Daily Prompt: The Power of Touch

Textures are everywhere: The rough edges of a stone wall. The smooth innocence of a baby’s cheek. The sense of touch brings back memories for us. What texture is particularly evocative to you?

Hmmm, there are a few that I could easily write about, but I’ll focus on one for the sake of writing this post (and, because I have 3 or 4 more posts to get to after this!)

Primarily, the most evocative texture for me is the feeling of grass on my warm soft feet just after I take my shoes and socks off.

Oh… OHHHH. It’s such an incredible feeling, and something that I completely took for grated after growing up in the country. Spending so many years going day-in, day-out of keeping my feet covered, or at the very least, walking around barefoot on the carpet, there is something almost freeing about frolicking around barefoot on the grass.

It always takes me back to my childhood. My emotionally-scarring childhood. I remember in spring time, when we lived in the country, and waking up on a saturday or sunday morning, with the sunshine pouring in through the giant floor-to-ceiling windows in my bedroom, and the smell of freshly cut grass wafting in on a warm breeze… it’s one of those sensations that will forever stay with me. The best part was getting up and having breakfast, then running around outside on the cut grass until my feet were stained green. Mum would then force me to scrub my feet and put some thongs on next time I went out tearing around the backyard, or tormenting the sheep in the paddock.

Then in highschool, when we moved into town after we sold the country house, our front yard had this really tall, hard, crunchy lawn, which was surrounded by a garden, and the cat was usually hiding in there somewhere. I remember sometimes on the weekend, or even coming home from dancing, pulling my shoes and sweaty socks off, and just walking around on the grass for at least 30mins. I loved the feeling it gave me on the bottom of my feet. Given that I have very sensitive feet, it was somewhat like a pleasurable torture. It tickled my feet so much, but the feeling was fantastic. Not in a sexual kind of way (you bunch of perverts!), but just in a oh-god-this-feels-so-good way.

I remember sometimes when I had finished my ballet class, every now and then, a couple of the girls and I would walk across the road to the giant park, kick our shoes off and examine all our blisters and manky mangled feet, and then prance around in the grass and the sunshine going over the adage we learnt earlier.

jump higher, bitches! WHERE’S THE TURNOUT!?!

Admittedly, even now when I get an opportunity to walk around barefoot on grass, my inner ballerina starts screaming at from inside, trying to make me bound around on the ground doing a little enchainement.



Daily Prompt: Come Fly with Me

Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

I’m not entirely sure where it began, but ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been quite independent. I recall that during my childhood,  I was always out doing something. Down the park with some of the other kids in the town that I grew up in, or over a friends place. Curfew was sunset. Unless I was staying over for dinner. Back then we lived in this tiny little town with about 100 people in the town. I only had twenty-something kinds in my primary school which was K-6, so when I say I grew up country, I mean I FUCKING GREW UP COUNTRY, like C O U N T R Y ! ! ! ! 

We’re talking, country as in, everybody else lived out on farms. 70%+ of the families that lived in the town were all related.

…I’ll just leave you to think about that last bit for a little bit. 

I don’t want to say that they were the kissing cousins kind of people… but… oh wait, no, that’s EXACTLY what I’m saying.

Maybe I should start this again??

Hi, when I was a kid, we lived in a tiny country town that was full of inbred rednecks. A town where if you were a boy, you played football, and if you were a girl, you played netball. If you played neither, there was something wrong with you.

Wow. Okay, so this could quite EASILY turn into a major therapy series of blog posts… but we’ll save that for later. Maybe next month I’ll start my own daily post challenge – 30 days explaining why my childhood lead to me being so damaged? *lol*

what the fuck am I meant to be writing about again?? Oh yes, travel. Right, where was I going with this…?? That’s right…

My sense of independence… Yes, so, as a kid I was always out and about. Over at a friends place; down at the dam catching yabbies; riding around the dirt hills at the tip on our BMX’s… then that progressed to going on longer rides… I wonder where that dirt road goes?? I remember one ride I went on led me down all these dirt roads and paddock lanes until I arrived at a sealed road, and for a good 5 minutes, didn’t actually know where I was. Also, this was before we had mobile phones, so I couldn’t exactly call somebody and say ‘Oh hi, mum. Um, listen, I’m somewhere where I don’t know where I am. Can you pick me up?’

Nope. Sorry.

Turns out I was three-quarters of the way to the next town. Sigh. I was tired and exhausted, and now, I had to ride home. 

This was gonna take a while.

In high-school I had a couple of moments where I would think, ‘fuck this. I can’t do this right now’ (meaning school… meaning being bullied) So I’d pack a bag, call a relative in Sydney and tell them I’m catching the midnight train, and I’ll be at their place for breakfast. Then I’d spend my time heading off to do dance classes around the place and forget about all the turmoil awaiting me when I return home.

Up until 2012, I’d never left the country. The most distant place I’d travelled to was Brisbane. Then last year Hulk and I went to New Zealand. He’d never travelled overseas either, so it was a first for us. An exciting adventure, which actually turned out to be somewhat of an anti-climax. Although we travelled to NZ, we only stayed in Auckland and didn’t actually travel.

This year we did the exact same thing. Yes, it was another trip to NZ, but no adventure. Unfortunately it was full of drama, and politics, and it actually kind of ruined the fun of going to NZ for me. It’s just a shame that the people who all-but destroyed my spirit over there were all people that I know.

Thanks guys, you pack of shunts.

And guess what, there’s talk of another trip over there in a couple of months, but ideally, we’d like to head over to Fiji, or the Cook Islands or something like that. Somewhere nice and realxing… white sand, crystal clear ocean… paradise… and then on the way home, go via AKL again. Fingers crossed it’s another soul-destroying experience. *lol* Too many selfish, childish frenemies.





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.




Daily Prompt: Food for the Soul

Tell us about your favorite meal, either to eat or to prepare. Does it just taste great, or does it have other associations

I’ve really thought long and hard on this. As much as I have a list as long as my arm of favourite foods, like fried chicken to ice cream, I would have to say that my favourite food of them all is cake.

Simple, humble, (sometimes extravagant) cake.

I also admit that I do love to bake a cake, although I realised only yesterday that I’ve never made a sponge. I’ve tried my hand at so many different creations, except a sponge cake. I also want to learn how to do a really good buttercream icing / frosting.

Sometimes when I make a cake for somebody, like a birthday, for example, and it’s a cake I’ve never made before, I do a test run. That way, if it doesn’t quite work, then I can try again…

…and I can take my test cake to work knowing that it will be devoured by all my co-workers, because they turn into a flock of seagulls whenever anybody brings in food. And whenever I find myself with left-over cake in the fridge at home… I’m always saying to myself Oh, cup of tea time? I should have a piece of cake. Just home from work and note sure what to eat? Cake.. Crawling out of bed at midday and don’t feel like breakfast? Cake!! 

I have such a massive weakness for cake, to point where I would (could) inhale a whole cake and not think anything. I just need a fork.

Clearly, I have a problem.


Daily Prompt: The Perfect Game

So, this took a REALLY unexpected turn as I was writing. Me, being me and getting too involved into details and tangents wanted to at least develop some character bio’s for the 4 people in the story. What I didn’t anticipate was the background stories that developed as well. But I thought rather than just ignore it, run with it and get all these ideas out. It might not necessarily answer the prompt as well as I would have liked, but hey, it’s something. And something is better than nothing. I know there’s some unresolved details in there, but when I get some more time I might work on it a bit more to develop the story further.


You’re set to play poker (or Scrabble or something else . . .) with a group of four. Write a story set during this game. Or, describe the ideal match: the players, the relationships — and the hidden rivalries.



BACKGROUND: Nick & Adrian

Both Nick and Adrian joined the same banking company roughly around the same time and have both worked their way up the corporate ladder to their current roles. At various points they had even applied for the same role, so although they’re work colleagues, they are also both fiercely competitive. Having both previously worked in sales, they both have a tendency to become quite ruthless, and have, on occasion, even sabotaged each other’s attempts in order to further their own achievement.

After working together for approximately two years when they first joined the company, they, along with the rest of their teams, were sent interstate for a national conference. On the very last night of the week-long conference, all the staff attended a gala dinner in support of a major charity their organisation sponsors. Nick and Adrian were sitting on opposite tables and had both had a few drinks and were enjoying their night. Both had won an award each during the night – Nick for Most Valuable Portfolio – Junior Team and Adrian for Junior Investor of the Year – Mid-Tier. Despite them both achieving such excellence in such a short time, they always maintained a healthy banter between each other.

After all the speeches, they decided to sneak off outside for some fresh air. Despite his award, Nick was still pining for his (then) ex-girlfriend who broke up with him a few months earlier. (He was too career-driven and she felt neglected and didn’t want to play second-fiddle to Nick’s career, so one day when he got home from a business trip, he found the apartment, minus all of Sarah’s belongings. He told her that he’d change but she told him it was over. He was devastated.)

Adrian tried to console and comfort Nick as friends do; delivering those standard lines like “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. You’ll meet somebody else and fall in love and forget Sarah ever existed”… blah blah blah. He hugged Nick and kissed him on the lips.

what the fuck are you doing?’ Nick said, pulling himself away from Adrian’s warm face, ‘I’m not a fucking fag!’

Adrian, wiped his mouth, his eyes wide open. Uncertain of what he’d just done. ‘I… ah… I…. I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just used to kissing my gay mates like that’.

fucking, WHAT? you go around trying to pash all your mates? What the fuck is wrong with you?’

No, it’s just… it’s hard to explain. You wouldn’t understand. I’m really sorry. It’ll never happen again. I think I’ll just go. I’m sorry…’.

Adrian walked off feeling utterly humiliated. Why did he do that? He went back inside to his table and began chatting to others to distract his mind and ignore what just happened.

20 minutes later, a cold, wet Nick plonked himself down on the chair next to Adrian. 

Shit! Nick, you’re fucking drenched…’

Yeah, it’s been raining.’

Well why didn’t you come inside? dickhead. Why would you stay out in the rain?’

Ads, can we talk for a sec?’. Nick was feeling really confused, and didn’t know what to make of what had happened between them.

Um, why don’t you just go upstairs and have a shower and go to bed. I’ll organise a wake-up call for you in the morning before we leave.’

But, Ads, mate, just for 5 minutes…?’

Nick, look, I’m sorry for what I did. We’ve both had too much to drink. I think it’s best if you just go up to your room and sleep it off. We can talk tomorrow if you still remember.’

Nick sat there for a moment staring at the back of Adrian’s jacket and then left the table. He got up to his room, and stood in the doorway. The sound of the water dripping off his clothes onto the tiled floor filled the silence. Without thinking, he walked into the double shower, turned on the water and slumped onto the floor. His mind was racing. Completely fixated on that kiss.

What does it mean? Does this make me gay? Surely not, I like chicks? I’ve fucked heaps of girls. No, I’m not gay. He had such soft lips! Kinda like a girl. It was just like kissing a girl. And he’s gay, so he’s pretty much a girl anyway, so it’s no big deal. No, it’s fine. Nick, stop being a dickhead. It’s not like you haven’t kissed a guy before! Remember last years Grand Final when Deano gave you a bear hug and planted one on ya? But he was doing that to everyone. Come to think of it, he kept smacking my arse? Actually, he smacks all boys on the arse? Fuck, maybe Deano’s gay? FUCK!! That cunt’s seen me naked and everything. Oh my god, what if he’s fully gay for me or something? Mental note: avoid Deano!! But I’ve seen him naked too… but that’s not gay, right? RIGHT? we all shower together after every game? That’s what guys do, don’t they? Nothing gay about it? Right? What if I am? What if I don’t like girls at all? Well, that’s stupid, you’ve had a number of girlfriends, so you can’t be gay! Remember Amber? Best fucking sex of your LIFE. She’s a chick. And that was almost every day. You’re not gay, you like girls. Stop being a dickhead.

Why the fuck are you wearing a suit in the shower?? WAKE UP TO YA SELF!! GO THE FUCK TO BED!!’

And with that, he turned off the water, took off his suit and left it on the floor of the shower, wrapped himself in a robe and walked out to his bed.

He looked at his phone. Half a dozen missed calls and a couple of text messages. Adrian.

12:49am: Nick, really sorry bout b4. r u ok?

12:51am: Hope ur ok. r u bk in ur room?

12:51am: I’ve ordered your wake up call 4 5:45am, and another one for 6:00 just in case

12:54am: Let’s just forget about it, and pretend it never happened. c u tomoz.

Nick layed down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

R u awake?

Yeah. u ok?

Not sure.

u wnna tlk?


Within minutes there was a soft knock on Nicks door. There was Adrian, in a pair of trackpants and a t-shirt with some small rips around the collar. They both stood there in silence for what felt like hours, looking everywhere except at each other, before Adrian asked if he could come in.

‘Oh, sure, yeah, of course, sorry.’

As Adrian walked into Nicks hotel room, he could feel the tension building. It was already uncomfortable enough, but he and Nick needed to talk things out and get past this.

‘Do you want a tea, or coffee or something?’ offered Nick, as he began to fill the kettle. ‘I’m gonna have a coffee. I need something to wake me up’.

‘Oh, thanks, yeah, I’ll have a coffee as well. White. 1 sugar.’

They sat at the small table in an uncomfortable silence listening to the kettle boil. Just as Nick got up to make their coffees, Adrian excused himself to go to the bathroom. He walked back out with a puzzled expression on his face as he looked over at Nick, sitting at the table with two steaming cups of coffee in front of him.

Um, Nick… why… why is your suit on the floor in the shower?’




It was 5:45am. The phone was ringing.

‘ugh… hello’, Nick struggled to get the words out as he tried to clear his throat.

Yes, good morning, this is your wake up call…’. Nick groaned and squinted as he looked at the mess in his hotel room. He needed to be packed and ready to go in the lobby by 7:30.

Can you confirm if you still need your six a.m. wake up call as well?… Sir? Sir? Are you there?’

‘Um, err, no. No, I don’t think that will be necessary’, Nick replied. He slowly put the phone back on the hook and turned to see Adrian in the bed next to him. He lifted the sheet.

Just as he feared.


Both of them.


BACKGROUND: Jemma & Scott

it was 2003, and the uni semester had just finished. Jemma and Scott were both studying their Exercise Science degrees. Jemma had aspirations of becoming a physiotherapist and focusing on sports rehabilitation; whilst Scott was wanting to become a Personal Trainer and from there become a functional strength coach and work with some high-profile football teams. 

Until this point they hadn’t exchanged any more than half a dozen words to each other in the three-and-a-half years they had been studying the same course. She always sat down the front with those who were eager to learn, whilst he sat down the back with all the other jocks, making fart noises and looking pornography on their iPhones.

They were both invited to an end of semester party at Brad Richardson’s parent’s beach house. They had already gone away and left Brad home by himself. Like any twenty-something, he lied to his parents about staying home, and instead, planned a big beach party instead. They weren’t home – they’ll never find out.

The party was a typical uni-student party. Loud music, alcohol, vomit. Except this was on the beach, so there was also a bonfire. Steve and a couple of his mates were sitting down by the fire chatting to a couple of girls from another uni. They were all really attractive, tall, slender. Steve and his mates found them to be rather intimidating. One of his friends, Ryan, was at this party with one goal in mind: taking home the hottest chick at the party. He wasn’t going to let these girls intimidate him, like they did the others. He quickly determined which one was the leader and went in to work his magic.

“Well, you’ve gotta be the ring leader of this lot, because you’re the most beautiful’, he said with an air of confidence in his voice.

you have GOT to be fucking kidding me. Is that the best you’ve got?’. Stacey was beside herself at his self-assurance.

No, not kidding, but we CAN be fucking later if you’re lucky. My name’s Ryan, but you can call me Ryno, y’know cause i’ve got giant hor...’

Wow. You’re disgusting. And I’m leaving. *ugh* pig!‘, Stacey interrupted as she stood up and brushed the sand off the back of her legs. ‘Girls, I’m going to get a drink. Coming?’, and off she walked towards the house. The other 2 girls looked nervously at each other and the other boys, and then stood up and quickly followed Stacey along the sand.

‘DUUUUUUDE, that was smooth. I can’t understand why she didn’t give you her number straight away. You’re SUCH a catch!!’, joked Steve. ‘Better luck next time, eh!’

Whaddya mean? She fucking WANTED me. It was written all over her face. She wanted the Ryno BAAAD!! Just wait, she’ll be back. They always come back!”

Sure. uh-huh.’ said Steven, turning to the boys and rolling his eyes, ‘she must want you so bad, hence why she ran off. Probably to go vomit because you’re such a charmer, hehehe’.

Oh, fuck off. More than I can say for you. Who are you fucking tonight? Your hand? At least I’ve got game. You just watch!!’

Ryan left the boys sitting at the fire to go find Stacey up at the house. Steve and the boys waited until he was out of earshot to start making fun of him, laughing and carrying on about his vulgar performance earlier. Their laughs were soon interrupted by an eerie silence.

‘SSHHH. Do you hear that?‘ Steve sounded concerned. ‘What happened to the music? I can’t hear anybody. I’m gonna go check it out. Anybody wanna come with me? None of the others offered to join him, so he set off across the sand. As he approached the path through the bushes up to the house, the music started blaring into the darkness again. He felt a slight sense of relief, as he had started visioning all different possible scenarios of what he would find when he got to the house.

Would they all be dead? Would they have all disappeared? Maybe there’s a serial killer on the loose and he’s the only survivor? Maybe the house had been attacked by aliens? Maybe everybody had been arrested and taken away for being too loud and disruptive?

It was at this moment, Steve realised he had watched too many movies. He climbed the stairs leading to the outside deck and said hello to a couple of people he recognised from his class, and went to go find the drinks fridge. In a quiet corner, Steve could see Ryan leaning into a different attractive girl. He was mentally undressing her, and she was playing with her hair, ‘What’s the best she’s pregnant by tomorrow?’ chuckled Steve to himself as he kept walking.

He found the drinks fridge, grabbed a couple of bottles, and turned to go back to the beach. As he walked into the lounge room, four guys walked through the front door. These guys were big. I mean B-I-G. They were all at least six-foot five and completely solid build. They were all from the university rugby team. As soon as Steve saw them, he knew why those girls on the beach had looked familiar… they were the girlfriends of these guys.

Feeling quite nervous, he quickly left the room and went to go find Ryan. He’d gone. The girl he’d been talking to was now talking to Jemma and another friend of theirs. ‘‘Scuse me, but have you guys seen Ryan?’ Steve asked with an axious quiver in his tone.

Is he your friend? He’s fucking disgusting. Last I saw him, he was going to talk to Stacey’.

‘…fuck. Okay, ah, do you know where he went, I kinda need to talk to him!’. There was a sense of urgency in his voice. If he didn’t get Ryan away from Stacey, and Stacey’s boyfriend saw them, he’d be visiting Ryan in hospital. They just needed to leave the party and go home. Or go out. Just go ANYWHERE. Anywhere but here.

Steve left the girls and set off searching through the house in an attempt to find Ryan, whilst also trying to avoid bumping into the Rugby Boys. Room after room, door after door. Nothing. They can’t have gone far. Maybe they went back to the beach?? Of course, the beach!

Steve raced down the stairs, out across the back deck, and down the stairs to the beach path.


Steve went flying backwards onto the sand. As he opened his eyes, he looked up to see Brett Mossop and the Rugby Boys standing over him. “Whadda we got here, fellas? Look, it’s little Miss Stephanie. Didn’t recognise you without your tampon, fag.”

Steve winced as he tried to sit up, ‘ahhh, fuck Brett, that fucking hurt. What’s your problem?’

‘ooOOOOoohhhh, look out, Stephanie’s a bit cranky. Must be that time of the month. You on your rags, Stephanie? Got a bit of sand in your vagina?’

‘Fuck off Brett. Why don’t you go find Stacey’. Steve stood up to leave, but Brett grabbed the back of his shirt. ‘Not so fast, cunt rag. What do you know about Stacey? Where is she? She told me she’d be here, but I can’t see her. WHERE IS SHE?’

‘How would I know, I just went to get some drinks. The boys and I are just chilling out down on the beach. You’re welcome to join us, if you want?‘ he said, in some vain attempt to ease the situation and hopefully get Brett off his case.

‘Ya hear that boys, Stephanie wants to take me down to the beach. You wanna get me drunk, or something? Huh? Faggot! Fuck off. You see Stacey, you tell her I’m lookin’ for her!’

Steve quickly took off down the path. As he cleared the bushes and headed towards the fire. The boys were there, talking to the girls from earlier. He raced over to the group, ‘Holy shit. Brett’s here. And he’s pissed. And he’s looking for Stacey. Where is Stacey? And where the fuck is Ryan. If Ryan’s with Stacey and Brett see’s them, he’s gonna fucking kill him. We need to find them. NOW!! NOW!!

The conversation stopped and they all jumped on their phones. Jemma called Stacey whilst Steve called Ryan.

Down the beach, in the darkness, the sound of two phones could be heard ringing amidst the sound of the crashing waves on the beach.

oh. fuck.’ Steve slowly gasped.

‘I swear to god, if he and her… oh god, just the thought of it makes me want to vomit‘ added Jemma, full of disgust.

Do we go down there? Do we wait here? I don’t know…‘ questioned Steve.

Jemma, put her drink down and stormed past the boys. ‘I’m so sick of her BULLSHIT!! I’m gonna fucking kill the bitch, myself!

As Jemma stomped her way across the beach, she, and the others heard a scream that stopped her in her tracks.

And then another.

OH MY FUCKING GOD, STACEY?? STACEY, ARE YOU OKAY? STACEY?!! WHERE ARE YOU!?’ Jemma screamed into the darkness. Behind her, the rest of the group were running to catch up to her. Something was wrong.

All she heard were the waves on the shore. 

Steve caught up to Jemma. She grabbed his arm as tight as she possibly could. She was terrified. She was shaking. So was he.

They heard a rumbling in the bushes and a dark figure emerged. Jemma let out a squeal and turned into Steve’s chest.

‘AAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! You should see the fucking look on your face right now!!’, chuckled Ryan as he walked down towards them. ‘Yeah, what a bunch of fucking girls. My cat’s got more balls than you do!!’ added Stacey, following behind.

They had planned this whole scenario. 

‘Are you kidding me? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!??’, Jemma was fuming. ‘I’m gonna kill her. For real! Let me go, Steve.’

‘Jemma, just calm dow…’


‘OW! You fucking BITCH! Fuck, it’s just a joke. We were just having some fun, no big deal.’ Stacey held her hand on her cheek. Even in the moonlight, you could make out the faint outline of Jemma’s hand on her face.

Steve interrupted, ‘Well done guys. Jokes over. It wasn’t funny. Ryan, mate, you need to leave. Brett’s here. Oh, and Stacey, Brett’s here. He’s looking for you. Have fun explaining that mark on your face when he finds you with Ryan! C’mon Jemma, let’s go back to the house’.

Steve, Jemma, and the others turned around to leave and go back to the house, just as Brett and co. were walking down towards them. Without saying a word, they walked right past Brett, and continued on to the house.

Steve took Jemma into the bathroom, ‘Are you okay? You really lost your shit back there. I thought you two were besties, or whatever’.

Well, we are, or were. I’m not sure. She pulls this kind of shit regularly. Typical. Mum and dad’s little angel is secretly the bad girl. Please. What a fucking cliche!’

So, then why are you friends with her, if she’s such a bitch?‘, queried Steve.

‘Why are you friends with Ryan who, lets be honest, is practically a rapist?

‘Point taken‘. Steve let out a small laugh at the irony of their friendships.

‘Hey Steve, thanks for before. I know that we’re not friends or anything, but, well, thanks. Nice to know you had my back.’

‘Well, kinda. You’re a bit of a crazy bitch when you wanna be. At least I know you’re not a complete nerd.

Jemma, playfully punched Steve in the arm, and they both looked at the floor of the bathroom. Slowly they both looked up and locked eyes. 

KNOCK-KNOCK. ‘Is anybody in there?’, came a voice from behind the bathroom door.

‘OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I’LL BE OUT IN A MINUTE!!’, shouted Jemma at the door. ‘God, you’re so moody. You must really have a short fuse!’, giggled Steve.

‘No, I just have no patience for bullshit and wasting my time’, said Jemma just before she grabbed Steve by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss. Steve suddenly knew where this was going.

…back to his place!



Games Night in the Hudson-Holt household started the way it always had. 

Nick Hudson (31) and his, now, fiancee Jemma Holt (30) had spent the afternoon making platters, cleaning the house and preparing a couple of tonight’s meals. The Hudson-Holt were The Entertainers. They always hosted Games Night, and when they weren’t, they were entertaining clients, or having business dinners. Their weeks were go, go, go from Monday to Friday, and yet there were two things that they always made time for that were not negotiable: Date Night, and Games Night.

This particular night, they had invited a new couple to join them for Games Night. Adrian Anderson (36) was an Investments Manager at the same bank as Nick. He was bringing his current boyfriend, Steve (29) who was a Person Trainer at the local gym. 


Shit, I’m still drying myself’ whispered Nick. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’

Nick, just don’t worry about it, just answer the door… I’ve still gotta fill these tart shells and get them in the oven, and THEN go and change… SHIT… um… you get the door while I go change. Just don’t go into the kitchen!’

Jemma, still in her pyjamas, raced across the hall to the bedroom.



‘Jemma, I’m still not dressed. I’m NOT answering the door in my jocks. I need to put a top on!

Stop being so precious!’, Jemma snarled. ‘Hurry up!! Don’t keep them waiting, it’s rude!!


JUST A SECOND!!‘ shouted Nick, doing up the fly of his jeans as he ran down the hall, sliding across the floorboards in his socks as he reached the front door.

Nick unlocked the front door, and standing on the other side of the flyscreen was  Adrian and Steve, both wearing jeans and well-fitted checkered shirts that showed off their muscle definition.

Guys! So glad you made it, welcome! Come on in. Jem’s just getting changed and will be out briefly‘. Nick extended his arm to shake Steve’s hand. ‘You must be Steve, Adrian’s told us nothing but great things about you‘. Nick led them down the hallway which opened up to their open-plan kitchen / dining / living area. They sat down on the couch whilst Nick went to the kitchen to get some drinks.

Jemma stumbled out of the bedroom whilst doing up the zip in her dress, walking straight past Adrian and Steve and into the kitchen. ‘I thought I told you not to be in here, I’ve got tarts to finish!‘ 

Babe, I’m just getting some drinks for our guests. Perhaps you might like to say hello?‘, Nick said is soft, but smug tone.

Jemma slowly turned around with a big grin on her face, ‘Sorry. Hi. Adrian, so nice to see you again.

Adrian Stood up and walked over to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Jemma, I’d like you to meet Steve. Steve, this is Jemma.

Steve leant forward to put his drink back on the table before he stood up and walked over to greet Jemma. As they locked eyes, a chill ran down their spines. 

This wasn’t the first time they’d met.

Steve, so nice to finally, ah, meet you. I’ve heard so many great things about you… I feel as though I already know you.’

Jems, would you like a dri…‘, Nick called out.

Jemma interrupted, ‘YES PLEASE!!’


This was going to be a long night.




Daily Prompt: About Page of the Future

Write the About page for your blog in 10 years.

After a minor spinal injury forced Anonomouse out of a demanding and gruelling life of dance, he spent several years working for a not-for-profit which lead to the creation of his (now published) infamous blog, The Receptionist Diaries: What is wrong with people?. Since then, he has gone on to publish several articles and two novels.

When he’s not in his studio helping clients de-stress and tension melt away from well-needed massage treatment, he continues to work on his blog and his next novel.

He also runs everything past his cat, Mr Whiskers, for approval, before uploading to his blog.




Daily Prompt – Connect The Dots

Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.


The name of the article, says it all really.

Get rid of the baby, and the assembly-inducing tantrums are something that I am able to identify with quite easily. My partner in Crime, let’s refer to him as The Hulk, and I have certainly got more than our fair share of apartment furnishings from Ikea. It’s like gay mecca. And it’s all flatpacked. When we decided to move into our own place together, a lot of what we initially had came from whatever I had in storage at the time. And even then, a lot of that stuff were items that were either given to me from friends that were upgrading / replacing things (like the 2 Ikea couches I scored, plus a small fridge), or things that were simply left in my last share-house from previous housemates – like boxes of mismatched crockery and kitchen utensils, oh, and a dryer. But when we moved in together, rather than start our life together with an apartment full of mismatched items and old hand-me-downs, we wanted to start fresh. Start with new stuff.

Stuff that was ours.

First place was Ikea. And boy, have we gone to town in that place over the years. :-S

The real struggle that we had was trying to get flatpacks home to our previous apartment with Hulk’s previous sedan. With the backseat that didn’t fold down – just the centre arm-rest. This made our flat-pack shopping adventures quite a struggle sometimes trying to play Ikea Tetris in order to get everything to fit in the car.

Then the fun would be getting home, and having to carry everything up 2.5 flights of stairs. Oh the joy.

Sometimes, when it came to assembling our lovely new purchases, it was put off for a day (or four!) simply because it became too much of a chore to have to assemble anything after the exhausting process of trying to get it out of the car and up the stairs into the apartment.

Sometimes, we didn’t really have a choice and items needed to be assembled as soon as we got home (like the time we both put our feet on the coffee table and the shelf snapped in half… and then the leg broke!). Time to get a new one! Now, even though I may have assembled one before, I still feel the need to actually read the instructions for ANY Ikea project. Unless you’re from Africa, in which case, you can all read Swedish, apparently.

http://youtu.be/ophw0RM5Yc8?t=1m9s  <– for some reason I can’t create a link!?!

Hulk, on the other hand, sometimes like to draw upon his alpha-male (read: stubborn, arrogant, stupid) traits and just attempt to put things together, and then has a hissy-fit when it suddenly doesn’t work. I’m not saying that this happens frequently, but it has happened. He’s not necessarily one for reading instructions for almost, anything. That’s my job. That also means I get to take a small piece of joy in taking him down a few pegs when I point out that he is in fact wrong and he can’t work out why something hasn’t worked properly.


We now have an understanding that if he is ever assembling a Swedish flat-pack, I know to stay away to avoid the usual passive-aggressive moment, which leads to the stubborn “YOU’RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT!!!” “YES I AM!!” argument. 

And let’s just say, I’m always right. 😉 I read the instructions.

knock wood no cops have ever been called… although we don’t get to screaming point.





Daily Prompt: Cheering Section

Do you have a mentor? Tell us about him or her. Are you a mentor to someone else? Tell us what that relationship has added to your life.

Do I have a mentor?? ahh, no.

Just the thought of it brings about images of motivational / inspirational graphics basically saying “You can do it!!” “Be the most awesomest person you can be every day!” “Don’t ever let anybody stand in your way”… blah blah blah. 

I know that’s not generally what mentor’s are like, but that’s the first thing that pops into my head. Some kind of weird word-association that I have.

Have I been a mentor, myself? Yes. One of my jobs is as a fitness professional, so I’ve been a choreography and technique mentor to a couple of people, but I haven’t done so for a while now. A couple of people have approached me, but then haven’t followed through with it, so I guess they’re just not as serious as they initially were, or their interests have changed over time. 

Those whom I have mentored, have seen great improvement (sometimes dramatic improvement) in both their physical performance, and their execution of movement, which, in turn, has helped improve the performance of their class participants. For me, that’s really rewarding – to see such a transformation and know that I was responsible in helping them achieve that transformation.

I find it quite humbling.

I actually love the idea of being a mentor to people. Being able to see a potential in them, and then help them is something that I really enjoy. Coming from a dance background, I was always striving to be better. Better technique, better performance, better ability – and those are the same qualities I want (expect) from anybody I mentor. They’re approaching me because they want to improve.

However, I always tell them if they want to improve, they need to want it enough to want to put in the extra effort.

I’m not going to waste the little free time I have, on people who aren’t prepared to work. If you want to improve, you need to put in the effort to do so. You need to have the drive and desire for that change and improvement, otherwise, you’re just wasting your time, and mine. Even writing that, it sounds quite blunt, but that’s a reality that they are faced with. 

If you’ve been executing movement with incorrect technique and nobody around to help correct you, it’s going to take longer to retrain your mind and your body into the correct technique. 

…and this is the precise point that I jump on a tangent and go on a rant, so I’m going to stop myself.


Until next time…




Daily Prompt – It Builds Character!

Tell us about a favorite character from film, theater, or literature, with whom you’d like to have a heart-to-heart. What would you talk about?

So, I’ve been thinking about this one for a while, and just like a previous post on who my favourite character is, I still find it really hard to just pick one. A lot of them are famous people, just not necessarily actual characters. Although in saying that, there are a number of famous people who are, behaviorally, quite a character.

I think one of my all time favourite characters that I’d like to meet would be Jack and / or Karen from Will & Grace. On their own they’re hilarious, but together, they’re even moreso. I think that being able to sit down with them and find out more about them would be an intriguing journey into discovering what they’re passionate about. What they love. What they loathe. Who they are as individuals.

I’d love to ask Jack what he feels about the gay marriage debate, and school yard bullying; and ask Karen what her views on gun control are, and what her favourite parts of Breaking Bad were, and whether she felt an emotional connection to the show because of its frequent drug theme.