An open letter to the incredibly unhelpful security guy today who made my life ten times more difficult than it needs to be because he is lazy and stupid and incapable of listening:

FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU, buddy. Enjoy minimum (I hope) wage.

Slow Dolly

If you haven't heard this awesome slowed down version of Dolly Parton singing "Joelene" you need to do that now.

Awkward conversations with myself

Me: Look, Guy, I know you want to go out for dinner again and buy that dress even though you have a lot of dresses and have soy mochas at Epic Espresso every morning even though that place is expensive but we are now officially in savings mode and you can no longer have whatever you want.

Myself: Sure. The thing is -

Me: No. There is no "thing". This is not a discussion - I'm telling you, buster, we are Tightening The Belt. There will be no frivolous purchase, no guilty pleasures, no what-the-hell acquisitions just because Alannah Hill has an exciting new range in store that may well be the last collection she ever designs under the label she created and it looks like magic and smells like rainbows.

Myself: Uh huh. It's just I couldn't help but...

Me: I said no. I know it hurts. I know you think "what's the harm" in having just one extra soy mocha than our weekly budget allows but every penny counts, dude - every fucking counts. This is sensible fiscal planning for a happier tomorrow.

Myself: I KNOW ABOUT THE CAT SCRATCHING POST.

(Silence)

Me: Oh.

Myself: Yes.

Me: You know about that?

Myself: Yes.

Me: You know that it was hand constructed in Portland?

Myself: Yes.

Me: From many tiny squares of eco-friendly cardboard?

Myself: Yes.

Me: And that the shipping cost turned out to be more than the actual scratching post?

Myself: Yes.

Me: And it doesn't matter to you that this was all organised well before savings mode commenced and that I was stupid and didn't look at how much the shipping costs would be and could have wept when I learned it was TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS and that I'd already been charged for it and there was nothing I could do about it now anyway?

Myself: No.

Me: Just checking. Carry on.

Slutty slut slut slut

I was going to try and write something clever about this but then I just got really, really depressed instead.

Sometimes it's hard to be a woman

Pretty much all the boys and men I spend any time with are great right-on sorts who are essentially feminists, even if they don't identify as such. That much said, I sometimes think that only a woman can know how exhausting, how relentless and how really tiring being a woman can be sometimes.

Evidence I am not as young as perhaps I once was:

1. I mentioned to my boss that if they need someone to interview the wonderful Kevin McCloud when he comes to town in October, I was super keen. His response: "Who's Kevin McCloud?"

2. I just laughed at a joke about franking credits. Let me repeat: FRANKING CREDITS.

3. I stayed in the car for longer than necessary last night so I could listen to the end of Don McLean's Vincent.

So this happened

I'm not saying that I'm proud of posting a link to this photo of Alexander Skarsgaard's, um, Good China, but I'm doing it anyway. The link contains a spoiler for the finale of True Blood (which I stopped watching a few seasons ago but which Aleisha assures me is good again) but it also contains "Eric's" junk so, you know, you make the call.

That sound you hear...

... is the last final remnants of my once fierce, mostly long-since burnt out, crush on Pete Doherty disappearing forever. Because no. Just no no no no no.

Last night I had a dream...

... that I woke up and could't figure out if it was 8.30am or 10.30am. Then I actually woke up. It was 2am. True story.

Evidence I am not a very nice person #12

Last night I tried very politely to move past a girl at a bar who was blocking my way but she was too busy bitching about someone to her friend (very loudly and obnoxiously) to hear my murmured "excuse me... do you mind... could I just...?" So when I sort of forced my way past her I accidentally jogged her elbow, spilling about half of her pricey looking cocktail on the floor and I sort of... smiled inside a little bit.

Things that have charmed me today:

#3 My former boss calling to see how devastated I was by this news.

Things I definitely should not do to perk myself up after a really awful day (that isn't over yet):

1. Gorge on leftover gnocchi and bread and butter pudding in one might carbfest that will leave me feeling faintly ill afterwards.

2. Buy myself an Alannah Hill cape. BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE WRONG ALTHOUGH I AM KINDA THINKING I MIGHT JUST TRY IT ON THIS WEEKEND BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, WHY NOT.

3. Stick head in oven. I mean, for starters, it's electric.

It is not enough for me to succeed, others must fail

Like I wasn't having a bad enough day already, now I'm basically sick with jealousy.

Things I have learned upon re-reading* the last four Harry Potter books

1. I really love the Harry Potter books**.

2. JK Rowling, for all the shit she takes over her prose style, writes really, really great fun plots.

3. The last couple of books could probably technically benefit from a far stricter edit but I'm sort of glad all that extra (read: semi-pointless) stuff I might have missed previously is in there to enjoy.

4. Ron is basically the true hero of the series, putting up with Harry being super famous and awesome all the time. Except of course for all those times he doesn't put up with him at all and, in fact, Loses His Shit.

5. Ron is also quite a shit wizard. Am I wrong?

6. George Weasley may be gay. AM I WRONG? I may be wrong and maybe it's just wishful thinking but Fred Weasley is the only one who ever seems to get any action.

7. Casting choices made in the (ugh) movie versions have coloured my view of the books forever. I now can't read the books without finding the characters of Sirius and Snape kinda, ummmmmm, hot. Thanks for nothing Gary Oldman and Alan Rickman (call me!)

8. I really love the Harry Potter books.


* re-reading is misleading because this time around I listened to them on audiobook, which was basically perfect.

** Not sure I can bear to go back and re-read the first two, though. Sure they're short but I do remember them being on the, um, simple side.

Weighty matters

I am embarrassed by the amount of time I spend thinking about my body, what it looks like, how it could look better and what I put into it. I feel lame-as-shit for letting the number I see on the scale determine how I feel about myself. I think it's kinda sad how happy losing a cheeky 5+ kilograms last year made me feel. Ditto how depressed I feel at having put 3kg back on.

These are all possible reasons why I really enjoyed this blog, which offers a slightly different perspective on weight loss not seen all that often.

The case of the 3 month wait

Bring on October 31.

My body is a genius.

It's true. My body is a genius. So genius, indeed, it's capable of gaining 3kg in one week of only moderately indulgent eating and drinking. I don't know what this means for my self esteem and ability to look at myself in the mirror without weeping but if I was a cavewoman or living off the land or something I would be CRUSHING IT survival-wise.

Unexpected lessons I have learned from watching the trashy UK TV series Mistresses #34

Ovarian cancer will probably solve all your problems.

Sell Out

So, yeah. This.