Clothes and toys, recipes and jokes, advice and prejudice: we all have to handle all sorts of hand-me-downs every day. Tell us about some of the meaningful hand-me-downs in your life.
I’ve experienced hand-me-downs all my life from clothing to recipes to advice, I’ve had it all, from different people in different facets, and it’s quite hard to pinpoint a few. Continue reading
Do you think that time heals all wounds? Why or why not?
Too subjective. Depends on the wound. Depends on the person. Continue reading
Do you trust your memory?
I have a memory like a sieve. Continue reading
Open the first photo album you can find — real or virtual, your call — and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there . Tell us the story of that photo.
The sad thing about this, is that I don’t actually have any photo albums, I think they were divided up amongst my parents when they divorced.
Tell us your funniest relationship disaster story.
I can’t believe that I’m about to write this…
I remember this one night I was out clubbing with a group of friends, and in true cliched form, I saw this guy across the floor. Our eyes met and it was electric. Now, we had never actually met before, but we had seen each other out at the same venue once or twice. Up until this moment, I’d never actually noticed him. I was still dancing with my friends and he threw a smile my way.
I had one of those moments where I just assumed that he was smiling at me, but then realised that I could actually be horribly wrong, and he’s smiling at somebody else behind me instead, and I’ve just made a fool of myself. Well done. So because of this insecurity, I actually stopped dancing to turn around and look at all the other guys behind me, to see if I was right… I didn’t see anybody looking, but I might have missed it. Besides, he was the kinda guy that seemed somewhat untouchable. Ruggedly handsome, a great physique. You know the type – the tall, really attractive guy, that only is ever seen with other guys who look exactly the same. (SIDENOTE: just recently a new internet phenomenon on Tumblr has surfaced called ‘Boyfriend Twin’… you can check it out here).
This was one of those guys, and I was the complete opposite.
So after standing around looking like a bit of a dork, I turned back at this guy who was just sitting at the bar with a drink, and by this stage he was having a little laugh. He then pointed in my direction.
‘Me?’ I mouthed the words and pointed at myself with an inquisitive head tilt. He smiled, nodded and mouthed ‘Yes! You!’.
‘Really?’
He nodded again.
…and then I kinda ‘fan-girled’ out a bit. I called the guys in for a little huddle in the middle of the dancefloor and told them what had just happened. I felt like the cheerleader who was just asked to the senior prom by the captain of the football team. The guys were a bit surprised as much as I was, but told me to go for it. I almost didn’t even want to go over there and talk to him, simply for the fact that it would just be feeding his ego even more, but then I kinda knew it would seem rude if I didn’t.
…but not wanting to give in to his ego won me over, so I stayed on the floor dancing with my mates for a while longer. Sure enough, he danced his way over to me, and almost instantly, I realised that my friends had completely deserted me, and were all watching from the sidelines. I was soooo nervous. We couldn’t really talk much over the loud music, but he tilted his head, gesturing for me to follow him, and stretched out his hand for me to grab and follow him.
He led me out from the dancefloor and into another one of the bars, where we were able to catch some fresh air and actually hear each other talk. He introduced himself, and I tried as best as I could to play it as cool as possible. There was no way I could fan-girl out in front of this guy. I simply refused to. We spoke for a while, until one of my friends came over and interrupted, and whisked me off to the dancefloor and demanded that I tell him absolutely everything that was said during our conversation.
Just as I was finishing the relay of information, this guy, (let’s just call him Steve*) came back up and squeezed his way inbetween my friend and I – basically telling my friend to leave so he could dance with me. My friend was slightly offended and behind his back mouthed out ‘RUDE MUCH?!’ and went off to find the others.
Turns out Steve had seen me here a couple of times before, and loved watching my friends and I dance the night away. He enjoyed just sitting back and watching the people, as we both knew it could actually be quite an entertaining experience.
We knew that the club was going to be closing soon, and he asked me where we were planning on going afterwards. I said I wasn’t sure, but I’d ask the boys what they were planning on doing as they were also my ride home. Without hesitation he grabbed my head and turned it to the side and spoke directly into my ear “hows about I take you home after a late breakfast at my place?”
Whhaaaaaattt?? Was he…? did he just…? Does that mean…? I was a bit taken aback by him being so straightforward. Truth be told, I was quite terrified. I’d never gone home with a guy from a club before because it was something that really scared me. I’d heard so many stories about guys being drugged, raped and / or attacked by a guy they’ve gone home with. You don’t know this person. You don’t know if they’re genuine or if they’re a complete psychopath. It was that uncertainty that scared me the most, but I threw caution to the wind and agreed. I went to tell my friends what was happening and the reaction I got from them was a mixture of happiness, excitement and concern. Being the good friends that they were, and knowing that I was quite nervous, they said they would actually follow us to his place, note down the address just as a safety precaution. If I got scared, I had to send them a blank SMS and they’d be on their way immediately. It sounded extreme, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
We decided to leave and we walked to his car. He held my hand and even opened my door for me… what a gentleman…?! and we headed off to his place.
The in-car conversation was rather awkward. It was different seeing this guy in more adequate lighting – he looked rather different to the dark mysterious guy from the bar. If anything he was actually more attractive outside the club. We got the basics out of the way, what our names were and what we did for work, where we lived and what tv shows we were currently into. When we arrived in his driveway, I got a txt saying ‘ADDRESS CONFIRMED’ and I turned around to see my friends car drive past. I felt a sense of relief and he took my had and led me up the path to his front door.
He opened the door, which opened up to an open plan kitchen / dining / living area. A few dim lamps were already on to provide some mood lighting, and there was music softly playing in the background. I instantly cringed at this guys arrogance. He clearly left all this on in anticipation of brining somebody home. I guess it didn’t matter who it wAs. It was such an instant turn off, and my opinion of him began to begin dropping . He offered me a drink, and I just asked for water, the whole time watching him like a hawk just to make sure he didn’t slip something into my drink.
I’ve seen my fair share of horror movies. This is usually how it begins before you wake up in a bathtub full of ice and missing a kidney. For somebody so cynical, even I was amazed that I was standing in this guys kitchen!
We adjourned to his couch and just talked for a while. He could tell that I was nervous and I told him that I was nervous and quite intimidated because he was so attractive… But knowing that that would just inflate his ego too much, I quickly countered with a couple of remarks about how arrogant he seems to be… Using all these terrible cheesy ‘pickup lines’; leaving lights and music on to create ambiance for when he brought his trade home etc. He was quite taken aback by my honesty and started laughing. He told me that no guy has ever spoken to him like that before, and without hesitation I told him that I’m not like every other guy. He laughed again and started to stroke my arm telling me that he could tell I was different.
Conversation soon turned into kissing, and kissing soon led to clothes being removed. Soon enough he pulled back, stood up and led me down the hallway to a bedroom. He pulled me in close and we fell onto the bed and well… y’know… One thing led to another… But after a few minutes of heavy passionate kissing and hands going everywhere I noticed that, well, little Steve wasn’t too interested in saying hello.
Having never encountered this before, I really didn’t know what to do. There was an elephant in the room (and yes, pun definitely intended) that was being completely ignored. I couldn’t ignore it and asked him whether he was enjoying himself. He said he was and didn’t want me to stop kissing me. I kinda drew focus onto the deflated elephant and asked if he wanted me to leave. I wouldn’t be offended if he wasn’t interested. He exhaled loudly and it became immediately clear that I’d just humiliated him. He admitted that he had a bit of a problem, but he just took a little while to… Um… ‘Get the party started’. He said he didn’t need Viagra or anything like that, instead he asked me if I was into dirty talk. Having never tried it, it was kinda not the best situation to try it for the first time. I think I was just as embarrassed having to ask him to demonstrate, and when he did, I started giggling uncontrollably.
“You have got to be kidding me, right?!” Nope. He was serious. So I tried and felt so stupid, but then I saw how into it he was getting. Each to their own, I suppose! I took this as a sign to really get creative, and it certainly had the desired effect. Turns out Big Steve should really come with a warning sign. Just the sight of it was extremely intimidating and terrifying at the same time. Immediately I knew that this ‘experience’ was going to be quite limited as there was no fucking way that thing was coming anywhere near me.
We spent a while fooling around, and then he suggested we have a shower, as we both smelt quite bad from being at the club, so we moved into the shower. The water went on, and the steam swirled around our naked bodies before steaming up the mirror. He quickly washed himself and then excused himself to go to the bathroom. I took my time and wrapped a towel around me before returning to the bedroom.
I walked through the door and was stopped in my tracks. There, in front of me, was a very naked and ripped hottie laying out a black plastic sheet on the bed, with a lovely collection of accessories dumped on the floor beside the bed. In the dim light I couldn’t quite see what it was, and must have been staring at it looking rather puzzled.
The smell of amyl began to fill the air and he bent down to pick up a leather mask and a gimp mask.
The wave of pure terror that instantly washed over me was just too much to deal with. I couldn’t stay here. I needed to leave. This was most definitely NOT what I had anticipated.
‘What’s all this?’ I asked, curious, nervous and scared all at once. ‘Oh, I thought you might like to play with some toys and stuff and, y’know, have some fun!’
‘Oh, um, I thought we could have just done that by ourselves… I’m not into toys or role play… and definitely not leather or masks or any of that kind of stuff…’
He walked over to me, and put his arms around me. I thought he was going to kiss me, but when he fumbled with my wrists, I realised that he was trying to handcuff me. That was the deal breaker right there… in that moment I knew I needed to leave.
I broke away from him and explained that I don’t do any of this stuff, especially handcuffs!! I walked over to my clothes on the floor, and purposefully grabbed my phone out of the pockets of my pants. I quickly turned my back to him and sent a blank SMS to my mate, knowing that they would be about fifteen to twenty minutes away (providing they came straight away).
Good ol’ Don Juan could see that I was somewhat distressed by his… um… enthusiasm into our night together, and quickly backtracked as much as he could. I was quite surprised that he was so quick to pack everything up and push it aside, but as he was doing so, I was getting dressed and planning my exit strategy – just in case things went sour.
He came up behind me to spin me around, and began apologising profusely. He said that he was far too presumptuous, and he shouldn’t have been; but was surprised because most guys he brings home seem to just go with it.. I reminded him again, that I’m not one of those guys – I’m different.
“But I really want to fuck you. You’re so hot! I know what guys like you are like in bed, and it’s so fucking hot. And let’s face it, you wanna fuck me too!”
I could have vomited right then and there. GOD! The ego of this guy. If anything, that last little outburst made me want to leave even faster. I thanked him for an unforgettable evening, and made my way through the house to the front door. He asked me one last time not to go, and I replied saying that I just simply couldn’t spend any more time with somebody who was so completely full of themselves.
I walked through the door into the crisp night air, and he told me that I was missing out on a fantastic experience, and I’ll never get the privilege ever again. That stopped me in my tracks. I turned 180 on my heels and stormed back up to his front porch and told him right to his face that the only reason he is so full of himself and exudes so much revolting bravado is because he finds temporary comfort in making himself out to be something more than he actually is. Perhaps if he wasn’t such an egotistical wanker, then he’d actually be able to have a normal conversation with somebody and meet a normal guy and fall in love, instead of trying to fill the sadness and emptiness within himself with constant anonymous hookups. THAT is the privilege that he would never experience unless he changed and stopped being such a wanker.
He stood there, staring at me, completely speechless, and I turned around and walked off down the street. As I turned the corner, I called my friends who were a few minutes away. I told them where to meet me and soon enough the eery silence of the suburban streets was interrupted by the sound of my friends car. I hopped in the car and we headed off to McDonalds for a completely play-by-play of the entire experience.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/third-rate-romance/
Got a soul-mate and/or a best friend? What is it about that person that you love best? Describe them in great detail — leave no important quality out.
I know that when you’re in a relationship with somebody, there’s an expectation for you to write about them and explain how they are your soul mate and your best friend… but I don’t really want to do that… Don’t get me wrong, I could easily write about him, but I choose not too simply of of sheer defiance.
Instead, I’ll talk about my other soul mate – Crazy Cat Lady.
We have been working together for a few years now, and developed a great relationship / friendship. She’s one of those people who just gets me. If I turn up to work and she’s not there, then I feel rather depressed. Without her there, I have nobody to really talk to, or interact with. She’s the one that allows me to be neurotic and random. And I know that I do the same with her. I guess you could call it separation anxiety.
I’ve been away from work for the past week, and when I returned the other day, some of the other staff had commented how unhappy she had been feeling, and how much she had missed me. She is also just as random as I am, and when you’re so used to having that particular type of daily interaction with somebody, it’s something that helps get you through the day; it helps to subdue the rage; it’s something that we both look forward to, and also miss terribly when the other is not at work.
I found out today that Crazy Cat Lady has a few weeks of annual leave coming up, and it only really hit home this evening that she’s not going to be around. It’s undoubtedly going to be quite a hard few weeks to get through because I’ll have nobody to be random with. I’ll have nobody to talk gibberish too. I’ll have nobody to be neurotic with. I guess I can find solace in knowing that although she’ll be away, she’ll still be checking her email, and she’ll continue to forward me links from her newsreader – usually videos about cats or something.
She really is one of my best friends, and I can’t imagine not having her in my life.
And if you’re reading this, Magoo, well golly, you’re the bees knees, and I think that you’re pretty swell. Now, how bout we have a giant cup of tea and three-hundred biscuits and talk about cats… and the salmon… in the Yemen… or you can just geeeeettttt oooouuutttt
😉
Does blogging bring out your best or worst self?
I think blogging brings out my inner self – both good and bad. I don’t necessarily think that that’s a good or bad thing either. For me, I’m just glad that I’ve finally found an outlet in which I can unleash all my verbal diarrhea and get it out from constantly swirling around in my head and driving me crazy. I think that it’s provided me an outlet to really say things that are on my mind, and know that I’m not going to be judged on it.
Well, those of you who subscribe will probably judge me, but, whatever. You shouldn’t be judging people… everytime you judge somebody without good reason, God kills a puppy!!
I just like the fact that I can hop on my iPad and my little wireless keyboard and smash out all kinds of stuff. It gives me a great sense of relief to be able to write, and just write freely… but at the same time it can give me anxiety. Moreso when I have some elaborate creative posts that I really want to tackle, and I keep getting interrupted, or simply don’t get the time to finish… but hopefully it’s worth it in the end!
I know that I approached this whole ‘blogging’ concept with no intent whatsoever of having any followers, or receiving any recognition etc, as I was purely doing this just for myself, and myself alone. I just wanted to have something that I could take ownership of – a creative outlet that I could keep all to myself in an attempt to retain some kind of sanity.
However, since then, I’ve started getting followers, which in all honesty boggles my mind. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL OF YOU WHO ARE FOLLOWING MY BLOG!! I know that only a couple of you are here because I told you about it – Thanks F, A, H and A (you know who you are), but as for the rest of you, I continue to feel awkward, amazed and somewhat humbled whenever even one of you actually ‘likes’ a post of mine – I struggle with the concept that people out there actually take the time to sit there and read through all this crap that I write. I don’t understand why you do it, but I love you for doing it. THEN there’s the people who decide to actually follow my blog. To me that just screams out I LOVE YOUR STRANGE RANDOMNESS SO MUCH, I WANT IT CONSTANTLY IN MY BLOGFEED!! GIMME GIMME MORE, GIMME MORE GIMME GIMME MORE!! and again, I don’t know why, but I love it, and I thank you all for following my bullshit. *lol*
But then this makes me think back to the primary reason as to why I started this blog in the first place. I wasn’t doing it for followers. I was doing it for me, and then I start to feel guilty for having followers in the first place. I can’t believe that I now have over 60 followers. To the rest of the blogging world, that’s absolutely nothing, but to me, that’s 60 more people than I ever anticipated.
Just fyi – to all of you who are following my blog, feel free to spread the word… you could simply say something like ‘Yeah, hi, so I’ve found this blog by somebody in Australia. It’s a bit random, and a bit funny, and a bit sarcastic, and a bit entertaining… you really need to get onto that shit.’
….aaaaand GO!!
…
…I still don’t understand why you’re still sitting there??
Perhaps this whole blogging venture is bringing out the worst in me. Maybe I secretly crave fame and attention, and just want to be the next media whore to get their 5minutes of fame.
Maybe I should start a Twitter account??
When or where do you feel most like yourself?
Hmmm, good question.
I think generally I’m usually my ‘real’ self around those who I have a really strong connection with. That’s not to say that I’m not being ‘me’ when I’m with everybody else I know, but there are different versions of me, depending on who I’m around, and the situations that I find myself in.
Just reading that, I realise that I’m actually quite weird, and perhaps even to a degree, I’m not even allowing myself to be honest with myself in that I’m not being my ‘true’ self 100% of the time… and if it were somebody else coming to me and saying that about themselves, then I’d be telling them exactly that – you’re not being true to who you are, and you shouldn’t feel as though you need to censor yourself in order to fit in.
…and yet I can’t take my own advice.
Typical.
Thinking back over the years, I’ve been quite up and down in terms of ‘who’ I am and the version of ‘me’ that I show to people which, in hindsight, is a bit stupid. Why am I so afraid to be my weird crazy self? At what point did I become so heavily concerned about editing myself in order to please other people. How fucking wrong does that sound!? Look, I completely agree that when you’re me, and you tend to have a mouth like a sailor, there are times and places when that is acceptable, and when it is not; I get it. I truly do… but my potty-mouth aside, why should I have to compromise who I am, just to keep other people happy??
Over the past couple of years moreso, I’ve discovered that I’ve done this to myself more and more, and I feel as though every time I do that, I’m chipping away a little piece of me. It’s like that saying, ‘Everytime you make a wish, a fairy gets it’s wings’ in which the opposite is something along the lines of ‘Every time you do something bad, God kills a puppy’ … and that’s kind of how I feel when I believe that I’m compromising who I am. Every time I have to pretend that I’m somebody I’m not, a piece of me dies inside.
So if I happen to be having a conversation with you, and I just happen to mention in passing that I’m dead on the inside… I’m probably being serious.
But then, rather than focusing on what has already happened, I should be putting more of an effort into discovering alternative and positive pathways to rectify this situation. Right? Well, I have only a couple of people that I truly feel as though I can be myself around. Literally, I think there’s only 3 of them. Those are the people that I feel really ‘get me’. Perhaps because I can connect with them on a level that is quite rare in others… and so when I find somebody who shares the same traits, I’m hooked.
Let’s be friends!!
But when you’re around people who aren’t like that, it’s a real struggle. I can babble away with random shit that will crack me up with laughter, and to others, it just induces weird looks because they simply don’t understand. And there’s nothing worse than finding something hilarious, only to then have to try and explain why you find it so damn funny you end up with sore cheeks and tears rolling down your face.
Basically, I just need people in my life that share my sense of randomness and my sense of dark, twisted, sarcastic humour. This is why I feel as though people like Kathy Griffin, Chelsea Handler and Whitney Cummings are actually my spirit animals.
Let’s face it, I need sarcastic bitches in my life. Then I can truly be me.
Tell us five
interestingrandom things about yourself.
I hate these things… I always find it such a struggle to write…
…so I changed it 😉
1. I’m terrible at remembering names…
…but instead I remember countless pop culture references, that, ultimately, are completely pointless:
2. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
3. I once owned a purple velvet unitard.
except mine was a very dark purple, and it had one sleeve, and it had purple and silver sequins all up the arm, that fanned out across the chest. It was very dramatic, and there are no photos in existence of me wearing it… well, none that I know of. And yes, it was for dancing, and I was about 15 or 16 when I had to wear it. It was for our Contemporary troupe performance.
4. I have a stuffed dog called Rambo. I got him from The Oatmeal. He sits on my desk at work.
5. Pretty much everytime I have a conversation with Crazy Cat Lady at work, it’s gibberish. Mainly noises and quotes from pop-culture references. We’re so loud and disruptive… we complete each other.
Okay,
so this is not a typical daily post, but I couldn’t help but point this out.
We’ve all heard of that ridiculous contraption called the Shake Weight, right? Perhaps one of the worst things I’ve ever seen related to ‘fitness’. I didn’t, however, realise that there was one for men as well. It’s just a bit unfortunate that this image is circulating as an advertisement for it…
I mean… seriously?!?!
...I don't do laundry.
Reflections on Life through poetry, essays and photos
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Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose / The more things change, the more they stay the same
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