Hi Ho, Hi Ho

It's back to work I go. Tomorrow. I can't believe how much I've loved not being there! I mean, don't get me wrong, I like the place well enough, but a bit of down time is certainly an enjoyable way to lazy away your days. I don't want to go back :(

This song is awesome!

I'm absolutely in love with this song at the moment. And I think I have a major celebrity crush on one of the guys from this film clip. The tall one. I don't know his name, and I don't care. I'm in love. <3

Time to play nice?

Once again, I've been called upon to be a far nicer person than I have any desire to be. Followers of the blog should know pretty much my entire life story by this stage, or at least, the relevant parts of my life story, and therefore, should already know the grudge I've carried for almost twelve months towards ex and new boyfriend. And just recapping, lets remember that I attempted to patch that up of my own accord twice in the last month. Once via SMS, the second time by putting my smile on and heading to the function they were both scheduled to appear at. And both times, I was left looking bemused.
Well, the other day, I bumped into the boyfriend, N, at a store I didn't realise he worked at. I'd just been my usual camp tit of a self, chatting to the girl behind the counter, spun about, and came face to face (well, face to groin. He's VERY tall). So, I shot the usual sneer and proceeded to ignore him for the remainder of the shopping experience. Petty? Probably. Justified? I think so, yes.
Thinking nothing more of the encounter, it was quite a shock to come home and find a message from him on facebook, suggesting that, while things HAVE been pretty shit for the last few months, perhaps we could move forward. Direct quote: It takes so much effort to be the way we are to each other. I am happy to be friendly towards and move forward. Let me know what you think.
It took lots of soul searching, and badgering everyone I knew for advice, but ultimately, he's right. I'm not a hate filled person. If he wants to bury the hatchet, I can live with that. So here I am, with one less grudge, moving forward. How odd.
BUT. The thing you're not allowed to say in real life, but I can blurt out on here? It does piss me off that know HE looks like the bigger person, when I attempted the exact same thing a month ago! I mean honestly! Motherfuck! Now everyone will be all "Aw, it's nice that they're talking. Isn't N wonderful". I'm wonderful, dammit! Reconciliation was MY idea!
Sigh. I'm such a martyr. I should hop down off the cross, someone needs the wood.

Feel the Burn!

I've discovered I'm one of THOSE people when I go to the gym. You know the ones. The ones that need to position themselves near a mirror so they can watch everything they do? Yeah, that's me.
It never used to be, and it's not something I've consciously done, just over time, I've noticed a definite tendency to spend more time focused on my own hardworking reflection than whatever tosh is being broadcast over the televisions. But then, who can blame me? I do look VERY good on a treadmill.
Anyway, I've been slackening off with my working out lately (I've got mirrors at home, dammit, why should I go!) so I've been making people come with me. Yesterday, Adam came. It was great fun, we started on the treadmills for a bit, jogging away, being awesome, but something I didn't count on was his desire to use the weights (or, "babyweights", as he called them...). Now, I steer clear of them like the plague, because I always feel like the slightly slow kid who can never figure out how anything works and ends up looking like a tool, but Adam assured me he knew how to make everything work, and proceeded to show me.
And now I feel like death. I knew there was a reason I didn't use them! Feel the burn? I'm feeling more than the burn! I tell you what, I better end up looking like Hugh Jackman for this...
I did like though, that instead of doing our crunches at the gym, we decided we could just go back to Adams and watch one of Chers fitness DVDs. Now THATS how someone should work out!

This is fantastic!

Someone pointed this stupid video out to me recently, and naturally, it made me ridiculously angry. Not only at it's anti- Gay Marriage stance, but also because of it's complete mind numbing stupidity. Check it out, see what you think.



Like I said, moronic. But then, this morning, I found this, and it's just fantastic. Remember the Proposition 8: The Musical I posted a while back? Seems to be the same people, and it's great. And Sulu is in it, for gods sake! SULU! How can any side that has the Captain of the USS Excelsior working for them be wrong??

A Gaythering Storm from Jane Lynch

I love the smell of parody in the morning...

Sorry guys

Had an awesome post planned. Two, actually.
But sadly, I've consumed my weight in wine this evening, so you're going to have to wait. Terribly sorry :(

More Melbourne Wisdom

I forgot to mention in the last post. The most important fact I can impart on all of you.
UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE should you drink the House Red Wine at the Regent Theatre. It's Terrible! Seriously! Ew.

Mikey on Location

This week saw the culmination of plans that have been over twelve months in the making! I finally managed to haul ass to Melbourne to see Wicked. It was a fantastic trip, and the musical was every bit as phenomenal as you would expect (more so, if you weren't expecting much).
Now, obviously, I could spend the entire post raving about how great it all was, and how everyone needs to see it as soon as possible, but that's a tad boring. I mean, what can I say that people aren't already expecting, or haven't already heard? Not much. So instead, here are some far more exciting and interesting things I learnt on my merry jaunt to Melbourne!
- The drive to Melbourne sucks major balls, UNTIL you find Truck FM on the radio. Then it's oddly bearable.
- DON'T stop at trucker rest stops to use the bathroom, unless you are hoping to be either raped or murdered. Those things are scary.
- Trucks are bastards.
- Whereis.com should NEVER be relied upon in an emergency, because I'm sure it just makes things up to be funny.
- Melbourne drivers are insane. I never thought I'd be longing for the courteousness of a Sydney driver, but after driving in Melbourne for a few days, here we are.
- Being offered Valet Parking is an offer too good to refuse, despite the cost.
- When searching for a major landmark, DON'T ask a Newsstand Vendor for help. He sends you in the wrong direction, just for fun! Bastard. I gave him the glaring of a lifetime on the way back, believe me.
- Apparently in Melbourne, being offered a half consumed energy drink passes as flirting. Ew.
- Ozmopolitans are a FANTASTIC part of the Wicked experience, but if you buy one (and you will) don't fuck with your glass like I did, or you''ll be the only person in the entire theatre with a RED glass. How embarrasing.
- The woman in front of me was from Perth. I only include this fact because she kept repeating it like some sort of bizaare mantra. I hated her SO MUCH.
- The other two girls in front of me were even WORSE than the Perth woman. One had an enormous head, the other must have been ADD or something, because she could not sit still. Seriously, a musical isn't THAT long.
- Wiping your tears with TWO hands is wanky, and a cry for attention.
- Hotel breakfasts are the best thing on the planet.
- The trip home is a lot easier than the trip down.
- Mikey wants to see Wicked again.

There are probably more, but I'm still crazily exhausted, and you can only handle so much knowledge in one sitting.

New Mission!

The Green Lantern movie has been announced to be filming in Sydney later this year. Thus begins my mission to get onto the set in some capacity. Be it as an extra, or a sandwhich maker, or even a fucking floorsweep. It's possibly not one of the easier tasks I've set for myself, but who cares. I think I can make it happen!

Anticimactic Apocalypse

You know how, in your head, you can build an upcoming event up so bad that you're convinced it's going to reach near apocalyptic levels of awfulness? Well, imagine that you're as melodramatic as me, and then imagine how bad I can make an event seem. That's pretty bad.

And to my embarrassment, that's exactly what I did with last Saturday night. I was so convinced that my nieces birthday party was going to be absolute ass-loads of awkward, to the point where I almost contemplated calling in sick to the function and staying home under the covers, rocking myself to sleep in a pool of shame and sweat. Why would a simple birthday do be so unpleasant? Because it's Michael's side of the family, of course, and I had been forewarned that he and his boyfriend were both going to be in attendance. Hence the awkward. But, at the end of the day, I decided going was something I needed to do. I still consider them all family, and as such, love them all a great deal, and dammit, I'm not going to let a little awkwardness stop me from seeing my goddaughter on her birthday. So, I loaded Yosh into the car, and we were off.

And, as with most things that you allow yourself to imagine are going to be ridiculously unpleasant, the reality of the situation was a lot better than expected. In fact, I had a fantastic night. I don't get to see my Singleton family nearly enough, and I hate that. I loved seeing everyone, and hopefully wont let it be quite so long before I see them all again.

Of course, it helped immensely that the ex was mysteriously absent from the night, which may have been the reason for the complete lack of awkward, but whatevs. I had a blast. :-D

Pushing Daisies

If you've not heard of Pushing Daisies yet, you kind of suck a little bit. It is, without a doubt, one of the greatest television shows in the history of awesome television shows, and I'm so in love with it I want to woo it and have it's babies. The show is about Ned. He makes pies and can raise the dead. And he has a dog, Digby. And he raises Chuck, who was his childhood sweetheart. And they're in love. But they can't touch, EVER, or she dies again. And they solve crmies.

That's a woefully meagre description that does nothing to relate the quirky awesomeness of this brilliant program. And I haven't even mentioned that Ellen Greens is a supporting character! Or Swoosie Kurtz. OR Kristen Chenoweth. Well, now I have. Basically, you need to see it. Because you'll love it. I can guarentee it. I can PROMISE you, if you watch this show, you will adore it. And the good news is, it comes out on DVD on the 29th April. Which is, like, a week and a half away. Go on, give it a try. How can you not love a show with dialogue like this?

Olive: Musing on the idea of setting someone on fire doesn't mean you really want to set them on fire, it's just the thought of it that makes you happy, but only for a second and then you feel bad, but that second can be a lot of fun!

Or with random musical sequences like this??



You can thank me soon. I'll be here, waiting.

Week 13- Nudie Fun

Mission Thirteen: See a strip show
Status: Postponed

Oh no! For the first time since we started, I'm NOT accomplishing a task in the allocated time. Scandal! But I promise, I have a REALLY good reason for it. The task for this week was to go and see a strip show, which sounds simple enough, but in actuality, they're far harder to find than I imagined.

In my head, when I said yes to this, I was thinking of some sort of burlesque establishment, where yes, I'd have to see boobs, but they'd have the good sense to have tassles attached to them, and we'd get some sort of Gypsie-Rose Lee or Lili St. Cyr style fabulousness, complete with singing, dancing and joke telling. You know, classy nudity. Apparantly, they're less common than I assumed.

I consulted my brother, figuring he's the most heterosexual male I could think of, and he told me where I COULD find ladies prepared to disrobe for me, but I don't think they fit under the banner of "classy" . When I imagined a strip show, I wasn't thinking of drug fucked ladies pulling an endless string of beads from their nether-regions like some sort of unholy magic show. Or giving audience members some sort of phallic object to roger them with on stage (surely a low point in audience participatory acts...)

So I've decided, in the name of my own squemishness, to postpone the task until I can find something that fits in a little better with what I initially had in mind, and not force myself to see something that can never be un-seen.

Judge THIS, bitches.

I was serving a customer the other day, who was asking me about some reading recommendations, and as we were walking through the sci-fi section, with me pointing out different things that I liked, he picked up something and asked me what I thought of it.

Me: Well, to be honest, I've never read it. The cover looks kind of boring, so I've just never bothered.
Him: Oh, well, you can't judge a book by its cover, you know.
Me (internally): I hate you so much.

You know what? Fuck that. In a bookstore with over 200,000 titles, SOMETHING needs to draw you in straight away, you know? And if the publisher can't give enough of a shit to whack an exciting, or at the very least, intriguing cover on something, why the hell should I give it a chance?
And you know what? Judging books by their cover has worked fairly well for me so far. Look at these three books- each ones now classed amongst my favourite books, each one picked up solely due to the striking cover images.

So thank you very much, mister customer, but you CAN judge a book by it's cover, contrary to popular belief, and I shall continue to do so for the forseeable future. So there.

Week 12: Sugary Awesome

Mission Twelve: Bake a birthday cake. From scratch.
Status: Accomplished.

I swear, these missions are making me a nicer person. Last year, the thought of baking a cake from scratch for anyone's birthday would never have even occurred to me! This year, I'm a regular Martha Stewart, slaving over a hot stove for hours. And for what? To bring pleasure and joy (and sugar) to the people I love. I'm so nice I make myself sick.

Now, conveniently, this weeks task corresponded with Sarahs birthday (read all about it below), so the issue of who to cook for was taken care of. So all I had to overcome was the fact that I had NO idea how to bake a cake from scratch. Enter Bronwyn, armed with recipe, ingredients, and cake tins. All vital aspects of cake construction that I was sadly lacking. Luckily, she was an amazingly patient teacher, and together, we created the ULTIMATE birthday cake. It was a heart shaped chocolate/ vanilla marble cake, covered in chocolate icing, and every type of sprinkle known to man. Feast your eyes on this:


The secret ingredient was diabetes. You're welcome.

Kick Ass Weekend

I love when friends have birthdays. Not only does it bring their ages closer to my shameful chronological qualifier, it's more often than not an excuse for awesome shenanigans! And this weekend just gone, where Sarah saw in her 24th year, was no exception!

Sarah, Emma, Bec, Simon and I decided to go stay at the Vineyards in a place called Knotts Landing (yes, just like the TV show, except without the Ewings and the "being a Dallas spinoff") It was a really nice little place, despite the fact that it had a serial-killer vibe and a giant cactus. Beau was convinced the cactus was going to devour one of us, but fortunately, it didn't.
So, obviously, as with any weekend at the vineyards, as you can expect, there was much consuming of wine, and classy good times to be had at a variety of fine establishments.

But, more excitingly, we watched Army of Darkness (well, what's more appropriate for an Easter Weekend than a film about crazy, evil Zombies? Hail to the King, baby). And tried to teach the girls about Green Lantern. And I got asked for I.D. And found a Sweet Chilli Sauce that is to DIE for. And celebrated our friends birthday!

And, I managed to have the GREATEST imaginable photo ever taken of me.


But, in the spirit of not being an egotistical twat, I ALSO had my worst ever picture snapped. Which I'll share because I love you all.



There is honestly no excuse for this. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

Social WHORE.

In a sign that, once again, I am unable to resist any sort of bandwagon once it starts looking cool, I succumbed to peer group pressure and created myself a "twitter". Why? Who can say. All the cool kids seemed to be doing it, and I didn't want to be left behind. Will it replace facebook as my social networker of choice? I'm not sure- I never would have guessed facebook would have led me to kick myspace to the curb, yet here we are.
I'm still not entirely sure of twitters point. So far, I've read about Kevin Smith masturbating, and not much else. I'm sure the inventor of the internet is proud of where it's brought us as a people.

Week 11: Art Attack

Mission Eleven: Create an art.
Status: Accomplished

The obvious flaw with this post, as I'm sure you've noticed, is that week eleven actually occurred almost three weeks ago. Now, I do assure you, the task for the week was completed in the allocated time, I've just been waiting for my partner in crime to come back and help me polish it up. Due to scheduling conflicts though, I've decided to post the unfinished masterpieces, because dammit, art doesn't need to look pretty to be art.

My good friend Miss Bee was very excited when she heard that I was setting out to create some form of art this week, being an art school attendee herself, and thus, we decided to get our art on together. Her suggestion? Organic Abstractions. Thats the fancy art-wank term for making a mess with balloons and plaster of paris, I think. Whatever- it was fun!

The process involved mixing up a bucketload of plaster of paris, then attempting to ladle the mixture into balloons, which is a lot more difficult than it sounds. This is because a balloon, surprisingly, doesn't take kindly to being plied with cement, and does everything in its power to force the hardening liquid back out, where it will ideally land on your face, or some other equally inconvenient surface. But after much wrestling and brainstorming, we got enough of it in to let it set, and thus, our organic abstractions were created.


Now, ideally, these will be painted, and I'll post THAT final product when it's completed, but for the time being, we have these. The pictures really don't do them justice, they actually look seriously cool in real life, and regardless, Miss Bee and I had an absolute blast getting messy and creating them. In the NWWBW spirit, she's already brainstorming our next art-tastic project, meaning that's ANOTHER person signed up to the cause. This things like a virus. But in a good way!

Oh dear!

Internet forgive me!

I know I haven't updated in a while, which makes it look like I haven't been partaking in my promised weekly adventures and have, instead, been wasting weeks, which is contrary to the entire mission statement! Fear not, gentle reader! I've still been accomplishing everything, and promise a mammoth update, hopefully tonight, but definitely within the next few days!
And I'll try to stay on track with them from here on in. Because I love you. <3

Fight of the Century

There isn't much gossip being gossipped around this place, which is a blatant violation of the blogs ENTIRE reason for being, so, given the lack of amusing stories about other people for us to all band together and snicker about, I felt the time was right for me to share some of the more humiliating stories about me. For ALL our amusement.

And this one is pretty much Queen of the Stupid Story.

I was at Westfield one day, grabbing a coffee from McDonalds, when I spotted in the distance a girl. You know when you can tell someone is staring at you? Had that feeling, BIG TIME. I was still too far away to make her out, but I could see her there, and she was staring at me pretty intensely. Now, I love being the centre of attention, but I HATE being stared at. A contradiction, I know, but I'm full of them.

As I got closer to her, armed only with a shitty coffee, I noticed she was grinning like a maniac. I was attempting to avoid a confrontation at first, so I wasn't making DIRECT eye contact, but I kept glancing, and it was clear she was staring, grinning, and pissing me off.

This went on for a bit as I got closer and closer, and I realised I'd have to walk right past her to get back to work. By this stage, i was so worked up and enraged, I was prepared to unleash the absolute fury on this halfwit bitch-mole from hell.

Until I got closer and realised it was a cardboard cutout of Hanna Montanna. Yes, I was ready to punch out Miley Cyrus. Which would TOTALLY be the fight of the century. You know you'd pay to see it. And I'd totally kick her achy breaky ass.

Welcome to the Corps

This just in: Simon is awesome. I know! I never thought I'd say it either, but there we are. Simon managed to induct me into the Green Lantern Corps. Which makes him awesome. But, more importantly, it makes me EVEN MORE AWESOME! I have a Green Lantern ring now. Which proves I'm fearless, honourable and worthy. Take THAT, everyone that ever said otherwise! Simon became the Flash, as well, although I'm not sure how he managed to fit the costume into his ring. But who am I to question the physics of the DC Universe?

Like all good nerds, my first action upon receiving the ring WAS to recite the Green Lantern Oath. Don't look at me like that. As if you wouldn't have done the exact same thing.

In Brightest day,

In blackest night,

No evil shall escape my sight.

Let those who worship evils might

Beware my power,

GREEN LANTERNS LIGHT!

The wake is over

How many people can claim they spent Saturday night attending their own wake? Well, me, for one. Twas my birthday celebrations, and considering I've hit the ripe old age of 25, I thought it was appropriate to throw a wake, as opposed to a party. Which was mainly just an excuse for me to drink heavily whilst looking fantastic.

Had a great night, although I think I consumed almost enough booze to kill a small rhinocerous. Apparantly, my constitution is better than that of a minor pachyderm. Although I did sleep through most of Sunday. Which is disgraceful.

Had an awesome night, involving friends, alcohol and awesome music. Almost makes me wish I COULD be at my own wake. It would be a blast!

Angry with rage

I went to KFC at Kotara tonight (Don't judge me- I was hungry)and saw something that made me SO angry, I just needed to tell the world. Well, the blog. Much the same thing, isn't it?
The kids were slaving away, as they must, preparing chicken and whatever else it is they do, when the manager, some overweight, frumpy thing on a power trip swooped in out of nowhere and went ballistic at the staff, tearing absolute STRIPS off them for stuffing up someones order. Now, I don't care HOW badly they stuffed up the order, I was appalled by the woman's behavior! How disgusting! She should NEVER have spoken down to those guys in front of customers like that- how goddamn inappropriate! It made them awkward, it made ME uncomfortable, and it made her seem like a total bitch.
They aren't paid to take her abuse, and they shouldn't have stood for it. What kind of workplace demands such a ridiculous level of subservience? If that ever happened at my work, I'd give the manager a mouthful back! Any time I've been spoken to at work, at least the manager had the decency to take me off the floor and do it in private, instead of creating a humiliating scene in front of the paying public.
I was so angry, I'm still not over it. I should write a letter. Who has Colonel Sanders address? This needs to go straight to the top!

Birthday night

I've been 25 for 21 hours. How am I spending my evening? By drinking heavily and watching Chers Farewell Concert. If this is what I can expect from a quarter of a century, COUNT ME IN!



*EDIT*

It has been brought to my attention that this entry made it sound like I had a far more depressing night than I actually did! I went to Grill'd with Mum & Dad, which was FANTASTIC, and generally had a wonderful day/ evening. Apologies for any confusion...

Happy Birthday to me

Today, I turn 25. Which doesn't bother me so much, I just don't like the fact that it SOUNDS so adult. 25. That's a whole new box! I'm no longer in the 18-24 box, I have to deal with the fact that as of now, society expects me, at least to some extent, to be a grown up. What the hell is up with that?
I'm not a grown up! I'm sitting here in a monkey jumper watching the Buffy musical. I still have a retail job. I still read comics. No part of me, in any conceivable way shape or form, considers itself a proper grown up.
But here we are. Maybe I should just lie and tell people I'm 23. That's believable, right? Right? Shut up.
Actually, I'm more distressed about the fact I have to work 9 hours today than the fact that I'm entering a whole new demographic. I can't be doing THAT bad, age wise. I mean, I am being pursued by an 18 year old. And Sarah's Grandma thought I looked 15. So, not completely over the hill yet.

Awesomeness squared

I had a lady offer me a job today! All this talk of wishing someone would just do all the hard work for me, and then BAM.
I was minding my own business at work, as I do, being a helpful little ball of fun, when this lady started asking me about wrapping paper that she wanted to use on a canvas. We chatted about the colours and patterns for a while, which was fun, but I was starting to get a little worried that she was attempting to seduce me (Trust me lady. If ever a wrong tree was barked up, it's me)
We kept going, I decided I need canvas mounted giftwrap in MY house(looks better than it sounds. Trust me) and she was about to leave, when she started making small talk. By this stage, I'm more and more convinced she's a cougar type, preying on the innocent younger gentleman, and was thusly cautious. When she started asking me about wether I was happy at work or not, I was convinced. This was it. She was going to proposition me.
But no. She mentioned some sort of e-commerce job she had available, and she thought I had something amazing that would work fantastic with it. Now, because I'm a whore for compliments, I was sold, and gave her my number. We're going to discuss it over coffee soon.
What does it say about my mental state that I was disapointed she wasn't attempting to have her way with me? Some doors are probably best left unopened...

Finally

The other day I complained about Michael and his lack of a response to my conciliatory SMS. Just thought I'd let you all know that since then, there HAS been a response. It was "Ï don't know, Michael. Maybe. I'll let you know" which, as responses go, wasn't entirely satisfactory, but never mind. The important thing is he responded at all. A week after the fact, but whatevs.

I thought I was unique!

I'm not one to gossip, but... there seems to be some sort of imposter on the interwebs! I accidentally typed my address as http://www.notonetogossip.blogspot.com/ when I was trying to find it this morning, and it took em to a whole nother blog! One that I have nothing to do with! And have never seen before in my life!

I feel so...common! I thought I was the only one who wasn't one to gossip, but. Apparantly not. The worst part is, the other blog hasn't been updated in, like, three years. Which, I think, technically makes ME the imposter!

It's a scandal and an outrage. Oh well- I avoid gossiping with more attitude and style than them. And my toenails are prettier.