Frenemy

I've recently become friends with someone who is a very sassy woman. She is what many (including myself) consider to be oozing sex appeal in the traditional sense: blonde, blue-eyed, smart, and generally gorgeous. Super funny too. One of her oldest and best friends moved to Australia with her and while I'm sure they love each other, boy is there a lot of frenemism going on there.

I totally get why L complains about Miss Sassy stealing all the sunshine, all the attention from anything with a penis. I have experienced it my entire life, because my friends have more often than not been gorgeous but also lovely people and the world gravitates towards them. As opposed to negative bitches like me. But I revel in my bitter world. I love the fact that I am single and don't have to pander to anyone's ideas of perfection.

Sassy complains about L telling shitty stories about her in public, or yelling about Sassy's boyfriend as soon as a hot guy comes within earshot. And yet, the hot guy will totally fall over themselves to tell Sassy to keep them in mind whenever she ditches her stud, while L fumes in the background.

Sassy thinks L is overreacting. Sassy thinks that she is completely non-chalant and not at all encouraging any boy to hit on her and my god no of course she doesn't flirt. I didn't want to say it but wow, even then I was totally siding with L on that count. I did, in a brief moment of guilty doubt, think that perhaps she didn't realise it, and that she wasn't intentionally doing it but just that her other amazing attributes were the reason boys were so keen on her.

I know now that theory is quite wrong after Friday night. Ended up being me and Sassy at the bar after everyone else from work had ditched us. I can't remember how but two randoms joined us and it was a joyous night of us putting the boys in their rightful place (at the bottom of our Megolomaniacal world where we rule) and having lots of shared laughs.

Sassy talks with the average looking "Irish" (ie Aussie through and through except for his passport) bloke, who totally wants to score with her. Most of the night when his Kiwi buddy (who from memory was also average but could pass for hot once his awful Movember face fluff was gone) wasn't roaming striking up random conversations with people, me and him discussed various things including running through the entire cast and special guests of Entourage I would shag over Eric (pretty much everyone except Gary Busey). It was a fun and random conversation. And I think then she senses something is amiss, that someone is not throwing attention her way and that someone is the marginally hotter guy who was talking to me.

As soon as this happens, Sassy is repeatedly hugging him, saying how much she loves his humour, how he is going to be her new best friend and they are going shopping every day and thery will be totally BFF. She gets his phone and puts her number in it and demands that he take her shopping tomorrow so they can buy hot clothes together.

"Irish" boy at this stage is aghast that whatever shot he thought he had with her is totally gone. I wasn't even interested in the Kiwi. But suddenly I was a bit pissed off that she'd doing exactly what L has been saying and very very vigourously.

Coupled with her also targetting my best friend at work (who I've come to consider my "work spouse") once she dumps her boyfriend, I feel like I am actively turning into a frenemy myself. Growing up with 3 brothers I never had to deal with the bitchy competitiveness of sisters. I think I may lose the frenemy battle but I think it's an challenge I'm choosing to take up.

And by the way Kiwi got my number and asked me out. How random. Which proves my long held theory that I only ever like shitheads who won't like me back, but randoms I am not interested in have the same luck in trying with me.

Cashed up

Every job I've had, I've somehow fallen into. The only job I actively pursued was at Virgin (mostly because I was just about broke and it was the first job I found online while I was 4 months into a 6 month trip in Syria). I got the job. And just from about day 1, I tried to quit. 18 months later I finally did.

Then I somehow land my current job as a result of the best friend of someone I worked with sending me an email about it. And as much as I bitch about it, it's probably the perfect job for me, or at least I am just about the perfect person for the role being that I don't care about screaming loonies and find it rather amusing.

It's weird now working in a place that almost every other job has given me experience for. The training and recruitment at ABC, the quirky emails at Boden, the interviewing at Research International, the coding at AC Nielsen, combined with the loose connection to my university degree that I only chose to do so I could say stuff it to my parents because they didn't know what it was I was doing. Then the complaints stuff at Virgin.

I fall into a supervisor job here. Actively tell my manager how much I hate being supervisor. He lets me go part time, which will still earn me A LOT more than I did slogging my arse off at Virgin.

Now they're pretty much setting me up for a new job that is more than double what I used to earn 18 months ago.... I pretty much just have to say OK and it's mine.

It's so weird.

If only the rest of my life was handed to me on a silver platter.

If you're out there God or the good life fairy or whatever you're called, please send me a hot hot hot fireman with a Scottish accent, who trained as a masseuse and loves to cook 5-star gourmet food my way. Thanks in advance!

Escape

All I can dream about lately is running away and not having to deal with the people in my life. The best times of my life have been when I've been travelling, living randomly the gypsy life, bouncing from one town to another country, somehow finding my way through the drunken haze to a brilliant epiphany.

I miss that life soooooo much.

Poo

I saw a poo on the way to work yesterday, on the ground. Man. It was HUGE. Like seriously huge that I think the person/animal that shat it out must have torn their bumhole. It was about 4cm in diameter and nearly 1/2 a foot in length.

Today someone stuck a little flag in it.

I would take a photo but that'd be gross.

Love song dedications

I received another late night love song voicemail from Mr Zig Zog. This time it was backed up by Unchained Melody and telling me about his heart bleeding love. Thank god he didn't discover Leona Lewis.

And he also revealed he was leaving voicemails for me on someone else's voicemail because he was typing my name into the phone from the letters on the telephone keypad, so it was going to their phones and not mine.

If he wasn't verifiably psychotic, I woulda thought he was just getting drunk and leaving me midnight messages inspired by Mix 106.5 Love Song Dedications or something.

I want to stalk you #2

Gave in. Google stalked him.

I want to stalk you

I met a journo at work the other day. We are not allowed to talk to journos, cos the work we do has to remain private and secure (not like spy-secretive or anything but it would be very bad) and we aren't allowed to fraternise with em.

But..... He was really hot. And he was oblivious to the fact that the big boss' EA and all his camera crew were heading off for the actual interview he was supposed to be doing and going oi hey let's go while he was talking to me about the TIO. It was funny. Except the death stares from the EA that is at why I was talking the journo and he was ignoring her firm requests to hurry the fuck up.

So yeah. I really like him and would really really love to google stalk him but have somehow resisted.

Sigh.

Poo

It's okay if you need to do a poo when at work. You gotta go when you gotta go. Poo ain't gonna wait and if you wait, it's not a good thing.

BUT if you have to do a poo at work, I don't get why or how you can leave the toilet stall without checking that all the poo has been flushed away. I do not like, I dislike very very much, when I go into the toilet and there is not just a remnant, a floater or skids... You know I can deal with little things like that, even though they are still gross.

But it is an entirely whole 'nother thing when there is an entire poo log in the toilet. Sometimes smoooshed into big bits because they did a mini flush. So if you know enough to flush the toilet, I don't see why you can't hold down the button an extra 3 seconds, or wait the 5 seconds for it to be confirmed that your shit is gone.

Seriously, how can someone do that? Unless they are a Poo Phantom, or even more comfortable with the poo thing than I am. And I am not shy about poo. I wish I could out this poo phantom.

Boooo Ms Poo.

Awkward

Received some awkward news yesterday and had to explain to my manager why it would be awkward, which made things even more awkward.

Also, Mr Zig Zog left me 3 voicemails, begging of Saint Helen. The last one was a spoken word tribute over James Blunt's You're Beautiful. So fucking weird.

Are butchers hot/the new firemen?

Although it is often irrational, the phhwooooaar! of firemen can also be rationalised in the hero role they play, and of course that big truck, that fire pole, the long hoses they use to douse fires and all that PVC they're always running about in.

Today I witnessed 3 different pairs of women flirt furiously with the butcher boys at Broadway. The boys are not that hot. I mean, they are tall-ish. But they have no muscles. They could pass for geeks (but the dorky geek, not the cool geek). They are generally pretty non-decript, non-anythings.

So I have 4 theories:

1. The GFC is hitting really hard, so these mothers and daughters are pimping themselves out to get a discount on meat.
2. It was a bet/challenge/dare.
3. There is a resurgence of women wanting to be Kath and finding their Kel.
4. Butchers are the new firemen, revisiting the days of the Neanderthal with their role in the meatiness of the world.

It confuses me.

Well, maybe just go away instead of dying

Glutton for punishment. Am I really surprised that having a job that involves negative, negative, negative, emotional blackmail, desperation, and the impending notion of life or death consequences on a daily basis was going to do anything except make me even more of a bitter and twisted bitch?

And yet, here I am still, not totally hating my job, prepared to go back for more more more. What the fuck is wrong with me? Or maybe it's that I am realistic and rational and a well paying job that allows me to the pay the bills and then some, maybe somehow that's keeping me in it.

Sometimes the little randomness makes it. The certifiably crazy man who told me about the failure of the "zig zog" that led me to the site of Why zig and zag, when you can Zog! that bizarrely made sense in his ramblings of fighting the powers and the corruption of the world. It was kind of touching and very enlightening to realise that there is always some semblance of sanity behind the insanity. The way all the crazies seem to say the same thing about the special messages being sent to them from the telly.

Ok, maybe I am being infected with this insanity now...... I mean, Mr Zig Zog did tell me after our 15 minute conversation (involving me going mmm hmmm huh? what? huh? hang on, huh?) that he loved me, because he had begged to Saint Helen for such a long time and he loved me, I love you Saint Helen.

He also had this weird way of phrasing things. "She was negative to I, disruptive to I, interrupting I". It may not be contagious but listen to that sort of stuff all day every day and you lose your way in being able to calibrate what is normal anymore.

Or perhaps it is because Mr Undies is out of my life and the poison I'm sure he laced through all my food is finally leaving my system. God. Mr Undies was such a tumourous cancer.

Anyway, I have ginger beer now. And inspiration to change my house (albeit from a crushed Ikea catalogue.... but still, you gotta get that inspirational vibe and take it when it comes no matter the source). I am looking forward to a lazy weekend of silence, of no whingeing, of being wonderfully, gleefully slothful. To being non-murderous!

Yes, the world is looking a little brighter, despite the very real thunderstorms outside.

Hello Manic-Depressive eh?

I hate you

Now fuck off and die.

Seriously

Still angry

Plus I left my phone at home, and I didn't get time to wash my hair so I felt gross. And work was a bitch. Seriously. Over. It.

No soup for you

Sometimes irrational hatred hits. And all I want to do is lash out at people, cut them off completely. For really silly reasons, nothing they're probably even aware of. Lately this is happening all too frequently.

Today I am super dooper angry. People who just don't get it are really getting to me. I want to fucking annihiliate stupid people. Let them rot away in some dreary god forsaken shack on a horrible lost island that's shitty. I just can't stand it anymore. This job doesn't help either.

Only 3 more weeks left though til I get mini respite from the relentless drivel and moaning. Then I actually have to figure shit out like I promised my boss I would. At least he is starting to get it.

I hate it when

Zeke was right. It worked.