Tuesday, December 7, 2010


I've generally got a pretty strict "when in rome" policy when it comes to doing weird or unusual shit, which, thankfully, has always gone pretty well, and lead to some pretty interesting (and sometimes downright stupid) adventures. But it almost always gives me something to talk about. Which is why, when Simon, Wade and I were in Sydney on Sunday, we decided to take advantage of a handwritten sign on a scary looking door that said "Psychic Readings Within". Because why the hell not? I've always been kind of curious to have my fortune read, and this seemed as good an oppurtunity as ever. Now, I'm not sure if you know this or not, but I'm a big fan of theatricality over reality, so when Wade and I (Simon was FAR too sensible for this nonsense) ventured indoors, I was immeadiately thrilled that the store resembled a messier version of the Magic Box from Buffy, and after we paid, we had to follow a sign up the stairs that said "Ascend to the Oracle". So far so good.

Then, the Oracle appeared, and I shit you not, she was a seventy year old, one-eyed french woman. I couldn't make this shit up. The ONLY way I would have been more into it at this stage would have been if the door had been opened by this woman:

And as impressed as I would have been, I still probably would have asked for my money back. Anyone that can make Hermione Granger lose her shit aint worth my $25... So, everything was proceeding well, and then the reading started. And thats where it started to go downhill...

Now, I freely admit to being a slightly cynical person when it comes to stuff like this. But I'm cynical with a hint of optimism, because deep down, I really WANT that crazy, blow-your-mind experience people talk about. I was the same on the ghost tour I went on. I WANTED to be scared shitless, but couldn't get over my own skepticism. So it's possible that my problems here weren't entirely the fault of the vision impaired clairvoyant lumped with the task of giving me the upcoming spoilers of my life, but still. I was underwhelmed.

Here's what we learnt:

Travel is on the agenda. Love is just around the corner. I'll change jobs within a year. It's ok to be gay.

Which is all great, if slightly generic, until you realise one thing. I'M IN MY MID FUCKING TWENTIES.

TRAVEL- What person my age HASN'T got a trip planned somewhere? Especially when she felt the need to clarify that it wasn't necessarily a big trip, just that I'd be going somewhere. Like, I dunno, BACK TO NEWCASTLE??? Nice job, psychic sally. But seriously, without a destination or a time frame, thats an unimpressive guess, at best, as far as I'm concerned.

LOVE- She asked if I was seeing someone at the moment. When I said no, she smiled and said "You will be soon". I suppose that sales pitch is more impressive than "You're going to die a lonely old spinster and your dog will probably eat your corpse," but it's still not an overly informative piece of info. It's not like I'm some kind of hideous mountain goblin- I did kind of assume there would be someone in the future somewhere. I'm a single homosexual. Of COURSE somebody is in my future. It's just how it works.

WORK- What person in my generation is settled enough in their job that a career-change isn't at least a thought that has been MILDLY entertained at some point? We're known for being flighty! If she REALLY wanted to impress me, she could have told me WHAT I'd be doing, so I'd know when to apply for it! At this rate, I still have to do all the work! What's the point of knowing the future if I only know enough to go in chanting the mantra "Stay the course..."

GAY PRIDE: I walked in wearing tight jeans and rainbow converse. I think I crossed the "Good to be gay" bridge a while back. Seriously. Loved the reassurance, but look at me. Do I look like I'm struggling to deal with my sexual identity? I haven't been in a closet for so long, Aslan is sending me christmas cards addressed to "Mitchell". Stupid lion.

So, my first psychic reading was a tad underwhelming. It's not that I needed to OVERwhelmed, but just whelmed in general would have been nice. Maybe one or two bits of info that I had to admit was a little creepy, or wonder how she'd figured it out. Instead, I think I just received a stock standard, generic Gen Y reading. Which sucks. I wanted to find out that I was going to punch Winona Ryder, or get a pet monkey, or go to the moon or something. On that token, maybe I should become a fortune teller? At least I've got two eyes- surely that makes me twice as good at seeing the future than the one I saw?

I'm so cynical it hurts.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Utter fail.

Turns out that blog I posted yesterday, of all the tattoo designs I liked and disliked, failed miserably (cos I'm retarded like that) and none of the pictures actually showed up. Which is awkward, in a post that kind of existed wholey and solely FOR the pictures. Damn internet, thwarting me at every turn (because, you know, it couldn't POSSIBLY have been me making a mistake)

Anyway, I THINK I've fixed the problem, so if you looked and couldn't figure out what the FUCK was going on, have another go. The problem was probably your fault anyway.

Oh, and just for kicks, here's another design I like...

Although to be honest, now that I've waited a few days, I'm less keen for a new tattoo. I think I have issues...

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Ink me baby, one more time.

When I got my tattoo, lots of people warned me that it was an addictive experience, and that it wouldn't be long before I'd be strapping myself back in the chair for another go. Knowing that I don't have an addictive personality (*cough*), I figured I was safe, and ignored all such warnings.

In a completely UNRELATED note, I kind of want another tattoo. The trouble is, I'm having a REALLY hard time picking something that not only LOOKS awesome, but that has some sort of significance or emotional connection that I'm confident wont wear off in a few years. See, the Batwoman tattoo I got, I adore. And I'm confident I'll always adore it. Because it's a snapshot of a very specific time in my life, and not only do I like the symbol, but it matters. It's a way of reminding myself, every time I look at it, that I'm in control of my own life. Which sounds wanky, but have we met?

So now, I'm faced with the challenge of finding something JUST as relevant, and equally nerdy, and you know what? That's harder than it sounds! At first I was considering getting the Converse symbol, like this:

But as much as I love cons, I don't love the idea of permanently marking myself with ANY kind of advertising. (Unless it's the JB Hifi sticker "Buy me, I'm cheap'...) Also, even though I DO have an unhealthy obsession with them, they ARE just shoes. And I'm not quite crazy enough to forget that.

Then I saw this one online, and wished I was a bigger Ghostbuster fan, because let's face it, it's pretty much the greatest thing ever:

But as much as I love the movies, I don't have any sort of obsession with them, and I think for the permanency of a tatt, your fan levels need to be a little higher. Other possibilities have included:

(too cutesy)

(possibly TOO obscure)

(Wallace Wells is awesome.)

In all my searches for nerd tattoos though, one that DOES keep popping up, and impresses the hell out of me, is this one-

BUT! I could never get it, for several reasons. Firstly, you'd have to maintain a relatively attractive, hair-free chest for the rest of eternity, and let's be honest- thats SO much work. Second, as someone pointed out, I DO want to have sex again at some stage in my life, and unless the other party is every bit as nerdy as I am, a tattoo like this could be a DEFINITE deal breaker. Thirdly, IT MAKES NO DAMN SENSE! If Spider-Mans skin was torn up like that, you'd see his insides, not his damn suit. So, as geeky as that makes me sound, I could never get a tattoo that would drive me insane with its total lack of logic for all eternity. It would just piss me off. And I'm not prepared to give up ALL future chances of getting busy for a tattoo that would make me crazy anytime I started to think about it!

But yeah, that's where I'm at. NO closer to figuring out what I want, but getting closer to thinking that possibly, I might want something. I'm decisive like that.

I do also like the idea of getting a quote from one of my favourite books, but how the hell do you narrow THAT down?? Look, this is all too much. Here. Have a picture of Michael Schofield, half naked and covered in tattoos. Because that's how I roll.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Romance. A lost art.

Ok, so we ALL know I have issues when it comes to romance, and REALLY tend not to be the best at responding to "I love you". We could sit around for hours trying to figure out why that is, dissecting my inner psyche and diagnosing me with an ever-expanding list of eccentricities, OR, we can accept it as all part of the wonderfully quirky landscape that comes together neatly to make me me. I choose that one. But anyway, I was trying to figure out the PERFECT response, because let's face it, sometimes it does come out of nowhere, and thinking on my feet always seems to get me in trouble (And would probably make me respond with "Yeah, I love your mum. Real good") I found the three GREATEST responses when someone says "I love you". If I'm cool enough to go with ANY of these, I'll need some sort of medal or something. For winning at life.


(Ok, so the video didn't include the "I love you", but we get the picture. There's a reason she won an Oscar for this.)


(If you're in a hurry, jump to 3:20 to see the important bit. Otherwise kick back and treat yourself to one of my favourite Doctor Who clips ever. If you don't tear up, you're dead inside. We probably shouldn't stay friends)


(Honestly, if this doesn't make you want to have Harrison Fords babies, you're lying. As arrogant as it sounds, this is the perfect response. PERFECT. If I'm ever dating anyone nerdy enough to get this reference, my life WILL be complete.)

And just because I love me some Star Wars:

I love you.

Friday, November 26, 2010

My music doesn't ALWAYS suck!

See! Proof that my musical tastes aren't ALWAYS as predictable as people assume they are (musical theatre and Cher notwithstanding), I decided to share a song that I've been listening the HELL out of lately! I think this buys me cool points, if you're that way inclined. Personally, I'm not. But you might be. And if so, you're welcome. And consider yourself lucky it's not the new Cher song. Ah, Burlesque. It's like someone took a movie directly from my brain. But I digress.

Hello, Lovers!

Actually, turns out, living with your parents and maintaining an award winning blog are two VERY difficult things to maintain at the same time, and because a house was SLIGHTLY more important than keeping you updated on the various eccentricities of my everyday life, this place suffered. Which is a shame, because I love keeping this thing. It's the one place I can unleash all my crazy without a therapist trying to medicate me. (Actually, thats a lie. I've been to a bunch of therapists, and not ONE has offered me the meds I've been craving. It's ridiculous)
So, as was always the plan, I've flown the coop again, and finally set myself up in the new house, but as could only be expected, the internet took six and a half years to connect. Which is frustrating, but there you have it. And on that note, I'm back, baby.

Now, I COULD get bogged down in recapping the last few months of my live, but you know me. I'm not one to get weighed down talking about myself, so let's just imagine one of those huge title cards flashed up on the screen on the Parkhill TV show...

And here we are. New house. New love interests. New characters. New season.

Parkhill is still going strong, and I'm back to do my bit by chronicling it. Well. Chronicling my bits. Cos I'm selfish like that. Selfish like awesome.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

I'll Defy YOUR Gravity

Like all good theatre-loving homosexuals, I do have a certain level of appreciation for all things Wicked. I know I've already spoken about how Wicked was the reason Sarah and I stuffed ourselves in the Echo for the worlds fastest roadtrip down to Melbourne a few years ago to see the show, and I'm pretty sure I mentioned that Ben and I went earlier this year. And the fact that I MAY have dressed as Elphaba for Halloween. Now, it's not my FAVOURITE musical of all time, but clearly, I'm a fan.

So when the Parkhill kids decided we needed to see it before it closed in Sydney, naturally, I was onboard. Especially because, you know, I didn't want my final Wicked experience to have been tainted by who it was with. And seeing it again with Sarah kind of felt like getting the band back together after we'd had such an amazing time the first time. So that was great. Seeing it the third time was marvelous, even if I DID make a complete dick of myself (let's face it- when DON'T I) when I whispered loudly to Sarah "OH! Ruby Slippers! Just like the MOVIE!!!!!". Since we last saw the show, this has become an inside joke between us due to the retards that had been sitting behind us the first time that clearly had NO idea what Wicked was about and felt the need to point out EVERY connection to the Wizard of Oz as it happened. It was cute. Sadly, the inside joke between Sarah and myself was lost on a theatre full of people, who have now all walked away thinking I was every bit as stupid as the people WE were sitting behind. The moral of the story? Don't talk in the theatre. You're going to look stupid. Anyway, I figure that was it. Three times the charm.

Then, my new friend from Melbourne, Dave, randomly suggests he fly up and we see it one Tuesday night. Now, you know I'm a total sucker for spontaneous fun, meeting new people AND musical theatre, so naturally, I was in. Drove to Sydney, saw the show, had a blast. Although I gotta say, the woman playing the lead that night? Not so great. Which was unfortunate for Dave, who was really holding out to see Jemma Rix again (the Primary Elphaba, and a bucket of talent) but which inspired the NEXT part of the Wicked adventure. Obviously, because he didn't want to miss her completely, the only sensible option was to go and see it AGAIN a few days later, for the shows final performance in Sydney!

If you're counting, we're up to five times now for me. Which sounds impressive, until I mention that it would have been his ELEVENTH. I'm slightly jealous. Anyway, because the universe likes to be a dick sometimes, Daves flight was cancelled, which sucks for him because the show was AMAZING, but the biggest highlight of the entire thing??? I bumped into Jemma Rix in the parking station at the end of the night after the show. It was lucky she still had green paint around her ears, or I'd NEVER have recognised her, but still, it was awesome. And because I'm a fabulous individual, I made her sign a program with a personalised message for Dave. Not to rub it in or anything...

Anyway, now the show's finished in Sydney, and I've seen it five times. And it sounds stupid, but I REALLY want to see it again- especially because I can't handle the fact I've seen it FIVE times. That's an odd number. And that bugs the crap out of me. So I NEED to see it again. Bring on Brisbane.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Parkhill: Still Kickin'

You know, I've bragged about how awesome my friends are on SEVERAL occasions. Because let's face it. They are. But I haven't had much to say on the subject recently, and this isn't because they've grown less interesting, it's just because, well, I'm a self-absorbed tit. But despite that, my friends are truly the greatest people known to man. I used to assume that everyone thought that about their friends, but, you know, I've realised since that ISN'T always the case (sometimes a persons friends are so boring, even THEY can smell the beige) but thankfully, thats an accusation that can never be levelled at Parkhill. I mean, shit. We were at a red carpet event, fuckdammit!
And weep that YOU'RE not included. I love almost EVERY person in this picture. Some of them I don't actually know. They were introduced to freshen up the cast for ratings, I assume. I'm guessing they didn't makr it past sweeps though. Awkward for them...

Thursday, September 2, 2010

I wish *I* was a mermaid...

Yes. In this particular story, I'm Ariel. Despite the obvious resemblance to Flounder. Piss off.

Also, I love this musical, if only for this song. It's so fun!

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Lifestyle of the Rich & Famous

So, after years of bragging that it was only a matter of time, on Sunday, I finally managed to climb the social ladder and mingle with a better class of people. "Hobnob with the elite", I think the professional term is. I've discovered that Red Carpet Film Premieres are a great deal of awesome, especially when you're only slightly less famous than the "celebrities" that are actually paid to be there. To the extent where we managed to cut in front of at least one Home and Away star without realising who the hell he was, AND almost being intrviewed by several frazzled looking reporters who'd given up on recognising anyone of note. Almost being the key word. Sadly, I couldn't convince anyone that they wanted my autograph- not even when I offered to sign some ladies boob for free. True, the lady was Patty Newton, but still. She could have been polite and said yes- would it have killed her?

Apart from going to see the premiere of Tomorrow, When the War Began, the other purpose of the trip was to snag myself a famous boyfriend, but that didn't really go so well. Which is probably good, because my non-celebrity boyfriend may have had some issues, but it's early days yet- the less he knows about me the better, I feel. And it doesn't count as cheating if there's fame involved. Pretty sure that's a law somewhere (can we get a reference for that?)

But what of the film? I adored it! I'm not usually a fan of action movies (they stress me out, and subsequently age me prematurely) but this one was REALLY good- and not in that way where you say "really good for an Australian movie", in that patronising sense where you're really saying it was a bit shit but you feel you should support it anyway, but actually, genuinely, a great movie! It did further drive home the fact that I'm far too impressionable for my own good when I came home and started googling molotov cocktails so I could be as cool as Ellie, but beyond that, it was fabulous. I can't believe it was filmed so close to here, either. Parkhill NEEDS to get our asses into gear to become extras in the next one, assuming the first does well enough. Even in the Show Ground, just so we could say we were. Actually, I suppose we could always just lie and tell people we were in this one? I mean... we were totally in this one. Look close, you can see Sarah in the chase scene!

There was one scene where two characters discuss the fact that books are generally FAR better than movie adaptations which I thought was kind of brave (because imagine if the film had sucked- you'd look pretty stupid having pointed that shit out) but apart from that, it was a really intelligent, genuinely suspenseful movie. I wanna go again. I also want to fire weapons, blow shit up and go into hiding, but that's my burden. And you wonder why I think it's a bad thing for boyfriends to know too much?

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Sing out, Louise!

There are times when I realise I come across as a fairly suave individual, with an air of coolness about my person that reduces others to tears of jealousy and an overwhelming desire to emulate. It's both my gift and my curse. I've learnt to deal. However. One social situation in which this does NOT apply, apparantly, is when I'm busted in my car, singing Cher's "Turn Back Time", complete with hand movements and hair flicks, at the absolute top of my lungs by a group of heterosexual males that happened to pull up alongside me whilst we were both stopped at the same set of traffic lights.

Yeah. There's no smooth way to come back from that. Maybe if it was one or the other, horrendously loud OR ridiculously animated? But no. It was a mash-up of the two, and as I've since learnt, my car ISN'T some kind of Cone of Silence, in fact, it seems to have the worlds greatest acoustics, because I 'm pretty sure they heard every word. Every. Single. Word.

It wouldn't have been so bad, had I noticed they were there earlier. As it was, I managed to make it half way through the damn song before I twigged to the fact I was with audience, and from then, it seemed to take another seventeen minutes for the stupid lights to actually change, all the while with me trying to quietly disappear from the face of the planet, with no success.

What can I say? I was born to be on a stage. So long as, in all future experiences, that stage is as far removed from others as possible. Preferably in a soundproof room. With the door shut. And locked. From the outside.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Brand New Day!

It's always fun when you look at yourself and get the smug satisfaction of knowing your life is back on track. That overwhelmingly good feeling where you look at your calendar and see that you've got an upcoming schedule full of fun and awesomeness, filled with people you can't get enough. From the simple pleasures, like a plan to watch Legally Blonde: The Musical, or hosting a Tupperware party, to the slightly more elaborate, such as seeing Wicked for the third time, or going to see JOSS FUCKING WHEDON live! (Hell yeah!)

Because I'm a firm believer that boredom should pretty much be reclassified as one of the seven deadly sins, (Surely nobody thinks "Lust" deserves to be on there anymore, am I right? Let's start a letter writing campaign...) which is why I try to be as constant as possible. I mean, it's worked pretty well for me so far. Despite the fact even I sometimes find me exhausting ("Hurricane Mikey", somebody once described me as, which I found apt) but I'd rather that than have my only memorable quality being my overwhelming sense of niceness. There's nothing that screams "BLAND INDIVIDUAL" more than someone describing you as "nice". Because really, that's such a cop out. Everyone's nice. Nice is how you describe furniture, not people.

So for the next few weeks/ months, a full agenda means I'll FINALLY have something to write about here again, which I think we can both agree (because you know you're the only person reading this, right) will be more entertaining than the continuing non-adventures of my love life. Although romantic mishaps DO tend to be entertaining, despite the fact I don't have a great deal to report on that front right now. I do have to admit though, it IS one of the more pleasant things about being single, doing that whole flirty/swoony thing all over again with new people, and finally finding people that respond to your looks, instead of just your exceedingly fabulous personality. What can I say? Flirting is fun!

This post has been kinda nonsensical, in hindsight. But if you think reading a stream of consciousness like this is exhausting, you should try camping out in my head sometime... It gets worse...

Monday, July 19, 2010

It's a safe place

It's no secret that my blog is a Pro- Darren Hayes place. He made me gay, did you know? (There's a story there- remind me to tell you some time!) As such, there's a pretty special spot in my heart for him, and his very voice invokes a sense of swooning inside me that is largely unparalleled. Which is why this song leaves me feeling ALL kinds of happy. And deserves to be posted. And lets face it. Anyone that can make a Delta Goodrem song sound this interesting deserves some sort of brownie points! (I WILL be honest though. He does look a little chunky in the film clip. Not his greatest look- watch it with your eyes half closed...)

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Holy crap- when did THAT happen?

You know what's a terrifying thought? That moment when, out of the blue, you look at your life and realise "Holy shit. I'm a grown up! When did THAT happen?" Because really, I still don't FEEL particularly grown up. And when I look in the mirror, I don't SEE a grown up (immature man-child comes to mind, but not "grown up"), but the evidence is there, that when it comes to life, I'm definitely sitting squarely in the "adult" category.
And that scares the christ out of me.
Because look at me- I SHOULDN'T be an adult.

Adults know how to do things like their laundry BEFORE it gets to crisis levels and they're forced to either wash or buy new undies.

Adults know things about politics and the world in general. Or at least more than they do about the world in general in the DC Universe. Actually, do adults bother themselves with the fact fictitious universes exist?

Adults don't consult a Magic 8-Ball for major life decisions, to the extent where they download an App for it on their phone in case they need to make decisions on the run!

So, I've decided. Accompanying this epiphany, I'm making a concentrated effort to be more of a grown up here on in. Grown up decisions, grown up time management skills and grown up relationships (he says whilst listening to Legally Blonde: The Musical and playing with a Sonic Screwdriver and shopping for Cher Barbies in the other window)

I'm not sure why this whole thing has shocked me so much- I think it's because I've always expected there would be something that would LEAD to adulthood, instead of a general merge that you don't notice coming. I mean, if my life were a TV show, and had been for several years as I've always maintained, surely we're reaching that awkward stage where the audience realises they're all far too old for these dramas! So it's settled. We either need to spin off into a more age-appropriate setting, or risk cancellation. And I don't DO cancellation.

So. Grown up. Spread the word.

Sigh. Not again...

So, it's time for the annual Angus & Robertson Top 100 Books list to come out, and I'm really not sure why I anticipate this so much every year. It's like anticipating new Star Wars movies. You can't help it, but you know you're going to be disappointed. And this year is no exception. Fuck you, A&R. There, I said it. These lists are getting progressively worse, and they're proving, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Australians shouldn't be allowed to vote for anything, ever. Because as a nation, we're obviously retarded.
The first thing that grinds my gears (and from memory, I bitched about this last year as well) is the fact that in the top three spaces, we already have FOURTEEN FUCKING BOOKS! In THREE SPACES! What the hell is with that? Isn't that against the rules? Doesn't it defeat the purpose? And, of course, "The Twilight Saga" is number one. (Harry Potter Series is #2 and The Millennium Trilogy is #3) Yep. Australia's number one piece of literature is the Twilight Saga. All four of them, apparently, held equally to a pinnacle of literary genius, beating out Pride & Prejudice, To Kill a Mockingbird and The Book Thief. Does that seem right to you? I mean, sure. Let's say for a second that Twilight IS just that good. Do the other three need to be considered equal? Because I've read them. And they're not. Mandatory inclusion is as stupid as saying that because Jaws is a fantastic movie, all of the sequels should be regarded with equal respect. Even Jaws 3D. And NOBODY says that about Jaws 3D.
The other thing pissing me off about the list is how obviously the books on there are reflected in film. Last year, the Book Thief was #7, The Lovely Bones was #17, and Time Travelers Wife was #21. The latter two had movies come out in the last twelve months, and guess what! This year, The Lovely Bones is #5, Time Travelers Wife is #9 and The Book Thief is #10! The ONLY reason for that fluctuation is the fact that people saw the movies. I REFUSE to believe that level of change is due to the fact that people have only just started discovering books from five years ago. There should be a rule that you can only vote for a book after answering a questionnaire proving you've read it. Otherwise, I call bullshit on this entire list.
And finally, you know what REALLY shits me? Not ONE of the books I voted for made it. Ok, fine, my bunch of grapes may be slightly sour, but christ! Not one?
I voted for:
  • The Other Hand by Chris Cleave
  • Watchmen by Alan Moore
  • Bridget Jones Diary by Helen Fielding
  • Stardust by Neil Gaiman
  • Northern Lights by Philip Pullman
And you know what? I know that none of those books deserve to be number one. Hell, they probably don't even deserve the Top Ten. But when you've got Five Matthew Reilley books, The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown and Pride & Prejudice & Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls already occupying spaces on the list?

Fuck you list. Fuck you in the ear.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Mikey: Now with street cred!

Out of curiousity, does anyone remember this post? http://notonetogossipbut.blogspot.com/2009/05/need-advice.html

It's from May last year, and it's me yabbering on about the tattoo I'd finally decided on. Well, given that now is the perfect time for an image upheaval, and I've already got the new wardrobe and the new hair, I figured I'd procrastinated enough. I can't decide wether it counts as impulsive or not, when you've been planning it for over twelve months, but when the actual decision is made the day before, thats gotta count for something, right?

I made the decision to get my shiny new tattoo before work yesterday, and excitement gave way to terror pretty much the moment I walked into the premises and saw the locals. Tattooed scary people who's topics of conversations alternated between mercenary friends that love killing people and sexual practices I don't think even have names yet. So obviously, the homosexual sitting there wanting a Batwoman tattoo felt slightly out of place. But, I was there, and figured I might as well see it through, and half an hour later, had this to show for it:

First question people tend to ask: Did it hurt? And the answer is, fuck yes. It really, REALLY hurt. But after a while, it kinda just became a pain you're comfortable with, and at no point was I tempted to yank my wrist away like I was worried I would. I figured you never see people with half finished tattoos because they couldn't handle the pain, so it mustn't be TOO bad, and I was right. You know that good pain? It was that. (By "good pain", did I just reveal a little too much about myself? Oops.) To the point where when she asked me if I wanted her to go back over the outline, I said yes, instead of trying to end it as fast as possible.

Second question tends to be: Does it mean anything? And the best part is, yeah. It does. I mean, there's the obvious "Batman" level on which it's awesome (well, Batwoman, but still. There's a connection). But like most good symbols, there's a far deeper meaning to it which I feel is important. It sums me up, as well as my life outlook, and it's suitably wanky, as well. But I didn't just get it because it's pretty, which I think is important.

And you know what? At the end of the day, I have this on me. Forever. And I'm pretty damn happy with that!

Note: Dried blood NOT permanent addition to tattoo...

Letting it lie

So, I've been tempted to come on here for a while and talk a bit of smack about the break up. You know, new information has come to light, and as I'm want to do, writing about is my way of dealing. But I've decided against it. Bitter isn't a good colour on me, and I'd much rather take the moral high ground and do the classy thing. At least once. So, sadly, despite this essentially being a gossipy blog, there will be no dirt dished, or mud slung.

Let's just move along and be better people. And bitch about Lindsay Lohan going to prison. Because isn't that more entertaining??

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Masculinity Aplenty!

You know that lesson everyone tries to teach you, when you buy your first car? That one where they think it's SO important that you know how to change your own tyres, should anything ever happen, and you sort of stand there thinking "Surely SOMEONE will do that for me, right??" Yeah, turns out thats one of those things it helps to pay attention to. I know, right! I'm as shocked as you are.
So I discovered this life lesson, as I always tend to, the hard way, when the other day, I was driving to work, and someone in the car next to me felt the need to point out my rear tyre was flat. At first I assumed his attempts to get me to wind my window down were to critique my choice in music (you'd be suprised how often that happens), and I actually would have preferred that. At least I have a standard response to that situation. As it was, I had nothing. I knew I had to get to a service station, which fortunately, wasn't difficult, but from that point on, I no longer had the situation under control.

First, I had to attempt to pump up the tyre. Despite the fairly obvious flatness that was apparent, even to other motorists. In my mind, this was pretty much going to solve everything. Stick the pump thingy on and continue on my way. Sadly, and as is a repeated theme in my life, it wasn't that simple. Because no sooner did I pump it up than the stupid wheel deflated again, before my very eyes. Just like in a cartoon. I didn't even know tyres WORKED like that.

So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to drive somewhere to buy a new tyre. In hindsight, this plan may have been slightly flawed, but it seemed solid at the time. Of course, it took about five minutes for me to realise my wheel was about to fall off, and I'd need to take matters into my own hands. By changing my own tyre. Sigh.

Now, heading to work, I was dressed pretty well. New jacket, hair done, fancy rainbow cons... none of these things are conducive to manual labour in the rain, especially when you don't actually know the first thing about what you're doing.

Suprising EVERYONE, I actually managed to change the tyre. Successfully. With a minimum of fuss. But lord it was a trying half an hour. I was struck with the ridiculousness of the situation when I finally managed to locate my car jack thingy (who knew the boot had a false bottom! Ingenious!) only to find it was covered in glitter. I'm fairly sure that's not a common complaint amongst most car-minded people. Seems appropriate in mine though...

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Lighter side of misery

You know? Look at that background. That rainbow is FAR too chirpy from the misery of that last post! So, brand new day. You know what? Emotion makes people uncomfortable, especially me, and the last thing I want is for this blog to turn into one of those awkward "downward spiral into self destruction" thing. So I wont! Just so you know.

Which doesn't mean there WONT be stages of sad, because hell, grieving a relationship is the same as grieving a death. It's bound to manifest here and there some more. It just means I'm back to being me. And that's someone who'd rather stab myself in the foot than be considered a depressive tit. I've done my excercises (by which I mean watched Steel Magnolias AND Beaches... do yourself a favour by not asking how many times) which means it's time for me to be back, and dealing with this thing with the same vaguely cynical, self-deprecating eye I turn on everything else.

Basically, it just means my life now is going to involve more awkward moments where I note the disturbing similarity between myself and the following fictional characters:

Grace Adler, Liz Lemon and Bridget Jones. A trio of ridiculousness. I always knew I was destined to become one of them, I just never knew it was going to be an amalgamation of all three. But you know what? I'm pretty sure I can make it work for me. I mean, Bridget ended up with Mr Darcy, right? (Ok, true, Grace ended up with Harry Connick Jr, but surely there's no omnipotent being in the universe that hates me THAT much...)

Bottom line is, I'm back, baby. And to celebrate, I'm planning some SEVERE retail therapy this weekend. I'll let you know how it goes!

Wednesday, June 23, 2010


A blog without words? My symbolic pretentiousness knows no bounds...

Sunday, June 20, 2010

This blog needs more porn

In order to be truly successful on the internet, it's pretty common knowledge that you need to involve pornography in some way. So, instead of taking some kind of moral high ground and refusing to succumb to base lowest common denominators, I've decided to spice things up a bit!

Now, I'm not sure wether this is something that will turn out to be common knowledge, and I'll look like a dumbass for getting excited about it, but whilst in Wollongong, Clare opened my eyes to a world I never even knew existed. Parody Pornography. And I don't mean in the sense that it's parodying porn somehow, in a clever satire way. I mean this:

Porn aspect aside, how fucking awesome is the set in that thing! Is this endorsed somehow? Like, have they used the same building for the auditorium? If not, that really shows commitment to the cause! But Glee isn't the only one! There are heaps! And some are really weird. Like The Office. Who watches that and decides it needs to be sexier?

The best part about that one has to be that it's actually being funny! Are people really looking for punchlines in porn? I never would have guessed that- aren't they busy with...well, other things when they're watching it?

And this one just gets stranger. Sigh. Internet, you've done it again. Just when I thought my days of shaking my head in disbelief at your shenanigans were over...

Glee plus alcohol equals...

Well, equals pretty much what you'd expect it to, I think. A show that manages to be that ridiculous sober can only by improved by intoxication, and using that theory as a guide, the GLEE DRINKING GAME was born! Now, if you're one of the three people that actually read this thing, chances are you already have at least a passing appreciation for Glee in all it's campy awesomeness, so it stands equally to reason that you can't wait to discover this game, discovered by myself, Benjamin and Clare on a Wild Wollongongian Weekend.
So, given that the decision was made to turn a regular innocent Glee marathon into a night of drunken debauchery, we needed rules. Turns out thats pretty simple. When ANY of the following occurs- a drink must bet taken. I suggested we try it with spirits, but as Benjamin pointed out, we'd probably die. The boys a thinker.
Anyway. Drink when:

- Whenever there's a musical number
- Finn looks confused about something
- Every time Rachel complains about something
- Every time Sue makes a caustic remark about someone or something
- Every time Mike Chang dances
- Every time Mercedes shows off with a high note
- Any time the episodes title is directly mention (worth noting: we were watching the episode "Funk". It's used a lot)
- Whenever Kurt changes outfits
- Whenever Brittany does ANYTHING
- There's a dramatic confrontation between anyone
- They have a celebrity guest

Needless to say, we ended up pretty hammered. After about twenty minutes. And then proceeded to watch more. Intelligence has never been one of my stronger attributes, fortunately an immunity to alcohol poisoning HAS been. Otherwise things could have been messy...

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Offensive to ANY religion!

For a multitude of reasons, each one more scintillating than the last, I found myself in Wollongong this weekend just gone, a sentence I can honestly say that, up until now, I've never had need to utter. And the surprising thing was, I actually really enjoyed myself. Far from my image of walking up a main street and reenacting the Broken Hill scenes from Priscilla: Queen of the Dessert, I actually had a really awesome time- turns out Wollongong is pretty much the same as Newcastle, except I'm not avoiding everyone there. So, anyway, being my usual needy, pushy self, I demanded Benjamin and Clare show me the sights, but as it turns out, that's easier said than done. Sights in that neck of the woods are few and far between, but there was, supposedly, something called the Kiama Blowhole worthy of a look, so I demanded we head off to investigate.

In much the same way a puppy, or small child, would have required constant stimulation, I suppose.

Anyway, on our way there, I spied something suitably phallic and distracting in the distance, and all of a sudden, I didn't care how intriguingly dirty this "blowhole" sounded- I'd found something more deserving of my meager attention span...THIS:

A REAL LIFE Buddhist Temple! So anyway, that's how my Buddhist Adventure started. And it was fantastic- I'd love to go back when I have more time, although I may need a disguise. A few lessons were learnt the hard way, and so, for you're blog-reading enjoyment, I present my list of lessons learnt in a Buddhist Temple. (Or, a few reasons why Michael shouldn't be allowed to roam free...)

Prepare to discover enlightenment. For which you're eternally welcome.

Firstly, just because the sign says "Incense of Offering" DOES NOT MEAN THEY'RE OFFERING IT TO YOU!!! I cannot stress this enough! You haven't experienced a glare until it's the glare of a monk when you've attempted to steal their sacred offerings. Personally, I think their sign should have been clearer.

Secondly, the fact that you see what LOOK like Swastikas everywhere does NOT mean they'll laugh at your satiric "Heil Hitler", complete with salute. Shit- WW2 was DECADES ago- are we still not laughing about that??

Thirdly, and possibly most disappointing of all,despite the fact that you're essentially standing in a giant dojo, muttering "MORTAL KOMBAT" and acting like the monks are about to engage in a fight to the death ISN'T smiled upon. In fact, as a bit of a rule, just stop assuming the monks know Kung Fu. It's less disappointing that way. It's not to say they COULDN'T have chosen to kick my ass with a roundhouse to the head, but signs generally pointed to the fact they weren't going to.

And finally, after the sixteenth statue in the bushes, reciting the "Don't Blink" speech from Doctor Who gets less amusing to your travelling companions. Even if you ARE just trying to save them from this...

Having said all that though, a day at the temple is a ridiculously entertaining experience, and honestly, if I could get back in there without threat of lynching, I'd totally do it again! I'd just, you know, require constant adult supervision or something...

(This may be why my mother kept me on a leash in Disneyland...)

Monday, June 14, 2010

Still not gossipping...

Ok, so, despite rumours to the contrary, I'm actually not dead. I'm alive, kicking, and STILL not one to gossip. But, having said that, I have LOTS to complain about. And what better reason to start blogging again.
Actually, it's funny how much things can change in just a few months- I feel like my life is at such a different point than it was when I was regularly updating this thing, which is why I probably fell out of practice so dramatically, which is a shame, because a lot of cool shit went down. I think now, to jump back in, it's best to think that you missed an entire season of a television show you used to watch religiously. All the characters are pretty much the same, but a lot of storylines have occurred that you've got no idea about, and don't understand any of the references to. Which is ok- you'll pick it back up if you read spoilers online, and in the meantime, you can make up your own reasons for why all the settings have changed and why some characters have been recast inbetween episodes. That's what fanwankery was invented for! In the meantime though, just know that you missed MANY amazing stories, like surprise airport visits, shark feedings, ghosts and weddings. They made for fabulous episodes though. Just be distressed that you missed them. I am.

However, as a SMALL consolation for all of that, and as my way to say sorry for letting this place fall into such disrepair while we've all been off, looking at more exciting websites, I've given it a facelift which looks pretty sharp, and I offer this. You're welcome.

I for one can't WAIT for her inevitable guest spot on Glee...

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

A timely look at Avatar

Ok, so fine. This comes, like, four months AFTER everyone else’s Avatar reviews, but so what. I’m nothing if not topical. My next post will be full of hilarious Sarah Palin references and my fears about Swine Flu. Deal with it.

I went and saw Avatar not long ago, after having it DRILLED into me that it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece since Steamboat Willy, so naturally, my expectations were cautiously high. James Cameron’s “Aliens” is still one of my favourite movies of all times, so we know he can make decent films, right? (You know, ASIDE from Titanic...)

Anyway. Naturally, I sprung the extra few dollars to wear the ridiculous 3D glasses, because I’m a whore for a good fad, and I’m glad I did, because, to be honest, the extra dimension was the films saving grace. Now, I HATE pissing on anybodies parade. Really I do. And I appreciate that people have loved the film. And honestly, I envy the people that did. Because I really wanted to. Nobody pays for a movie hoping for it to be shit- that’s just crazy. But I felt that Avatar was...well...boring. Pretty, but boring. Like an incredibly attractive person with no personality. You enjoy looking at them, but as soon as they start talking, you realise they have very little to say.

The film was basically 2 hours of climbing trees and watching neon lighting, followed by a fight scene at the end. Now, the final fight scene was, admittedly pretty cool, but I think people tend to forget that we had to sit through four hundred minutes worth of bullshit to get there! NOTHING happened, at any point in the movie, that you didn’t see coming at LEAST twenty minutes earlier. It was the theatrical equivalent of porn. Existing for the joy of watching it, but completely devoid of anything resembling substance.

I admit, I wanted to love Avatar. I really did. And I envy those people that did. I just couldn’t get past the fact that storywise, I’d seen it all before, and visually, yeah, it was great, but a film needs more than great visuals to survive. It would be like reading a shitty comic painted by Alex Ross, or playing a fucked up video game with amazing graphics. Half an experience. And I’m not prepared to rave about that.

Toss me the whip!!

Holy frigging cow. How is this not the SINGLE greatest piece of licensed merchandise ever invented?? And more importantly, why don’t I own it yet?? How have I survived without a South American Fertility Goddess piggybank?? Don’t panic- I’ve already remedied this by ordering one online (Fully justified expense, thank you very much. I’m trying to save money. This is a moneybox. WHAT do you save money in? Yeah, that’s right. Money box. Justified, bitches) I do worry slightly that once it arrives, I’m just going to spend all my time reenacting the opening of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but honestly, can you think of a BETTER way to spend my spare time? I didn’t think so.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Did I Miss Christmas?

Holy hell! Look at the time! My half-assed mission to watch four hundred and seventy Christmas specials obviously didn’t agree with me- it derailed my ENTIRE blog! Lesson learnt- Christmas Specials suck. Which is weird, because Christmas MOVIES are so awesome. Never mind, let us never speak of this again. So, what’s happened since we last spoke? Well, there’s been a new year, a new job, and a new Doctor Who, for starters.

Looking at the three of them, the new year seems pretty similar to the old one, except it sounds weird to say “2010”. Sounds like I’m describing somebodies vision. New Years Eve saw it in with a lacklustre fizzle, instead of the kickass bang we were expecting, thanks to a kinda dodgy dance party that failed to reach the dizzying heights it promised, but, you know, now we can spend the year waiting for it to get better! And then facing crushing disappointment when it doesn’t! We all win!

The new job is pretty cool. I no longer sell books for a living! I was really sad about it at first, because I DID love the bookshop, despite everything, but now, I’m excited about working for the bank. Which bank? I’m not sure I’m allowed to say it’s the Commonwealth. In case I bitch about it (which knowing me, I will). I just reached a point where I felt, I was 25 years old, and in desperate need of a proper job. And retail isn’t one. Lacking a University Education (and being too lazy to get one) left me with few options, but then I found this job, and not only does it pay SO much more than Borders, it’s fun! Of course, check back in with me in a few months- that fun factor could be severely diminished.

And the New Doctor? Seems pretty cool. I cried in David Tennants last episode, but I wont hold that against the new guy. And he seems pretty. Not “Tennant-Pretty”, but still, he has a cute about him that I shouldn’t dismiss.

I feel like I’ve got so much to share, but I think this is enough new information for one post- stay tuned and I’ll tell you the rest soon!

I love you all!