Lately I have had many random ramblings pop into my head that I thought would make for an interesting post. I always write things down on my phone if I don't have time to think about something but want to ponder it later.
Having looked at my latest musings, I don't think they qualify for a whole post each. However, I thought they were quite funny so I will share them with you...
1. My friend Steph recently came out with these words of wisdom, "Boys are yucky - like disposable tissues. Good to throw dirty, used tissues away." I'm not quite sure why this struck a cord with me but it did. Perhaps I have been studying drama too long now and can find meaning in anything. If only boys could be disposed of as easily as tissues.
2. Why do they place condoms next to the pregnancy tests in pharmacies and supermarkets? Is it to remind you what will happen if you don't pay an obscene amount of money for what is, essentially, a bit of Glad Wrap. (Wow, puts a whole new meaning to the words Glad Wrap hey!) So, if you are in 2 minds about whether you should pay $20 for one little packet, your eyes stray to the right and you realise that $20, in comparison to 9 months of being fat and 18 years of actually having to be a grown-up, is really quite a good deal.
3. This was just a drunken comment my friend Sue came out with when we were very drunk...she was talking about winning drinking competitions and I said that it didn't make you look very good having downing competitions to which she replies "It doesn't matter, I down better than my baps look!"
4. Why do people in Brisbane continue to wear hats when inside? Do they not know that it's not the done thing?
5. I think it's unfair that, whilst going through puberty, we girls are told that boys are 2 years slower at developing than girls. Why lie? What not just tell us, there and then, at the ripe age of 13...to look around the room... 'cos girls, this is as good as it gets. They don't mature much past that...fart jokes will, to them, always be funny, and they will always be obsessed with boobs.
6. I have noticed that people say "um" before saying their name...listen out for it. It seems to happen particularly in doctors surgeries. For example:
Receptionist: "What's your surname?"
Random person: "Um, Robinson."
Receptionist: "And your first name?"
Random person: "Um, Jessie."
Do we forget our names when put on the spot?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
Just as I am
I spent 2 hours at my friend's hair salon today, trying to decide whether to get my hair and the extensions I have in permed, so as its permanently curly, or to get some new hair extensions and become a red-head. I decided on the latter...think dark Lindsay Lohan stylee rather than ginger-nut biscuit.
I then got home and had a mini break down, furiously trying to unclasp my current hair extensions and in the end just ripping or cutting them out of my head, leaving me with much less hair that when I started. It seems the extensions began to resemble the 'old me' and that I needed them out out OUT!
I really don't know when this 'new me' started. It wasn't a concious decision to change, as I have said before. But my hair, which was dark, straight, long and sexy in a slutty Playboy way, suddenly represented everything that I'm not anymore.
I don't want to be that person....you know when you know you look good...but guys look at you, and then look at their buddies, and give each other that 'yea, I would fuck her' look? And then they look at you in that 'yea, come suck me then' look?
Soon after, you pass a girl or two, who look you up and down. Here in Swindon, we refer to the expression on their faces as 'dogging' (as in, "did you see that bitch just dog me up?") Then comes the cackle from the group of girls as they are far enough out of ear-shot to bitch about how short/tight/tacky your skirt was.
And, although you still know you look hot, you don't feel beautiful.
Then there is the person that I am apparently becoming, in which you can be walking along...say in a pretty white dress, little makeup if any on, hair in a pony tail or loose ringlets, and you walk past a guy and he actually looks at you. And then you walk past a girl and she smiles at you. Because you seem like a 'nice girl', someone wholesome enough to smile at. And you feel beautiful.
Having said all of that, it's not others opinions of me that make me feel good or not. I used to be able to go out, tarted up to the nines, and looking bloody good (though I say so myself!) and not give a damn what people thought. When guys looked, I would stick my boobs out further and wiggle my arse more. When girls dogged me up, I would give them a pitiful look, flick back my straight long hair and toddle off in my stilettos feeling even greater about myself because someone thought I looked good enough to be jealous.
I went out in Swindon the other week and I could not believe my eyes. The skirts had got shorter. The jeans tighter. The boobs bigger. The hair straighter. Through the course of the evening I witnessed:
-A woman giving a man a blowjob on the street
-A heavily pregnant woman bump and grind her arse into a bloke to some RnB on the dancefloor
-A man, who had fallen asleep in the chip shop, get carried out and placed on the pavement outside
-The police walk past said man, point, and continue walking
-On the drive home, a girl run into the road screaming for help, fleeing from a bloke a few metres back. I slowed the car and she jumped in crying, telling us to 'just drive'. We dropped her at a petrol station where her friends picked her up.
I have always been a far cry from all of the above I am pleased to say.
And the attention I want now is different. I am comfortable without being tarted up. I feel hot when I am just in my pajamas, my hair in a plait, with my glasses on, first thing in the morning. I'm happy just being me.
And I want someone who wants me, as me. I want someone who calls me pretty instead of hot. Who says I'm good at talking rather than good in bed. Who rings me randomly just to chat, rather than for a booty-call.
But if I don't find a man with all that, then that's ok too. Because I am happy being me, just as I am.
I then got home and had a mini break down, furiously trying to unclasp my current hair extensions and in the end just ripping or cutting them out of my head, leaving me with much less hair that when I started. It seems the extensions began to resemble the 'old me' and that I needed them out out OUT!
I really don't know when this 'new me' started. It wasn't a concious decision to change, as I have said before. But my hair, which was dark, straight, long and sexy in a slutty Playboy way, suddenly represented everything that I'm not anymore.
I don't want to be that person....you know when you know you look good...but guys look at you, and then look at their buddies, and give each other that 'yea, I would fuck her' look? And then they look at you in that 'yea, come suck me then' look?
Soon after, you pass a girl or two, who look you up and down. Here in Swindon, we refer to the expression on their faces as 'dogging' (as in, "did you see that bitch just dog me up?") Then comes the cackle from the group of girls as they are far enough out of ear-shot to bitch about how short/tight/tacky your skirt was.
And, although you still know you look hot, you don't feel beautiful.
Then there is the person that I am apparently becoming, in which you can be walking along...say in a pretty white dress, little makeup if any on, hair in a pony tail or loose ringlets, and you walk past a guy and he actually looks at you. And then you walk past a girl and she smiles at you. Because you seem like a 'nice girl', someone wholesome enough to smile at. And you feel beautiful.
Having said all of that, it's not others opinions of me that make me feel good or not. I used to be able to go out, tarted up to the nines, and looking bloody good (though I say so myself!) and not give a damn what people thought. When guys looked, I would stick my boobs out further and wiggle my arse more. When girls dogged me up, I would give them a pitiful look, flick back my straight long hair and toddle off in my stilettos feeling even greater about myself because someone thought I looked good enough to be jealous.
I went out in Swindon the other week and I could not believe my eyes. The skirts had got shorter. The jeans tighter. The boobs bigger. The hair straighter. Through the course of the evening I witnessed:
-A woman giving a man a blowjob on the street
-A heavily pregnant woman bump and grind her arse into a bloke to some RnB on the dancefloor
-A man, who had fallen asleep in the chip shop, get carried out and placed on the pavement outside
-The police walk past said man, point, and continue walking
-On the drive home, a girl run into the road screaming for help, fleeing from a bloke a few metres back. I slowed the car and she jumped in crying, telling us to 'just drive'. We dropped her at a petrol station where her friends picked her up.
I have always been a far cry from all of the above I am pleased to say.
And the attention I want now is different. I am comfortable without being tarted up. I feel hot when I am just in my pajamas, my hair in a plait, with my glasses on, first thing in the morning. I'm happy just being me.
And I want someone who wants me, as me. I want someone who calls me pretty instead of hot. Who says I'm good at talking rather than good in bed. Who rings me randomly just to chat, rather than for a booty-call.
But if I don't find a man with all that, then that's ok too. Because I am happy being me, just as I am.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Paella, Vino y Sol
Hola!
I am in Spain, with a belly full of Paella and mucho red wine. I am pleased to report it is very hot. I have not got out of a bikini in 4 days and the tan is coming along nicely.
Not much has happened which is why I have not felt the blog-need. Being back in England for 2 weeks reminded me why I left - it is crap. No two ways about it. And the main thing that the UK did have going for it - courtesy - has been abandoned. The country has gone to the dogs. A sad time.
I was very bored a few days ago here in Spain, it being just me and the parents, but now I have relaxed into the very laid back swing of things and am enjoying myself. I unfortunately had a few home-truths revealed to me that I would rather have not known about. My dad's dad had an affair, as did my mother with another married man before she met my father (who was also married when she met him). Confused yet? Me too. Having worked it all out, none of my elders have not had an affair, that includes both my parents, and both of their sets of parents respectively. I come from a long line of it. God help me.
I guess I should talk about Ross, although I can barely be bothered. He came down the Friday I got back, it was ok but nothing special. The sex was great when I finally allowed it to happen - after a good 10 hours in each others company (which for me is pretty good). But the conversation didn't flow. You would think after 8 months of not seeing each other that we wouldn't be able to stop talking, but no. We went to Bath for the day and walked by the river, then had a lovely Thai meal followed by the theatre.
A 'nice' day (I hate the word 'nice' as it usually seems so non-descript, yet here it perfectly sums it up) but he didn't rock my world. He didn't hold my hand or kiss me once, and, whilst I'm not big on public affection, a little bit of intimacy doesn't go astray.
So he left on the Sunday (it was father's day) and I haven't heard from him since and I'm actually not bothered. I believe he is giving me all he can in his own way. But it's not enough. He did talk about moving to Australia - we spent a delightful hour looking at where his company had offices situated in Oz and at that point I thought there might be hope. But until he actually does something and actually wants me then I'm not going to waste time over it.
But at least I got all that out of my system. I move on pretty fast.
Now, I don't know if it's the sea air, too much sun or the abundance of vino but I've got thinking lately about a certain someone back home (Oz home that is). Although I don't know if I'm just latching on to him because there is an absence of other interests? So I will wait until I am back in 2 weeks to check out my feelings for sure.
We have been really good friends for a while now, in fact we used to date, and I can talk to him about anything. We often chat shit for hours and it's lovely. He treats me very good, a gentleman. And I have been insanely jealous after reading his emails containing details of his frolicking with other women.
There is a lot of potential that we haven't followed through on previously. And I know that if it didn't work out romantically, our friendship is strong enough to survive it. Maybe I have just been reading too many trashy romance novels on the beach in which the story line is basically: 'he was right under her eyes all along'.
My cousin came over with his 20 month old son (I say cousin, although due to my messy little family history, he is actually my brother's cousin, but not mine) and it made me so broody. There are kids everywhere. The Spanish seem to have kids younger than most of the West - around 25. Or maybe they just look younger because of their Mediterranean diet? I'm not saying I want a husband and babies...there is still a lot of the world I would want to explore.
But it would be nice to explore it with someone who holds my hand, and shares a bottle of vino with me.
I am in Spain, with a belly full of Paella and mucho red wine. I am pleased to report it is very hot. I have not got out of a bikini in 4 days and the tan is coming along nicely.
Not much has happened which is why I have not felt the blog-need. Being back in England for 2 weeks reminded me why I left - it is crap. No two ways about it. And the main thing that the UK did have going for it - courtesy - has been abandoned. The country has gone to the dogs. A sad time.
I was very bored a few days ago here in Spain, it being just me and the parents, but now I have relaxed into the very laid back swing of things and am enjoying myself. I unfortunately had a few home-truths revealed to me that I would rather have not known about. My dad's dad had an affair, as did my mother with another married man before she met my father (who was also married when she met him). Confused yet? Me too. Having worked it all out, none of my elders have not had an affair, that includes both my parents, and both of their sets of parents respectively. I come from a long line of it. God help me.
I guess I should talk about Ross, although I can barely be bothered. He came down the Friday I got back, it was ok but nothing special. The sex was great when I finally allowed it to happen - after a good 10 hours in each others company (which for me is pretty good). But the conversation didn't flow. You would think after 8 months of not seeing each other that we wouldn't be able to stop talking, but no. We went to Bath for the day and walked by the river, then had a lovely Thai meal followed by the theatre.
A 'nice' day (I hate the word 'nice' as it usually seems so non-descript, yet here it perfectly sums it up) but he didn't rock my world. He didn't hold my hand or kiss me once, and, whilst I'm not big on public affection, a little bit of intimacy doesn't go astray.
So he left on the Sunday (it was father's day) and I haven't heard from him since and I'm actually not bothered. I believe he is giving me all he can in his own way. But it's not enough. He did talk about moving to Australia - we spent a delightful hour looking at where his company had offices situated in Oz and at that point I thought there might be hope. But until he actually does something and actually wants me then I'm not going to waste time over it.
But at least I got all that out of my system. I move on pretty fast.
Now, I don't know if it's the sea air, too much sun or the abundance of vino but I've got thinking lately about a certain someone back home (Oz home that is). Although I don't know if I'm just latching on to him because there is an absence of other interests? So I will wait until I am back in 2 weeks to check out my feelings for sure.
We have been really good friends for a while now, in fact we used to date, and I can talk to him about anything. We often chat shit for hours and it's lovely. He treats me very good, a gentleman. And I have been insanely jealous after reading his emails containing details of his frolicking with other women.
There is a lot of potential that we haven't followed through on previously. And I know that if it didn't work out romantically, our friendship is strong enough to survive it. Maybe I have just been reading too many trashy romance novels on the beach in which the story line is basically: 'he was right under her eyes all along'.
My cousin came over with his 20 month old son (I say cousin, although due to my messy little family history, he is actually my brother's cousin, but not mine) and it made me so broody. There are kids everywhere. The Spanish seem to have kids younger than most of the West - around 25. Or maybe they just look younger because of their Mediterranean diet? I'm not saying I want a husband and babies...there is still a lot of the world I would want to explore.
But it would be nice to explore it with someone who holds my hand, and shares a bottle of vino with me.
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