to go out for brunch alone?

You wouldn't.

And so, that ends my ominous (yet highly logical) thoughts on brunchtime. You may notice that the second half of my title refers to my experiences in year two. Writing about brunch has quite frankly tired me out and I am ever so slightly reluctant to continue. And yet, I will persevere. For you.

When I was in primary school, I would walk to school in the morning with my mum and then she would pick me up at the end of the day and drive me home. My tiny, pipsqueak body often required the driving home at the end of the day because I was so exhausted from learning the difference between "can't" and "cunt."

In year two, my auntie and my older cousin came to visit us for a few weeks. On one day, I got out from class and there they were, standing near the gate and waiting for me. Except this gate was not the gate to the car park. This gate was the gate to the oval (where cars do not park). I was so confused but I was also exhausted for some reason.
"Mum?" I said, my big blue eyes looking up at her (I had blue eyes when I was little because I only turned Asian in year four).
"It was such a nice day today that we decided we'd walk you home instead of driving!" she said, all happy like.

I was distraught.

"What?" I said. "Am I being punk'd?" I looked around for the cameras. There were none. I was disappoint.
"No, dear. We're all walking home together. It's good exercise!"
"But... but..." I said. I really wanted to throw a tantrum. Like, really bad. But I was way too well mannered for those shenanigans. "Fine."

So, we walked home. And throughout those 12 minutes that it took us to walk home, every cell in my body burned with a fiery resentment that rivals the fire pits of Modor. I glared at my mother, my auntie, my cousin. I kicked sand, hoping it would fly up into their eyes and blind them for life. I curled my toes up in my little shoes (that's a lie; I've always had massive feet) and begged God for the strength to not push my family members in front of a passing bicycle.

We got home and I went to my room. Very upset. Very devastated, guys. The walk was over but the scars stayed for a long time. It's been well over 10 years since the event and yet I remember it so very well. And I shall never forget.

J

Food Resentment

I had a semi-Friendquest win today. It wasn't even really a Friendquest thing as I wasn't really trying to be friends with this person. I walked with a person in my tute from med campus to main campus. She was meeting a friend on the way and they were going for coffee after that. I had a lovely chat with both girls despite not knowing the girl from my tute almost at all. It felt nice and I felt normal.

I made muffins for my FCP tute tomorrow. Sadly, these muffins are tainted with my resentment for (most of my) tute. The only people who ever bring food are Chloe, Tom, our tutor (Laura) and I. No one else. Ever. Not even on the last day when the tutor explicitly said we could bring in food and have a "class party." I only made muffins because I promised Tom and Chloe I would. I kind of want to just bring in four muffins and none for everyone else.

Yeah, I get pretty bad food resentment. To be honest, I just think it's kind of rude to never bring in anything when others do. It's not that hard; you don't have to make anything. Just buy a pack of Tim Tams or something. It's a gesture.

J

My Favourite Songs (Right Now)

Just right now though, not of all time. As follows and in no particular order:

• The Kooks - "Always Where I Need To Be"
• Paramore - "Part II"
• Florence + The Machine - "Spectrum"
• Florence + The Machine - "Lover to Lover"
• Taylor Swift - "Treacherous"

J