It's been a bit quiet here lately, huh?
Like I mentioned before, that's mostly because I started a new blog: http://rumineat.wordpress.com/
I've been tossing up the idea of moving over to something different and foregoing the Junaberry schtick. The username "Junaberry" has a lot of embarrassing missteps attached to it. All of my embarrassing dalliances with fanfiction, myspace etc. etc. It's all interwoven with that name.
Maybe I mentioned this before or maybe I did not but I've decided what I want to do with my life. Write. Not necessarily about anything in particular. Not necessarily about food or travelling or fashern or politics (hail naw) or anything worthy of being published. But I think I'm somewhat okay at it and, most importantly, I enjoy it.
So, I don't know how I'm going to get there. I have no idea what further study I should do, if any, or what internships or opportunities I should pursue (pretty much: any I can get my hands on). But that's what I want to do. I can see myself being satisfied or at least halfway happy doing it. I think that's good enough for me.
As part of this whole self-discovery thing, my new blog is a part of that. If you didn't realize, the name is a play on words of ruminate + eat. Because I like to think and I like to eat. My only issue with the name is that it has the word "eat" in it. As much as I do like eating and food, the blog does not intend to be a food blog at all. I'd like to talk about food and post pictures, more so than what I do on this blog, but I don't want it to be a "food blog." I want it to be a "blog blog" like this current one is. Just better with more visual aids and polished appearance. What do you think? Does the blog name suffice or is it misleading and does it limit what I can actually write about?
Anyway, go have a look if you feel like it.
J
About Me
- Junaberry
- I'm a student from Australia who used to have a lot of time on her hands but doesn't have that much anymore. Now she has other stuff on her hands.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
3 Years on Blogger
I don't want to scare any of you but I may or may not have created a new blog. And on Wordpress of all blog hosts out there. Wordpress is quite fantastic and is more professional than Blogger. I like it. I also came up with a fantastic new blog name.
That's right. My new blog is not (I repeat: NOT) called Junaberry. It is a made up word that I came up with as I sat in my incredibly uncomfortable chair last night, waiting for the movie 12 Years A Slave to start at the Joondalup Pines Perth Film Festival.
Speaking of which, fuck all humans. We are disgusting animals. We pretend to be incredibly polite, humanity driven, politically correct cherubs but, in reality, given have the chance we would regress to our slave-keeping ways. We would beat and torture fellow human beings and take pride in the fact that we have managed to bend people to our will via sheer force and degradation.
J
That's right. My new blog is not (I repeat: NOT) called Junaberry. It is a made up word that I came up with as I sat in my incredibly uncomfortable chair last night, waiting for the movie 12 Years A Slave to start at the Joondalup Pines Perth Film Festival.
Speaking of which, fuck all humans. We are disgusting animals. We pretend to be incredibly polite, humanity driven, politically correct cherubs but, in reality, given have the chance we would regress to our slave-keeping ways. We would beat and torture fellow human beings and take pride in the fact that we have managed to bend people to our will via sheer force and degradation.
J
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Tender Tome
I have found a new literary niche to explore.
Much like I dove headfirst into the lush and lusty world of chick lit not too long ago, I am currently immersed in the wonderful world of food memoirs. I am talking memoirs, autobiographies and essay collections by food critics, chefs, restaurateurs and the rest of these fantastic kinds of people.
I recently finished The Sweet Life in Paris by the one and only David Lebovitz. He who was a major player in choosing which gelaterias to hit in Rome. And I am midway through Tender at the Bone by Ruth Reichl. I have fallen in and out of love with autobiographies over the course of my life as a reader but I think food-based autobiographies are a subgenre I will never tire of. They read like normal autobiographies, full of nostalgic childhood tales and remembrances of embarrassing pasts, but interspersed with recipes (that I am actually interested in reading) and descriptions of food experiences.
This is where it's at, folks. This is where it's at.
J
Much like I dove headfirst into the lush and lusty world of chick lit not too long ago, I am currently immersed in the wonderful world of food memoirs. I am talking memoirs, autobiographies and essay collections by food critics, chefs, restaurateurs and the rest of these fantastic kinds of people.
I recently finished The Sweet Life in Paris by the one and only David Lebovitz. He who was a major player in choosing which gelaterias to hit in Rome. And I am midway through Tender at the Bone by Ruth Reichl. I have fallen in and out of love with autobiographies over the course of my life as a reader but I think food-based autobiographies are a subgenre I will never tire of. They read like normal autobiographies, full of nostalgic childhood tales and remembrances of embarrassing pasts, but interspersed with recipes (that I am actually interested in reading) and descriptions of food experiences.
This is where it's at, folks. This is where it's at.
J
On The Cusp
I love this article hard: http://www.vulture.com/2014/01/best-punctuation-marks-literature-nabokov-eliot-dickens-levi.html
I'm also thinking of starting a new blog and leaving the whole Junaberry schtick behind. I think it's time to say goodbye.
J
I'm also thinking of starting a new blog and leaving the whole Junaberry schtick behind. I think it's time to say goodbye.
J
On The Card, Thanks
Guess who I saw at work the other day?
He's in a band and is friends with Zeter Febbs. However, his name does not rhyme with Mandrew. That should narrow the search down for you.
I never knew this kid. At all. In our six years of high school together, I don't think we even exchanged one word. Maybe our eyes flickered over one another at some point. Maybe he glanced at me that time I farted during silent reading in year eight (yes, I admit it now. Squeaky chairs don't sound like that).
It was Thursday night. I didn't even realize it was him. He came up to my register and was buying some furniture (two office chairs and a desk). I looked up from whatever receipt I was stuffing into the drawer.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, all exclamatory like. "Hey! How are you?"
"Hey!" he said. His voice was cheery. He always was a ridiculously nice guy. And I say that with the authority of someone who has never carried a conversation with him. He has the smile of a nice guy.
"How are you?" I asked, disgustingly big smile on my disgustingly big face.
"Yeah, good. How about you?"
"Good! Oh, let me just scan up your furniture."
I went over to scan his two office chairs and desk. I returned, he paid on Eftpos. We exchanged a few more pleasantries.
"So, how long have you been working here?" he asked. We still hadn't acknowledged each other by name at this stage, a reminder of the fact that we never had a conversation in our entire lives even though we were essentially in the same class for the whole of high school.
"Just over a year!" I said. The exclamation mark is necessary. Maybe it's because I was at work, a place where I am forced to (pretend to be) happy and act as if I care how people are when I ask them. Or maybe it's because I was genuinely delighted to be graced with his presence (he is a nice guy).
"What've you been up to?" I asked, ignoring the people in the queue, probably cursing this young lad taking up the precious time of their check out bitch.
"Oh, not much," he said. "I just got accepted into WAAPA."
"That's fantastic!" I said, perhaps with a little too much vigour. "Congratulations!"
"Oh, thank you!" Exclamation marks all around.
"Well, I better serve the rest of these folks." Why did I just use the word folks? Why?
"Yeah, it was good to see you," he said.
"Same here."
Smiles, smiles, goodbye, goodbye.
I draw several points from this interaction for yours and my scrutiny.
Firstly, how are we at the age at which we actually buy real furniture with our own pennies? I am still in awe over the fact that I have a debit card and am in relative control of my finances. Pay Wave is still revolutionary to me and I feel so incredibly mature and sophisticated every time I use it. But my Pay Wave use is completely surpassed by the purchase of real furniture. And not just one piece but several.
Secondly, I believe I was well and truly actually delighted with the presence of this old acquaintance from high school. I was well and truly delighted that he had just gone into WAAPA because that really is fantastic and he deserves all of his success. 1.5 years ago, I think I would have avoided eye contact and pretended I didn't recognize him.
As you may remember, I embarked on something called Friendquest 2013 approximately 12 months ago. In those 12 months, I have made several friendly acquaintances, a few friends and a couple of good friends. I am still hopelessly awkward and there are many times during the day when I find myself questioning how I even function in everyday life. But I am coming to terms with the fact that I'm a decent person with things to offer.
At work, I am more comfortable than ever. The new summer casuals think I'm funny and I consider the people who have been there longer to be real friends.
I start uni tomorrow. And I am hopelessly afraid. There is a shittonne of dread and fear in my heart and head but there's also a flicker of anticipation. There's a mite of a possibility that I might enjoy prac work more than theory work. With every day that passes and every experience I have, whether good, bad or downright horrific, I am closer to the person I want to be.
So, there's that. Wish me luck.
J
He's in a band and is friends with Zeter Febbs. However, his name does not rhyme with Mandrew. That should narrow the search down for you.
I never knew this kid. At all. In our six years of high school together, I don't think we even exchanged one word. Maybe our eyes flickered over one another at some point. Maybe he glanced at me that time I farted during silent reading in year eight (yes, I admit it now. Squeaky chairs don't sound like that).
It was Thursday night. I didn't even realize it was him. He came up to my register and was buying some furniture (two office chairs and a desk). I looked up from whatever receipt I was stuffing into the drawer.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, all exclamatory like. "Hey! How are you?"
"Hey!" he said. His voice was cheery. He always was a ridiculously nice guy. And I say that with the authority of someone who has never carried a conversation with him. He has the smile of a nice guy.
"How are you?" I asked, disgustingly big smile on my disgustingly big face.
"Yeah, good. How about you?"
"Good! Oh, let me just scan up your furniture."
I went over to scan his two office chairs and desk. I returned, he paid on Eftpos. We exchanged a few more pleasantries.
"So, how long have you been working here?" he asked. We still hadn't acknowledged each other by name at this stage, a reminder of the fact that we never had a conversation in our entire lives even though we were essentially in the same class for the whole of high school.
"Just over a year!" I said. The exclamation mark is necessary. Maybe it's because I was at work, a place where I am forced to (pretend to be) happy and act as if I care how people are when I ask them. Or maybe it's because I was genuinely delighted to be graced with his presence (he is a nice guy).
"What've you been up to?" I asked, ignoring the people in the queue, probably cursing this young lad taking up the precious time of their check out bitch.
"Oh, not much," he said. "I just got accepted into WAAPA."
"That's fantastic!" I said, perhaps with a little too much vigour. "Congratulations!"
"Oh, thank you!" Exclamation marks all around.
"Well, I better serve the rest of these folks." Why did I just use the word folks? Why?
"Yeah, it was good to see you," he said.
"Same here."
Smiles, smiles, goodbye, goodbye.
I draw several points from this interaction for yours and my scrutiny.
Firstly, how are we at the age at which we actually buy real furniture with our own pennies? I am still in awe over the fact that I have a debit card and am in relative control of my finances. Pay Wave is still revolutionary to me and I feel so incredibly mature and sophisticated every time I use it. But my Pay Wave use is completely surpassed by the purchase of real furniture. And not just one piece but several.
Secondly, I believe I was well and truly actually delighted with the presence of this old acquaintance from high school. I was well and truly delighted that he had just gone into WAAPA because that really is fantastic and he deserves all of his success. 1.5 years ago, I think I would have avoided eye contact and pretended I didn't recognize him.
As you may remember, I embarked on something called Friendquest 2013 approximately 12 months ago. In those 12 months, I have made several friendly acquaintances, a few friends and a couple of good friends. I am still hopelessly awkward and there are many times during the day when I find myself questioning how I even function in everyday life. But I am coming to terms with the fact that I'm a decent person with things to offer.
At work, I am more comfortable than ever. The new summer casuals think I'm funny and I consider the people who have been there longer to be real friends.
I start uni tomorrow. And I am hopelessly afraid. There is a shittonne of dread and fear in my heart and head but there's also a flicker of anticipation. There's a mite of a possibility that I might enjoy prac work more than theory work. With every day that passes and every experience I have, whether good, bad or downright horrific, I am closer to the person I want to be.
So, there's that. Wish me luck.
J
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Nobody's Business
WHAT DO YOU DO ONCE YOU GROW OUT YOUR BROWS?
I feel like I have two shaggy caterpillars wriggling around on my face but I'm too scared to do anything to them lest I undo all the hard work I have put into growing them out. I know that if I apply tweezer to face, I will go overboard and end up even sparser than to begin with.
J
I feel like I have two shaggy caterpillars wriggling around on my face but I'm too scared to do anything to them lest I undo all the hard work I have put into growing them out. I know that if I apply tweezer to face, I will go overboard and end up even sparser than to begin with.
J
Put It In Your Pocket
You know what would be amazing? If I started fourth year med and fucking loved it. I wish nothing more for myself.
J
J
Monday, January 13, 2014
The Chop
My holidays are coming to a rapid close. The horror. I feel I need to re-evaluate my approach to this year. Sure, I am still completely uncertain about "my future" and other serious matters but I did commit to sampling what this uni year has to offer and making a solid decision off of that. These things considered, I want to go in with a positive attitude. I know I'm going to have a good cry after my first prac day but I want to at least walk in with a smile on my face.
I am focusing on "quality" this year. I want to focus on quality study and dedicating myself to "the cause." Listen harder, work more efficiently. I want to focus on quality food and fitness. Quality people and friends. Quality time with loved ones. Quality clothing choices.
Speaking of clothing choices, after Big Michelle and Little Mishelle helped me perform a much needed closet purge, I officially have no clothes to wear. And by no clothes to wear, I mean that I chucked out most of my "comfort pieces." Shirts that looked average/bad but that I was very comfortable in. This calls for a big shopping spree. But, like I said, I'm focusing on "quality" pieces. I also need clinical clothes like dress pants, collared shirts, nice flats. I want to buy stuff that can double as casual wear.
It's going well so far. I bought a nice skirt I can wear both clinically and casually, a casual dress and a pair of slim pants (for work. My current ones are literally falling off me).
I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my skin these days. I hope my path to acceptance is around the bend. I accept the fact that I like to be alone. I accept that this will probably give me grief later in life when I tell my partner, "Okay, I need to be apart from you for at least a week otherwise you will probably wake up with me bludgeoning you to death." But I'll deal with that when the time comes.
I've lost 11kg. Before our European Adventure, I'd lost 9.8kg. Maybe all that gelato helped to kickstart my metabolism. I'm also officially back in the 50s again. It's been a really long time since I've been in the 50-59kg zone. I feel like I've recovered from the eating marathon that was the last week of our European Adventure. My stomach bloat is all but gone and my quads are 90% back to their former self.
But there is a downside to this dedication to having an optimally healthy lifestyle. Obviously, you don't get to treat yourself as often as you'd really like. Sometimes, you can't even enjoy your designated treats as much as you'd like because you feel like you're wasting part of your efforts. But you do grow to not crave treats as much.
The social impact of not treating yourself to as many luxurious foods is perhaps the biggest thing for me. Eating out with my friends and family (or having a sick potluck at home) is perhaps my greatest joy in life. I love it hard. I've had to say no numerous times to proposals of lunch/brunch dates (okay, I don't really have that many friends to say no to). I've had to turn down my mother's offer to have coffee and cake together when we're out shopping. And then deal with the guilt of denying her that pleasure as she refuses to indulge if I'm not doing it with her.
I often feel very self-conscious of my healthiness. I took a salad to eat at work the other day. My coworkers generally go to buy McDonald's for lunch. I felt extremely conspicuous eating my eggplant and cauliflower that day.
Ignoring this, I do feel generally better about my body. I like that I've gone down a size and can wear certain styles that I wouldn't even dream of wearing eight months ago. I take (slightly) more pride in my appearance. I (think I) have better posture. I might even be smiling (ever so slightly) more.
But enough of that nonsense.
I'm getting my hair cut on Wednesday and am tossing up between two options; a 5cm trim (I need a good trim at the very least. The beast is getting out of control) or a collarbone length chop. What do you think? I need some inspirational pictures. I think I look better with longer hair but I'm getting that craving to chop.
J
I am focusing on "quality" this year. I want to focus on quality study and dedicating myself to "the cause." Listen harder, work more efficiently. I want to focus on quality food and fitness. Quality people and friends. Quality time with loved ones. Quality clothing choices.
Speaking of clothing choices, after Big Michelle and Little Mishelle helped me perform a much needed closet purge, I officially have no clothes to wear. And by no clothes to wear, I mean that I chucked out most of my "comfort pieces." Shirts that looked average/bad but that I was very comfortable in. This calls for a big shopping spree. But, like I said, I'm focusing on "quality" pieces. I also need clinical clothes like dress pants, collared shirts, nice flats. I want to buy stuff that can double as casual wear.
It's going well so far. I bought a nice skirt I can wear both clinically and casually, a casual dress and a pair of slim pants (for work. My current ones are literally falling off me).
I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my skin these days. I hope my path to acceptance is around the bend. I accept the fact that I like to be alone. I accept that this will probably give me grief later in life when I tell my partner, "Okay, I need to be apart from you for at least a week otherwise you will probably wake up with me bludgeoning you to death." But I'll deal with that when the time comes.
I've lost 11kg. Before our European Adventure, I'd lost 9.8kg. Maybe all that gelato helped to kickstart my metabolism. I'm also officially back in the 50s again. It's been a really long time since I've been in the 50-59kg zone. I feel like I've recovered from the eating marathon that was the last week of our European Adventure. My stomach bloat is all but gone and my quads are 90% back to their former self.
But there is a downside to this dedication to having an optimally healthy lifestyle. Obviously, you don't get to treat yourself as often as you'd really like. Sometimes, you can't even enjoy your designated treats as much as you'd like because you feel like you're wasting part of your efforts. But you do grow to not crave treats as much.
The social impact of not treating yourself to as many luxurious foods is perhaps the biggest thing for me. Eating out with my friends and family (or having a sick potluck at home) is perhaps my greatest joy in life. I love it hard. I've had to say no numerous times to proposals of lunch/brunch dates (okay, I don't really have that many friends to say no to). I've had to turn down my mother's offer to have coffee and cake together when we're out shopping. And then deal with the guilt of denying her that pleasure as she refuses to indulge if I'm not doing it with her.
I often feel very self-conscious of my healthiness. I took a salad to eat at work the other day. My coworkers generally go to buy McDonald's for lunch. I felt extremely conspicuous eating my eggplant and cauliflower that day.
Ignoring this, I do feel generally better about my body. I like that I've gone down a size and can wear certain styles that I wouldn't even dream of wearing eight months ago. I take (slightly) more pride in my appearance. I (think I) have better posture. I might even be smiling (ever so slightly) more.
But enough of that nonsense.
I'm getting my hair cut on Wednesday and am tossing up between two options; a 5cm trim (I need a good trim at the very least. The beast is getting out of control) or a collarbone length chop. What do you think? I need some inspirational pictures. I think I look better with longer hair but I'm getting that craving to chop.
J
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Missed Connections
Specimen #1:
A good looking young lad who walks into the store. He is tall, fair haired and has all the attributes that would persuade one to describe him as "strapping." I smile and give him a convincing, "Hey, how's it going?" Not too keenly as one must always be impartial when interacting with customers. Would not want to discriminate even though there are tingles in my fingers.
He lines up. So politely.
"Hi," he says when he gets to the front. "I'm not buying anything but I just wanted to drop off my resume. Is that okay?"
"Of course," I say and take it from him. Nicely printed. Good size font. Everything seems to be in order.
"Thanks!"
I serve the next few customers and, at the first possible opportunity, have a squiz at his resume. There are a few grammatical errors but at least no errors of the spelling denomination. Grammar is harder; it is excusable! But there it is, on the last page; an inexcusable fact that stops my spring wedding planning in its tracks.
Born in 1996.
The devastation. The desolation. I am gone and done for.
Specimen #2:
It is nearly closing time. In fact, it is closing time and I am keen for a close. The heat and subpar airconditioning has tested my limits. So has the Bintang singlet wearing man who chose to tell me to, "Fucking hurry up." Yes, it is a pleasure to serve you indeed.
He walks in. He is some kind of mystery ethnicity. My favourite kind. He walks up, tells me that he bought a hardrive yesterday (I am riveted) but is not convinced the girl who sold it to him gave him the exact model he was after. I humour him, he who chooses to come in with a potential return five minutes to closing. He of mysterious ethnicity and pleasing smile.
I go about my business; I am very professional. Friendly but not flirtatious. Cards close to chest, always. I convince him that he is holding in his hands the very hardrive he is after, just in the silver and not the black. The codes match, my friend.
Our codes could match too.
I will never know as he leaves after we are done with a grateful smile and a quenched mind. It was not meant to be.
J
A good looking young lad who walks into the store. He is tall, fair haired and has all the attributes that would persuade one to describe him as "strapping." I smile and give him a convincing, "Hey, how's it going?" Not too keenly as one must always be impartial when interacting with customers. Would not want to discriminate even though there are tingles in my fingers.
He lines up. So politely.
"Hi," he says when he gets to the front. "I'm not buying anything but I just wanted to drop off my resume. Is that okay?"
"Of course," I say and take it from him. Nicely printed. Good size font. Everything seems to be in order.
"Thanks!"
I serve the next few customers and, at the first possible opportunity, have a squiz at his resume. There are a few grammatical errors but at least no errors of the spelling denomination. Grammar is harder; it is excusable! But there it is, on the last page; an inexcusable fact that stops my spring wedding planning in its tracks.
Born in 1996.
The devastation. The desolation. I am gone and done for.
Specimen #2:
It is nearly closing time. In fact, it is closing time and I am keen for a close. The heat and subpar airconditioning has tested my limits. So has the Bintang singlet wearing man who chose to tell me to, "Fucking hurry up." Yes, it is a pleasure to serve you indeed.
He walks in. He is some kind of mystery ethnicity. My favourite kind. He walks up, tells me that he bought a hardrive yesterday (I am riveted) but is not convinced the girl who sold it to him gave him the exact model he was after. I humour him, he who chooses to come in with a potential return five minutes to closing. He of mysterious ethnicity and pleasing smile.
I go about my business; I am very professional. Friendly but not flirtatious. Cards close to chest, always. I convince him that he is holding in his hands the very hardrive he is after, just in the silver and not the black. The codes match, my friend.
Our codes could match too.
I will never know as he leaves after we are done with a grateful smile and a quenched mind. It was not meant to be.
J
Saturday, January 11, 2014
So I Eat Ice Cream
I've been so pissed off and frustrated lately. Everyone is annoying me. Everything is annoying me. I talk to my family and clench my fists together to stop myself from lashing out. I got so angry after coming home from work today and having a "heated" discussion with my mother that I had to retire to my room for a cry.
Working out used to cure my antsy, angsty, angry bouts but now I find myself hating it before I've even started.
Part of me wonders if this is my body's reaction to the upcoming uni semester starting in oh, less than a week. For me, at least. It's like a double kick in the pants; starting uni very early and having to do med. I'm so scared and angry about the 20th of January. I can't even express it. Except maybe physically with some interpretative dance consisting largely of me kicking a mattress.
J
Working out used to cure my antsy, angsty, angry bouts but now I find myself hating it before I've even started.
Part of me wonders if this is my body's reaction to the upcoming uni semester starting in oh, less than a week. For me, at least. It's like a double kick in the pants; starting uni very early and having to do med. I'm so scared and angry about the 20th of January. I can't even express it. Except maybe physically with some interpretative dance consisting largely of me kicking a mattress.
J
Friday, January 10, 2014
Mein Fanclub
There's a new girl at work. Well, there's a lot of new girls/people at work but this one is working as POS. I've seen her here and there but only had a proper conversation with her today. The following took place:
Kristy (PS: her name is Kristy): Hey, you went to (insert name of school I went to), didn't you?
Me: Uh, yeah. Wait, how did you know that?!
Kristy: I went there too. You're like super smart (not to toot my own horn, she really did say this... or did she?)!
Me: Oh, wow. This is weird. Have you graduated?
Kristy: Yeah, 2011. You're doing med, right?
Me: Um, yeah.
She proceeds to ask me a billion questions about the interview and what med is like as she wants to move into med after she graduates with her Bachelor of Science. I regale her with my many fantastic tales of what it is like to spend study week pretending to be a mole.
Later, as I am causing her to convulse with laughter at my many and varied jokes, she says to me, "Oh shit, you're funny (baby, I know). What are you doing next Friday?"
Obviously, mein first thought was, "This girl probably wants me to go to her birthday party where I will be guest of honour and regale all her friends with my many and varied jokes." I play it cool because there is nothing more uncool than a really, really, really cool person who knows and behaves like they're cool (even though they really so obviously are).
"Not much," I say coolly.
"Oh, I meant what shifts are you working."
Aw, shit. So close.
J
Kristy (PS: her name is Kristy): Hey, you went to (insert name of school I went to), didn't you?
Me: Uh, yeah. Wait, how did you know that?!
Kristy: I went there too. You're like super smart (not to toot my own horn, she really did say this... or did she?)!
Me: Oh, wow. This is weird. Have you graduated?
Kristy: Yeah, 2011. You're doing med, right?
Me: Um, yeah.
She proceeds to ask me a billion questions about the interview and what med is like as she wants to move into med after she graduates with her Bachelor of Science. I regale her with my many fantastic tales of what it is like to spend study week pretending to be a mole.
Later, as I am causing her to convulse with laughter at my many and varied jokes, she says to me, "Oh shit, you're funny (baby, I know). What are you doing next Friday?"
Obviously, mein first thought was, "This girl probably wants me to go to her birthday party where I will be guest of honour and regale all her friends with my many and varied jokes." I play it cool because there is nothing more uncool than a really, really, really cool person who knows and behaves like they're cool (even though they really so obviously are).
"Not much," I say coolly.
"Oh, I meant what shifts are you working."
Aw, shit. So close.
J
Shine Bright
It's all true: http://www.buzzfeed.com/antwaunsargent/times-rihanna-was-the-most-fashionable-celebrity-in-2013
I also nearly started watching Beauty and The Beast (the 2012 series with Kristin Kreuk and some hot guy) but then thought better of it. I am more mature and sophisticated than that nonsense... she said as she continued to watch Revenge.
J
I also nearly started watching Beauty and The Beast (the 2012 series with Kristin Kreuk and some hot guy) but then thought better of it. I am more mature and sophisticated than that nonsense... she said as she continued to watch Revenge.
J
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Exemplary Conduct
Get home from work, absolutely famished. Mother has made wanton mee; can the night improve? I think not. Shower as quickly as I can as my stomach may not be able to handle another second of emptiness. Microwave noodles whilst preparing a hot mug of peppermint tea, so appropriate for this weather (on that note, 44C on Saturday? What the?).
Settle into my beloved computer chair, put on Bastille's supplementary All This Bad Blood album. Chopsticks in noodles, extra chilli sauce, peppermint tea and a night in front of me.
Proceed to overeat.
Exemplary conduct.
J
Settle into my beloved computer chair, put on Bastille's supplementary All This Bad Blood album. Chopsticks in noodles, extra chilli sauce, peppermint tea and a night in front of me.
Proceed to overeat.
Exemplary conduct.
J
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Of The Night
I struggle to come to terms with the direction my life is going. I wish things were simple and straightforward again. I wish there was an answer for me. There are so many questions I have... for myself. In 10 years, where will I be and what will I be doing?
Most importantly, will I be happy?
J
Most importantly, will I be happy?
J
Ontbijtkoek
This afternoon, at a certain Woolworths store in a certain shopping complex, I found one of my one true loves from my most recent (because I have been on so many) European adventure: http://ourlittlefamilyadventure.wordpress.com/2012/12/06/ontbijtkoek-dutch-breakfast-spice-cake/
There was a little Dutch section, right next to the tortillas and Old El Paso kits, in Woolworths. My day was made. Nay, my week was made. Many thanks to Little Mishelle for informing me of its presence.
For those who have not had the pleasure of sinking their teeth into the dense, dark mysteries of this breakfast treat (its existence simply reaffirming my belief that breakfast is the best meal of the day), get your ass to your closest Woolworths (assuming every Perth Woolworths has its own Dutch section).
And if you have had the great pleasure I have described above, I am sure your ass is already halfway to your closest Woolworths.
But back to those unacquainted. Ontbijtkoek is essentially a really dark gingerbread made of rye flour. It's not very sweet and really is more of a bread than a cake, traditionally eaten with butter. As a great lover of all things gingerbread, its density and spiciness is a revelation.
It's a good thing I found and bought said Dutch breakfast cake because my day would have otherwise been slightly miserable (although hacking into Little Mishelle's locks always gives me great joy. I also scored myself a $1.99 bag of mega mushrooms and a $1.99 mango). Specifically because I saw Zeter Febbs on the bus to Little Mishelle's house. I saw him before he saw me (assuming he saw me at all). There he was, jumping onboard, dressed in his shitty sports' team polo t-shirt and some sort of matching cap. I have no patience for these sports enthusiast antics.
What is wrong with me? How could I ever think we were even slightly compatible? A SPORTS' TEAM POLO T-SHIRT. AND MATCHING CAP.
Anyway, I purposefully stared outside my window, pretending to be absolutely captivated by the beautiful passing scenery... And he sat in the special section at the front, reserved for pregnant ladies and old people. Probably because he saw me and thought to himself, "Hale no, if I initiate contact she will probably start drooling all over my sports' team polo t-shirt and possibly my matching cap."
Smart move, Zeter. I was indeed resisting the urge to drool on/rip that sports' team polo t-shirt off you and run my hands all over your pasty white, concave chest. Smart move, indeed. He was always strategically oriented.
Maybe one day I will move past all of this. To be honest, I'm probably 80% there. I laugh about it pretty much any time it is brought up these days (which is rarely unless by me because I'm an attention seeking little whore). That being said, it is my reaction to laugh at anything even slightly uncomfortable. Case in point, the Pyramides metro station in Rome.
No further comment. Go about your business.
J
There was a little Dutch section, right next to the tortillas and Old El Paso kits, in Woolworths. My day was made. Nay, my week was made. Many thanks to Little Mishelle for informing me of its presence.
For those who have not had the pleasure of sinking their teeth into the dense, dark mysteries of this breakfast treat (its existence simply reaffirming my belief that breakfast is the best meal of the day), get your ass to your closest Woolworths (assuming every Perth Woolworths has its own Dutch section).
And if you have had the great pleasure I have described above, I am sure your ass is already halfway to your closest Woolworths.
But back to those unacquainted. Ontbijtkoek is essentially a really dark gingerbread made of rye flour. It's not very sweet and really is more of a bread than a cake, traditionally eaten with butter. As a great lover of all things gingerbread, its density and spiciness is a revelation.
It's a good thing I found and bought said Dutch breakfast cake because my day would have otherwise been slightly miserable (although hacking into Little Mishelle's locks always gives me great joy. I also scored myself a $1.99 bag of mega mushrooms and a $1.99 mango). Specifically because I saw Zeter Febbs on the bus to Little Mishelle's house. I saw him before he saw me (assuming he saw me at all). There he was, jumping onboard, dressed in his shitty sports' team polo t-shirt and some sort of matching cap. I have no patience for these sports enthusiast antics.
What is wrong with me? How could I ever think we were even slightly compatible? A SPORTS' TEAM POLO T-SHIRT. AND MATCHING CAP.
Anyway, I purposefully stared outside my window, pretending to be absolutely captivated by the beautiful passing scenery... And he sat in the special section at the front, reserved for pregnant ladies and old people. Probably because he saw me and thought to himself, "Hale no, if I initiate contact she will probably start drooling all over my sports' team polo t-shirt and possibly my matching cap."
Smart move, Zeter. I was indeed resisting the urge to drool on/rip that sports' team polo t-shirt off you and run my hands all over your pasty white, concave chest. Smart move, indeed. He was always strategically oriented.
Maybe one day I will move past all of this. To be honest, I'm probably 80% there. I laugh about it pretty much any time it is brought up these days (which is rarely unless by me because I'm an attention seeking little whore). That being said, it is my reaction to laugh at anything even slightly uncomfortable. Case in point, the Pyramides metro station in Rome.
No further comment. Go about your business.
J
Get Me The Fluff Out of This Nutter
I love this so hard: http://vimeo.com/channels/mmas/videos
All of these videos are brilliant. How am I so invested and delighted by videos about sandwiches of all things in the world? I'm just sitting here, smiling and chortling as I watch some guy make a falafelnutter sandwich (just as it sounds). But really, have I found my calling? Could I write about food for a living?
This place is my jam: http://www.seriouseats.com/ I used to just browse/skim through their articles, not really reading but just looking at the pictures. Now, I am captivated by everything on that site (except the ones on wine and cocktails... Non).
Is it a passing fancy? Maybe I can start my own 'zine (channeling Mia Thermopolis/Lily Moscovitz right now) and just write shit about anything I want. Food, people, food, politics (unlikely), dogs (likely), food, sandwiches, desserts, travelling (food).
You're not supposed to enjoy work. That's kind of the idea I've been raised on. Work is work. You go into the office everyday, bring your shitty packed lunch, struggle through the drudgery of whatever slop has been tossed your way, daydream about the weekend, spend the weekend dreading Monday, spend the lunch hour dreading going back to work. How's that for horrendous? Depressing? Yes. I do not want to go to there.
J
All of these videos are brilliant. How am I so invested and delighted by videos about sandwiches of all things in the world? I'm just sitting here, smiling and chortling as I watch some guy make a falafelnutter sandwich (just as it sounds). But really, have I found my calling? Could I write about food for a living?
This place is my jam: http://www.seriouseats.com/ I used to just browse/skim through their articles, not really reading but just looking at the pictures. Now, I am captivated by everything on that site (except the ones on wine and cocktails... Non).
Is it a passing fancy? Maybe I can start my own 'zine (channeling Mia Thermopolis/Lily Moscovitz right now) and just write shit about anything I want. Food, people, food, politics (unlikely), dogs (likely), food, sandwiches, desserts, travelling (food).
You're not supposed to enjoy work. That's kind of the idea I've been raised on. Work is work. You go into the office everyday, bring your shitty packed lunch, struggle through the drudgery of whatever slop has been tossed your way, daydream about the weekend, spend the weekend dreading Monday, spend the lunch hour dreading going back to work. How's that for horrendous? Depressing? Yes. I do not want to go to there.
J
Monday, January 6, 2014
Rhythm of the Night
I have taken to actually clicking on the links of the restaurants reviewed in the many, many food blogs I read. These are largely US based and, as a result, I have been perusing many US based restaurant menus. The thing I've noticed is this; it's a hell of a lot cheaper than Australia.
I don't eat in fancy restaurants at home very often but I read reviews! And I can tell you that entrees run up in the $35-40 range, desserts can extend towards the $20 mark and you will rarely find a salad for < $10.
I am constantly amazed by how reasonable the prices are in American menus. Sure, the exchange rate and all but still. Look at this: http://homeroom510.com/menu/
I want to go to there. If I ever get to the US, I'm going to eat my weight in delicious food.
J
I don't eat in fancy restaurants at home very often but I read reviews! And I can tell you that entrees run up in the $35-40 range, desserts can extend towards the $20 mark and you will rarely find a salad for < $10.
I am constantly amazed by how reasonable the prices are in American menus. Sure, the exchange rate and all but still. Look at this: http://homeroom510.com/menu/
I want to go to there. If I ever get to the US, I'm going to eat my weight in delicious food.
J
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Three Goals
I bought my very first pair of trousers this morning.
From K-Mart. You know what that means. They were $15. It also means they fit in the waist but are way, way too tight in the calves (damn my "voluptuous" legs). It also means they are about an inch too short. All of these deterrents crossed my mind as I was considering these (otherwise lovely) trousers.
But other things also crossed my mind. Like my goal to Become The Woman I Want To Be (more on this later). Similar to this, my goal to Own Many Great Pairs Of Trousers. And also, to Dress More Like My Very Fantastic And Eclectic Cousin.
I shall address each goal now.
1. Become The Woman I Want To Be.
This is tied in closely to my other two goals. I want to dress myself with more pride and rely less on sloppy t-shirts and denim bottoms. I want to stop buying so many goddamn $5 tube skirts. Big Michelle likes to ask me why I read so many fashion blogs (and hence, the implication is, "but don't dress that great yourself." I accept this wholeheartedly as I know I don't). This is a very good question.
I know a lot of useless information about trends, designer brands, styles, big name bloggers, big name fashionistas and all the rest of that bullshit. But can I dress myself? No. Sure, I'm limited by my cheapness and the resulting dedication to stores like K-Mart, Virgingirl, Temtation and other such cheapo clothing sources. But even with this dedication to being the Stingiest Bitch North of the CBD, I believe that one can still dress with pride and good presentation.
But dressing well is not all it takes to Become The Woman I Want To Be. To be honest, this goal is more about Building Confidence, the Ability to Speak to Others With Verbal Prowess and Walking With My Head Up and Tits/Chest Out. Whilst these are physical manifestations, really it's all about feeling better about myself, "finding myself" and coming one step closer to being the adult I always envisaged myself being in my pre-menarche years.
I always imagined myself in Some Really Good Trousers walking with purpose through some city streets. I have a really important business meeting to attend to and nothing will stand in my way. I am determined, I am strong, I am confident. People fall around me like wilting spinach, so amazed by my natural charm, grace and wit. Girls think to themselves, "That Is The Woman I Want To Be."
Soon, friends. Soon.
2. Own Many Great Pairs Of Trousers.
I like pants. I don't like skirts or dresses very much (unless they're tube skirts and I'm in the mood to skank it up). I am enjoying this new trend towards Great Trousers. Peg legs, cappuchinos, slim cut beauties. Everywhere, anywhere except on me.
A Great Pair of Trousers can take you from the hospital (clinical wear) to a hot date at some banging bar (puh-lease) to a sultry dinner at some fancy, dimly lit restaurant (and what comes after. I hope it's a snap closure). A Great Pair of Trousers says to the world, "I'm confident enough in my own womanhood to wear this slightly masculine pair of trousers without a care in the world. I'm intelligent as hell but my ass is also fantastic which this Great Pair of Trousers clearly demonstrates. But don't look (no no) because my ass is not for you. It's for me (and my Great Pair of Trousers to snuggle up against)."
Great Pairs of Trousers just say so much. And what are they? Simple scraps of fabric bound together with some flimsy thread. So simple yet so effective.
3. Dress More Like My Very Fantastic And Eclectic Cousin.
I have discussed this cousin with Big Michelle and Little Mishelle before. No, this is not my cousin, The Crazy Bitch. This is a different cousin, more distantly related (and therefore harder to emulate? Damnit). She recently graduated from UWA with a Bachelor of Music. She is a stunning violinist. She is very EcLeCtIc.
She is slightly built and has always been kind of shy. But then not really shy at all. Conversations with her are filled with laughs and chortles. She asks interesting, ridiculous questions. She (like me) likes to let awkward silences settle... and then provoke them (one of my favourite pastimes).
She has always been the less aesthetically invested of her three sisters, choosing to dress in knee length shorts and t-shirts. But the last time I saw her, she had transformed. She had blossomed into something magnificent. Her face was the same but her hair was really, really long, dyed a medium brown and permed into these fabulous bohemian waves. She was dressed in a really Great Pair of Trousers (thus beginning my fascination with really Great Pairs of Trousers) and a sophisticated top of some description (I was too focused on the trousers).
She was the same girl as before, behaving and speaking in the same way. But there was something different; a lightness and quickness to her step, a new gracefulness to her movement, a heightened cheekiness in her grin.
To summarise, she had Become The Woman I Want To Be.
I think I'm in love with her. This would be totally appropriate as she is amazing except that she is my cousin (but only through marriage!).
A couple of years ago, she was very dedicated to the idea of getting dreadlocks. I shit you not. Perhaps this is not so shocking to the rest of you but bear in mind that she is Asian, belongs to a devoutly Christian family and is Asian (PS: she is Asian). She studied music at university, for God's sake. To me, this is amazing. She loves music and the violin therefore studied it in university.
STUDYING SOMETHING YOU LOVE IN UNIVERSITY? UNHEARD OF.
Especially when it's music (if an Asian kid loved commerce or biology, I'm sure their parents would be all for them following their dreams).
Now that I have discussed (ad nauseum) three of the important goals on my radar, I must go find a way to slim my calves. They really are the bane of my trouser buying existence. Things that fit in the waist and thighs never fit my gargantuan calves. Should I buy a buggy and stop walking altogether? Tempting.
For my final comment, I bought blueberry coloured hair dye at Chemist Warehouse this morning. It says it lasts for eight washes. I will probably do it this afternoon. Wish me luck (also, I hope I don't stain anything. If you don't hear back from me, it's likely I did stain something and mother has since disposed of my corpse).
Cheerio.
J
From K-Mart. You know what that means. They were $15. It also means they fit in the waist but are way, way too tight in the calves (damn my "voluptuous" legs). It also means they are about an inch too short. All of these deterrents crossed my mind as I was considering these (otherwise lovely) trousers.
But other things also crossed my mind. Like my goal to Become The Woman I Want To Be (more on this later). Similar to this, my goal to Own Many Great Pairs Of Trousers. And also, to Dress More Like My Very Fantastic And Eclectic Cousin.
I shall address each goal now.
1. Become The Woman I Want To Be.
This is tied in closely to my other two goals. I want to dress myself with more pride and rely less on sloppy t-shirts and denim bottoms. I want to stop buying so many goddamn $5 tube skirts. Big Michelle likes to ask me why I read so many fashion blogs (and hence, the implication is, "but don't dress that great yourself." I accept this wholeheartedly as I know I don't). This is a very good question.
I know a lot of useless information about trends, designer brands, styles, big name bloggers, big name fashionistas and all the rest of that bullshit. But can I dress myself? No. Sure, I'm limited by my cheapness and the resulting dedication to stores like K-Mart, Virgingirl, Temtation and other such cheapo clothing sources. But even with this dedication to being the Stingiest Bitch North of the CBD, I believe that one can still dress with pride and good presentation.
But dressing well is not all it takes to Become The Woman I Want To Be. To be honest, this goal is more about Building Confidence, the Ability to Speak to Others With Verbal Prowess and Walking With My Head Up and Tits/Chest Out. Whilst these are physical manifestations, really it's all about feeling better about myself, "finding myself" and coming one step closer to being the adult I always envisaged myself being in my pre-menarche years.
I always imagined myself in Some Really Good Trousers walking with purpose through some city streets. I have a really important business meeting to attend to and nothing will stand in my way. I am determined, I am strong, I am confident. People fall around me like wilting spinach, so amazed by my natural charm, grace and wit. Girls think to themselves, "That Is The Woman I Want To Be."
Soon, friends. Soon.
2. Own Many Great Pairs Of Trousers.
I like pants. I don't like skirts or dresses very much (unless they're tube skirts and I'm in the mood to skank it up). I am enjoying this new trend towards Great Trousers. Peg legs, cappuchinos, slim cut beauties. Everywhere, anywhere except on me.
A Great Pair of Trousers can take you from the hospital (clinical wear) to a hot date at some banging bar (puh-lease) to a sultry dinner at some fancy, dimly lit restaurant (and what comes after. I hope it's a snap closure). A Great Pair of Trousers says to the world, "I'm confident enough in my own womanhood to wear this slightly masculine pair of trousers without a care in the world. I'm intelligent as hell but my ass is also fantastic which this Great Pair of Trousers clearly demonstrates. But don't look (no no) because my ass is not for you. It's for me (and my Great Pair of Trousers to snuggle up against)."
Great Pairs of Trousers just say so much. And what are they? Simple scraps of fabric bound together with some flimsy thread. So simple yet so effective.
3. Dress More Like My Very Fantastic And Eclectic Cousin.
I have discussed this cousin with Big Michelle and Little Mishelle before. No, this is not my cousin, The Crazy Bitch. This is a different cousin, more distantly related (and therefore harder to emulate? Damnit). She recently graduated from UWA with a Bachelor of Music. She is a stunning violinist. She is very EcLeCtIc.
She is slightly built and has always been kind of shy. But then not really shy at all. Conversations with her are filled with laughs and chortles. She asks interesting, ridiculous questions. She (like me) likes to let awkward silences settle... and then provoke them (one of my favourite pastimes).
She has always been the less aesthetically invested of her three sisters, choosing to dress in knee length shorts and t-shirts. But the last time I saw her, she had transformed. She had blossomed into something magnificent. Her face was the same but her hair was really, really long, dyed a medium brown and permed into these fabulous bohemian waves. She was dressed in a really Great Pair of Trousers (thus beginning my fascination with really Great Pairs of Trousers) and a sophisticated top of some description (I was too focused on the trousers).
She was the same girl as before, behaving and speaking in the same way. But there was something different; a lightness and quickness to her step, a new gracefulness to her movement, a heightened cheekiness in her grin.
To summarise, she had Become The Woman I Want To Be.
I think I'm in love with her. This would be totally appropriate as she is amazing except that she is my cousin (but only through marriage!).
A couple of years ago, she was very dedicated to the idea of getting dreadlocks. I shit you not. Perhaps this is not so shocking to the rest of you but bear in mind that she is Asian, belongs to a devoutly Christian family and is Asian (PS: she is Asian). She studied music at university, for God's sake. To me, this is amazing. She loves music and the violin therefore studied it in university.
STUDYING SOMETHING YOU LOVE IN UNIVERSITY? UNHEARD OF.
Especially when it's music (if an Asian kid loved commerce or biology, I'm sure their parents would be all for them following their dreams).
Now that I have discussed (ad nauseum) three of the important goals on my radar, I must go find a way to slim my calves. They really are the bane of my trouser buying existence. Things that fit in the waist and thighs never fit my gargantuan calves. Should I buy a buggy and stop walking altogether? Tempting.
For my final comment, I bought blueberry coloured hair dye at Chemist Warehouse this morning. It says it lasts for eight washes. I will probably do it this afternoon. Wish me luck (also, I hope I don't stain anything. If you don't hear back from me, it's likely I did stain something and mother has since disposed of my corpse).
Cheerio.
J
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Sexy Dexy
My new favourite guy at work is the gay guy who has replaced R at print & copy. FUCKING FANTASTIC. There's a hole in my heart/life and, whilst Angelo is fantastic, lovely and friendly, it can only be filled by a certain someone. Or at least someone who is straight. Much like the hole under my pants.
I am watching Something Borrowed, recommended by Wynn last year. This is my second time watching it because I just finished reading the book. 'Tis good. Get into it, my friends.
J
I am watching Something Borrowed, recommended by Wynn last year. This is my second time watching it because I just finished reading the book. 'Tis good. Get into it, my friends.
J
I Couldn't Resist
I just ate a mantou-speculoos sandwich thereby combining two of my favourite things in the world. I had not intended on consuming a treat on this day. However, all this went to shit when I got home from work and found a plate of deep fried mantou sitting on the kitchen counter.
If there is one thing I love in this world and will always love with a burning passion, it is mantou. Speculoos, when eaten in a high enough concentration and therefore with greater impact of flavour, is becoming an increasing favourite after an initially poor first impression.
J
If there is one thing I love in this world and will always love with a burning passion, it is mantou. Speculoos, when eaten in a high enough concentration and therefore with greater impact of flavour, is becoming an increasing favourite after an initially poor first impression.
J
Good Jeans
I love this lady (trying to stop using the word "bitch" so much, even in a loving or admiring way) so hard: http://www.brooklynblonde.com
I love that she looks like she could kick ass at any time. I love how she dresses. I love her choice in sunglasses. I love her choice in heels. I love how tight her jeans are (and I love how they highlight her beautifully toned legs. Would bang).
Mission to grow out my brows and therefore contradict the sperm-shaped ones portrayed in my Roman caricature is officially underway. It is difficult as I have the increasing desire to hack at them with scissors and tweezers. Hopefully, it will be all be worth it.
Speaking of our Roman caricature... No, we won't speak of it.
J
I love that she looks like she could kick ass at any time. I love how she dresses. I love her choice in sunglasses. I love her choice in heels. I love how tight her jeans are (and I love how they highlight her beautifully toned legs. Would bang).
Mission to grow out my brows and therefore contradict the sperm-shaped ones portrayed in my Roman caricature is officially underway. It is difficult as I have the increasing desire to hack at them with scissors and tweezers. Hopefully, it will be all be worth it.
Speaking of our Roman caricature... No, we won't speak of it.
J
Friday, January 3, 2014
I Fucked Up
Tonight, I fucked up at work.
I struggled to hold back tears as I served customer after customer. I couldn't muster any more smiles. My usually chirpy, "Hi, how's it going?" was lackluster at best. My natural bitchface reared its ugly head.
I kept trying to think of a way to pull me out of this godforsaken funk. Yes, I fucked up but I figure that stewing over it and feeling like shit isn't worth it. Hello, I'm a checkout chick.
If anyone knows the answer to how to do such a thing, please tell me.
J
I struggled to hold back tears as I served customer after customer. I couldn't muster any more smiles. My usually chirpy, "Hi, how's it going?" was lackluster at best. My natural bitchface reared its ugly head.
I kept trying to think of a way to pull me out of this godforsaken funk. Yes, I fucked up but I figure that stewing over it and feeling like shit isn't worth it. Hello, I'm a checkout chick.
If anyone knows the answer to how to do such a thing, please tell me.
J
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Goals and Things
I had my first day/night back at work today. As I looked at the roster, I was sad as I saw all the new names and the notable exception. The lack of R. Despite this, work was aiight and I hung out with my friend, Z, for most of it. It helped that R commented on two and liked at least seven of my Europe photos on facebook. Even over international waters, the effect he has on me is stupid.
I'd do it all again if I had to. You ain't gotta ask, boo. Boy, you know you got me gone.
Caitlyn also come into work today. I swear, it's the first time I've seen her in months. And damn, son. She lost weight. I had to restrain myself from feeling her up. She was looking pretty spectacular in that orange top.
But anyway, to the topic of this blog post. I thought I'd post up a list of some things I want to achieve this year. They're not exactly New Year's resolutions but just some stuff that's been occurring to me over the last few weeks/months/lives. Here they are:
1. Figure out what to do with my life. That's priority one (but, in reality, the least likely to be achieved).
2. Dye my hair. Z, at work, dyed her tips some fantastic red/purple and said she did it with food dye. This made me very excited to whip out the food dye and get feisty. I probably will, perhaps tomorrow. Just as a taster to see whether I want to go further/more permanent.
3. Buy and wear a romper. Because I think rompers are cute as hell but I've never had the guts to wear one. Well, you know what? I want to buy one and I want the back to be low as hell and the shorts section to be short/loose as hell so that there is cheek-to-seat contact whenever I sit down. And I want to look hot as hell in it.
4. Get a tatt... maybe. I'm still undecided. I know what I would get and I know where I would get it but I just don't know whether I should absolutely get it. Perhaps you haven't noticed but I am currently struggling through a desire to rebel against the Asian confines that have constricted my movement for most of my life. But is getting a permanent marking upon my skin the best thing to do when all I want to really do is try some new things?
5. Buy some awesome trousers. I want neutral coloured ones for clinical wear but I also want some crazy patterned ones for everyday wear and going out (because I go out so damn much). This is difficult to achieve because I'm incredibly cheap and trousers are usually quite expensive. But I think I'm willing to throw down some cash for some great pants. I underspent on my Europe trip quite significantly so I keep feeling like I have all this extra cash to throw around now that I'm back. It's an interesting concept.
6. Explore the Perth culinary scene. For someone who loves food with such desperation as I do, I really have not sampled all that (the very limited) Perth has to offer. That is sad. In honour of embracing life, I want to try all of those places in Perth that everyone's always talking about. A lot of the time, I hesitate due to the cost and the calories. However, after Europe, I feel like I shouldn't let monetary expense stop me so much. We only live once and, in the end, it's only a small amount. As long as I don't eat out everyday then I think a treat every few weeks is fine.
I think growing up with parents who very rarely splurge has influenced me enormously. I want to break out of this mold. Although I will surely never be Spendy Sue and will always be very dedicated to saving and being sensible with my coins, I want to treat myself and the people I love more.
7. Travel. Live life. I want to go on a roadtrip, go camping and experience what WA has to offer. I don't know if you've noticed this but I really, really love Australia. Perhaps bogan accents, Holden Commodores, 40C days (for a whole week...) and our shitty, shitty public transport system are not romantic or fantastic but I can't help but love it all. When I came back from my holiday, I felt this kinship with my home.
As I was struggling through the crowds at airport arrivals, I said, "Oops, sorry," to a guy I kind of nudged with my luggage. His response was, "No worries, mate." I felt so much love in my heart.
I even love the smell of eucalyptus in the air when it's so unbearably hot and sunny. I used to hate that smell because it made me feel like my skin was on fire. And I still kind of hate it but I love it at the same time. I love how people dress here. Even the teenage girls in shorts up to there and those fugly sandles.
Australia, you have my heart. Always and forever.
There is more to that list but I can't really think of anything right now. I will be back.
J
I'd do it all again if I had to. You ain't gotta ask, boo. Boy, you know you got me gone.
Caitlyn also come into work today. I swear, it's the first time I've seen her in months. And damn, son. She lost weight. I had to restrain myself from feeling her up. She was looking pretty spectacular in that orange top.
But anyway, to the topic of this blog post. I thought I'd post up a list of some things I want to achieve this year. They're not exactly New Year's resolutions but just some stuff that's been occurring to me over the last few weeks/months/lives. Here they are:
1. Figure out what to do with my life. That's priority one (but, in reality, the least likely to be achieved).
2. Dye my hair. Z, at work, dyed her tips some fantastic red/purple and said she did it with food dye. This made me very excited to whip out the food dye and get feisty. I probably will, perhaps tomorrow. Just as a taster to see whether I want to go further/more permanent.
3. Buy and wear a romper. Because I think rompers are cute as hell but I've never had the guts to wear one. Well, you know what? I want to buy one and I want the back to be low as hell and the shorts section to be short/loose as hell so that there is cheek-to-seat contact whenever I sit down. And I want to look hot as hell in it.
4. Get a tatt... maybe. I'm still undecided. I know what I would get and I know where I would get it but I just don't know whether I should absolutely get it. Perhaps you haven't noticed but I am currently struggling through a desire to rebel against the Asian confines that have constricted my movement for most of my life. But is getting a permanent marking upon my skin the best thing to do when all I want to really do is try some new things?
5. Buy some awesome trousers. I want neutral coloured ones for clinical wear but I also want some crazy patterned ones for everyday wear and going out (because I go out so damn much). This is difficult to achieve because I'm incredibly cheap and trousers are usually quite expensive. But I think I'm willing to throw down some cash for some great pants. I underspent on my Europe trip quite significantly so I keep feeling like I have all this extra cash to throw around now that I'm back. It's an interesting concept.
6. Explore the Perth culinary scene. For someone who loves food with such desperation as I do, I really have not sampled all that (the very limited) Perth has to offer. That is sad. In honour of embracing life, I want to try all of those places in Perth that everyone's always talking about. A lot of the time, I hesitate due to the cost and the calories. However, after Europe, I feel like I shouldn't let monetary expense stop me so much. We only live once and, in the end, it's only a small amount. As long as I don't eat out everyday then I think a treat every few weeks is fine.
I think growing up with parents who very rarely splurge has influenced me enormously. I want to break out of this mold. Although I will surely never be Spendy Sue and will always be very dedicated to saving and being sensible with my coins, I want to treat myself and the people I love more.
7. Travel. Live life. I want to go on a roadtrip, go camping and experience what WA has to offer. I don't know if you've noticed this but I really, really love Australia. Perhaps bogan accents, Holden Commodores, 40C days (for a whole week...) and our shitty, shitty public transport system are not romantic or fantastic but I can't help but love it all. When I came back from my holiday, I felt this kinship with my home.
As I was struggling through the crowds at airport arrivals, I said, "Oops, sorry," to a guy I kind of nudged with my luggage. His response was, "No worries, mate." I felt so much love in my heart.
I even love the smell of eucalyptus in the air when it's so unbearably hot and sunny. I used to hate that smell because it made me feel like my skin was on fire. And I still kind of hate it but I love it at the same time. I love how people dress here. Even the teenage girls in shorts up to there and those fugly sandles.
Australia, you have my heart. Always and forever.
There is more to that list but I can't really think of anything right now. I will be back.
J
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Speculoos
My family has eaten half of my first jar of Speculoos and I've only had one serve with toast because I'm trying to conserve it and be healthy! This is shit! I have to hide it!
!!!
And happy New Year.
J
!!!
And happy New Year.
J
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