Pa.

"Well there was never any water out at the creek when I was a young fella, so we just didn't learn. And no basterd'd ever bloody seem to want to teach you. A half-caste tried to teach me once down at that river when I was about your age, but it was bloody hopeless" - Pa, on not being able to swim.

My grandfather is probably the most cliche Australian I know. He's one of those people that manages to be absolutely hilarious without trying or intending to at all.

I'm always on my phone, especially lately, partly because I joined the legions of pompous iPhone owners and partly because I am and have always been a person that desires continuous social interaction, especially when life isn't the best. Pa's latest method of chiding me about it is questioning whether whatever else I'm doing/saying is on the phone. Eg, I'm making us lunch and read a text message: "does that thing make the sandwhich for you does it?" or we're discussing who we think will win the tennis "that thing knows does it?". It's certainly a progression of sophistication from "I do NOT know why you ALWAYS have to be on that bloody thing". He asked me what time my sister was working today and I opened my phone to look at the picture I took of our roster. "I suppose that thing knows does it?" "Yeah actually, cos I've got a photo of the roster on here, see, she starts at one". Cracked me up. He hasn't used it again since but it won't be long.

Whatever.

I've felt like writing a lot in the past few days, but now that I'm actually sitting down here to do it, I'm not sure what to say. It's not so much a lack of things to say, more that there is too much to say.

Twenty Twelve so far, has been a hectic year. Nana is sick and not getting better, Dad and Stepmother are breaking up in an INSANE EXTREME way, Dad is facing charges for a crime he didn't commit, I was broken up with on my 21st birthday. Out of my little world, my dad's sister and her family are facing a whole host of serious issues that have affected my cousins in awful, awful ways. I need to write about all these things, but it's an effort to know where to start, what to put first. I'll probably just end up talking about how Maggie wouldn't let me fucking sleep last night because she's a fucktard or something.

Most days I'm not unhappy though. I just need to get out of the house and away from my own thoughts. Work has been my salvation, in a weird sense. I'm home from uni for the holidays, working at the same restaurant/bar/winery/function centre that I do most holidays. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have that to turn my head off from everything else.

I guess I'd write in here, because that's what I do if I can't stop thinking about something. I've got little half notes of things I've been writing everywhere when I'm thinking about this that or the other. Lists and all kinds of bullshit that I don't really know why I write. This is a bit more structured, which is nice, there's a necessity to make the words actually functional and rereadable.

Now I'm back to the same point of not knowing what to say, or what to start with, so I'm just going to bitch about irrelevent things that are bothering me. Mainly, that I can't get into the staff page for my job in my unitown. I've evidently forgotten my password but I can't for the life of me think what the fuck I would have made it or why I feel the need to make different passwords for different things as if I have a functional memory or something.

The other possibility is that the stupid bitch whore that I hate boss deleted my account. Which is entirely likely being that her behaviour is completely unpredictable. I decided to come home for the holidays to work assuming that would mean losing my uni job and concluding that it was still the best option. When I first applied for the job way back around Easter I told boss-face in my interview that I was planning on going to Europe (OHMYGOD I WENT TO EUROPE AND DIDN'T EVEN BLOG ABOUT IT! WTF IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!) in the July break as it seemed like the reasonable thing to do. I got the job anyway, and later when I told her the dates I'd be away she snarked at me something chronic. By this stage lots of little things had convinced me I didn't like her very much anyway so I just shrugged it off because fuck you bitch, I'm going to Europe. Post Europe shifts were ridiculously irregular and by October I was barely getting any shifts. My boss at home wanted me back for the holidays, and when Mum rung to tell me he'd been bugging her to get me to come back I hadn't had any shifts for two weeks. So knowing I'd get massive shifts (8-15 hour shifts rather than 2-6) and a lot more regularly I figured stuff it. As it was, boss-face text me before I'd gotten around to texting her to say this asking me when I was leaving for Europe (again? Seriously, I wish) and telling me that she'd heard off someone that I was planning on going. So I'm guessing that explains the lack of shifts, or something. I don't even know. Or care. But I wanted to get onto the staff site because I'm nosy and wanted to see who was still working and what the latest was. But my damn password doesn't work and I don't want to press the 'lost my password' thing, because it will probably notify her and I don't want her to think I'm coming back anytime soon because I intend on working here until mid Febuary. So I'm going to have to wait till then, and now I'm really irritated. FIRSTWORLDPROBLEMS.

Well that was a really odd entry, I feel it lacked any enduring sense of tone. Night.

The fault of the Sims.

After analysing my roster I've come to the discovery that I can make myself not home for the house inspection. This delights me a lot, especially since I have also discovered Josh will be home. So, much to his displeasure, I am shipping off to my hometown for most of a week and leaving him to the awkward situation that will surely ensue.

But that, disappointingly, means that I have quite a bit to do before I go home. For one, pretend that Elliot doesn't live here, as on paper he doesn't. I'm not sure what would happen if she discovered that he does, so rather than find out, I am going to make his bedroom look very much like a study.

This being my responsibility is my own fault. He intentioned to do it himself before he went home for the holidays but I persuaded him to instead spend hours trying to get the Sims to work on my computer because THE SIMS!!! The benefit of sleeping with living with a nerd is the ability to mention on a whim something that you feel like watching, playing or otherwise and then BAM he's built it from the internets. As it was though, it ended up taking way more time than we had to put it from his computer to mine because of *insert reason that I don't remember and didn't understand anyway here*. Piracy is a tricky business, apparently. So in the end, as it was insanely late when he did go to organise his room I told him I would do it and to go to bed because I didn't want him dying on the cartrip on the way home from being tired and having one of those microsleeps that Dr Karl is always talking about in his pyjamas. I don't want that on the conscience of myself and the Sims for the rest of our lives.

Man, I can not spell conscience. And I'm starting this new thing where I actually look the word up rather than just spelling it abysmally and then talking about how it's spelt abysmally. Which I guess isn't really working as I'm talking about it now anyway. Hmm.

Anyway I'm going to go be super sneaky and hide all the things that make his room look not like an office. Namely the clothes, manfume and bed that looks vaguely slept in. (I don't freaking know why it looks like that, I don't even remember the last time he slept there)

Adios

like, like, whatever. OHMYGOD. zz

So it turns out not having facebook is the way to motivate myself to update. The bizaare thing is that I don't really spend that much time collectively on facebook, but it's always open, and I'm always flicking back to it and remembering something I have to tell someone or wanting to post something that just happened as a status. So not being able to do that is getting on my nerves.

I was perusing over old entries, for old times sake, and my goodness. I didn't think I'd matured that much between year 12 and now. It has been over three years since I started writing this, but I recall thinking I was pretty damn mature back then. And for fucks sake I was doing my Higher School Certificate. Studying Advanced AND Extension English. I know I definitely casual down my writing for something like this as opposed to an English essay, but capitalisation and paragraphing would have been nice.

I couldn't handle it, so I edited a few posts. I limited it to punctuation, spelling, grammar and paragraphing. I felt if I removed all the ridiculous occurances of 'like' or reworded sentences so they didn't sound completely ridiculous I would be somehow damaging historical artefacts. I need to be able to look back when I'm forty and remember how hyperactively retarded I was. Or something. I also have a new very important rule, that I re-read and edit any post 24 hours after I write it. I feel this is probably for the best. To save 23 year old me coming back and hating myself again.

I think the thing I find the craziest, is that I know when I was 17 I was looking at things I'd written when I was 14 and hating my past self. I don't think I was ever an age where I thought 'hey I'm not very mature right now, these things I am saying/writing sound dumb' and yet I always look back on myself and detest those things. Which make me paranoid because I'm completely secure in myself now, but the evidence seems to point to the fact that I'm actually a ridiculous person I just haven't realised it yet.

In the end, I think disciplining this writing is probably the best for my sanity.

Wow, I sure wish I had something interesting to write about...

Life at the White House

So I managed to lock myself out of facebook. I changed my password, as I do every few months, after I get paranoid that too many people know my password and worry about the things I say in chat messages. Of course I then blab my password in general conversation and the cycle continues.

When I went to log back in the new password didn't work. Neither did the old password. I have no idea what I managed to do, because it makes you enter the new password twice, but I managed to try and work it out enough times that my account got locked for twenty four hours. Which is pretty awful on a day that I don't have uni, work, and Elliot left with his computer- ie my access to the Sims.

Oh, he lives here now. And Cody only kinda lives here. Cody, and his friend Josh. Or Herro, which is way easier because there is already one Josh in our house, fondly referred to as the White House by its residents and the troops of obscure and wide-ranging characters that come and go from its confines from time to time. Cody and Herro got a gig on a cotton farm. Driving tractors apparently, although I like to muse that they are off pickin' cotton or lament about the the old cotton fields in general, because I think it sounds way cooler, or atleast, southern. This means that they come and go, usually gone for a few weeks and then spontaneously in the house for a few days.

With them come, Lucy, Lucy's friend Alice who has this thing going on with Herro and any number of folk wandering into the kitchen munching on whatever we happen to have in the cupboard, traipsing from the front door to the garage with a simple nod of the head as they walk past the rest of us most likely doing something ridiculous awesome like playing risk. Only to return hours after we'd assumed no one one was home from the haze of the garage, cheerily say 'bye' as though we have any clue who they are, and return, in the form of somebody else in the morn.

The menagerie of drugs, people, people sleeping on the loungeroom floor and so on bothers Josh a touch. I tend to shrug it off, in return for having a few extra housemates for a few days and ignoring the ridiculous amounts of people coming in and out of the house (and not questioning what some of them are actually here for) we get Codys rent and share of the bills paid in full despite the fact that he quite often isn't here, the payments usually aren't on time, but they do come through. Not to mention, when they are home, free weed. Perhaps there is some deep psychology to it as well, a highly dysfunctional home environment is all I know.

I don't mean to paint the rest of us as motivated down-to-earth studious angels either. In fact, who am I fucking kidding, I live in a uni-style party house that is trashed most nights of the week. All my friends fuck each other and are drinking themselves out of livers three nights a week. Often in my loungeroom.

But, life at the White House is pretty boring tonight. Cody and Herro are out west. All the college kids and most of the uni town kids including Elliot have gone home. Josh is at a meeting. And I'm trying to get the Gruen Transfer to load while I procrastinate cleaning the ridiculous mess of a kitchen.

That being said, life at the White House is going to be worse next week when the incompetant real estate agent comes over for the house inspection. There is not even words to describe the cleaning we need to do. And how annoyed I am that I'm the only one that will be home to make awkward small talk with her.

And this, this is why I detest the holidays. I'm off to watch the simpsons clean the house.

ixnay on the abybay

Man, all that crazy talk gets hectic. Onto something a bit more lighthearted for today.

So I slept with Elliot. We hooked up a few times, and then ended up sleeping together. It was, ...eventful. Or, uneventful, perhaps would better describe. I don't know that I should have been expecting anything spectacular from a guy who started talking about a boy he once had feelings for directly after the first time we kissed. I was like, damn, mood kill there.

Turns out though, he's only a 2 on the kinsey scale. So, that's good. I think. I'm about as confused as to whether this reassures me as I would say he was about his sexuality if it wasn't for our new-age approach to gender loving. Ironic thing is, I can be quite a bit bisexual myself. So I'm a massive hipocrit in even remotely caring that he's a big ol' 2. Or not a hipocrit, being that I did end up sleeping with him, post gay feelings revelation. I will actually post expanding on all this gen-bi stuff later, but for now, this wasn't even remotely where I was headed with this.

But yes, the sex. So considering that I wasn't certain this guy was actually into chicks, there could have been any number of things go wrong. What I wasn't expecting, was premature ejaculation. We've all seen the billboards, we've all heard the radio ads. It isn't fun. But I guess, at the very least, it cleared things up a little on the attracted to girls front. I think. I'm still really confused.

Here is what bugs me though. And yes, this was what the post was actually meant to be about. I do not like condoms. Before you shoot me down, I also do not like STI's. And honestly, if you offer me a plate of a latex or a plate of chlamydia at the buffet, you know which one I'm going to take. So if I'm not one hundred percent (well, maybe like 87 percent, you can never ever be certain) convinced a guy is clean, I'm going to don the love glove. But I honestly believe the feeling is atleast three times better without them. And the thing is, for the most part, if I'm not certain that a guy is clean, I don't really want to jump into bed with him anyway. Condom or no condom. And, naturally, I'm on birth control pill, being a 20 year old university student who is not currently planning a family.

So, ages prior to the sex, a discussion about STI's came up completely seperately to any sex having, and we both talked about how we'd been checked even though we were careful and bla bla bla. Kinda tidbit of information that gets stored in the brain for later use. This, coupled with being on the pill, meant I didn't suggest any use of a condom. But, neither did he, and promptly seeded up my lady parts. Very promptly. Very very promptly. Not the point. If he had asked, I would have simply said I'm on the pill, a discussion would have happened ending in no condoms. Same, result, but it still bugs me. Here is a guy who has no idea what (if any) birth control a girl who he is not in a committed relationship with is using. And is willing to just throw a load in nonchalantly. Which irked me a little too, because I like to be on the cautious side and ask that the gentleman kindly direct his ejaculation as far from my ovaries as possible. Of course, due to the timing of the whole incident, the opportunity had not arose.

It got me thinking more about the whole thing, and I realised, it's not the first time I've encountered an unconcerned attitude to reproduction. And the odd thing is that it's usually the boyfriends that actually show any commitment to the whole prevention is better than a cure movement. Boys that are less committed, don't give a second thought. How is there not a bigger concern out there? I mean, seriously boys, smarten up, or you're going to be in a less than pleasent situation. There are a lot of girls out there who think getting pregnant would be just grouse. And even more that wouldn't be as pro-abortion in a real life situation as you might assume.

Why Jill is cahrayzee. (And Cody is an Arse)

Part Three of the Crazy Chronicles.

So, back track a little to the break up. Of course, despite the insistances of Cody, him and Lucy had developed into more than just friends. And they kissed, which we all fully expected. What we expected to happen next, was Cody would feel bad, call Jill, apologise profusely, cry a lot, and all would eventually go back to normal. How wrong we were, how very wrong.

It is completely beyond me, how he managed to be in an 18 month relationship with a girl (crazy or otherwise) and then in a heartbeat, break up with her, without even seeing her, and start fucking another girl. Not even just that, but start spending almost all his time with her. It was beyond callous, and beyond comprehension. On top of this, Josh and I have absolutely no idea what is going on. When Cody will be home (if ever) or what his plans are with anything. Completely ready to kill him.

Between Thursday and Tuesday, we saw him for maybe 5 hours. Then the fun part starts. I hop on facebook, Jill starts with the standard 'hope we can still be friends' yes, of course we can. Fine. Next time I go on facebook. Talking to me. And again. And again. Until I eventually turn facebook chat off. Because of course, it's all "how is Cody??" "Is he sad too?" "I'm so sad" "I love him so much". Now I feel for the girl I do. And I whinge and carry on about my own break up. But for the most part I do it in my head, or on here. Or to Jack. Who cops all my crazy so no one else has to. <3. Not to random housemates of my ex, and not every freaking time they try to go online and do anything.

And then it's the phone calls. She's calling the house looking for Cody. And there is something hugely awkward about the conversation you have with your housemates barely ex about where he is when he's fucking some other girl that you're not sure if the ex knows about or not. And of course, she doesn't just call once. If we answer, she'll give it an hour and call back. If we don't, she'll just keep calling. Eventually, Josh took the phone off the hook. And I had to be restrained from tearing Cody apart limb for limb when he did decide he'd come home.

Sympathy for the crazy turned into fuck the crazy eventually though. Tiresome as it might have been, I felt for the girl, and I don't think Cody had done a really thorough job of ending things. During one of our facebook conversations, I gave her some advice about giving him space, explained how Adam had really needed his space and not giving it to him just made things worse, and boys deal with breaks ups differently and bla bla freaking bla. At the end of the conversation, she expressly asks me not to tell Cody we've been talking (UM, WHAT?).

A day or two later, I come back from doing something or other with Adam, and Josh asks me how things between the two of us have been. Uh, fine, why? Josh thought as much, just double checking. Then informed me that Jill had told Cody quote He should be really worried about me because Adam and I had a friendship break up unquote. Really, I'm not sure what the point was, or what was possibly being achieved. But as Adam and I are just fine friends, and that was distinctly not at all what I told her, and after she instructed me not to repeat things to Cody, did so herself. Well, seems like cause enough to ignore the constant facebook messaging to me.

I think I'm just going to immerse myself in boys for awhile. If I ever speak to Cody again, he might even be invited.

Why Lucy and co are Cahrayzee.

Part Two of the Crazy Chronicles.

So I vaguely alluded to there being more to the craziness of our sister house. The first hint of bitchiness was Lucy and Josie vowing a hatred to Kate because she went to a party they weren't invited to. Cue awkward nodding all through hearing this story. About a week after this, we had the four of them over to dinner. Lucy and Kate rode, Josie walked from uni and Elliot walked from town. So, Lucy Kate and Josie end up at our house first, Cody and Josh are in town picking some things up. And all of a sudden I'm being bombarded with hate mail about Elliot. Wow. So I'm all, oh, I thought you guys got along. ...awkwardly chops garlic... Apparently not. Reasons for hatred towards Elliot include:
A. He spends too much time in the lounge room.
B. He always watches the news and talks about it
C. He's just, so, ARGH.
Yup, solid arguments there. Almost as solid as last weeks Kate hatred. All the while I'm trying to politely not get involved in the conversation and hoping the boys get home and manage to change the subject before Elliot arrives.

At this point Josh and I are both fairly well in agreeance to a distaste for the house, or mainly, Lucy. She seems to instigate most of the issues and manages to convince everyone at the same time that she is their best friend. Kate is her tagalong. Josie, I can't quite pinpoint, she's the most fun, but I think she is sometimes just mean for pure enjoyment. Elliot, completely clueless to all the girl drama going on around him.

The crazy goes on too. Elliot found out off mutual friends that they didn't intend him to live with them for much longer. Lucy claims it isn't true. Elliot and I kissed one night at the Club we go to. Josie spends the rest of the night trying to get me to take a band member home. An awkward tagalong attatches himself to our group one night. Lucy has a tantrum and claims he offended her, demanding he leave. I step in and say she's crossing a line, go and talk to the awkward tagalong. Kate yells at me and her and Lucy run off.

So, with absolute perfect timing of Josh and I swearing to have nothing more to do with them.. Cody and Lucy hook up. F U C K I N G W O N D E R F U L. Cody and Jill break up. Cody and Lucy spend every breathing moment together. And all the crazy continues.

This thursday just gone Lucy held a girls night. Conveniently, I heard about it from Elliot first, who wanted to know what our house was doing as he couldnt very well participate in the girls night. Bitchy crazy girls or not, I'm not even the biggest fan of girls nights. I mean, really, what's with them? I played innocent, knowing full well Lucy intended me along to the girls night, and claimed that we would all drink together. When I did get the text, I sent back a polite thanks, but I told the boys we'd drink together tonight. And I do believe I have been henceforth blacklisted. Hilariously, I wasn't the only girl who got invited to girls night and skipped to drink with the boys.
Perhaps it'll click some day.

Better the crazy bitch that lives 3 hours away than the crazy bitch that doesn't

Part One of the Crazy Chronicles.

I have always gotten along better with boys. Girls have this ridiculous ability to, for lack of a better expression, be a pack of bitches. And it's always so so petty.

Luckily, after high school, most girls move on from this. But, three years out of school now (I know, what?) I am discovering that this isn't entirely the case. The scary thing about girls who are bitches three years out of high school, is that they're really fucking good at it. And a little bit sociopathic. My logic is that in high school, most girls are just following the bitching trend, or releasing some pent up hormones. The ones that stick at it, they really enjoy it. Creeps.

So for this story to make any degree of sense, I'm going to have to outline some of the main players in my life to date. I currently live in a house with Cody and Josh, whom I love to bits. Cody had been in a longterm longdistance relationship with a girl for 18 months- since before he went away to uni. Our house has been "dating" another house. I'm worried about some of these names showing up on websearches (because I'm crazy like that) so I'm going to use psuedonyms for the more obscure names. The other house consists of Lucy, Josie, Kate and Elliot. I think we know them because Josh does some classes with some of the girls. I don't really know. I just know that somehow they all of a sudden exist in our lives in a big way. They just kind of appeared. Maybe they're aliens.

Anyway, they invite us to their parties, we invite them to ours. We have them over for dinner and vice versa. Lucy and Josh hooked up a few times and it really seemed like they were going to happen. Except that Lucy was kind of insane about it. She'd kiss him, then ignore him, then kiss him. She'd try to tell him what to do and when he didn't she'd start talking about boys she was in love with. It was really just a little weird. So thus ended that, and Lucy was unimpressed when Josh wouldn't play along anymore.

Enter Cody. So they have a bit in common. By which I mean they both like their drugs frequent and illicit. Don't get me wrong, the rest of our little gang isn't opposed to the occasional latenight spongebob with a joint session. They're just a little more intense about it. And so Lucy is all upset about Josh, and wanting to get high, and wanting Cody to stay over, and sleeping in Codys bed, and texting Cody all the time.

Josh and I are less than impressed at this turn of events, as Cody is seemingly oblivious to Lucys obvious efforts to break up him and ...erm, she's probably crazy enough to be able to find this if I make it too easy, let's call her Jill. Jill is not entirely stable. Upon moving in with Cody, Josh and myself quickly established this. She stayed here for a few weeks over the holidays. Kept a track of all our money and who owed who what, and called us out on it. This is, between the three of us housemates, no money involving her. Quite frankly, if I live with someone, and they owe me five bucks. I do not care. Because I'm probably watching their TV, or they're going to come home with MacDonalds and I'm going to steal half of it. And then when she was back in their hometown. It was the phonecalls. Freaking non stop. She's the only person I've ever encountered who will ring a homephone till it rings out and then ring it again straight away. Rinse, Lather, Repeat. Until something good comes on tv or something. And then there was the time she asked Josh over facebook what he was doing "me and Cody are just having a boys afternoon actually, it's really good having some beers and catching up, I only jumped on here to look something up. I'll talk to you later" and queue Jill ringing Cody and proceeding to talk to him about all the things upsetting her for over and hour. CAHRAYZEE.

Josh and I have a couple of chats with Cody along the 'anything going on with you and Lucy, you seem to be spending a concerning amount of time together, and you know, sleeping in the same bed' line. Of couse to no avail, they're just friends! It's fine! He loves Jill! Friends can spoon! And well, at this point Lucy has moved into the 'reason I don't like girls' category. It's not only the whole manipulating both my housemates thing, it's a lot of little behaviours that would take an essay to explain. I'm sure you trust my judgement. And BITCH IS TRYING TO BREAK MY HOUSEMATE AND HIS GIRLFRIEND UP OK.

So yes, Jill has a serious case of the crazies. But Josh and I are both pretty firmly feeling 'better the devil you know than the devil you don't' or, more to the point, 'better the crazy bitch that lives 3 hours away than the crazy bitch that doesn't.'

Sigh, I have things to do and drinks to drink, the saga will continue soon.

Appletinis and Mean Girls

I always do that thing where I say I'll talk about something and in turn don't actually feel like talking about it. But the mum scotch story is actually a bit of a funny one, so I'll bear with it.

My mother went to Malaysia recently, to visit my cousin and have a bit of a holiday. My sister is 17 now so she was home alone (much to my Mothers distress, who wanted her to go and stay with Dad). So I decided to go home for a weekend. Partly to spend some time with Bell, and partly to get away from ex-boyfriend-land for a bit.

Saturday night, my home crew got together, and we had appletinis and watched Mean Girls. It was one of those amazing nights where we talked and drunk all night. And in true teenager style, we ran out of vodka and raided the parentals closet. Goodness, can you believe it? Never in my underage years. Never in my teenage years. Never did I do the typical have a party because the parents are away and break into the grog cupboard.

Of course it didn't go down exactly like that. There were 5 of us including my self and Bell, and we were watching a chick flick. When our alcohol ran out, we reasoned that we could borrow some Scotch and return it when the bottle shops were open in the morning. Carefully noting the exact letter on the label it was full to. And naturally I forgot.

So back at uni and four hours away, five days later, mum texts to say she's landed and driving home. And then the crashing recollection. Of course, there is nothing to be done. My home crew are also no longer at home. My sister is still underage AND I managed to forget to leave my spare licence for her (if we can't work at the same place without everyone calling us the wrong name, we may as well use it to our advantage). So now I'm waiting for the phone call where she gets faux angry at me, I remind her how often she's gone into my room searching for the Scotch she knows I have in there and buy a bottle on my way home next for us to drink on the verandah.

Everybody wins really.

Scotch and feeling sorry for myself

Well, it seems like it's time again for my yearly blog update. So Adam and I broke up, which is actually really irrelevent to this blog seeing as I've written one post since we started going out and it was about STI's. Hmm. Unfortunately, I'm used to being the one that ends the relationship. And I was always all "ohh it's so haaarrd. Its so emooootionaaal. I think its harder on the one that has to eeend it". Yeah, wrong. So wrong.

In fairness, it was kinda mutual in the end. But that had a lot to do with me realising I wasn't going to be happy knowing that he wasn't completely happy. And my dignity stepped in when it turned to drunken-break-ups-sober-make-ups territory. Of course, that dignity was glaringly M.I.A for the countless nights that we ended up in the break-up sex territory. And that one that we spent together, just cuddling. Well goodness, that one is just embarrassing.

I think the point I was making was something about the horrible aching loss that I'm not accustomed to that leads to the awful temptation to end up at his door at 2 am suggesting we try and work things out -and then expecting to climb into bed and live happily ever after. But who wants to talk about that? Me, after half a bottle of Scotch. But you don't have half a bottle of Scotch now do you?

Don't get me wrong I haven't turned into a complete Damsel. I was my completely usual independant, flirting, problem-causing-and-then-refusing-to-deal-with self throughout the relationship. But then in some horrible irony when things did end, and it was my fault because of all the things I'd done that I shouldn't have, well then I wanted to take it all back, and I lost everything, and it wasn't worth it and -well you'd just think I was a man or something wouldn't you? But I don't want to talk about all the things I've done. Atleast not until after half a bottle of Scotch. But you don't have half a bottle of Scotch now do you?

Speaking of people that don't have half a bottle of Scotch- my mother. But that's a story for tomorrow. Who knows, I might actually start writing this thing again.

What better way to start a Tuesday than live at the wireless and an STI check

I went to the doctors last week, mainly because my gums bleed every time I brush my teeth. And I'm not talking brush them softer then dumbarse, bleeding. I'm talking, I pick my toothbrush up and they start pissing blood all over the place. And this for a girl whose Dad started to hide her toothbrush because she got over the top obsessive about having spotless teeth. Not good. Not handling that shit at all.

And, nota bene, my father didn't hide it because he was a terrible father (he was, irrelevent) but because it developed into an all consuming obsession. I'd brush them for over an hour, then be brushing again an hour later.

Anyway so I went to the doctor, and thought, what the hell, I'm going to man up and ask about the whole STI thing. Because, it's not like I've been entirely chaste. And the propoganda tells me those things are REAL easy to catch and you NEVER know you have them until one day BAM YOU'RE DEAD AND CAN'T HAVE CHILDREN.

He sent me to have a blood/pee test, and I'm sure I've mentioned before I'm a big baby about blood tests. Huge baby. So I worked myself up about it for a week, and then got up one morning to take my friend to her exam and figured. Well fuck it, I'm awake. I'm going to do this. I'm going to be brave! I'm going straight there. And so I did.

Straight to the wrong place after looking for a park for EVER and appreciate that I hadn't been to the toilet yet at all that day. Because I think there is nothing quite so awkward as sitting in a pathology office waiting to need to pee. So, busting to go to the toilet, I race out of the car into the place and the lady at the office looks at my request just long enough to read what it was for and I ASSUME JUDGE ME STOP JUDGING ME EVERYONE. Because, I was not at all in a paranoid place. And then tell me, that I'm in the wrong place and do I know where Trax is? Trax, the railway hotel. Mental flashback: tripping out of a pub, Nell screaming something, the taste of goon. Our college pub crawl. "uhhh...vaguely"

So onto the next place, by this stage my bladder is seriously threatening to give out. Run through the door, trip over a little, catch myself on the counter, throw down the sheet, cringe a second for the judgement that I'm sure exists and blurt out "and I really really need to pee so can I please do the pee test first".

Of course she wasn't at all judgemental, or if she was, she was proffessional about it. But let me just say, that piece of paper said AIDS on it. And WHAT THE FUCK THAT SHIT LOOKS SCARY. I mean I'm about 100 percent certain that I don't have Aids. I feel there is a slight slight slight possibility that I may have chlamydia. There's some statistic about where I live having the highest rates of it outside of Mars or some shit, and you know, all the stuff about not knowing you have it and dead babies. But this is not Bohemia, I'm not in Rent and I certainly don't have any aqquired immune anythings. It does figure that when you ask for an STI check they run everything, I JUST HOPE EVERYONE THAT HAD TO PROCESS THAT PAPER KNOWS THAT.

So as it was, I sat down for the blood test and three seconds later had no idea where I was or what was going on. I epically freaked out and apparently tried to fight off several staff. Talk about making a scene. I was told where I was and figured that that made sense, so I tried to lie there calmly. Focussing on being calm.
And then the nurse casually says "now there's just a bit of blood on your face"
OK. SO.
Number 1: Why? Why is there blood on my face?
Number 2: I am obviously not in the calmest state right now, I also obviously do not react well to blood and such things, hence me passing out and ending up lying on the floor with blood on my face. Is that really the thing you should be saying?

I somehow managed to respond with a weak smile and an 'oh, that's ok'.

Shortly after this I realised that there was a ridiculously cute guy in the room, rued the fact that he probably thought I had AIDS and figured oh what the fuck, I'm covered in blood and have a boyfriend, he can think I have whatever he wants.

But anyway, all's well that ends well. I called Robson to come pick me up and spent the rest of the day napping and not caring about the impending Soccer World cup. And truly, what else would I do with my Tuesday?

She brought us all home, one last time.

I got out of bed at 7.30 this morning, which is a somewhat odd experience. I'm sure I posted here once before about my Oma getting sick. And the wheels being set in motion for her 14 sibling wide, 4 generation long family to all find out, come home, and organise what must be organised.



I woke with a phone call from Dad, oddly enough I didn't realise it was 7.30 and spent the first bit of the conversation trying to pretend he didn't wake me up (assuming I'd slept to some ridiculous time like midday for him to be ringing me). Oma's health had been slowly deteriorating over the past year, to the point where sometimes now she isn't aware of reality and sometimes she is. This morning however, she had gone into a complete state of non responsiveness, still breathing but not communicating. And her breathing wasn't right.



Like clockwork the familiar organisations all came pouring out in Dad's shaking voice. Could I ring Anna, he had to call Liz, Michael had spoken to Mary and they couldn't get onto Alex. Katy's down there and he'll get down there as soon as he hears back from Ed and Jus. I hung up the phone and picked up my mobile to call Anna, I had three missed calls from Gebe which made me realise it was serious. My cousin was ringing me at Seven in the morning. I was in the car and on my way home from Armidale within the time it took to finish the multitude of phone calls. I managed to forget my laptop, any clothes, and shoes. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the comforting thought that I wasn't alone. Liz and Neil were on their way from Parkes, Mary, Greg & Curly from Penrith, Agy from Canberra, Big John from Goulbourn, Eddy from Port Mac, and Justine from Sydney.



Mez called at 10 to make sure I knew. I responded to his "hey how are you?" with "I'm on my way home" to save having to go into it, the horrible feeling of having to tell someone is the worst. "Oh, good. Thank God. I just wanted to make sure you know" "yeah I do, I'll be there soon...you ok?" "yeah, I think. You?" "Same" "Annes in the air, there's no way we can tell her before she lands' 'shit I forgot she was coming". Add Anne from Holland to the list. Talking to my two closest cousins, in age and in friendship was what really set the feeling going. This was big. The severity of a situation in our family can be somewhat measured by how much we pull together for support. It was nothing short of the worst car trip of my life. It's weird how my families support and love can make me feel comforted and at home, but shit scared at the same time.



I text mum to let her know I was home safe as soon as I drove into town, and headed down to the school to pick Anna up, as we had planned, and go to see Oma. My phone rung as I turned into the street the school was on and it was Mum, somewhat strained, trying to tell me to call Dad before I went into school. I was all, "Mum, it's planned, it's fine, stay out." "I just.. i just call him first. I don't know if they are at school...." and then I snapped into mild hysteria. "Do you know something? Mum what do you know? what happened? MUM TELL ME NOW. TELL ME I-" and then I dropped the phone as I saw Dad's car parked at the school and Dad sitting in the drivers seat with the door slightly ajar. Waiting. It all fell into place. He was waiting for me. Waiting until I drove to where Anna had told him we'd planned so he could tell me in person. Not wanting to call me at 10.30 when it happened because I was on the road and still had 3 hours to drive alone. Anna not telling Mum, because Dad said not to just yet, so there would be no chance of me finding out until I was safely home. Mum realising something was wrong when she talked to Anna anyway and wanting to stop me wandering into school to find it void of my relatives.



My whole world didn't come crashing down right then. It partly crashed a few years earlier when it was decided Oma had to go into a nursing home. Months after that it crashed more, when she had a mini-stroke. Again when I realised that her mind wouldn't quite be the same. And every time she couldn't recognise me, or asked where Opa was, or spoke to me in dutch and waited for me to reply. The day she became bedridden. Last Sunday when I couldn't get a linear conversation to happen with her at all, except when I left and said I loved her in dutch and she took a long breath in, paused for a few minutes and managed to say she loved me too. Yesterday when Dad called to let me know she seemed worse. This morning when he called to say she was barely conscious. And it would again later today when I was on my own with Mum, and it all hit me again, and she said all the wrong things and I yelled and cried and kicked things and drove down to Dads uncontrollably crying. And tonight when I realised, this was the last time we'd all be called home. But at the moment that Dad walked over to me, pulled me into a hug and said 'she's gone', part of my world came crashing down.



We went into school and all my old teachers gave me that painful sympathy face. I saw Dommer, my sister and cousin Dom's delighful friend, also Dom's partner in crime and name-sharer. He told me 'all the crazydutchlastname kids are in the first seminar room' (Yes, I'm still afraid of this blog being found). Anna, Demi, Bronte, Mez, Dom and Jacob all hugged me. We joked about how we take up a whole seminar room and it's not even close to all of us and me and Bronte cried a little. And then my sister told me 'Liv, I cried. I balled my eyes out.' and proceeded to break my heart.



I told Dad I'd call her that morning. It seems odd to most people, but it made perfect sense to me. My Dad had so many people to ring, and so much to organise, and he wanted to get down to the nursing home. Anna was the one person I could actually take off his back. We are close, we get each other, and besides, we both know Anna never gets emotional about anything. Things just don't bother her. I mean, the everyday things do, like when her one-handed slut friend with a boyfriend that isn't really a friend hooks up with our friend that just became a teacher. Or when good television isn't on because of the tennis. But she doesn't cry about people. It's not that she doesnt care. It's just how she's always been. So I rung her as planned, she said she'd rather just wait till I get here to go see Oma and we organised for me to pick her up from school. I told her I was gonna go so i could get on the road and she said see you soon. "and Bell..are you ok?" "yeah. ..you know how I am." And she really was fine. "Dude one day you're going to get a gun and go shoot a whole bunch of people" "hahahaha probably" "just sayin...anyway I'll see you soon".



She went off to school, with it on her mind, but fine nonetheless. And then in religion they prayed, and it reminded her of Oma (if you'd met my grandparents, you'd understand). So she started telling her friend Mady about it and next minute there is a knock on the door and Mez appears, asking Mr Thomas if he can see Anna. She's like hmm, ok.. and starts to walk to the door when Mez realises Dom was in the same class. "Oh, and Dominic too" .....oh fuck. The three of them walked in silence. James, usually the one to be grinning about anything managed to say "There are people waiting down at the office" and that was it. Anna's head was spinning and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She said it was the longest walk of her life, and it felt like the already seemingly endless path to the office went for even longer. Dom leaned into her and said in the most serious, most unlike Dom voice she'd ever heard "this isn't good, is it." "nope." And as they got closer to the office they made out familiar shapes at the office. Dad, John&Tanya, Michael&Colleen, Demi, Bronte, Jacob. And when Dad broke the news that she already knew in her heart to her, she fell into his arms and balled her eyes out. And she felt him start to cry too. And when she told me that, especially the last bit, on the way to get pizza tonight, my heart broke into a thousand pieces.


To my darling Oma, Ik houd van u, I love you, Rest in Peace. And I'm sorry my dutch spelling is so terrible, one day I'll learn it properly.

You could wash a car in those boots!

I'm reviving my blog, in the form of top ten lists.
So...

Ten Reasons You Shouldn't Employ Me As Your Babysitter

1. I just ordered a "goon sunrise" as if it is a perfectly respectable drink.

2. I repeatedly and excessively told you throughout the night I'M REALLY GOOD WITH CHILDREN! REALLY GOOD! I LOVE THEM!.

3. I dirty danced a guy on the dfloor in front of you, followed by macking on with him for quite some time and not doing anything about the fact that he was noticably groping me.

4. Followed by me turning around, still being somewhat groped by said guy and proclaiming, "I swear I'm really good with children!!"

5. I couldn't quite remember my phone number. I got there eventually, but it did take three tries.

6. I'm wearing a beanie and glasses which are clearly not mine. Well the glasses at least are clearly not mine as I'm currently squinting over them to look at you.

7. I introduced myself as God.

8. I snuck an underager in here. Mostly by just talking alot and hence confusing the security guards into thinking they'd checked her ID. Twice.

9. You definitely saw me crawling under a table. But this was only to retrieve my jacket. I may have shouted a little trying to explain this.

10. I swapped shoes with a guy wearing cowboy boots and wore them around for the rest of the evening, after he proclaimed "you could wash a car in those boots!". I possibly repeated this proclamation. Several times.

edit: I somehow forgot to add the point at which I asked "are you like the babysitters club? I love the babysitters club. Dawn was my favourite"

But, despite all of that, I maintain that I am actually a ridiculously great babysitter. Because I do babysit SOBER. And being a small child at heart I am in turn, awesome with small children. I'll keep you posted as to whether I get the job...

Cheesus

So I pretty much never post anymore, college life is very all-encumbering.

But after polite reminders to hurry up and blog, this particular headline caught my eye and I just had to laugh (I saw the photograph(Beatles reference there if anyone picks it up))

Cheesus

Hope it gives someone else a laugh, and now off to do my due-in-about-24-hours law assignment

xx

The superiority of roll on deodorant

Dear Fuckers that go to Earle Page College.

It has come to my attention that Roll on deodorant pwns Spray deodorant.

Now before you all protest wildly, kicking and screaming that you NEED spray deodorant because it makes you smell not bad I have some shocking, shocking news:

ROLL ON DEODORANT PREVENTS BODY ODOUR

That is right! Believe it or not, contrary to seemingly popular belief, spray deodorant is not the only deodorant that works. I use roll on deodorant and I do not smell. I know this because I smell myself frequently. And make other people smell me. And pay ridiculously close attention to how people react to being close to me. Because I'm paranoid like that. You should try it. You do tend to convey insanity but on the plus side you learn new things.

Now when I say 'it has come to my attention' what I actually mean is, I have known for some time. Since, in fact the day when, early in O week, someone or other that I was yet to recognise stood up and said something along the following:

"Bla bla bla fire alarms in every room, bla bla bla fire trucks come, bla bla bla automatically go off, bla bla bla spraying deodorant will set them off, bla bla bla billion dollar fine"

See? I wasn't even paying full attention and I got the general gist.

Initially, I only cared because I didn't particularly fancy a billion dollar fine to my name. I need that money for tuition and the ridiculously overpriced textbooks and stuff. To you know, be a uni student, and live at the college with the fucktarded fire alarms and all. But then I realised that there is one thing worse then a billion dollar fine. And this is a fire alarm.

See, last night I decided, when I realised it was 3-something Am and I was still awake that I would skip my history lecture this morning in order to have a sleep in and have some time to do that damn history essay. And then, at like 8am, here I am in a nice comfortable warm slumber, when all of a sudden what do I hear but SIRENSIRENSIRENSIRENSIREN etc. And I'm all well fuck that shit! But evidently staying in bed ignoring it is not an option so I, almost automatically as they are so freaking common, haul arse out of bed, get dressed, wearily stumble out the road and sit in a huddle with the rest of my floor in the FREEZING COLD. For something that amounts to probably about 30 minutes. Whilst staring at the plainly not on fire building that I just left.

Of course soon enough the floor responsible is found out from the alarm monitor and a chant of 'MID B MID B MID B MID B MID B MID B' is executed. And what set the fire alarm off? Well, let's see..Oh that's right THE SAME FUCKING THING THAT SET IT OFF EVERYTIME.

Seriously, how did you fuckers get into Uni?

So, please, in future, find it in your heart to use roll on deodorants. I will buy them for you if you wish. I will even apply them to your underarms. Just don't make me go through ANOTHER one of those ridiculously recurring, entirely preventable, sleep-wasting fire evacuations.

Your loving collegian, Livi

Ps. FUCK.

shit weekend

So i had, all in all, a fairly shit weekend.

I think the worst of it was that it was all self-inflicted. (God I'm retarded)
I guess what it came down to was that I went a little insane.

I did something stupid and broke up with my boyfriend. Which may not have been stupid had it been the right decision, but it didnt take long to realise that it wasn't. I think the retardedest (most retard?) part of the whole depressing, embarrassing, shit, situation was that when I think about it now I can't really pinpoint why I felt like I wanted to at the time.

I think it was predominantly my reaction to feeling out of control because life has been so hectic lately. And I also overthink things, very much so, and it all just accumulated until I was in a situation which very much amounted to staying or leaving. Then I started hating myself more and felt like leaving was the ONLY option. Because, I am retarded like that.

Thankfully my boyfriend is amazing and instead of telling me where to go was ridiculously supportive and there for me and wasn't even mad at all.
Seriously how can you not be mad?!?

And thankfully we have the most amazing bunch of friends in the world who, essentially dropped everything to be there for us, all because of my stupid moment of stupidness. Seriously, when I can message someone with "can you please go to Joe's" with no explanation and they completely understand and drop everything to go and be there it just shows what friendship is. (I LOVE you Jack, really). And when within probably ten minutes of getting off the phone I have a message giving me a fuckload of support despite the person being a billion miles away and knowing i brought it on myself and when I dont actually have to tell any of the people that live on my floor that I'm upset, despite the fact I've only known them for about 2 months, yet they come into my room and talk to me and make me eat and tell me it's ok and when I can message someone at three am saying that I need a hug and they come down and give me one, and tell me that Im not stupid and that I can fix things in the morning. It just all makes me realise how lucky I actually am.

OH HOW SAPPY.

But really, it needed to be said.

More later, on a hopefully more positive note, Livi

Fred&George&Murder

Happy Birthday Fred and George Weasley!!






I got this from here and thought it was absolutely adorable. The Weasley twins were always up there in my favourite Harry Potter characters, they had some of the best lines in the books.

So this is relatively shortlived as I just got a phone call from Patrick who is coming over from his college to pick up the blue shitalcohol he left here the other night.

The conversation went like this:

Me: Hello

Pat: Olivia

Me: ..Pat?

Pat: I'm coming over to get my alcohol.

Me: mkay

Pat: What are you up to tonight?

Me: Work. I got two assignments due on friday

Pat: your not going out?

Me: nah i got assignments and a cold

Pat: ok im coming over and drinking with you

Me: Nooo I'm sick and have assignments!

Pat: ok I'll see you soon. drinks!

Me: But...FINE

Adios

I confess! ...umm..I unconfess...

There are quite often news stories that trigger in me a hearty or lengthy laugh, this being one of them..

Man arrested after "deathbed" confession"

Oh the irony of the thinking your dying, confessing dramatically at the last minute to the murder of your past, and then finding out that you aren't in fact dying at all.

Doctor: He's Dying!
Man: Well in that case, I CONFESS EVERYONE, it was I who killed him! MUAHAHA what are you going to do about it now, fools...
Doctor: uh, turns out he's not..
Man: ....shit. ...So...about that whole..hem..confession thing..
Police: *clink handcuffs*


In other news, I've been meaning to tell this story for awhile but was reminded of it when I walked passed a particular lecturer today.

If you all remember I enrolled myself in a philosophy unit It was one of those things where I figured it would be fun just as a throw away unit however don't ever do Philosophy at uni. Seriously our first lesson went like this:

Russian Professor guy: hi. the walls are blue. how do we know the walls are blue? because we know. are they blue? yes, the walls are blue. Levers are like our arms and things. We use many levers. And you see, the walls are blue. So when we talk about reasoning and levers we are talking about solving a problem. So these walls are blue. But is their life on Mars? We all have levers.

I'm not even exagerrating.

Initially, my reaction was like oh well it's a throw away unit, it's probably easy to get a good mark in, there isn't a textbook to buy, i'll do it anyway.

Uninitially. I decided fuck it and took up Italian which I will probably major in.

Now I keep getting emails from the Phil Lecturer cos I'm still on the mailing list and when I pass him in the corridor i SWEAR he glares at me. Some argue it's just his blank facial expression but whatever it is it scares me into KNOWING THAT HE IS PLOTTING HIS REVENGE ON ME AHHHHH

Why is living at College so freaking awesome?

ok so I don't know how it works everywhere else but for here...




Uni(versity): UNE. The building at the top of the hill with all the classrooms that you go to to do lessons and learn and get a degree and shit.

College: Earle Page (Or Austin or Duval or one of 8 other ones) Where you live if you choose to live in college. Involves all the sports and events and spirity shit. You can go to uni without going to college but not the other way around.


Perhaps that is me being condescending but everyone I talk to is all wait you walked back to college what? And before I came here I used the two interchangeably. Now it seems just weird.


Ok so question and answer time...


Question: Why is living at College so freaking awesome?

Answer:

a) the food is so delicious
b) you get plenty of sleep
c) its really quiet for study
d) you get to dress up like HARRY FREAKING POTTER in these cool arse robes buts its all super serious and you get to pretend like mad that your LIVING AT FUCKING HOGWARTS.


If I was heaps magic at html, or if I could be bothered googling how to, I'd make the answers all cool and upside down.


As it is:


1. I'm lazy
2. It's late
3. the answer is blatantly obvious and
4. I like not doing things then doing other things in avoiding the original thing which ultimately end up taking more time and effort hence defeating the original purpose of avoiding (seriously, does anyone else have this problem??)

anyway...




a) the food is so delicious


b) you get plenty of sleep


c) its really quiet for study



d) you get to dress up like HARRY FREAKING POTTER in these cool arse robes buts its all super serious and you get to pretend like mad that your LIVING AT FUCKING HOGWARTS.