Things that make me sad/frustrated/befuddled #23

You need a licence to drive a car, gay people can't get married in this country but any dumb bitch can have a kid.

Sometimes the crying is on the inside, sometimes... it is not

In journalism sometimes it happens that your boss comes to you with an article torn out of another newspaper and the dictum that your (I summarise) write your own version of that story. This does not involve ripping off the article, per se - you still have to do your own research, your own interviews etc - it just means that you're essentially trying to do what someone else has already done, just... under your name.

I mention this as a neat segue to the fact I am blatantly ripping off the diagram below from the wonderful Lindsay, who I miss dearly at the moment thanks to her being a selfish twat who has gone to spend Christmas with her family instead of hanging out with me in the office. Selfish. Anyway, the diagram is awfully good and just about the best pictorial description of what life on a deadline is like that I've seen.

Overheard in the Office

A: What's that pub at Carousel called? The Foundry?
B: Ew yeah. I've been there. Never again.
A: You're such a snob. Bogans need to drink too, you know.

When bad sentences happen to good people: things I wish I hadn't said to a distinguished academic today.

"Well, with all this talk [about a conference program] you've certainly got my, um, appetite very um... wet."

Thing that make one feel slightly depressed about the trajectory of one's life #13

Waking up to learn that a former school classmate is a finalist for Australian of the Year. I mean, I'm kinda glad I skipped my school reunion, is what I'm saying.

“Today I must be very careful, today I have left my armor at home.”

(Jean Rhys, Good Morning, Midnight)

Signs I may... have some issues #23

I'm quietly stoked my regular hairdresser has quit the salon I go to because even though I really like the haircut he gives me, he:

a) Talks way, way too much while he does it; and

b) Is cute enough to make Head Massage Time supremely awkward.

Let's hear it for the boys

It will come as no surprise to regular readers, and those of you who know me in real life, that I like boys. Boys are awesome and I do, at times, genuinely struggle to understand why anyone would fancy girls when there are boys all around – boys with their faces and the way they smell and their peculiarly male topography. Then I see a photo like this...

...which comes without permission courtesy of The Sartorialist, and I can kind of almost maybe get it.

Things I said at my new book club that, in hindsight, probably made me sound like a dunce/psychopath:

1. "Yeah I've never actually read any George Eliot".

2. "I sort of love Harry Potter".

3. "It would kinda make a great TV series, amiright?"

4. "Yeah I was pretty unmoved when that kid drowned..."

Things making me less-than-happy today

"Why did it tear? Is it too small for you?"

- My seamstress, upon recieving a dress for repairs. They're called C-cups, damn you woman, and I could do without your judgment.

Things making me happy today

"Of all my fucked up friends, you're my favourite Kato."

- an email from Dans, which I choose to interpret as a compliment rather than a slam.

Slightly embarassing scenes from my life

Me: "So what did you get up to at the beach?"
My 4-Year-Old Nephew: "I watched a boy catch crabs."
Me: (Laughter)
Nephew's father: "How old are you?"

And I will say Good Day to you, Sir

If you do not understand why this photo of Ryan Gosling being massaged by Michael Fassbender pleases me, then we are not friends.

Scenes from my life that make me think I am maybe not as mature as all that:

Fleeing a gorgeous French restaurant, giggling uncontrollably, while the wonderful Lindsay shamelessly flirts with our French waiter in her high school French. The last words I heard were: "Do you 'ave a boyfriend?" Also, now that I think about it, maybe the bit where we pretended it was Lindsay's birthday in order to get a birthday candle stuck into our dessert...

Overheard in the office: a co-worker describing my unpleasant cough

"It's like the sound a dog makes right before it throws up."

Because I love ya'll

You need to read this.

Things a gorgeous sounding French waiter said to me that made me go a little weak at the knees that should not have made me go a little weak at the knees:

"And can I have your phone number Kate?"
- (Tragically this request was only made in the context of my booking a table for dinner.)

Thanks for asking

But I did not, as it happens, create a hideously tacky 'couples' Facebook page on which to share photos of/memories with my charming husband. And yet... there it is all the same, making me - and presumably any of my friends unfortunate enough to stumble across it - vomit. Laugh all you want, suckers, but if you've been dumb enough to put your relationship status on Facebook then you have one too. So you go and enjoy that.

“There are ships sailing to many ports, but not a single one goes where life is not painful.” 

(Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet)

Monday Musings

Sometimes I really do watch some godawful fucking TV.

Things I had to say over the phone today

"Yeah so I'm calling about child sex abuse..."

Mwahaha, don't ever change, The Vampire Diaries

"I got this in Australia when I was backpacking with Aboriginal spirit guides."

If watching Clint Eastwood paw Meryl Streep doesn't get me going, I mean, nothing will...

Sometimes I think there is something wrong with me: some little part of me inside that has bent or snapped or been worn down from a lifetime of me being, you know, kind of a pussy. Today I had to conduct a lengthy, heart-wrenching interview for work: an interview I have been dreading for days because I knew it would be hard. I had expected, and tried to prepare myself, for tears - my own. I knew the subject matter was liable to upset me and I just wanted to get through the interview in one piece and not embarass myself by crying, even if that meant bawling in my car afterwards. Hold it together, Kate, I was thinking as I walked through the door. And... I didn't cry. At all. I didn't even come close to crying. The woman I was interviewing cried - something that usually sets me off - and I didn't even tear up. It wasn't that I didn't feel anything - I felt sad for her, frustrated on her behalf and even (yes I sicken myself) a little excited by how goddamn QUOTABLE she was. But I didn't cry and it wasn't a matter of holding myself together in the moment because I didn't cry on the drive back to the office either. I'm not crying as I write this now. I do not plan or expect to cry about this later. Am I dead inside? Has something inside me snapped off, like the internal cog of a clock that no longer quite connects with the cog next to it, rendering me unable to react to something awful in an appropriate way? I don't know about that but I do know one way to find out, Yes, that's right: Bridges of Madison County I am coming for you.

NOTE: The spacing on this post has been all fucked up into one giant paragraph for some reason. I have no idea what's going on and I'm too fucking tired to care. Tomorrow Kate: I'm leaving this problem for you to fix.

"Some like it hard, some like it soft"

So. Fucking. Good. And yet somehow I had forgotten.

Terifying realisations that wake me in the night #18

I am simultaneously not entirely sure I want to continue in my profession and absolutely unqualified to do anything else.

First world problems, first world solutions

The problem: A day that started off very well but has got steadily worse until now I'm basically just sliiiiiding into a big pile of crap.

The solution: Heading to the movies to see Argo in a cinema that allows me to purchase and consume wine.

The symptoms of Ho-yay

(The following all comes courtesy of this site)

Watching a new series… those two characters,

Would be good together… is that sexual tension?

You’re CURIOUS.

Episodes later and these two characters,

Belong together. No! Not the writer’s intention.

You’re FURIOUS

But you still analyse these two characters,

A friendly smile or glance- it’s love… such an invention!

You’re OBSESSED

And they are no longer just two characters,

They’re the greatest but most impossible love story

You’re DEPRESSED

They are now, in your own mind two characters,

In love, it’s always been there in all of it’s glory!

These things I know

Wearing a spiffy new tweed dress to work improves ones productivity and enthusiasm one thousand per cent. Now you know.

The verdict

Today I made someone who was nice to me and trying to do something nice for me (sort of) feel bad.

The fact that this person not only a) felt bad but b) felt moved to communicate that via a voicemail on my phone and a snarky comment to someone more important than me made me feel bad.

Conclusion: it's a tie.

A Saturday Night: Highlights, lowlights

Low: Yes, I did knock half a glass of red wine into the crotch of my neighbour at the ball last night.

High: My neighbour was the charming N, who was polite and lovely about it, instead of chucking his own wine over me like I deserved.

Low: It happened five minutes into the formalities, right in the middle of a quiet bit so that basically everyone there from work witnessed my moment of shame.

High: I stopped myself just in time from swooping in to mop it up myself, opting instead to gather napkins for N and let him sponge up his own inner thigh.

Little Sunday Sorrows (or how I today learned to play my first song on the ukelele)

A short love note to the Virgin Tom Collins the kind barman at Mechanics Institute made me last night,

Although you were basically only lemon and water and sugar,
For me you were everything I needed.

You brought me back to life,
After I'd been drinking red wine all afternoon.

You gave me the strength to go on,
And drink more wine.

I love you,
Although I do also slightly blame you for today's (mild) hangover.

At the pub

S: I would never change my last name if I got married.

K: Not unless their last name was something awesome like Danger or Wickinstombottomsley.

S: Or Skarsgard.

K: Or Fassbender.

S: Obviously.

Great moments from my life #32

Having a friend tell me that the Agent Provocateur parcel she ordered for my birthday has arrived.