The World According To Me

Time for some bloggy goodness, what with all the nagging that's been going on I feel quite pressured to come up with the goods. Not quite sure I'm able to today, however, as I have a brain fog that has pretty much sapped any sensibility I may have. About 10 minutes ago I found myself at the printer, in the middle of our open plan office, scratching my arse without any awareness of the clients sitting in reception (I was in plain view). I'm grunting in reply to questions people ask me. I'm so hungry I could eat the proverbial out of a koala (Thanks Vyner).
So, lovely weekend had by all, I think. Albury on Sunday night unfortunately disappointed me in that there wasn’t much going on apart from weird alien like looking bloke doing some intermediary work with his mate for me (no love) , so have resolved to return one day on a Saturday and see if the town can redeem itself in my eyes. Highlight for me was meeting hot hot hot bloke at the 24 hour pokies place, followed very closely by the Milawa cheese factory on the way home on Sunday. Also eating my own bodyweight at McDonalds at Glenrowan and then developing such a headache from the chemical shit in that food that I was going to cry (did not complain as I was the one championing for the stop there since we left Wodonga). Oooh, another highlight was speaking to Greggo on Sunday night when we were pissed. She sounds very happy!
Can't wait to leave this place and go home to Raftis' house. Some illegal substances are definitely on the agenda tonight.

Silent shit-fight continues in house from hell. Discovered fat and old housemate had packed up all my glassware along with his (including the gorgeous crystal scotch tumblers which weigh about ½ a kilo each that I got for my 21st). Also realised this morning that he is using my toaster in place of his own (because no doubt it is in a box somewhere with all the plates I would like to eat off). Consequently I boxed said toaster up so the arsehole couldn't have breakfast. I hate it when things disintegrate like this, it's very petty and stupid. And because I know that fat and old housemate is a gossipy little biatch, I am further aware that he will, in the future, slag me off to anyone who will listen. Deep breaths…..rise above it Kymmy….

Things I would like to happen when I wake up tomorrow;

1. Be in a huge luxurious bed with thick cotton sheets and a doona which is 2ft high;
   
2. Be in a house which is my own;
   
3. Be next to a gorgeous, tall, buffed man (who then gets up to make me coffee without being asked, returns to bed and bestows me with oral pleasure for hours on end);
   
4. Have a fast metabolism which renders me a size 10 but being able to eat whatever I want;
   
5. Have a midget butler in my employ (He would be more of a Man-Friday really);
6. Not have to go to work because I am disgustingly rich.
   

Things that are more likely to happen tomorrow when I wake up;

1. Will have terrible bed hair;
   
2. Will still be 'curvy';
   
3. Will not be in own house;
   
4. Will have to go to work;
   
5. Will want a cigarette and strong instant coffee as soon as my eyes are open;
   
6. Will have achy joints;
   
7. Will be alone and devoid of oral pleasure.

Right, well it's now Tuesday morning, I am sitting at my desk with a bowl of gluten-free, wheat-free, taste-free museli. The only reason I am eating it at my desk is because when I got home yesterday, discovered fat and old housemate has packed up all crockery and cutlerey so cannot possibly consume food in my own home anymore. Greeeaaaaattttt.

Still having internal emotional turmoil about Sunday night and the kissing of married bloke. Can I start by saying that when we gave up our great table in the beer garden to join a table of bucks night participants, I started talking to a lovely, clearly older and clearly married Irish bloke who was not in any way physically attractive but who had a sparkling personality and a great sense of humour. Lets call him Seamus. I thought bewdy, I'll be safe here. And not safe as in otherwise I'd be staving off hoards of letchy boys (which was clearly not the case) but safe in that I can sit there all evening and have some great conversation without any pretences of putting out later. So here we are, for hours, waxing lyrical about mindless crap, I'm having a bri-yant time. Particular to note is the conversation whereby Seamus and I had a great giggle at the rest of the participants of the bucks party, all of whom were apparently married but were just not wearing their rings (hot hot hot pommy bloke excluded), chatting up my friends. This was fine, we were all having a good time, and some of us were even speaking English as a second language. Seamus was most forthcoming about his wife at home, and I thought that was great, enquiring about her and how they met, etc etc. Then it comes time for them to leave. So they all heave their drunk selves out of their chairs and go to head towards the bus. Seamus extends his arms for a hug goodbye, which of course I'm quite amenable to, seeing as though he's provided me with a wonderful evening of entertainment. And then it happens, he goes in for the snog. And we kiss. And what a great kiss it was. Shocked the fuck out of me, but by the time I overrode my instincts, stopped the kiss and said "We shouldn't be doing this", the damage was done. So some minutes later, when it appears as though the bus hadn't left yet, he came back in the pub lookig somewhat sheepish, sought me out, bought me (and himself) another champagne and he toasted to "great kisses", and we did it again. And again. And again. Until such time as the bus driver came and found Seamus to tell him they'd almost driven off without him. So then he finally leaves me, after telling me how wonderful and beautiful and sexy I am and if only 'things were different' (What the??!!) and also after detailing what would happen "if things were different". He walked out the door, taking with him my faith in the sanctity of marriage, and providing me with a terrible sense of guilt, that I had been a party to a bloke cheating on his wife. Because I am the sort of person who could never forgive my husband kissing another woman. Kissing is cheating. Talking, flirting, that's fine, but the line was crossed when he shoved his tongue down my throat. Now, I know what you're thinking, I could've stopped it. There's no excuse, I could have done exactly that. Which is why I feel so terrible, even now. So the question is, what am I going to do to absolve my guilt? Is there anything that I possibly can do?

Assistance is required, please.

Trying to think of something vaguely interesting to write in my blog today. It's really not happening, all I can think of is how excited I am that I'm going to get some swinging seat action tonight after work at the Raftis Mansion as it has been far too long.

Also VERY excited about the Sunday Races action at Echuca. And I don't even like horses. I'm with Mel here, getting frocked up and drinking bubbles while the sun still shines is pretty bloody good. I love getting frocked up, I really do. I love having a hair time-budget (absolutely necessary) and putting so much make-up on my face that I don't even look like myself (but in a good way). Since losing some weight, I love putting on great clothes, smearing shimmery stuff all over the skin I leave exposed, wearing some great big fuck-off earrings that reach my shoulders. Fuck, it's starting to sound like the blog of a drag queen here….

I digress….

Sometimes I worry that it's all a bit superficial, but then again more often than not I get around in trackies or PJ's anyway, so it's not like I'm spending all my time primping and preening. It's grat fun to go out with the girls and (well, for the first half an hour at least) act somewhat civilised…

Raftis - I think I should do a scan of the crowd from the great height that I am, to select the most misshapen skull for you and then you need to go and apprehend him and pash him;

Greggo - You need to drink yourself to the point of either paralysis or unconsciousness - who cares what the fuck you do? You don’t have to see anyone in Echuca again!

Vyner - I don't need to tell you what to do - you're a frigging machine!!

I'm sitting at my desk at an inordinately early hour….there is a meeting on this morning which involves all of the partners of my firm and thank Christ I did get up when my alarm went off because I pulled into the office car-park at 7.20am to find one of the partners standing outside the office without his key. Kymmy the super-employee with her obvious dedication to the job saved the day by being able to let him in! Hellooooooo pay-rise (yeah, right).

I have a positive step forward in avoiding homelessness next week thanks to Greggo who has put me on to one of her friends who's looking for a housemate. Am going to have a look at the place tonight and am very excited. All I ask for in someone to live with is some semblance of cleanliness and someone who's not going to be mean to my friends or make my life difficult. I don't want to get into another bitch session but the sooner I move out from the current housemate who is "fat AND old" (thanks Jen!!!) the bloody better. He's such a moody fucker, no wonder he's all alone - he's totally made himself that way. The other housemate…..am going to miss somewhat….well mainly the constant flirting and sporadic fucking. And I know what you girls have said about the apparent nerdiness…..but I can't see it…in fact there's just something about him which is really fucking distractingly attractive. I'm sure we'll continue to be 'friends'.

My mother texted me last night at 10pm to tell me my little canine substitute child (who is now living at "nanna's farm") went to bed all by herself with no need for the lead or any other form of coercion. I am so proud! As sad as it sounds, I really miss having Lucy around. Although I've now been afforded the opportunity to have a bit of a life which involves being able to stay away from home for longer than 12 hours. It can only be a good thing.
Ugggh, rambling….

To avoid the possibility of being viewed as a total whinger on the strength of my last posting, coupled with the lack of initiative to do any work this morning, I'm going to make a list of things that completely rock my world. Get ready….

1. The Hoff. The chest rug. The piercing stare. Nuff said.
   
2. Guilt-free shopping. Seriously, buying something great when you know it's not going to put you into further debt (doesn't happen very often, admittedly). Especially frivolous items, such as big dangly earrings, new frilly underwear or books.
   
3. Chick magazines. They're big, heavy, expensive, glossy, full of ads for things I can't afford/would never want anyway, and the combination of "10 steps to happiness/a new man/flat stomach" really makes you feel you can fully in control of your life. Ahem.
   
4. Good coffee. My lifeblood. Coffee is great because it's like wine but without the loss of control or hangovers. Coffee can be a social lubricant, a pastime, a saviour. I heart coffee.
   
5. Men. I'll clarify - some men. It's the smell of them, the feel of them, the way they make you feel. Alright, it's just about the sex.

I didn't want to start a blog, I really didn't. It's absolute nerd fodder, another non-work related distraction that my firm won't appreciate, and a waste of time. But Vyner and Greggo and now Raftis have got one and by Christ I didn't want to feel left out. Actually, the most appealing factor would more be the chance to vent in relative anonymity, which I think will be quite cathartic, if the wrong people don't read this. And how will they unless I give them the link? Exactly.

I don't even know what I'm going to put in here, maybe I'm going to start by having a bitch about the world in general…..

Five things that annoy the shit out of me:

1. Radio stations putting those doofed up 80's classics on high rotation, and the DJ's/Artists (whatever they want to be called - pill popping dole bludgers is a more apt moniker I reckon) for "creating them". Yeah right, if you want to "create" - do something fucking original. Leave the 80's where it should be - in the downstairs "retro room" of any dodgy nightclub where middle aged divorcee's with black lacy see-through tops drink Bacardi Breezers and dance around handbags.
   
2. The way any bloke in a uniform/suit gets under my skin and in my head so easily. Sweeeet.
   
3. People who cough forcefully and grimace when they walk past as you're having a fag. If it bothers you, fuck off away from me.
   
4. "Funny" greeting cards. Birthday cards aren't funny. If you care enough about the person to give them a card, don't fuck it up by trying to make it amusing. It's not. Same goes with Anniversaries, Christmas and Births. If you've got enough sense not to even contemplate a "hilarious" card extending your sympathies at the loss of someone's loved one, why would that change for any other significant event?
   
5. Pixie chicks with Pixie chick attitudes. Good luck to you if you can wear short denim and hankies in place of tops, but don't let it define you. And eat something for Chrissake.

That's all I can think of this morning, although it's definitely not the end of things that annoy me. I'm sure I'll think of some more later…