Do I Get Brownie Points For That?

I had my crazy ‘Gatsby’ parties and I sure can do a mean tequila fulled sing-a-long to basically any song from the late 90’s. My problem is I’m 22 and already I start my wild nights with ‘I was watching the block*…’ Don’t get me wrong I can handle myself in a fight with a bottle of vodka, it’s just, I have too many ‘things’ to think about. Before it was always F the consequences, ill be right. But now its, i cannot afford rent, electricity, food, petrol AND a glass of bourbon, which can i do without?

Turns out bourbon is low on my priorities now. Apparently at 22, having a semi-decent roof above my head is more important than being ‘slizzered’ Never thought the day would come when I would look at the clock and grumble that i had too much work to do so, no, as much as i wanted i could not snuggle into bed before 10.30pm.

My ‘all-nighters’ turned into ‘all-night shifts’ and my ‘hangover headaches’ turned into ‘i haven’t had a decent sleep in weeks’, headaches.

And I don’t even have any kids. That’s the problem with studying again. I have a bachelors degree, but i am doing an extra year because apparently i am a god damn idiot. So now all i do is work and school stuff and time to go out? HA. bless your cotton socks and get off my lawn you whippernapper i need me some beauty sleep. Or just some sleep will do me, I’ve learned to give up.

Do I at least get points because I used to be cool? Extra because I also have a hidden tattoo? Good. I’m so keeping score.

*If you’ve never heard of the block, or house rules if you’re a seven watcher, then your nights suck regardless. Seriously, its mind numbing crap TV, which makes for great TV that i will watch until i feel mind numbed enough to face life again.

Also if you’re not from the land of things that try to kill you, (Australia) and seriously have no idea what the block is, its like a home reno show where couples have to renovate houses, or apartments and ‘deliver’ one room a week. Although most of the time i think they just argue with themselves and each other until magically on the seventh day the rooms are complete. TV magic. love it.

By the way, this post was originally in response to thekidshavegonetoschool’s post ‘Who am I?’ which you can read in all its glory right here

Forever yours,
At least for the moment



Stick a Fork in Me, I’m Done

Have you ever had that feeling, deep down in the pit if your stomach that something just isn’t right? I can tell you what that is.


If you expect me to go on some magical discovery with you as to the meaning if this ‘ambitious’ hunger, you have come to the wrong blog. The wonders and majesty of the world is lost in the hollow pit of oblivion that is my rather negative outlook on our human existence.

I mean real hunger. Like make me a burger, slather on some sauce and hand me a coke because if I don’t get to chomp on the carcass of a dead animal soon I’m going to cut off your hand and chow down on that bad boy.

Seriously. What happened to ‘I’m hungry’ why do I have to eat when work says ‘you may take a break now’
Even hitler let his soldiers eat when they were hungry.
I assume.

I can’t say I know for sure, but his soldiers seemed pretty devoted so I assume it has something to do with his less than strict food regime. Or maybe he bribed them with cookies. Maybe we’ll never know. One of the great mystery of life, you know?

No. That’s not me pondering on the majesty of existence. Get your head out of the proverbial gutter you swine and come wallow in the agonising pain that is an unquenchable hunger for real god damn food.

Preferably something that has had a heartbeat at one stage in its noble life.

Sorry vegos. I’m a hardcore carnivore with a taste for rare steaks and the flesh of things that once felt something likeable to affection.

Mmm delicious feelings.

Hate me if you want but I am hungry, and you can’t judge a person by their behaviour while hungry. That’s just inhumane.

Forever yours,

At least for the moment.


Blend On High Or Until I Stop Screaming

I can’t handle trains late at night anymore. What happens to the public after 11pm? Does etiquette just go out the window?

Little rugrats are roaming the train terrorising passenger’s ears with their yelling and wailing. Playing with the changeable seats and just generally being annoying. And their parents? You think they’re trying to stop them? Or are they hiding in the corner afraid of their monstrous offspring and resigning themselves to being unable to control the spawn of the devil. No. They are not. They are sitting there smiling at the pain their minions from hell are causing. Like it’s cute in some sick demonic way. And what are your children doing up at this hour? No wonder they’re acting out, strap those bastards to a god damn bed and sedate the termites.

And do not get me started on playing videos / music.

Too fricken late. Literally as I type this someone is playing that god damn ‘Harlem Shake’ song. At full fucking volume.

I try very hard not to swear when writing or talking. I save it for moments that really ‘grind my gears’ (there’s a family guy reference for all you die hard fans) but holy fucking bitch tits shut that racket you call a song up. If you feel the need to harass your own ear drums then by all means, shove a pair of, no doubt grubby, headphones in those apparently hard of hearing ears and stop making the rest of us listen to that crap. If I wanted to hear the Harlem shake I would shove my head in a blender while drilling a hole through my skull and removing my eardrums with a rusty spork. Seriously.

And food. Food should be prohibited on trains, if it isn’t already. I do not, at 11 o’clock at night, want to smell your awful curry, or hard boiled eggs, for an entire train trip. Who the hell even brings those things on trains? Let alone out in public. Fuck you, you insensitive bastard and let me ride the train with at least one of my senses still in tact by the end of the trip.

Forever yours,
At least for the moment.

And you don’t get an x this time because you’ve been naughty society.

You are reading…

You are reading this quote
– Your mind

Do you get that little voice in your head when you read things? I’m not talking about the voice that tell you that the aliens are indeed coming, I’m talking about your little voice that gives life to the written word. Don’t I sound pretentious. I love it. Oh hohum listen to me speak of important things.


There’s this strange kind if pain you get when you wake up alone, after having gone to sleep next to someone. See, there’s a wonderful venerability about willing to be unconscious with someone. You are completely open and in their hands, you are defenceless. And the act of sleeping with someone, and I don’t mean sex, I mean just sleeping on a cool night, the blankets laying on you in an artificial hug, with his hand softly resting on your chest, protecting you from the night world, that kind of sleeping, that act is so pure and trusting.

And when you wake up, and that person who promised to protect you with the unspoken gesture of resting their warm arm over your sleeping frame, that person is gone, it’s like a small portion of your heart has been sliced out, so it still works, it’s just a little thinner, less strong, more vulnerable to pain.
It’s the section of the heart that holds the irrational side of trust. Even if I knew you had to leave. I expect to wake up safe. But there is something much more lonesome about waking up alone after you fell asleep together. Whereas waking up alone after being alone is comfortable.
The unconscious mind can’t compute what’s happened, where the person is, the expectation is that they should be there. Warming you with their presence.

But they aren’t.

There’s such a finality in it. But more than that, there’s such loneliness. Emptiness and betrayal. Not from them, from your mind and your heart.

Your heart expected them to be there, and your mind is poking fun at the vulnerability of your now slightly weaker heart.