Here We Go Again...

I can't believe it. I have a crush on another boy and I missed my chance to tap that! Instead of making a move and pouncing him I decided to play it cool and test the waters. I think I waited too long. He asked me for advice about a girl that asked him out :( Sucks to be me! Better luck next time

Autumn, I Love You!

Maybe it's because I'm an Autumn baby myself? I love the cold, crisp mornings and the clear, sunny afternoon skies. It can bucket down with rain one day, and be still and sunny the next.

Autumn, I love you.

You're my kryptonite.

Why is it that after you seem to disappear of the face of the Earth you contact me and I'm hooked straight away?

After almost four weeks of not hearing from you and deciding to delete your number out of my phone - again for the millionth time - Why do I get a text replying to my question from the previous day?

I get nothing for the next couple of days. When all of a sudden... Boom! There you are striking up a conversation on the instant messenger.

You're obviously a little tipsy, or more. And a touch toey too perhaps. You see me online and strike up a conversation.

An hour later you're in my bed. We do what's needed to be done and then as quickly as you arrived, you're gone again.

You are my secret addiction.

You are crack and I'm your whore.

You are my Kryptonite.

Fin.

Oh the things I have seen...

So, I lost my job. Again. I had an interview in the city yesterday afternoon. Not knowing what the parking situation at where I needed to be, I decided to catch a train. I don't usually do Public Transport. I hate it. Dirty trains. Late trains. Strange people. Definitely not my cup of tea.

I caught the train from Newport station. I paid the required $3.80 for my daily concession ticket and made my way to the platform. I took a seat on a hard cold bench and waited. My train was due to arrive at 1252. It came at 1258. Only 6 minutes late, but late none the less. On board I saw some very strange, weird and interesting things, as well as some things that just plain annoyed me.

1) I saw a lady that looked like a poodle. She was sporting shoulder length, tight blonde curls and had a long pointy, upturned nose. Weird.

2) Directly in front of me sat an Indian lady in her late 20's. She was talking on her phone for the whole journey. That's fine. I'm on my phone quite a lot too. But she was pretty much shouting at the person on the other end. It wasn't angry shouting, just regular talking - with volume! Annoying.

3) It's school holidays - Hooray! Not. There were a 'gang' of rowdy teens wearing skinny jeans so tight that they could not pull them up to their waists. They had their rumps hanging out, exposing their brightly colored undies. Perhaps that is the cool thing to do these days. Since when do teenage boys wear pink undies? Strange.

4) The same teens thought it was a great idea to skateboard up and down the aisle of the carriage. Annoying.

5) Arrival at 'Footscrazy' station. Enter the junkies. Listening to a presumed stolen iPod at ridiculously loud levels, pushing a presumably stolen bike. Why did you choose to sit next to me? Talking loudly over your iPod to your skanky crack-whore girlfriend. My grip on my handbag tightened. As dd the grip on my brolly for protection - should I need it. Annoying.

6) I had the power at Southern Cross station. I deliberately stood and waited at the door on the wrong side of the carriage, just to see how many people disembarking at the same station were sheep. There were 5. Interesting.

7) I was hungry once I got out of the station so I began to hunt down some lunch. I found a little Japanese place in a food court. I ate the most delicious okonomiyaki I've ever had. Awesome.

8) In the same food court, was a boy aged around 12 with his Grandma. He was eating pizza. Signs plastered all over the food court read as "DO NOT FEED THE BIRDS." He ignored these, and ripped up the entire base of his pizza and threw it on the floor for the birds. Annoying.

9) As usual, I was early for my appointment. Forty minutes in fact. What could I do to waste some time? I found a bench and took a seat. I lit up a cigarette to calm my ever increasing nerves for the pending interview. A drunk traditional land owner took a seat next to me. After a few minutes of awkward silence he asked me for a cigarette. Harshly, I told him to dance for it. He did. He busted out some of the best break dancing moves I've ever seen. I rewarded him with 3 cigarettes. Strange.

Oh the things I have seen on one little journey to the city. On the journey home I sat in the back corner of the carriage with a copy of the MX pinned to my face. I don't think I could handle any more people watching for today.

End.

Violated.

Hello and welcome to a New Year. I know the first month is almost over, and I'm quite late, but I thought I had better start off by wishing you a Happy New Year. Now all of the formalities are over I can start the story of my latest violation...

Last Sunday afternoon, Miss Self Sabotage and I went to a quirky Artist's market in North Melbourne. We had a great time. I bought two new - antique, but new to me - shiny brooches, met up with Miss Self Sabotage's good friend and very talented clothing designer and ate a honey joy. We were tired and exhausted from wandering around the stuffy indoor market so we decided to head back home and grab a bite to eat. We were almost at our favourite breaky spot when my phone rang. It was Gigi, and she was crying her eyes out. For a second, I thought her dog had got loose and been run over. Luckily, Ollie was safe. But not so luckily, Gigi told me that our house had just been robbed! I immediately went into panic mode. I got goose pimples, my skin went pale and a began to shake.

I asked Miss Self Sabotage to take me home as fast as her car allowed. My luck got even better when we got stuck behind some fucking moron travelling 45-50km/h in a 60 zone. I lost my temper, punched the dashboard of Miss Self Sabotage's beautiful car and screamed abuse to the driver of the car in front of us via my passenger side window. I'm really sure he heard me too!

We finally made it back to my house. I went in to survey the damage and to assess what had been stolen. I got to my bedroom door and I nearly cried. The desperado, junkie thief had kicked in my bedroom door to gain access to my Aladdin's cave of treasure. My bedroom door is now hanging on by only one hinge and has a giant crack down the middle of it. Now it doesn't fit back in the opening so, I have to prop something up against it at night to keep it closed. I was relieved to still see my TV, DVD player and massive DVD collection intact. I moved around to the side of my bed. FUCK! A huge sense of grief and anger rushed throughout my whole body as I glared at the empty spot between my side table and bed where I keep my laptop.

Gone. It was gone. I also noticed that my phone charger was missing, along with the USB cable for my digital camera and half a bottle of perfume. I was really pissed the fuck off. I was just thinking two days before my life and bedroom got violated that I should really buy one of those external hard drive thingamajigs. I wish I had of now. The day my laptop was stolen, I also lost the last 10 years of my life in digital photos. I was devastated. I began feeling numb. I still am. If only I had saved them to a disc. Something. Hindsight is a mother fucker!

When the insurance money comes through, I shall buy myself a new laptop plus an external hard drive. Getting robbed is fucked. I hope it never happens to anyone. So children, what was the moral to today's tale? Yep, that's right. Always back up your memories and keep them in a safe place. That way, you never have to feel the way I'm feeling right now. Memoryless :(

Fin.

Shouldn't my biological clock be ticking by now?

I'm twenty-eight and a half years old. So I'm no spring chicken. All I see around me are people with offspring. Naughty, noisy, snotty nosed children. When I see a woman walking past me on the street pushing her over sized, three-wheeled stroller am I supposed to stop her and stick my nose in and say "Aww, how sweet. Your baby is beautiful"? I don't want to. My gut reaction every time I see a lady with a pram, is to cross over to the other side of the road to avoid the whole situation. I am not interested in children. I don't care what your little angel does, what they eat or how much they poop. I'm just not that kind of girl.

I'd rather have grown up conversations relating to the news of the world and celebrity scandals. I'd rather talk to my non-breeding friends about the hot guy she pashed over the weekend or about the bargains she picked up on her recent shopping trip. Children do not interest me one little bit.

Some of my friends from high school - males as well as females - have begun the whole procreating thing. Some started not long after we left school, others have waited until now. All I see and read on facebook are updates like "My kid is so cute, today he asked Mummy......" and "Today little So and So took her first steps." It makes me wonder what made them suddenly decide they wanted to become Mothers and Fathers. Was their first born an 'accident'? Were these children planned? If they were planned, did a switch in their brain flip and put them in 'Mumma Mode'?

It makes me wonder if the switch will ever flip in my head. Right now I'm finding it hard enough to get a regular root, let alone find a decent enough bloke to settle down with and start a family! I don't have the time, energy and money to look after myself and a dog, let alone to bring up a tribe of children. And let's face it. A few of the men that I have been with in recent years are married and some have children. I am their escape. An oasis if you will.

There is one exception to my rule of child hating. Two really. They come in the form of my cousin's two kiddies. Little Miss that is just over two years old and the Little Dude that just turned three months old. Those kids melt my heart. It might be because they are related to me, so I feel that family bond with them. It might be because they are both the cutest kids I've ever seen. These kids should be models! If I've had a bad day all I have to do is go and spend an hour with Little Miss and her paint set, play dough or help out by getting splashed to death at bath time and I have a smile on my face and my worries from the day have melted away.

I'm still not so keen on the Little Dude, I find him a bit boring, and he spews a lot. Though I am sure that when he gets a little older and stops vomiting on me, I'll get more joy out of him! I love those kids, but even spending time with them, two kids that I adore - does not make me clucky at all. One of my girlfriends - who is my age and single - has a one year old nephew. She gets clucky just by mentioning his name. I don't get it.

Maybe there is something wrong with me? I'm sure by now - as my eggs are slowly turning to dust - I should feel something. I don't. Perhaps I will someday, but for now, I'm just happy being me. Twenty-eight, single and living life large in Melbourne town.

The Great Man Drought of 2010

There was a six month and three day period of time after Round One with the Gentle Giant that I had nobody to release my sexual frustration on. It was mainly was due to my lack of faith in the male half of the species. I had tried so hard to get the attention of The Gentle Giant earlier in the year only to be shunned and not spoken to when he found himself a gal. A call or even a text to let me know that he had moved on from little old me would have been nice. Instead I got the silent treatment. Sometimes not knowing is worse than knowing, because you hold on and hope for the best.

My apprehensive attitude towards attempting to find a new bloke was getting me down. I was starting to think I had lost my mojo. I thought I was never going to get laid again. My mind was playing out little scenarios in my mind of my vagina withering away to dust and blowing away in the wind if it didn't get used soon. The first three months were the toughest. My brain and my body wanted so much just to jump on any semi decent looking male I saw. But no matter how many times I tried to send out the "Hey, you're cute. Let's fuck" vibes I got shot down. I was starting to climb the walls with my horniness. People with shares in Duracell were loving me. I was about to hit the six month marker and I was over it. I was not interested in sex. I wasn't even flying solo anymore. Until one day, curiosity got the better of me, and I logged onto the dating website again.

I had a recent message from a boy who was new to Melbourne from Perth via Launceston. The Traveler and I sent a few emails back and forth, exchanged numbers and play a little bit of text ping pong for a few days. We worked out that we both had been through very long droughts and concluded that we should break the drought for each other. We agreed to meet up at a bar near his place, so if we didn't feel a spark there would be no awkwardness like "Gee, is that the time? please get out of my house." We'd just go our separate ways from the bar to our own homes. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

In the afternoon preceding the 'meet' The Traveler sent me a text saying that he was looking forward to meeting me in the evening and gave me his home address "for the record". I thought that was sweet. It eased my mind a little. Meeting up with men off the internet, no matter how well I think I know then can still be dodgy. I told a friend the address so if I did end up back at his place, and for some reason I had judged his character wrong, and ended up dismembered in garbage bags dumped across the city, the cops would know whose door to knock on and ask questions. Not long after that text we decided to scrap going to a bar to just meet at his place.

I raced home from work to shave my legs and deal with my severely over grown pussy and under arms. Boy oh boy was that an effort! I had a shower, moisturised and threw on a dress. I'm not a girly girl, so it takes me about 15 minutes to get ready. a little longer if my tangled mane of hair has been washed and needs brushing. I threw a handful of condoms into my bag and ran to the car. Safety first.

I fired up the not so trusty Tom Tom, punched in his address and away I went. I parked out the front of his house, spat my gum out and proceeded down the sloping driveway. I got to his front door straightened out my dress and knocked. The Traveler opened it and welcomed me inside. I sat on the sofa and he opened me a beer. We began chit chatting about nothing in particular. We downed a second beer. We somehow as if by gravity, merged closer together on the couch. Then it was on like Donkey Kong. We went form first base to third in around 30 seconds before heading up the stairs to his room.

I was very surprised to see a very tidy room and bed complete with fresh linen. Nice work Traveler. Nice work indeed. I won't go into too much detail of what took place in said freshly laundered sheets. You're a clever cookie, I'm sure you have a good enough imagination to fill in the blanks from things I've said in previous posts.

Six hours later at the not so godly hour of 1am, I got dressed. The Traveler walked me to the door. We shared a goodbye pash. He opened the door and I traipsed up the driveway to the street with a spring in my step.

After a six month and three day sabbatical I was back baby!