Blog Swap Failure

So, over on 20 Something Bloggers they were having a Blog Swap. Obviously I signed up, and got stuck into writing a blog for it. HOWEVER, the person I was partnered with hasn’t presented me with a post, nor has he posted mine, so I’m just going to go ahead and blog swap with myself. I’m cooler than him anyway.

The subject was: ACTION. What will you do next year that you’ve been putting off for too long?

So, here we go:

Oh golly. This is an interesting one. I could go the traditional route and go on about how I’ve always wanted to get fit, but that would make for a ridiculously boring post so I’ll steer clear of that one. Let me think...

I have been putting off a lot of things. It’s kind of what I do (and don’t you dare lie and say you don’t do it too, because I can tell by the look in your little eyeballs that you’re exactly the same), so there are quite a few things to choose from.

A year and a half ago I started a course in Parapsychology, which I have yet to really begin. It’s via distance education, so it’s not like I’ve been wagging class and smoking behind the bike sheds instead of sitting down and getting stuck in so DON’T JUDGE ME! Ready for the excuses? I work full time. Sure, my job is boring and I never have enough work to do and could do my assignment then, but I’m always so tired, and when I’m bored at work I have NO motivation for assignments. I’m also doing a course for work that I have assignments for and they’re more important than this one, and I don’t have time to do two lots of assignments. I did bring all of my assignment paperwork to work so I could attempt to do it, but I haven’t gotten that far yet. AT LEAST I’M TRYING!

Yup. So uh, I should probably get onto that next year.

I’ve also been putting off that whole “get a new job” thing. I really don’t enjoy my job. As I mentioned before, I don’t really have a lot of work to do and that, my friends, is one of my biggest pet peeves. I amuse myself by having staring contests with the walls (they ALWAYS win! You’d think they’d let me win at least once, but noooo) and finding bugs in the office and making up amazing back stories for them. One killed himself in my coffee a few weeks ago because his wife left him and he lost him job. Poor fellow just couldn’t hack it.

Lately I’ve been writing letters to friends that usually feature a stupendous stick figure drawing. I know guys, you wish you could have a letter like that, but I just can’t write to everyone you know. But what I’m saying is: instead of overdosing on coffee, running off to the toilet every two minutes due to said coffee intake, finding insects and befriending them and singing songs about how crap my job is, I SHOULD DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT AND FIND A NEW JOB!

While I will miss my little bug friends, I think finding a job I’ll be happy in will make up for it. The hard thing is finding that new job though, and I have a feeling that it will be quite the difficult task. Like seriously, this is stressing me out more than trying to think of new names for my bugs, and that’s a pretty stressful task. For realsies.

What else? Hm. Oh yes. QUIT SMOKING, YOU DIRTY TRAMP. I’ve told my boyfriend that in March I shall quit, so I now have to follow through with that. I am not looking forward to it. Smoking is horrendous, I know this, but it helps me feel less anxious and awkward and gives me something to do with my hands when I’m nervous. I sure am full of excuses today. I’ll be off to Thailand in a week, so I can’t go giving up smoking now when I can buy a packet of cancerous goodness for $2! Yeah, I know, cheap right? I’m sadly excited.

That my friends, is what I need to get a move on with next year. You know, when I get back from Thailand and have recovered from all the relaxing I’ll be doing. Oh my god, this post is basically me whining all about shit I need to do to. Ah, you asked little ones, whether you know it or not, so leave me to wallow in self pity and maybe I’ll motivate my face to get a move on. MAYBE. I’m not promising you anything, so if I don’t go ahead with anything you can’t get mad at me because I haven’t promised! Ha!

Alright, I shall hand Ninja In A Mazda* his blog back. I’m sure he’ll want to discuss my post in detail, and chronicle how it made him feel every step of the way. Or maybe he’ll just forget that this whole thing ever happened by getting rip roaringly drunk and passing out for a week and then continuing on with his blog as usual. Either way, I’m happy. Goodbye cupcakes.

* He can keep his blog. Yeah WHAT?! I wasted a whole paragraph on him. Hmph!

I feel oh so let down. I was so excited to do a blog swap. L Boo!

I Was Attacked By A Werewolf: The True Story

Yesterday, I was attacked by a werewolf. Honest to gosh, it happened. I couldn’t get to sleep last night, so I decided to go for a walk to tire myself out. I crawled out of bed, put some clothes on and headed out the front door, making sure to leave it unlocked so I could get back in without having to carry my keys.

I ambled up the street, humming along to myself so there wasn’t complete silence. I was about 100m away from my house and walking past the park when I heard a strange noise. I stopped walking and looked toward the park, trying to figure out what I was hearing. It was a kind of snorting noise, like the sound a pig makes while it’s sniffing around in the dirt.

Naturally, I assumed it was a pig. Sure, we don’t really have pigs around my neighbourhood, but maybe someone kept it as a pet and it escaped into the night because the owners weren’t treating it right. It happens more frequently than you’d think, so stop your scoffing. So anyway, as I was sure it was a pig, I went over to try and make friends. You can never have too many friends, you know.

I peered around the bushes in the park, trying to locate said pig and softly cooing, “Here little darling. Come hereeeeee.” I was about to give up the search when something came rushing out of the bushes and bowled me over. I let out an “oh!” as my head connected with the ground. On top of me was a werewolf. A real, honest to gosh WEREWOLF. It was covered in hair, smelled of a strange mix of bundy rum, perspiration and stale cigarettes and was breathing heavily on my face.

I screamed for my life, which seemed to throw the werewolf off for a moment, which gave me the opportunity to push it off and scramble to my feet. I bolted, but the werewolf had recovered enough by then to be following closely. I was just about at my front gate when a piercing pain shot through my neck and blood spurted everywhere. I continued running until I reached my gate, threw it open and sprinted to the front door where I pulled it open, ran inside and slammed it in the werewolf’s face.

I could hear it scratching at the door, so I stood there for half an hour until I knew it was gone and then went to look at my bite. It was horrendous. There were chunks of flesh missing, blood drying all around it and tendons visible. I bandaged it up and went off to bed. This morning when I woke up, I had hair on my knuckles, and my hands seem to have turned into claws, but when I told mum about it she just said it was a growth spurt, so I’m pretty sure I’m not going to turn into a werewolf which is always a plus.

Look, I even have a picture of the bite.

I was attacked by a werewolf. TRUE FACT!

It was a painful and emotionally draining experience, but you know, I think I’m a better person because of it. This morning I even skipped to work instead of driving, and gave money to a homeless man that was begging in my street. Come to think of it, that man looked and SMELT a lot like that werewolf...

Huh. I'm sure it's a coincidence.

Dear Thailand...

Dear Thailand,

In three weeks and five days, Alyssa and I will be inside you, touching your bits and probably outstaying our welcome. I know you’re excited about it though, because I’ve seen your Facebook statuses, so don’t try and deny it. Before we reach you, we’ll be in Kuala Lumpur for a day, which isn’t going to be anywhere near as good as you, so don’t get jealous please.

But once we land in you, shit is going down. I can guarantee it. Beer is cheap, I will be surrounded by lady boys and I’ll have my best friend ever with me. I can’t wait to stroll your streets, take photographs of your every move and laugh at Ally when she gets drunk. We have a list of things to do, and I know that we will be busy every day.

We’ll be shopping like we’ve never shopped before, visiting your zoo where your crazy residents put their heads in crocodile’s mouths, we’ll be going to Monkey Hill (and hopefully not getting bitten by rabid chimps), getting our crunk on at your numerous bars, seeing your various temples, marvelling at your Big Buddha and getting around half naked, you know, because we can.

HOW EXCITING DOES THAT SOUND? You make me happy in the pants, Thailand, and I know that once we’re inside you, my pants will be even happier. Please don’t ruin the experience by giving me one of your diseases, because I will be down for the count for a long time, which would mean that my trip would be wasted, and I would possibly set your genitals on fire. If you even have genitals. Regardless, there will be fire.

GOT IT? Yeah, bitch, you better get it. Yeah...cool.

Shit just awkward between us Thailand, and it’s all your fault. I’ll forgive you though, because I love you so much. I’m amazing like that. I just asked Ally if she wants to say anything to you prior to our arrival, and she didn’t understand what I was trying to say. She obviously doesn’t feel the same about you as I do. My love is enough though, I’m pretty sure. Actually, I’m certain. All you need is my love, and your life will be fulfilled. It’s true; ask my mum.

Anyway, I’m going to go now. I have to prepare myself for the trip by sitting in front of my computer for hours so I get the feel of what’s it’s like to be on a plane. I’m sure they’re totally similar things.

Farewell, Thailand. I will see you soon. *waggles eyebrows*

Love,

Sam

Devil: The Review

Once again the delightful sweetpeas at Review Brisbane presented me with free tickets, this time to Devil, and in return I have reviewed it.

"Holy dooley. This was epic. The end. Okay, I’ll go into detail, shall I? I adore horror movies, especially ones that aren’t exactly like every other horror movie in the history of ever. I never would have thought about a movie where a bunch of people are trapped in an elevator with the devil and I certainly would not have expected it to be so delightful. Like, seriously, how do you come up with that?

Like any good horror movie, it keeps you guessing right up to the end. My thoughts were all over the place trying to figure it out. Who did it? OMG it was him! No it was her! Argh I don’t know! Ohhhh it was him! No, it was the other fellow. No it was that lady. This hurts! Just tell me who it is!

It’s more complex than I thought it would be, though I shouldn’t be surprised as it an M. Night Shyamalan movie. I WISH I COULD TELL YOU MORE BUT THEN I WOULD GIVE AWAY ALL THE COOL BEANS CRAZINESS. And I must refrain from doing so.

Instead, I shall tell you that my attention was kept by this movie the whole time (apart from once, for like a second when I was briefly amused by the glowing exit sign) and while I wasn’t scared, I was a tad disturbed. I definitely could see this movie a few hundred more times, which is always a plus. It’s complicated to an extent, along with creepy, suspenseful and even a tad emotional. For realsies. See it."

You want to WHAT my WHAT?

I sure do love dinner dates, especially if they’re with my darling little Ally. She’s one of those people that are so cute you just want to push them in a bush. A big, spiky bush. With flowers.

Anyhoo, we went out for Mexican last night, which is pretty much the greatest food ever. Om nom nom. When I pulled into the carpark, she was just getting out of the car. The first thing she said to me was, “That dress actually looks really cute on you.” Obviously I came to the conclusion that she didn’t think it would.

We went inside, ordered our nummy meals and chatted about various subjects and our upcoming trip to Thailand. We then decided that we would be making a trip to Sydney in the new year (are you listening Ben Harlum?). It seems that Montezuma’s is where we plan all of our trips. We were sitting there about eight months ago, eating and drinking when we decided we would head off to Thailand. It is our hive of inspiration.

We ate our delicious meals and then decided to head off. It was pretty damn early, about 6.30pm, so we sat in the car for five minutes trying to figure out what to do. Eventually we decided to just drive around and figure something out on the way. Ally suggested we go hang out with her boyfriend and one of his mates at the paintball field where the mate lives. While we were waiting on a reply from her boyo, we went for a drive up one of the mountains. It was at this point that I started telling Ally all about the scary movie I saw on Sunday night, which probably wasn’t the greatest idea since we were in total darkness up a mountain.

Her boyfriend finally replied with the address so we started off towards the fields. As we were almost there, he rang and told us to meet him at his place just down the road so they could show us where the fields were. After finding them and following their car we arrived at the fields. We followed them through a gate, where we stopped so they could close it and lock it after us. It was pitch black here too, so obviously the doors were locked.

We followed them down a dirt road, past a few sheds, and down another, rougher dirt road. The whole time I was fearing for my car’s safety. She’s a lady you know, so she doesn’t do dirt roads. We finally arrived at his mate’s place in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and climbed out of the car. I had to manoeuvre around a tree or two to get out on my side, which was fun.

We were greeted by Ally’s boyfriend, Cal and his mate Ralph who were a tad intoxicated and wandered up to the house. It was uh...unusual. I guess you could say it was more like a shack than a house, but it wasn’t horrid. It even had a cute little kitchen, leopard print chairs and a poster of a young Charlie Sheen. Oh and I can't forget to mention the underpants montage hanging on the wall.

Once inside, we met another fellow, Yowie. It was a tad awkward at first, as we didn’t know anyone apart from Cal, but the other guys were delightful so it got better. Ralph and Yowie are pretty much the most hilarious little assholes I’ve ever met, so I had myself a good chuckle. Ralph was a great host, as he kept offering us drinks etc. and he and Yowie were always sure to start the conversations when things got quiet. Ally and Cal were being all yuck and hugging on the couch next to me (omg gross, she’s totally going to get boy germs) so I chatted to the boys in between sitting there awkwardly and staring at a poster of sex positions.

I think we stayed for about 45 minutes, when we decided to pack it in so I could drive home before I started getting too sleepy. We bid adieu to the boys, and then followed their car back to the gate so they could let us out. After that I dropped Ally home and then headed back to my house for a can of Sunkist and to watch some Dance Academy (shut up asshole, it’s a good show, okay?).

Ally and I should have nights like that more often. ARE YOU LISTENING ALYSSA?

_____________________________________

I'd just also like to mention an arousing little fellow by the name of Christopher Lane. I got in trouble because I wrote about Holly, but didn't write about him when we hung out. It's not my fault! I can't remember why I didn't write a post, so shut up. Anyway, he's pretty easy, so you should hit him up.

Mr. Lane, next time we hang out, I will be sure to write an epic post detailing our adventures and every hilarious thing you say and do, okay? Cool beans.  

You wish you were as cool as me.

Sunday was the highlight of my weekend/week/month, apart from the 6.30am wakeup which kind of sucked balls. Actually, it didn’t really. It meant that I had time to sit around on my ass before driving to the Coast to have breakfast with Holly.

When I arrived at Holly’s, she opened the door in her towel (she wants me) and went and had a shower while I was pounced on by her pup, Baxter. He bit my throat, which I thought was odd, until last night when I started howling at rabbits and killing things. But that's a story for another day. 

I entertained myself by picking up eggshells that Baxter had gotten into, and watching tv with the sound off. Eventually, we left to go to breakfast. We went to a lovely cafe just off the beach and chatted away about anything and everything. After breakfast we went and sat on a little hill overlooking the beach and had a cigarette before heading off on a slow walk to the shops.

 I was looking for a dress that I could wear to work, but FANCY THAT! I found nothing. Woe is me. All was right with the world when we got slurpies though. Yehhhh slurpies. We headed back to Holly’s place to pick up Baxter and off we went to the beach.

SPOT THE BAXTER!

Guess what happened at the beach?! I got swooped by a helicopter. TWICE. Yeah. It was stupidly close (well it FELT like it was close) and loud and horrid and I felt sick. That was the first time. Then it came back again. Stupid assholes were probably sitting in their helicopter going “Hey, look at that girl down there. She’s all curled up in a ball and looking terrified. I think she likes us. We should go past again.”

Oh yeah, you’re so clever. Asshats. I didn’t cry though, because then Holly wouldn’t think I was cool anymore.

You know what else happened? I got sunburnt. Holly told me to cover up with a towel, but I was all, “Nah, its okay. I’ll be fine.” God, I’m such a dumbass. So kids, if Holly tells you to cover up, you should. It’s one of life’s important lessons.

After that we went back to her place, and I headed home. I was so stupidly exhausted, and I’m pretty sure I had a mild case of sunstroke. Woo, go me. I didn't get to nap though, as I had to rush off to PEG's place so we could go and see The Silent House. If you haven't seen it, you should. Okayyyy?

I have been ordered to mention a certain someone. He threatened to tie me up and whip me with his hair if I didn’t, so HI BEN HARLUM. You have been mentioned, so please don’t hurt me.

Kicks To The Tits.

How do I top a post about my bladder? None of my other organs are very interesting, so this may prove to be difficult. What’s happened recently? Let’s see...I saw a movie, cleaned up dog vomit, made plans for the weekend...FUCK, YOU GUYS! My life is so god damn boring!

I could make up some fantastical story, involving really attractive guys and girls slowly running up a beach...OH SHIT, that’s Baywatch. Great, I can’t even make up stories.

You know what annoys me? People still thinking I’m a teenager. It’s not that I act like one, it’s that I look like one. It’s so very irritating.

The other night I went to dinner with Ma & Gabriel. As we contemplated the menu down at our local, mum suggested that I get a kids meal, as I never eat a whole adult one. I refused, knowing that the staff would think I was 15. She won out, and went and ordered for me. The waitress came over to our table with my meal about ten minutes later and asked who had ordered it. I stared at the table  while mum loudly proclaimed that I was the one the meal was for. The waitress smirked at me, put my food on the table and walked out. I was thisclose to getting up and kicking her in the tit for smirking at me.

We ended up sending my meal back because it had been brought out before the entrees and mum and Gabriel’s meals, so I was subject to the humilation again when they brought it back with the other meals. It was a different waiter, and when ma told him that it was my meal, I death stared her like I’ve never death stared before. He put it down in front of me, noticed I was mid-death stare and said, “Ah, teenagers usually order the kids meals. Don’t worry.” Ma thought it was hilarious, as did Gabriel and I just sat there fuming.

WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? I’m not a teenager! I am 21 years old, and I will pound your ass with my puny, fifteen year old looking arms.

I told him I wasn’t a teenager and he just said “oh” and walked off. You should see it when I try to buy cigarettes! One afternoon, I was dangerously low in smokes. At three, I was out the door and on my way home from work. It takes me about an hour to drive home, but I only had one cigarette. I had to make it last until I got the service station that is about fifteen minutes away from home, but failed miserably. When I’d finished my last smoke, I found a half finished one in one of the many compartments of my car. I knew it was from a few weeks ago, but I lit her up anyway.

It tasted like stale Chlamydia so I gave up on that asshole and dealt with the fact that I would have to wait half an hour before I got to the servo. At the servo I filled my car up and walked in to pay and get my smokes. I asked for my brand and the woman gave me a disbelieving look and asked for ID.

Now, I know it’s meant to be a good thing for people to still ask you for ID, even though you’re 21 and have numerous tattoos that you think would prove to people that you’re over 18, but it really does get annoying. Especially when they stare at your chest tattoo while demanding to see some identification. I know I look young and sound like a little girl, but I wouldn’t have these tattoos unless I was over 18.

Sigh. Anyway, I was granted permission from the attendant to purchase my loot and then I legged it back to the car so I could enjoy another cigarette. Sweet release. DO YOU SEE HOW HARD MY LIFE IS? I have to deal with so many first world problems on a daily basis.

Shit, you know what? I kind of like people thinking I'm fifteen. If I'm being hit on by some wanker, I just tell him I'm 15 and he vanishes. It's pretty dang effective. *waggles eyebrows*

This post is all about my bladder. Seriously.

I have failed you, creepers that actually read this. I didn’t tell you anything amusing in my last post. This was mainly because I hadn’t had my customary ‘after lunch’ coffee, but I’ve had it now so I can blog properly. Maybe.

As I mentioned, I stayed at my nan and pop’s place on the Gold Coast over the weekend, which is about an hour and a half from my place. Dad and I went shopping yesterday and got back to nan and pop’s at around midday. I decided to have a cup of coffee and some lunch before making my way home.

It was a brilliant idea to have a coffee so close to leaving for a long drive. Seriously, I am obviously above average intelligence. Half an hour into the drive, I was filled with dread as I realised I had to pee. I ignored it for another half hour, telling myself over and over that I could hold it, until I finally realised I’d have to stop. An exit came up on the highway with a sign telling me that there was a service station up ahead, so I took it, jiggling around in my seat and attempting to change gears at the same time. As I took the exit, I was frantically looking around for the servo. I couldn’t see it, so I assumed it was on the other side of the highway, so I turned right and went under the highway to the other side.
All that greeted me were trucks thundering down a tree and dirt lined road AND NO SERVICE STATIONS!

I briefly considered stopping on the side of the road and popping a squat, but changed my mind when I saw how little cover there was. Having to choose between holding a pee in or showing numerous truck drivers your behind is a pretty easy decision to make.

I got back onto the highway (a total of ten minutes later) and continued searching for a servo, while loudly screaming “FUCK” and “GOD HATES ME”. Eventually I spotted one on the other side of the highway and decided to take my chances at finding out a way to get over there. I got off on the next exit and AMAZINGLY found my way to the servo. I raced in and headed straight for the bathroom. I was so close I could smell the stale pee and horrid smelling deodoriser. I put my hand on the doorknob...

Turned it...

AND IT WAS LOCKED.

I let out a groan, which was louder than I intended it to be and was about to walk to the counter to ask for a key when the attendant yelled out, “Try it again honey, I’ve just unlocked it.”

I spun around, turned the doorknob and HALLELUJAH MUTHAFUCKA the door was unlocked!

That pee was seriously the best ever. There was no toilet paper, but fuck it I didn’t care! I’d finally emptied my bladder, the sun was shining, angels were singing and unicorns were laughing.

It was a top ten moment.

Shitdamn, this is half assed.

On Sunday my nan and pop held a lunch with uncles, aunties and grandchildren aplenty. As usual, I sat there awkwardly while everyone else chatted away and made jokes about Jeremy’s toes (they’re like raptors apparently). I was at the end of the table with my sunglasses on (I have sensitive eyes, okay?), staring at the table and playing with the tablecloth, when I’d look up numerous times to see my dad or uncle waving at me because they thought I was looking at them. Then came the questions that inevitably arise at every family occasion; How’s work? What are you doing with yourself these days? What’s been happening? Etc.

I always answer these questions the same way, yet they’re asked time and time again. WHY, GOD, WHY? I know my family aren’t that interested in my life, so why? Why can’t we talk about things we haven’t talked about before? Like how preparations for the zombie apocalypse are going, and where we will disappear to when it happens. I’d love to talk about that. I would so be involved in that shit. In fact, I’d probably be the main person in that conversation, you know, because I’m really prepared and know everything. But unfortunately, that never happens. I did however, have a conversation with my auntie about how great the sex scenes in the Sookie Stackhouse books are, which was um, interesting.

My dad was there with his Thai girlfriend, and I felt so bad for her. She came over from Thailand for three months knowing limited English, so I can only imagine how awkward she felt when everyone was talking and laughing around her. You could tell she was getting pretty over it and dad was trying his hardest to get her involved, but it proved too difficult for all of them.

Eventually people started leaving, which meant people stopped asking me if I was okay, and I was able to relax a bit. I had to drive my dad and Jen to the airport at 9pm that night, so at around 4pm I went off for a nap. It was a tad unsuccessful though, so I got up again at 5pm. I was pretty cranky, and just wanted to go home by this stage but as I couldn't, I sat around quietly, reading and just generally ignoring people.

My auntie then proclaimed that she wanted to go for a walk, so I went with her as I was feeling pretty bored. We wandered down to the park and I bitched about the situation with dad and she bitched about my uncle (her husband) and how his kids treat them like shit. We walked around the park a few times before heading back to the house, where I once again sat around quietly.

The rest of the night was just as boring until 9, when dad, Jen and I bundled into my car and set off for the airport. Dad demanded I change the music, so I put Duran Duran on and lit up a smoke or three to keep myself occupied. At the airport Jen was quiet, and dad was getting annoyed at her. Eventually she went off to board and gave dad a hug and kiss (I got a hug too! Score!) before leaving. Dad looked like he was about to tear up, so I made excuses and went off to the toilet to give him a minute. When I came out, he told me how shitty it was that she had left but that it was part of the culture for goodbyes to be so quick.

We left the airport and dad fell asleep on the way back to nan and pop’s place. It was about 1am when we got home, so I went off to bed straight away.
How tiring.

I know I'll regret posting this, but here goes anyway.

This weekend my dad will be coming to the Coast to see his Thai girlfriend off. I’m glad that I get to see dad before Christmas, since I can’t visit him as I’ll be overseas, but at the same time I’m fucking pissed. My 21^st birthday was in September, and I had invited dad down to celebrate with everyone else. He originally said that he might make it, but then said that he just couldn’t afford to. I understand why he couldn’t afford it; he’d just paid for his girlfriend to come to Australia for three months. He paid for the return flights, the transfers, everything along the way, her VISA, her EVERYTHING. He then turns around to me and says he can’t make it to my 21^st because he’s broke.

I get it, he’s lonely. I also get that it’s his money and he can do what he likes with it, but it’s not like my 21^st was a big surprise event. He knows my birthday, and he knows how old I am, so I don’t understand why he didn’t put something away for it.

I was ridiculously unhappy with this, and still am. Then, I find out that he’s flying to Brisbane with her to see her off at the airport when she goes back to Thailand. So basically, he couldn’t afford to come and see his only daughter for her 21^st, but he can afford to fly to the same town that I live in two months later so that he can make sure Thai Girlfriend gets on a plane safely.

On my 21^st, I received a card from dad and Jen (who I’ve only met once), with $100 and “Happy Birthday. Love Dad and Jen” written on the inside. There were no personal messages, nothing saying he was proud of me or that he was sorry he couldn’t make it down. It was even less personal because he had written her name in it. How had she become such a big part of his life already? When he met her, he was in Thailand for a month, and then all of a sudden he’s over there again and bringing her back with him.

I’ve always rated pretty low in my dad’s life. He’s never known how to act around me or what to expect, so naturally he was closer to my brothers. That doesn’t mean that he makes much more effort for them, it’s just that he gets along with them better. I never cared that much, but now that I’ve noticed, it won’t go away. He never makes an effort for us kids, ever. We always have to fly up to see him and when we do he doesn’t even take time off work to spend time with us, so we’re left sitting around on the farm for a week.

I love my dad, I really do.

But he needs to step up and be a fucking father.

I think he blames us for what mum did to him. Mum married him, had three children with him, and then left him. She’s gay. She’s always been gay, but because of how she was brought up (with a gay father who hid it and was severely fucked up) she felt that she had to hide it in order to be happy. She finally realised she had to be true to herself, and left dad. He was devastated, which is to be expected. He still isn’t over it, and rarely speaks to mum. Unfortunately, we seem to be copping the blame from dad. I don’t think he realises that he’s doing it, but it’s happening and it hurts. All I want is my dad to be there for me. Is that so much to ask?

The Housemates - Part 1

I’ve only been living out of home for 3 years (and back at home for portions of that), yet I somehow always move in with shitfaces. They could be the not-clean-the-house kind, or the you-can’t-do-that kind, but I seem to have encountered them all.

I first moved out of home just after I turned 18. I had my license and a full time job so I was all set. At this time I was a hardcore vegan and decided I only wanted to live with people like me so I started searching for all vegan households.

I found one near the city, and decided to go in and have a look. Mum came with me, partly so she could direct me and partly so she could suss the situation out, as she wasn’t particularly pleased with my decision to move.

Upon arrival, we decided the place was an epic dump. The people living there weren’t bothering to maintain the yard and the inside was stacked with their accumulated crap. If that hadn’t already made me decide against it, the bedroom for rent concreted my decision to get the hell out of there. It was TINY, and since someone was still living in the room at the time, it was also piled high with shit.

Ma and I made our excuses and left.

This put a damper on my whole ‘living with fellow vegans’ dream, because if that house was any indication, all vegans (apart from myself of course) were disgusting slobs who didn’t bother to clean, and probably didn’t shave their armpits.

I kept looking for rooms to rent, but looked for ‘normal’ sharehouses. The next house I came across ended up being ‘the one’. It was a four bedroom house in a good location and because there were already three others living there, it was cheap too. It wasn’t particularly clean, but people seemed to keep to their rooms so I went for it.

On the day I arrived to move everything in, the carpet in my room was filthy and obviously hadn’t been vacuumed for my arrival. This really pissed Ma off, but I shrugged it off because of how excited I was about moving out.

Everything was moved in by the afternoon and Ma and my brothers went home. The first thing I noticed was that there was no toilet paper. There was only ONE toilet in the house, so this disturbed the shit out of me. How long had they been without toilet paper? Were they fighting about who had to buy it? HOW DID THEY WIPE THEIR BITS? Like seriously, it’s not like your bowels or bladder are on a timer and go off at the same time every day. What if one of them had to shit, right in the middle of this war? Did they use a tea towel? Or did they just go in the backyard and use a leaf?

I was out the door like a shot. I had to buy some toilet paper and I had to buy it FAST.

When I came home from my voyage to the shops, I stocked the toilet with toilet paper and then retreated to my room. My room was in a pretty bad corner of the house. One wall backed onto the back steps (the steps the security guard housemate used when he came home at 4am) and the toilet was right next to another wall. This meant that I could hear EVERYTHING any of my housemates did in that toilet, which was especially revolting early in the morning when the boys would go for a marathon piss.

I stayed there for about a month. Every afternoon when I would come home, I’d get changed and run off to the gym straight away so I wouldn’t have to see anyone. When I got back from the gym, I’d hide in my room and watch DVDs, which is pretty much what I do anyway, but I had different reasons for it then.

The woman that owned the house was a delightful lady. Her son lived in the house (in the master bedroom, of course) and he walked around like his shit didn’t stink. He was an ugly bastard, smelt like an old man’s room, and would talk down to everyone. His mum would come over most weekends so that she could do his washing for him. It’s not like we didn’t have a washing machine, because we did, so it was an odd situation. She’d do his washing and then come upstairs and clean his dishes, mop and vacuum the entire house and mow the back lawn. He would have been about 21, so it made no sense to me for her to do that. He treated her like shit too. Always scowling and telling her she hadn’t done enough. It was revolting.

I didn’t really know any of the other people that lived there until Hamid moved in a week or so after me. He was the security guard for a club in the city and would trump up the stairs at 4am every morning, always managing to wake me up no matter how quiet he was. He’d wander into the kitchen while I was making dinner and we’d chat about his job, my tattoos and the situation with his crazy girlfriend. He was the only one in the house that I enjoyed living with.

As I said, I only stayed for about a month, as Ma had been secretly looking for other places for me to live because she hated me living in that ‘disgusting’ house. She found me a place closer to the city, in a three bedroom apartment with a 30 something divorcee. When I left the sharehouse, Hamid promised to keep in contact (which he did for a while). The day before I moved out, the owner of the house came around to give me my bond back. She sat me down at the dining room table, and her son followed. He sat there giving me dirty looks, and when his mother pushed the money from my bond down the table at me, he snatched them up.

“What are you doing? You can’t give her this! I need it for myself this week. You told me you’d give it to me.”

At this point I was panicking that I wouldn’t get my bond back. I needn’t have worried though, as his mother took the money off him and gave it to me before telling him that she’d give him money later. I began breathing again, and took off to my room as soon as I could, but not before the landlady sadly told me that I was the best tenant she’d ever had, and she was sorry to see me go. I felt so horrible. She always came up and had a chat with me whenever she visited, and I could tell she was lonely and relished those moments. I didn’t want to let her down, but I wasn’t comfortable in that house so it was for the best.

The next day I made my pilgrimage to the new apartment.

Thus ends part 1 of the saga. Part 2 to come soon.

Paranormal Activity 2: The Review

Last night, my little brother and I went to see Paranormal Activity 2. As I won the tickets from Review Brisbane, I was required to write a review.

Here we go;

Let me preface this by saying just how much I enjoyed the first Paranormal Activity. The way the movie was filmed was unlike any other horror movie I had seen, and the fact that they relied on something unseen as the main premise of the movie certainly was brave, so I was quite excited about seeing the second one. The cinema was practically empty when we got there, which I kind of expected as it was a Monday night, and I’d heard a few bad things about the movie.

The movie started much like the first one; a happy family played by overzealous actors are playing around with a camera, filming mundane things like bringing a baby home from the hospital for the first time. Uh fine, I’m sure it was very exciting for the family, rah rah rah.

One minute you’re watching some baby and the next they’re filming their wrecked house. This is when things should start to get interesting, but to be honest it was still quite slow going. That demon sure must have had a lot of time on his hands if he was dragging it out that much. And seriously, what kind of well respected and feared demon messes with people by dragging their pool cleaner out of the water? A lame one, that’s what. I don’t even care if that demon hears me, because it’s not like he’ll do anything bad to me. He’ll probably just slam a few doors, and drop some pots and pans on the kitchen bench.

What a bad ass.

The last quarter of the movie is when things start to pick up, but unfortunately I wasn’t concentrating on it fully because a group of kids behind me were farting, laughing and talking non-stop. Since no one else in the theatre said anything, I was forced to turn around and ask them to please shut up and give them numerous stern looks. It scared them quiet for a while, so I was able to turn my attention back to the film.

So, things were finally starting to get interesting. The demon messed the dog up something chronic, which is just plain rude if you ask me, and the father and daughter took her off to the vet.

This is when the female lead (I have no idea what her name is) starts getting owned by the demon. FINALLY. She’s standing in the baby’s room when all of a sudden she’s being dragged down the stairs by some invisible force. She fights back and runs back upstairs but the demon owns her again and drags her down to the basement. A few hours later she comes up from the basement and is obviously possessed. She has an epic staring problem, and seems to have forgotten how to blink.

 

This is where I have a big problem with the movie. The whole storyline is that the demon is after her son (the baby), so when the demon possesses her you’d think he’d be running right up those stairs and stealing that baby. But noooooo. It sits in a chair in the baby’s room and stares some more, and not even at the baby. I will admit that the possessed lady is damn creepy and let me just say that I’m glad to went to the toilet before the movie, but seriously? Sigh. All of a sudden it’s the next day and the daughter and father come home from the vet. They think something is wrong with the possessed lady, but don’t really do anything about it. You know, because they’re really bright.

 

More stuff happens, and they manage to get the demon out of the woman, and everything is happy chappy la la nothings wrong we’re awesome and defeated a demon. You’d think that would be the end of the movie, but wait, there’s more! Katie from the first movie (who is the sister of the possessed lady) ends up in their house one night, snaps the dad’s neck, then goes upstairs to kill the sister and FINALLY STEALS THE BABY! Gawd, it took the stupid thing long enough. What an ineffective demon.

But honestly, that ending sucked a lot of something. It ruined the movie for me, and my little brother totally agrees (he just told me). Overall, the movie wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either. The acting was sub-par, it progressed too slowly for my liking and the demon is a total loser. They did say “pussy” though. So I guess that made it okay.

The Party (like that movie, only better and with more dogs)

Yesterday was the day. It was Monty’s first birthday party. I know, I know; throwing a party for your dog is so fucking lame and i’m totally going to die alone. But I love my puppy, and I love having get togethers and I love Halloween so it was valid, okay?!

I woke up at 8am, trying my hardest to sleep in for longer but failing. After stumbling to the kitchen for coffee and toast, I retreated to the loungeroom to watch the Simpsons (Halloween specials, hells yeah) and hide from my family. After watching the episode where Bart has special mind powers, and those statues come to life because Homer steals a donut, I jumped in the shower and scrubbed myself clean.

Feeling refreshed, I enlisted Jeremy’s girlfriend’s (Kiah) help for putting up the decorations, since Jeremy was much too busy playing PlayStation and being a wankface. Kiah and I trumped downstairs with my bag of Halloween shit, and started decorating. I had a Halloween tablecloth, some witch and Frankenstein platters (which I filled with body part lollies and cheap toys), some ghost and pumpkin bowls (which were also filled with lollies), a light up skull (his name is Hector), and some other little bowls for food.

Then we hung up the ‘Happy Halloween’ banner, which involved Kiah standing on a chair and me standing below her being useless, followed by wrapping some poles with Frankenstein streamers. I was quite proud of the finished product.

When that was finished, I made another coffee and then went up to the shed to see what mum was doing. The neighbours called so we had to go and meet them at the fence to give them vouchers for their granddaughter.

Their granddaughter just stood there smiling at me shyly, which kind of freaked me out but she was still pretty cute. She told us about how she will have a new brother or sister in December, and that she calls it Turtle at the moment. It was pretty adorable. Monty was with us and just stood there barking at them for a while until I threw his ball for him. He sure knows how to get what he wants.

The neighbours let us go so we could start our party, so we wandered back to the patio to set up chairs. While Ma and I were doing that my older brother (Chris), his girlfriend (Yoland) and their pup (Fynn) arrived. Chris and Yoland went straight up to Jeremy’s room to watch him play PlayStation, because they’re all boring motherfuckers.

The party was scheduled to start at eleven am, but just after eleven, people started texting me saying they’d be late (because they’re all assholes. Yes, even you, Miss Professional Ex. Girlfriend). I put some music on, screamed at my family to come downstairs and start mingling (with themselves, since no one else was there) and then went out the front to have a smoke, put a party hat on the letterbox and wait for people to arrive.

Thankfully, the Chancellors arrived while I was mid-smoke, so I didn’t have too long to sit there stewing for. The Chancellors are old family friends of ours, (Mr. Chancellor is responsible for starting his car while our cat was inside the bonnet, resulting in the loss of his tail) and have three kids, so they always bring the noise.

This officially kicked off the party. Monty didn’t know what to do with all of these people around, so he decided to hide under chairs and bark at the Chancellors. They’d brought him a massive stuffed dog for his birthday, which he promptly barked at and backed away from. Everyone was laughing at Monty, and Mrs. Chancellor was stirring him up by shrilly telling him to stop being stupid and then cackling at him. She’s an awesome lady.

Eventually Monty got used to everyone and started playing with Fynn, which provided us with a bit of entertainment. At around 12pm my ex, Seb arrived, which meant that the only person we were waiting on was Professional Ex. Girlfrien (PEG). Half an hour later, she showed up, so I finally relaxed and got into the conversation. Up until that point, I was half listening to people and was frequently getting up to go out the front to wait for people.

PEG’s arrival also signalled that Chris could start cooking lunch. Chris, Jeremy, Yoland and Kiah all got up to supervise the BBQ, while everyone else yelled that they weren’t doing it right, and asking who put Chris in charge. Good times, good times.

We all tucked in to a yummy lunch of sausages, hamburger patties and numerous salads, which shut everyone up for a while. After lunch, Ma was putting party hats on the dogs, which was pretty much the most hilarious thing any of us had ever seen.

Nicky

After laughing like maniacs at that for a while, I went upstairs and cut up the cake. The Chancellor kids and PEG came up and helped me carry all the plates down and everyone tucked in again. Well, most people. You know, the sane ones that like cake.

Then it was time for presents! I dragged the basket of toys into the middle of the circle and sat down with the youngest Chancellor child (Mr. 4) and Monty to get stuck into it. Monty ripped open his first present, which was a packet of tennis balls (he has a thing for balls, heh heh) and then took off to chase them while I sat there stupidly, trying to call him back so we could open the rest of the presents. At this stage, Mr. 4 decided to take things into his own hands and started opening Monty’s presents and handing them around to all of the dogs. He opened most of them, while everyone laughed and asked who’s birthday it was. Monty finally started realising there was an abundance of toys, and got stuck into them, and we all watched as Seb threw numerous toys onto the lawn at once, while Monty, Fynn, Nicki & Mulder all ran around like idiots.

After cake and presents, everyone had bulging bellies and we decided the best idea ever was to go and have a swim. I’m too fat for bathers right now, so I put a dress on over the top of my togs in an attempt to hide. Jeremy, Chris, Seb, Kiah and the Chancellor kids were all in the pool when I decided to get in. It was a tad cold, so I was standing on the steps like a pussy, trying to get used to the temperature before I got in fully. However, Jeremy decided he would make it easier for me and pushed me into the pool. Little shit.

I got used to the water pretty quickly though, and we all played a deformed game of water polo with two balls instead of one, both flying around at the same time with arms and bodies flailing around in the air accompanying by numerous “shits” and “cop thats”.

Mrs. Chancellor brought Monty down to the pool and I swam around with him while everyone laughed at how much he looked like an otter. He swam to the steps almost straight away, got out and starting running around like he was on crack. Fynn joined us for a swim (much to his disgust), then ran around in the garden with Monty while I got out and attempted to dry off.

After going upstairs to get changed, I made myself a coffee because of how stupidly tired I was. It was about three o’clock by that time, and I hadn’t had a nap so I was feeling pretty dang drained.

People started leaving at about four o’clock, which was when Ally arrived for our horror night. We all started cleaning up and once that was done PEG, Ally and I went upstairs for more food and to start watching some movies.

After only watching two movies, PEG and Ally made their way home. I went to bed pretty much straight away, but I wasn’t the only one who was tired; Monty was already passed out on my bed by that time.

I really should have more gatherings like that.

You dirty thieves.

I got to work about ten minutes ago, to find B1 sad and angry in his office. He went on to explain the reason for his mood.

Basically, someone stole one of the work trucks from his B2’s driveway last night. This is eight weeks after B1’s ute was stolen from HIS house. I swear to god, if someone touches my car, I will kick some bitches. HARD. In the privates.

The people that stole B2’s ute last night smashed the window to get in, then smashed the steering column so they could hotwire it, which they obviously succeeded in doing as the ute was found in NSW (which is a totally different State, people). Whoever stole the ute tried to drive it up a rock wall, so they must be highly intelligent people.

They also tried to torch it, but only managed to burn the seats, so the police think there is a good chance that they will be able to recover some fingerprints. Those assholes are going down.

It’s very subdued here today, for obvious reasons.

B1 only JUST got his ute back from when it was stolen, so another ute being stolen seems to be too much for them. I imagine they’d also be feeling quite unsafe in their homes now.

As I mentioned earlier, B1’s ute was stolen from his home. They broke into his house while everyone was asleep, managed to get a hold of his car keys and off they went. It’s lucky that no one got hurt, but it’s still an infuriating situation.

So I’m just going to blend into the wall today to avoid any angry bosses.

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I just stumbled upon this website, where five year old Aidan Reed is selling his drawings of monsters to raise enough money to pay for his medical bills. I just ordered two of them, and you should too. You can get to AidansMonster’s shop here and for more information about the cause and to follow Aidan’s story, visit the blog  here.

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HOLLA! It’s Thursday, bitches.

"I'm a big believer in The Secret"

This conversation happened yesterday at college. I only go once a month, but it still manages to completely drain me of any and all hope. This was with a girl that started yesterday. Guess who got to be her buddy? We had to pair up and practice asking each other open ended questions.

Her: Uhm okay so I have to ask you some open ended questions.

Me: Yes.

H: Okay...*giggles* This is hard.

M: *smiles and nods*

H: You have beautiful hair.

M: Oh. Uhm thanks.

H: Is it real? *points to the ends*

M: Yes.

H: Oh, I was just wondering. Because I’ve been trying to grow my hair for ages, but it’s really hard.

M: Oh. Dang.

H: Yeah. Hey I really like your top. It’s beautiful.

M: Thanks.

H: Yup. Real beautiful. *pauses* So what’s your middle name?

M: Rae.

H: Really?! Omg, that’s so unusual. But such a beautiful name. Like, seriously beautiful. Wow. Yeah, so unusual and beautiful.

M: Uh, yeah.

H: Hey look! My daughter wrote an open ended question. *giggles and points to a scribble on her page*

M: *pretends not to have heard* So, uh. Open ended questions?

H: Oh yeah. Gosh, this is hard. Uhm.

M: Ahuh. How about I ask you some?

H: Okay! I still can’t get over your middle name. *writes it in her book*

M: It’s spelt R A E.

H: Oh! Wow. That’s even more beautiful.

M: Uhm, yeah. So, tell me about your job.

H: *launches into a disgustingly boring story, with words like “amazing”, “spectacular”, “positive energy” and “meant to be”*

M: Oh, look, time’s up.

By my calculations, that equates to five months of my life wasted. She drained me of that much life, it’ll end up taking five months off the end of my life. Great. Thanks lady!

It's possible I will die alone, surrounded by dogs.

Today is a very special day. On this day last year, my little baby dog was pushed out of his mum’s vagina and fell into the world as a ball of goo and fur. It’s a nice picture isn’t it?

So because of the momentous occasion that was his birth, Monty is spending the day with me at work. I love it when he comes into work with me. He barks at the boys, and gives me an excuse to go for walks outside so he can go to the toilet. It’s always a cruisy day when Monty is in the office.

As soon as we got to work this morning, I gave Monty one of his presents to unwrap. I only brought three with me, as I want to give him most of them at his party on Sunday (yes, I’m having a party for my dog, shut your face). He started ripping into it and when he got a good hold on the toy inside, dragged it out and started flinging it around.

Donkey is already dirty as all hell. He’s such a whore.

Then I gave Monty his brand new collar. It’s black, shiny, has a bell (you know, so he can’t pounce on any birds) and says Macho in diamante letters. I think it suits him perfectly, as he’s quite manly. He runs around with flowers in his mouth, and his favourite toy is a pink bone with love hearts all over it. See how much of a man he is?

Now I’ll always know where he is by the jingle of his bell. How handy. Also, his last collar was fucking ugly. It was mustard yellow with stupid silver bones on it. Now he’s a pimp, just like his mother.

The last present he got for the day was from Ally. He chewed on that one for ages, ripping at the paper like a demon, and then chewing on the blanket that was inside. I had to take it off him so he didn’t destroy the lovely blanket Ally bought with her hard earned money from working the streets. Uh, I mean selling giftwares.

It’s on his little bed now, and he’s finally realised it’s not a toy, so he’s having a nap on it. It’s been a big day for Monty. You know, barking at people, sleeping in the car, running around with a donkey in your mouth, peeing on things and ripping paper really take it out of you. And it is 8.30am, so it’s definitely time for a sleep.

I should take him for a walk soon to give me something to do.

Is this fiction?

I hate you so much. So very much.

Do you know why? Because you make feelings that I had long ago buried and forgotten about, come back up to the surface. They burst and I am suddenly a different person. I’m no longer cold and calculated. I’m not able to walk away with a shrug of my shoulders, having resigned myself to the fact that I am alone, and will be alone for a long time to come, therefore knowing nothing can come of this.

It’s my fault, I know. I should keep this in check. But there is something about you that makes me do the opposite of what I know is right. I obsess about little things you may have said or done, things you may have written about, and scramble around hopelessly in an attempt to uncover some secret longing for me you may have.

You make me act like a fucking girl, and I hate it. I like to be in control. I like to make others sweat it out, make them obsess over how I feel about them. I like being indifferent. Oh he doesn’t like me? No big deal, I don’t need him. Now it’s as if I will explode if I don’t get what I want.

It may not even be you. It may be an accumulation of suppressed feelings and frustrations finally becoming too much and being unleashed on the next appropriate person.

The last time I saw you was when I knew I couldn’t kid myself about this any more. It was too real.

I never used to feel this way about you. It was always friendship and nothing else. But lately I have been having doubts about friendship being all I want from you. I can’t tell you this, which makes me hate you more. If I tell you this, I know I will ruin everything. You won’t know how to let me down, and will feel awkward for a long while. Our friendship will be over until we both get over the situation. I don’t want that.

I don’t want to keep this to myself though.

Give me a few weeks and I’ll be back to normal. I just need to make it that long.

I need to pee, but I must blog first.

Yesterday was Ally’s 21st birthday. It was all very exciting and a lot of exclamation points were flying around in text messages and on Facebook and Twitter.

I was invited to her place for dinner, so at 6pm last night, I drove the half hour to her place. When I got there I knocked on the door, and her mum yelled out for me to come in. I could hear her and Ally in the kitchen, where Ally was saying she shouldn’t just yell for people to come in without checking to see who it was first. Her mum said she knew it was me from my knock, so there was no point checking. Great, I have a predictable knock.

Once I had said my hellos, I reached into my big bag of presents and started handing them to Ally. The first present was a bottle of champagne which she doesn’t really drink, but as it was her 21^st I deemed it appropriate. After unveiling that, I handed her the next two presents. She fumbled around with the wrapping on the first one, and opened it to find two cupcake candles. One had little wax cherries on top, and the other was just white icing. The other package I’d handed her was a couple of small glass plates for the candles to sit on.

After numerous exclamations about how cute they were, and how there was no way they were going to be lit, I gave her the next present. This one was definitely my favourite, and was decided upon after reading Ally’s text messages and tweets and being appalled at her spelling. It was a dictionary. She laughed when she saw what it was, but it was a for realsies present. Kinda.

I’d written on the inside cover of the dictionary, but I can’t quite remember what I said. It was something along the lines of, “Next time you tweet or text me, crack this baby open. He’s a helpful little shit”. Oh, and I named him, but now I can’t remember what. Dang.

After her mum had had a look over the dictionary and the message on the inside and giggled a bit, I handed Ally the next present. It was a glass candle holder and a lavender candle. She seemed to like them.

Then it was time for her last present. This was the present that I had dropped a few hints about and Ally couldn’t figure out what it was, and was also a bit scared about what it might be. My hints weren't exactly helpful. The first one was something like, “I just realised one of your presents might try to kill you. I will not be held responsible if it comes after you in the middle of the night and grinds you into ice cream.”

The next was that it wasn’t a rapist in a box.

I don’t understand how she couldn’t have guessed what it was from those amazing hints, but whatever.

It was a “BFF” Momiji doll from the UK. She’s really cute and kinda heavy, and on her package it says that she loves pistachio ice cream. I call Ally “Pistachio”, so that’s where the killing and making into ice cream thing came from. On the bottom of the doll is a little hole (lulz) where you can put a secret message.

Anyway, I had written something lovey dovey on it, and stuck it back inside her so that Ally could read it when I gave it to her. I’m quite sure that Ally liked her little BFF doll.
So the presents were a success! Hoorah!

After all the presents were inspected carefully by Ally, we went out the back so I could have a smoke and pat her pretty little dog, Jed. After chatting away about her day and what she’d done and rah rah, a dog in one of the adjoining properties started going crazy and barking at a tree. Its owners came out with torches, and started looking at the tree.

This was when Ally reminded me about the over 6 foot carpet python that was living in a few people’s backyards, including hers so it was probably the snake that the dog was barking at. It was really exciting, because the snake totally could have eaten the neighbour’s dog (it would have been horrible, but you know, exciting).

After that, we went inside for dinner. It was some chicken carbonara dish...I think. Anyway, it was yummy. As everyone was dishing their dinner up, Ally’s sister decided she wanted a bottle of red wine, and it happened to be corked. She attempted to open it, couldn’t and passed it to her mum. SHE attempted to open it, couldn’t, and passed it to her husband. He sat there working away on it for some ridiculous time before he finally got the cork out. It was broken though, and half the cork was still in the bottle, so there was another struggle to get that out.

It was pretty dang amusing. I pretty much just sat there the whole time giggling. Because I’m helpful like that. Yup.

After dinner, it was time for CAKE. Yeah, cake! Ally and I lit the candles, and we all sang Happy Birthday to her, while she tried not to smile and FAILED. She blew out all of the candles but one, then went back to get that last little fucker. Once they were all blown out, we turned the lights back on so we could get photos of her cutting the cake.

For some stupid reason, Ally wanted a photo of me and her next to the cake. Uh, I hate photos. It was okay though, because her mum was saying funny things WHICH I NOW CAN’T REMEMBER. Curse my horrible memory.

Whatevz. We ate cake and hung around at the table for a while, talking shit and berating each other. Her family have some odd choice of conversation topics, but what the hey, it made for an amusing night.

I was feeling pretty sleepy from all of the food we’d eaten, so as soon as her family starting getting up from the table, I hit the road. The drive home was boring as usual, but I was blasting the Labyrinth soundtrack, so I entertained myself by singing along. I got some concerned looks from other drivers, but I'm pretty sure they were just jealous that they weren't as cool as me.

You know, because I'm pretty great.

Spiders! Everywhere!

I seem to suffer from night terrors. Google says this is what a night terror is, for those that are unaware:

A night terror, also known as a sleep terror or pavor nocturnus, is a parasomnia disorder characterized by extreme terror and a temporary inability to regain full consciousness. The subject wakes abruptly from slow-wave sleep, with waking usually accompanied by gasping, moaning, or screaming.

This has happened a few times, the most recent occurrence being last Sunday night.

I woke up from a dream that I can’t remember, and my bed was covered in spiders. There was a thick blanket of the fuckers, and I panicked. I vaguely remember screaming, and then I bolted out of my room to the dining room, where I sat on the ground shaking uncontrollably and attempting to regain my composure. Monty followed and crawled up onto my lap to go back to sleep.

Then Jeremy’s light came on in his room (which is right next to the dining room) and he came out, sighing and asking what had happened. I don’t recall much, but I’m certain I just said that spiders were on my bed, over and over until he went in to check. He came back out, helped me up off the floor and informed me that there were no spiders anywhere, and that the house had been sprayed so there was no way they could have been in the house at all.

By this time I was breathing normally again, so I thanked him, picked Monty up and went back to bed. The next morning I asked Jeremy how he knew I was in the dining room. He said that he heard a lot of screaming and gasping and knew I was having another little episode. I’m well known around these parts.

A few months ago, I started to have frequent nightmares and night terrors. One time as I woke up, I saw a white orb swirling around the door in my bedroom. I stayed still, silently freaking out, and watched it as it hung around. After thirty seconds or so, it started moving rapidly and then lunged at me. At this point I got the fuck out of bed and ran for the lightswitch, because I knew if I turned the light on, I’d be okay.

As soon as the light was on, the orb vanished. Monty was still sleeping peacefully so I knew it had been another night terror.

A few nights after that, I woke up as suddenly as the other times to see a black shadow standing at the end of my bed. It looked like a man, just staring at me sleeping, but I didn’t know if he was real or not. My solution? I picked Monty up and threw him towards the end of the bed where the shadow was so he could protect me. He curled up and went back to sleep, so I ran for the lightswitch again, by which time the shadow had vanished.

The shadow incident happened a few more times after that, each on different nights, and each time it felt like my heart would burst out of my chest because of how fast it was beating in my terror.

Every time I have a night terror, it’s the same feeling of absolute horror. You know something is wrong, but you don’t know what to do about it or if what you are seeing is real. It certainly FEELS real, and you can see it right there in front of you. Supposedly, you’re still in a dream state, and most people who have night terrors aren’t able to move. I’m different in that respect though, as I can get up and run whenever I have one.

I’ve had numerous other experiences with night terrors, too many to count, so it’s kind of an accepted thing. It’s still a horrid experience, but I guess it makes for a good story the next day.

When I was fourteen or fifteen, I was living under our two storey house in a bedroom my mum had built specially for me so I could have my own room, and get away from my brothers. I loved that room. It was massive, and the walls were painted a deep red. There was a pole in the middle of the room which I covered in band stickers, and would run into frequently. It was also great because it had no windows, which meant my room was pitch black at all times of the day. It was great for hangovers or naps during the day.

The only downside was that the lock didn’t work properly. All someone had to do was jiggle the doorknob and it would unlock itself. I wasn’t too worried about anyone getting in, but I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the situation as my room was in the garage, which was easily accessible by the laundry door that was never closed so the dogs could come and go.

One night, I woke up abruptly to see a shadow at the end of my bed, much like the one I described earlier. It was definitely a man, and he was just standing there watching me, but as it was pitch black, I couldn’t see much. I pretended I was asleep, and after a few minutes I heard soft footsteps on the carpet and then the sound of the door closing.

I was shaken, but went back to sleep as I figured whoever it was wouldn’t come back, and there wasn’t much I could do about it anyway. I found it odd that if that really was a person, they had gotten past the dogs without them barking up a storm. I couldn’t think of any other explanation for it though. The next morning I told my family what had happened, and mum freaked out. She immediately installed a bolt lock onto my door so I could lock it properly. I put it at the back of my mind and a few days later my older brother showed me a newspaper article he had found. It was about a man who had been breaking into houses, sneaking into girls’ bedrooms and watching them sleep. He had been arrested.

To this day, I still don’t know if that was another night terror, or if it was the man in the newspaper. Either way, it was a pretty shitty experience.

I could go on to tell you about other times I’ve had night terrors, but this post is already longer than I thought it would be, so I shan’t bore you any longer.

I'm going to google the shit out sleep disorders now.