This post has nothing to do with making money. I just thought I would clarify that before I begin. Although, I guess it contains the consumption of money. So...yep.
WEEKEND RECAP!
Friday night, I did sweet fuck all. Mostly because I had myself a sweet appointment to get some more of those baby stoppers. Love those pills. Don't know how I'd control my cycle without them. The appointment was on Saturday morning, just so you know. I think the nurse assumed that I would have some kind of panic if I'd gained weight. Because she asked if I was still 64kg, and I said that I thought I'd lost some(definitely did over the weekend but that's dehydration for ya), and she looked worried, and I was like "oh, I've been exercising" and then she said "well muscle weighs more than fat, so we won't weigh you just in case it's gone up." Like the potential weight gain could destroy more world. Do I look that unstable? Really?I just wanted to get a feel for how complimentary my scales really are. I'm pretty sure it's 2ish kg, but it's hard to be sure. I feel like taking them to someone elses house who also has scales that are a bit more accurate. But at the same time, I like the mystery.
Oh, and I got to book myself a smeeeeeear. Love those things. Not. I'll get me one of those STI tests too, not because I'm suspicious I have anything, but more so because I may as well have them scrape a couple more cells out while they're up there than make another trip. I'm all about the multitasking that kinda shit.
Saturday night I got pretty drunk. And I took a drug. One that starts with A. It was fun. Apparently I got a bit rapey on the pool table, I don't remember that, I do remember playing distraction with the boys while they were playing pool, I may have been trying to make certain people win and others lose. I know I was an effective distractor. I almost lost my phone. I went back to a friends place and we sat around looking at my tights for ages. And talking shit. And he put on a parachute and shouted(hilariously) for his flatmate to get him more mandarins. She wasn't home. We went on a walk to McDonalds and ate hashbrowns at the Basin Reserve. They were delicious. I couldn't actually read the menu to find anything else that I may or may not have wanted to eat. We then walked back to the flat, and watched movies from 7am until 6pm. Many movies. Many many movies. Black Balloons was a downer. Be Kind Rewind was real good.
So many movies. There was napping during boring ones. There was a documentary about Chuck Norris. MMmmm yeah.
Okay. I'm going now. Only 10 minutes till hometime. I'm glad. Today has been long.But also fun times ;) Winky face entirely necessary. Possible winky face action tomorrow night also. I'm quite excited by that. Mmmmhmmmmm. After dancing thought. Hour and a half of dancing. That's a long night. BUT IT WILL BE AWESOME.
Loves yo XXX
Monday, June 20, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Further Failure.
So.
I'm blogging bout this because a special request was made. I was going to video blog but seeing as said person can't necessarily watch the video blogs at any time she desires, I thought I would make it a text one.
Friday night. I finish work at 6. I get a call asking if I'd like to come have a beverage or two. I think "sure, why not?". I'll tell you why I shouldn't have. Because there is no such thing as a "couple of drinks". NO SUCH THING. It turns into a glass of wine, 4 jugs(I drank at least 1.5 - of the super jug variety I might add), and some bottles of beer(Which I don't remember consuming, I only know of these from witness accounts).
So anyway, I meet said friend, and it's all going quite well, we go to Matterhorn for an hour and sit on a single glass of wine(not literally of course). Then, we decide to go to Southern Cross. For a jug. This turns into 4.
[SIDE NOTE: Do I smell? I think I might. I hope not. That's the last thing I need right now.]
Jugs there ain't cheap either. I spent $53.00 on 2 jugs. Anyway. So, I got shitfaced. Before I hit shitfaced status, I met Dave. Dave is a sports photographer. He had on this day, been painting(a house). I guess there isn't photography work all the time. Or maybe there is but sports photog is a hard business to break into. Who knows. Anyway. I first encountered him on my way to the bathroom. He was playing pool. He stopped me to tell me that I had a cute nose. And then he asked about my accent. I DON'T HAVE AN ACCENT. Well, maybe I do? I don't know. I'm sure I don't. I'm sure I just sound like a nzer. Anyway, I left to urinate, but not before he touched my nose.
On the way back outside, his brother who had arms the thickness of my thighs - maybe my calves(with muscle, this intrigued me later in the evening) stopped me for a bit of a chat. I have no recollection as to what this chat involved other than the fact that his name was "The bastard" - this was not his name. He did not appear to be particularly bastardish either. I may have learnt his real name later in the evening my my mind has voided this conversation like a magnet over a disk.
Daves brother must have watched me return to my table, because Dave shortly arrived at my table. I was given a look by my friend, but I assured her it was okay. He told me, within 5 minutes of sitting at the table, that he is 41, and currently going through a messy divorce with his sleeping pill addicted wife who was secretly making porn for other men while he was taking their 2 year old daughter Charlie out, and plotting her departure from the country to Canada with another man.
I wasn't interested in him in a physical way whatsoever, but I guess it was rather nice to talk to someone who obviously wanted me and was being quite complimentary for quite some time. And he really dug my nose for some reason. I have no idea why.
At some point in time, apparently, Russ arrived, and some other people I know, but I don't remember this. And then, we went to Cavern Club, and drank beer in bottles, and I don't really remember much about this time, but I did take home a boy. I didn't remember his name - I had to be told the next day. And it really, really wasn't good for my happiness. He got picked up at 4:30 or something ridiculous. I had work in the morning. At 9:30. I was so hung. When I woke up, all I could do was cry. For at least 30 minutes while I was trying to get ready. SO much emptiness. And then I staggered on down to work. Shit it was horrible. Such a long and pain filled day. Hung over as fuck. Wanting to vomit. More than likely still drunk when I arrived. Less than 3.5 hours sleep. So not cool.
I don't intend on doing that for a while. And I think I've actually figured out that one nighters, for the most part, are going to do more harm than good. I think I've moved past that stage in my life. For now at least. Maybe once I've had one of those relationship things I might have a rebound one nighter or two, but for the most part I want something that involves a little more affection and some sweet spooning action.
So that's where I'm at with the men. I still need to figure out where to meet new ones. I'll get there one day I'm sure.
XXX
I'm blogging bout this because a special request was made. I was going to video blog but seeing as said person can't necessarily watch the video blogs at any time she desires, I thought I would make it a text one.
Friday night. I finish work at 6. I get a call asking if I'd like to come have a beverage or two. I think "sure, why not?". I'll tell you why I shouldn't have. Because there is no such thing as a "couple of drinks". NO SUCH THING. It turns into a glass of wine, 4 jugs(I drank at least 1.5 - of the super jug variety I might add), and some bottles of beer(Which I don't remember consuming, I only know of these from witness accounts).
So anyway, I meet said friend, and it's all going quite well, we go to Matterhorn for an hour and sit on a single glass of wine(not literally of course). Then, we decide to go to Southern Cross. For a jug. This turns into 4.
[SIDE NOTE: Do I smell? I think I might. I hope not. That's the last thing I need right now.]
Jugs there ain't cheap either. I spent $53.00 on 2 jugs. Anyway. So, I got shitfaced. Before I hit shitfaced status, I met Dave. Dave is a sports photographer. He had on this day, been painting(a house). I guess there isn't photography work all the time. Or maybe there is but sports photog is a hard business to break into. Who knows. Anyway. I first encountered him on my way to the bathroom. He was playing pool. He stopped me to tell me that I had a cute nose. And then he asked about my accent. I DON'T HAVE AN ACCENT. Well, maybe I do? I don't know. I'm sure I don't. I'm sure I just sound like a nzer. Anyway, I left to urinate, but not before he touched my nose.
On the way back outside, his brother who had arms the thickness of my thighs - maybe my calves(with muscle, this intrigued me later in the evening) stopped me for a bit of a chat. I have no recollection as to what this chat involved other than the fact that his name was "The bastard" - this was not his name. He did not appear to be particularly bastardish either. I may have learnt his real name later in the evening my my mind has voided this conversation like a magnet over a disk.
Daves brother must have watched me return to my table, because Dave shortly arrived at my table. I was given a look by my friend, but I assured her it was okay. He told me, within 5 minutes of sitting at the table, that he is 41, and currently going through a messy divorce with his sleeping pill addicted wife who was secretly making porn for other men while he was taking their 2 year old daughter Charlie out, and plotting her departure from the country to Canada with another man.
I wasn't interested in him in a physical way whatsoever, but I guess it was rather nice to talk to someone who obviously wanted me and was being quite complimentary for quite some time. And he really dug my nose for some reason. I have no idea why.
At some point in time, apparently, Russ arrived, and some other people I know, but I don't remember this. And then, we went to Cavern Club, and drank beer in bottles, and I don't really remember much about this time, but I did take home a boy. I didn't remember his name - I had to be told the next day. And it really, really wasn't good for my happiness. He got picked up at 4:30 or something ridiculous. I had work in the morning. At 9:30. I was so hung. When I woke up, all I could do was cry. For at least 30 minutes while I was trying to get ready. SO much emptiness. And then I staggered on down to work. Shit it was horrible. Such a long and pain filled day. Hung over as fuck. Wanting to vomit. More than likely still drunk when I arrived. Less than 3.5 hours sleep. So not cool.
I don't intend on doing that for a while. And I think I've actually figured out that one nighters, for the most part, are going to do more harm than good. I think I've moved past that stage in my life. For now at least. Maybe once I've had one of those relationship things I might have a rebound one nighter or two, but for the most part I want something that involves a little more affection and some sweet spooning action.
So that's where I'm at with the men. I still need to figure out where to meet new ones. I'll get there one day I'm sure.
XXX
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
A not so quick summary.
Also, laksa recipe. I'm going to write it here too...
Onion - 1 large one, 2 not so large ones
Garlic - 4 - as many as you like cloves
Lemon grass - just the white inside part - 1 stem(ish)
Ginger - 5ish cm, peeled.
Chili - 4 little ones, 4 big ones, depends on how spicy you like it.
Turmeric - a teaspoon or so...
In summary - I make it up as I go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)