Daily Prompt – The Object of my Dejection

Tell us about the object of your dejection — something you made, a masterpiece unfinished, or some sort of project that failed to meet your expectations. What did you learn from the experience? How would you do things differently next time?

Easy… my other blog…

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Daily Prompt – The Eighth Sin

Remember the seven cardinal sins? You’re given the serious task of adding a new one to the list — another trait or behavior you find particularly unacceptable, for whatever reason. What’s sin #8 for you? Why?

Let’s face it, Seven really doesn’t cut it anymore. My number 8 is easy: Fucktardery.

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Daily Prompt – Game of Groans

Think about an object, an activity, or a cultural phenomenon you really don’t like. Now write a post (tongue in cheek or not — your call!) about why it’s the best thing ever.

Jeebus, where the fuck do I start… Football maybe? Chino’s? Hipsters? Dumbass people on public transport? Stupid drivers? Fucktards in general…?
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Feb 5: Alien Blogger

You meet an alien and need to explain to it blogging. Explain what blogging is (and what blogging means to you) without ever using the word “blog.”

Well, obviously this alien being isn’t a threat, and is actually nice and civil and doesn’t want to destroy humanity or steal me away for a fun filled night probing… which, let’s face it, shouldn’t really be much of a threat to any gay man, considering that generally we would call the same thing with another guy ‘Friday night’.

So I will also assume that this alien can both speak and understand english so that I don’t have to deal with over-the-top hand gestures, or resort to playing some kind of weird version of charades…

is it a book, or a fil’um

So this is a phenomenon that was created kind of a way to express one’s thoughts and opinions online to a much wider audience, rather than just a persons immediate social circle. Many people have different types of these sites. Some use it as a person diary; some use it to write reviews of movies, restaurants, clothing etc; some use it to display their cooking skills, or some simply want to share cat videos with the world.

Not every site is the same as the next, as everybody is different, and each person has something different that they want to share with the rest of the world, or at least, whoever is actually taking the time to read what they’ve posted.

For me, I use it as a platform to get into a habit of writing regularly, as I have aspirations of writing something much bigger, and more in depth, but I find that even just the basic task of writing daily to be quite a challenge a lot of the time, so I don’t know how I’m going to manage to write something with more substance to it. I actually have two of these sites that I use, one is for my daily writing challenges, and the other is for documenting all the stupid interactions that I have with people. It’s like a  play-by-play of the stupid things that people say and do either to me, or around me, that make me want to bang my head against a wall in utter frustration.

Daily Prompt: But No Cigar

Tell us about a time things came this close to working out… but didn’t. What happened next? Would you like the chance to try again, or are you happy with how things eventually worked out?

I remember once I was working as a temp. I was brought in initially for an interview with a particular organisation, and made it through three rounds of interviews, and then in the final round, two of the final four applicants were offered position.

…I was not one of them.

I had anticipated that I would have gotten the job given that I had gone through several interviews, and had managed to already develop a great rapport with all the different people that were part of the interview panels. Naturally, when I was informed that I’d missed out, I was upset.

The silver lining, however, was that a day or two later, my temp agency called offering me a 6-week contract… with, guess who the same company that I’d just interviewed for. They said that although they couldn’t offer me a permanent role, they wanted to offer me one of their 6-week temp contracts.

I arrived on the Monday and reported for duty… and so did 7 others. We were all being brought on for 6-week contracts, and were working as a team in the company’s records department. They were being audited, and despite being warned about the implications of non-compliance with any of their filing at their last audit, I guess they panicked from leaving anything until, quite literally, the last minute.

And there were thousands of these files. We had a team meeting with a couple of the actual staff who were supervising the project, and explained why we were there, what needed to be achieved, and how we needed to go about doing so. We were split into two teams of 5, each team had a team leader, and we were each allocated a specific section of folders to complete within the week.

Admittedly, majority of the time was spent actually reading the contents of the folders to ascertain the order of all the papers, and then breaks were usually spent together gossiping about the contents of some of the files, and who had seen the worst – in an attempt to one-up each other.

After the first week, three people didn’t come back.

After the second week, another two didn’t come back, but they brought two newbies.

Two days later, the newbies were gone, along with another person from our team.

In the third week, the remaining 4 of us were called in to have individual progress meetings with one of the managers. Me, being the nosey inquisitive person that I was, was asking all the questions that I shouldn’t be asking. Why had they waited two years to get their files sorted? Why did they decide to wait until literally the last minute to get it fixed.

She glared at me with that kind of HOW DARE YOU look, and I gulped quite loudly and there was a very long and uncomfortable silence. She stood up, closed the door and closed the blinds in her office and I started to freak out.

I instantly wanted to just dive out of the chair and run out the door and never come back. But I was too scared that she’d secretly locked the door preventing my escape. Or maybe I could just jump out of the glass window with absolutely no regard whatsoever for the fact that I was on the third floor of the building and would more than likely kill myself from the fall. I wanted the ground to just open up and swallow me, because whatever was coming was going to be much, much worse….

She sat down, put her glasses on the desk, tilted her head slightly and just looked at me. ‘You’re a lot different to the others, aren’t you?!’


You know, I heard all about you. I know about you…’

…uh oh.

I know that you made it to the final round of interviews. I know that you scored quite well on the personality tests. I know that you somehow managed to get along really well with most of the people from the panel. I know that you impressed a lot of people… 

…um… thankyou??

‘But I couldn’t work out why they didn’t hire you, if they liked you so much. You’re young and intelligent, and you’re not afraid to speak up…’

By this stage I could feel myself getting really sweaty. I could already feel that I had a giant wet patch on my back and could feel it running down my back into my butt crack. Crack sweat. Fucking. Awesome. Grrr.

She then proceeded to tell me quite a lot of confidential information about the ins and outs of the company. The politics. The money. Management. All this information that I really shouldn’t be hearing. She informed me that our 6-week ‘contracts’ were all about to be terminated prematurely, because they got the audit date wrong. It was actually 2 weeks earlier than they had told us. It was next week.

I felt relieved somewhat that she had actually given me the courtesy to let me know in advance, and said that for some reason, they weren’t planning on telling the agency, otherwise the agency could charge them extra fees. She didn’t want me to be without work for two weeks due to their mistake, so she suggested I contact the agency and tell them that I was only interested in staying for one more week.

…hang on. WHAT?!?

Here I am practically wetting myself thinking I’m about to get my arse handed to me, and you’re actually asking me to do your dirty work for you? Oh helllllll no.

Bitch, you picked the wrong person. THE WRONG PERSON.

I finished the meeting, and walked out. The other three were all looking at me, and knew something had happened because I stormed out of there with fire practically pouring out of my nostrils.

If they were going to make us finish up early, then I was going to make it worth my damn while. That day, and for the rest of the week, and the following week, I did as much overtime as I possibly could. My days went from being 9am – 5pm to 7am – 9pm instead, and given that I was on temp rates, I was raking in the cash. There was sooooo much work that needed to be completed, and I was determined to make sure that I at least did what I was brought in to do – finish my workload by the time that we all got given the boot.

The last week arrived and on the last day, we were only maybe half-way through all the files. That was probably because all the other temps were fucking retards who took an hour to get through maybe two files, maybe, whereas I was able to get through maybe four or 5. I powered through all my files, because I wanted to make a good impression. The others saw it as a budge job; easy money; and were turning up late, sometimes taking two-hour lunches so they could go shopping etc. I really was surprised the other three lasted as long as they did.

So we get rounded up into a meeting, and we’re told that today was the last day, and our contracts were being cut short, and they weren’t going to pay us out. One of the ladies in the team threw a hissy fit and stormed out.

To cut the awkward silence following Miss-Thing’s storm out, we were told that one of us would be kept on for a 6-month position, working exclusively with the records for the audit. They had managed to pay off somebody negotiate an extension on their audit and settled on a time frame of six months. One of the three of us would be given the opportunity to interview for the role if we were interested.

One of the others politely declined, as he had already lined up another temp job that was guaranteed. It was down to myself and another lady.

The interviews were going to be today.

In 15 minutes.

Oh sweet baby jesus.

I went and peed, fixed my hair (wha-what!) and came back upstairs. I waited nervously for the other lady to return as well – she was going to be interviewed first. I really should have gotten back to work, but I was just too nervous. I wanted this. I needed this. If anything, they owed me this role.

Her interview went for quite some time… or maybe it actually didn’t. What felt like a hour was probably really only like twenty minutes or something. It was one of those moments that you see in the movies, where you stare at a clock and the hands just slow down that much before stopping completely… and then ticking backwards.

She walked out, wished me luck, and said I could go in.

I was in there for almost 45mins. I felt so confident. The three people interviewing were the three people I really got along with the best… including that manager who (possibly) locked me in the office with her and gave me crack sweat.

They praised me so much… ‘you’ve done such an incredible job… you made it to the final round for our previous interview panel… you’ve made such a great impression… everybody really enjoys your company… we’ve been so impressed with what progress you’ve made here compared to the others…’ 

It couldn’t have gone any better.

They said that we’d be told by the end of the day.

I walked out of there on cloud nine. I felt like it wasn’t even worth interviewing for – they should have just given me the job right then and there. THe whole afternoon I was beaming from ear to ear.

Filled with this complete sense of achievement that finally, after so much fucking drama; after being messed around with multiple interviews; after having to deal with fucktard temps who couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag… finally I was going to get a damn job here and rock this bitch.

4:30pm came around… nothing.

4:45pm came and went.

5:00pm – I saw some of the managers leave the office and go home… Hmmmm… Maybe I’ll get a call on Monday?

5:10pm. I get a phone call from the temp agency.

…I didn’t get the job.

They then told me that I had until 6:00pm to finish on whatever file I was doing, fill out some paperwork, pack my stuff, and leave my swipe card with security on my way out.

I couldn’t believe it. How did this… I mean… I just… *sigh*. I thought everything was going great? Clearly, I was so completely wrong.

As I was walking through the foyer to the security desk to hand in my swipe card, one of the Execs and a Senior Manager both stopped me to personally thank me for all the hard work I’d put in. The Exec said he had heard so much great news about me from the Senior Manager (who was on four of my five interviews), and they seemed to be just as surprised as I was that I didn’t get in. They said that if any roles opened up in the future they would call me, because they were that impressed with me.

…I know they were just being polite, and I shook their hands, thanked them for the opportunity and walked out the door back to my life of uncertainty.


SIDENOTE: A couple of months later, I was about 6 or 7 weeks into a permanent job I’d landed when one of the Execs called me personally offering me a role within the organisation. It was a guaranteed 9-month maternity leave position, with a much higher salary than what I was on now, but I’d already signed a contract where I was. I couldn’t leave. Had I known that I had a chance to terminate my contract mutually, I would have been out of there in a heartbeat, but little did I know, that my recently acquired job was going to take me on the journey that it did…



Daily Prompt: Fifteen Minutes

You have 15 minutes to address the whole world live (on television or radio — choose your format). What would you say?

So, does it have to be to the whole world? Can’t it just be to my country, or even better, my own city? I don’t want to have to rant on for 15 mins to the world – it’s too political. Granted, there are a number of topics I could rant about: war, politics, hunger, money etc but it’s basically too much for my brain to handle right now.

…so instead I’ve decided to address the people of Australia. The community of people who catch public transport.


Alright you bunch of fuckwits, it’s time you had a Transport Education, or as I’m going to call it, a Transpucation.

There seems to be a number of people who still don’t seem to have grasped the basic fundamentals when it comes to catching public transport, and how to conduct ones self whilst on public transport, so here are six (6) tips to remember when you’re out and about:

1. Use common sense.

Now, it would seem that when it comes to public transport, most of you don’t seem to actually have any common sense. Or, if you do, you don’t use it. For example, if you are travelling during peak hour and your bus / train / tram happens to look like this:

…so much space!

then it’s best for everybody if you just accept that this one is not available, and you have to wait for the next one.

There’s no harm in suggesting that people ‘move down’ the aisles in order for others to actually get on board. Public transport will only work efficiently if the people travelling on it are efficient as well. However, you also need to be mindful that generally speaking, people don’t like being told to do anything, let alone asked anything. You may as well be asking them to give you a kidney.

Now, if you are waiting at a stop / station and your transportation arrives with people squished against the doors and windows like this:

your first reaction should be:

Oh well, this one is too crowded, I’ll just wait for the next one.

instead of:


This is something that I see multiple times per day.

It really shouldn’t be so difficult.

What exactly is it about all the people sandwiched in like sardines that makes you convince yourself that there’s enough room for you on there? Seriously, what is it? I am also in the process of developing a medical team to diagnose this problem and working on either medication for it and / or a surgical response. This will hopefully be up and running by mid-2014. Initially we will be looking at appointing a team of surveillance officers who will be responsible for identifying these individuals and report them for a review.

Also, if you’re one of the people who’s decided to stand in the doorway, you need to realised that you are obligated to actually move out of the way everytime the train / tram stops, in order for other commuters to leave the carriage. This requires you to physically exit the carriage and patiently wait on the sides next to the door, allowing the passengers to disembark without interruption, and then you can re-enter the carriage, take up a (now) available seat, and continue on your merry little way.

2. Bags on seats

For all of you out there who catch transport, especially during peak-hour, who of you has gotten on a bus / train / tram that’s already packed, only to find that there’s a free seat with somebody’s backpack / shopping / handbag on it?

I thought so.

Now, have you then gone one step further and politely asked that person to move their bag so you, or a fellow traveller could sit down?


And did that person:

  1. Groan
  2. Roll their eyes
  3. Act as though you’ve asked them to shave their head and it’s now the end of the world
  4.  All the above, -OR-
  5. Tell you to go fuck yourself.

?!?! Anybody? Are any of you guilty of this yourself?

‘Excuse me, duck lips… does your bag have it’s own ticket??’

Right, so let’s make it perfectly clear – and I’m definitely talking to all the school students out there – BAGS DO NOT BELONG ON SEATS!! The basic rule of public transport is this:

if it doesn’t have a ticket, it doesn’t get aseat

Now, I know that a vast number of you will have questions about this, but if you’re unsure, please don’t hesitate to contact the Public Transport Authority and they will happily explain it to you in further detail. If required, they can demonstrate using pictures.

3. Seats for elderly / injured / pregnant.

We’ve all seen them. They’re the seats right next to the door that are reserved for those who are:

  • elderly
  • injured
  • pregnant
  • disabled

Now, if you happen to be sitting in one of those seats, you are required to give up your seat for anybody who fits into that category.

Unless you prefer to be a selfish ignorant moll, like this woman.

It’s not that difficult. You shouldn’t need to be asked to move. You should be exercising you common sense (See Item 1.) and vacating the seat voluntarily. If you end up having an argument either with the person requesting the seat, or with a fellow commuter who might be yelling at you for being so selfish, then you need to STOP AND THINK about why they may possibly be upset with you.

meanwhile…Whatever you do, don’t ever, EVER take that risk in China…

And if you’re pregnant... the Pregnant Police are keeping tabs on you and your selfish shitbag behaviour. Nobody is impressed with you for yelling at the pregnant woman about how you ‘got the seat first’.

4. Music / phone conversations

Let’s start with conversations. Regardless of whether you’re having a conversation with a person next to you, or if you’re having a conversation with a person on the telephone, you need to be mindful of the other commuters around you.


Nobody, and I mean, nobody wants to hear what you have to say. Especially when you feel so obligated to discuss with your best friend, over the phone, the various sexual positions you and Bazza (the guy you went home with after your drunken night out last night after work) got up to. We don’t need to know what his cock’s like, and how sore your vagina is, or how many times you guys did it before you vomited on each other from too much motion.

It’s 8am in the morning. We’re all tired. Nobody is proud of you for being a drunken skank and going to work in the same clothes you wore yesterday. You’re a dirty whore and everybody is thinking it, whilst wishing you would just shut the fuck up.

MEANWHILE, for those of you who enjoy listening to music whilst commuting, that’s great. No doubt, you feel like this:

And that’s great. Keep your singing voice inside your head when you want to belt out some Celine Dion at 8am. However, please be aware that your fellow travellers might not have the same up-and-at-’em attitude that you might have. They may have other issues on their mind that have them worried or stressed, and the last thing they need to hear at 8am is a muffled nightclub blasting from your ears.

If others can hear your music, then it’s too loud.

5. Bikes / prams

Bikes / Prams + Crowded Train = NOT. A. CHANCE!

First of all, if you’re taking your bike on the train, doesn’t that actually defeat the entire purpose of having a bike in the first place?? Until such time as the Public Transport Authority decide to make a carriage dedicated to strictly bikes and prams, they do not belong on crowded public transport.

But what about those of you taking the to creche at work?

Well then you need to be more proactive in the way you approach this. We all understand that travelling with an infant requires a lot of additional equipment, clothes, blankets, wipes, nappies, bottle etc etc, but this can also be carried in a backpack. Alternatively, you can invest in a wearable baby-harness / pouch, or fold your pram up if you absolutely must use transport, to avoid your bulky pram blocking the ailes and doorways and inconveniencing fellow commuters.

and where exactly do you think you’re putting your bike / pram??

6. Keep to the left.

It’s that important, Beyonce wrote it into a song.

“…to the left, to the left…”

When you’re travelling to and from your transport at the train station, always tell yourself ‘to the left, to the left’.

When you’re taking the escalator? To the left, to the left.

When you’re on the stairs?To the left, to the left.

They’re supposed to look like this:

But for a majority of you, you seem to forget that some people actually don’t want to partake in the Line Ride. Some of us have places to be, and by keeping to the left, will allow us to move past the rest of you quickly and calmly.

However, it would appear that some of you don’t seem to know which is your left:

…which just sends people in to a table-flipping rage. This is quite inconsiderate for the other commuters behind you. So if you are one of these people, please don’t be offended when people start yelling at you to move, or trying to push you out of the way to get past. They’re impatient, but you’re also causing their frustration, so you only have yourself to blame. And if you’re blocking the right-side with a suitcase, please don’t be surprised if it gets thrown over the side. You should always keep a suitcase a step or two in front of you on an escalator. That way if it falls, it won’t pose an injury to anybody else but you.


Daily Prompt: Inside the Actor’s Studio

On the interview show Inside the Actors’ Studio, host James Lipton asks each of his guests the same ten questions. What are your responses?

What is your favourite word?

Moll. As in ‘She’s SUCH a moll.’ It’s not a nice word, but it’s a funny word. I find something quite Australian and bogan about it. Sometimes I like to preface it – fucking moll / stupid moll etc. Even then, I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s my favourite word, it’s just a word that I tend to use quite a lot. *sigh* me and my potty-mouth. But we’ll get to that in a little bit…

What is your least favourite word?


– n

  1. A bundle of sticks or twigs, esp when bound together and used as fuel
  2. A bundle of iron bars, esp from a box formed by four pieces of wrought iron and filled with scrap to be forged into wrought iron
  3. A ball of chopped meat, usually pork liver, bound with herbs and bread and eaten fried
  4. A bundle of anything

 I’m not entirely sure at what point this word became a derogatory term for those of us who are so unbelievably fabulous.  But seriously, how does something with that definition become a slang term that’s full of hate?

Growing up, this was a term that I heard constantly. And I’m talking constantly!! I think I bore the worst of it during high-school, when I would just be walking up the hill and a car would drive past and some dickhead would wind their window down and shout it out to me. Of course this would always happen when I was surrounded by other people, and they’d all chuckle away to themselves… and then I’d stop, take a breath and continue up the hill to school…

…secretly hoping that that car would suddenly explode, or get hit by a truck and they would die a horrible, slow, painful death. And then as they’re calling out to me for help, I’d just ignore them and continue on to school.

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

What a strange question! I’m not entirely sure how I feel about the usage of the phrase ‘turns you on’ in this context as it seems a bit disjointed to me, but I’ll see how I go. 

I think that there are a large variety of things that can fuel my creativity / spiritual awareness / emotions. In terms of creativity, it can be broken down to smaller sub-sections ie, dance, writing, etc. My favourite moment in terms of dance creativity is doing an actual dance class. Not necessarily the classes or the style that I teach, but other people’s classes. I love the feeling, that rush that I get when I go to an open dance class and learn a challenging, but awesome hip-hop / house routine. On the flip side, it could even be something as simple as performing a very simple contemporary routine, and fully immersing myself in the movement and the music, and dancing with nothing but pure passion and raw emotion… even that can (and has) lead me to getting so emotionally worked up, it’s almost lead me to tears. Not because the music makes me sad or anything, but because there’s such an overwhelming rush of so many different emotions, and I don’t really know how to process them all at once.

Emotionally, I can be a bit of a wreck. Admittedly, I keep a lot of my emotions bottled up. We’re talking A LOT!! Friends of mine may see my rants that I post on facebook, or listen to me harp on about something that pisses me off, but that’s merely scratching the surface. I sometimes find myself yelling at the TV during a show or a movie when the character does something really stupid.

I’ve also found myself at times being somewhere peaceful and then being flooded by emotion, and breaking down into an unattractive blubbering mess, sometimes without any actual understanding of why I’m even crying in the first place. I guess I just have a lot of feelings.

What turns you off?

How long have I got to answer this? Maybe I should keep it short and sharp:

  • Rotten teeth and / or terrible breath
  • Smokers
  • Drug addicts
  • People who use religion to spill their hate to the world
  • Bullies
  • People who are so full of themselves / arrogant / ‘God’ complex
  • Poor hygiene
  • Complete lack of common sense

What is your favourite curse word?


It’s the perfect way to describe somebody. Oh my god, I love that word. It’s reached a point that even amongst my circle of friends, if they hear / read that word, they instantly think of me. It’s a great marketing ploy, but, just the wrong kind of marketing.

Apart from that, generally, I swear a lot. No, really, a lot!! Sometimes to the point where I don’t even know that I’m doing it, and I have to consciously think about monitoring my sentences. I’m waiting for the day that I go to put a phone call on hold at work whilst I grumble ‘you have GOT to be fucking kidding me’, but don’t actually put them on hold, and they hear what I say. I think that’s the one thing that truly terrifies me.

What sound or noise do you love?

The sound of waves crashing on the beach. The sound of rain (when I’m inside and not stuck out there getting drenched). 

What sound or noise do you hate?

Crying babies. Jackhammers (especially at 6am). And, like, when, like, teenage girls, like, talk to, like, each other, like, and then everything? like, they say? Like, sounds, like, a question? It makes me want to punch them in the throat to make the pain stop.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

I’d like to be a massage therapist – I have good hands, apparently. When I was at dance school, I used to get massages quite regularly, and I quickly learnt (through observation) what I enjoy, what’s painful, and just basic technique. When we would have a break at school, one of the girls would ask if I could rub her shoulders, and it spread like wildfire. Even now at work, people tend to just plonk themselves in my chair and wait for me to return so I can give them a quick shoulder rub.

However, I have this feeling that if I actually learnt it properly and did a couple of courses, I’d grow to hate it.

I wish I could give Hulk massages, but he can’t handle any kind of pressure. He’s far too sensitive. So it’s a talent that’s just wasting away. If you want a massage, my number is 0418…. hehehe.

When I was younger all I ever wanted to be was a backup dancer for Janet Jackson. *sigh* Oh, but to dream…

Another job I’d love to do is something in fashion. Watching the past 12 seasons of Project Runway, I want to go work at a fashion house. I’m enough of a bitch, so I figure I’d be a natural. *lol*

I’d also love to work for a recording artist, like P!nk, or Gaga etc, but work on their world tours in some capacity. Work, travel and all whilst being paid. Easy.

What profession would you not like to do?

Work for a government agency like Centrelink, Housing Commission etc. Generally speaking, I can’t stand people at the best of times, let alone those people. It’s bad enough having to share a building with the Housing Commission here, and all these drug addicts coming into our office (on the ground floor) and mumbling / slurring the words ‘izzthisth’secon’floororsummin’?’

…7 years of that now makes me want to just jump the desk and punch them in the face screaming DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THE SECOND FUCKING FLOOR?!? HUH?!? HOW MANY FLIGHTS OF STAIRS DID YOU WALK UP!?!? Move along, coke whore.

If Heaven exists, what would you like expect to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

I think you’re lost.