Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Rehab For The Soul.


This cartoon explains perfectly, how i've been recently.

Today, I saw my friend Sammy on the bus. We had a lengthy conversation about the guys that we're both fanging. And the excuses that they've given us to cover their own arses, ergo avoiding the whole bitch-romance agenda that every girl carries around with them like the latest fashionable handbag.
We discussed their various reasons for not growing a pair, or actually putting their minds to something that doesn't necissarily consist of booze, drugs, cigarettes, food, fapping or anything sexual on a daily basis.

We did not really get to the point of the conversation: are these guys genuinely into us?
Of course, Anxiety Girl has been allowed to run rampant the last few weeks. Drugs, Alcohol, Doctors Appointments and Arguements haven't really aided this.
It's hilarious how both of our situations have been equally the same in the events leading to our On-Bus-Relationship-Discussion.

These are the excuses we collaborated:
(in no particular order)

1) "I'm just not ready for a girlfriend."
Definition: He likes you, but fanging without strings is so much easier;
- you're cute, but you're not his "type";
- "...would I even want to put my dick in that?"

2) "Last time I was in a relationship, I got really hurt."
Definition: See Above;
- Tell him to harden the fuck up and ask at what point will his testes decend?
- He thinks fanging is still good, but just can't be fagged with relationship bullshit
(girls in the room scream: all you have to do is let me call you my boyfriend to put my head at ease, introduce me as "girlfriend" to people, and pleasure me when I ask for it . Also, if you fuck up, we have someone to blame...)*cue pulling hair out*

3) I'm going through serious emotional shit right now.
Definition: Too lazy;
- He's having reservations about you;
- See above;
- He genuinely does have serious emotional shit. This however, must be proven to be believed.

4) I'm still hung up on my exgirlfriend...
Definition: Bail, Bail, Bail.
- See above;
- Bail faster;

5) "I'm just giving you the warning now...
(that I)..."
- Do Drugs;
- Do Drink;
- Do Have Lots of Sex;
- Do Want Lots of Sex;

- Do Not want a girlfriend.

These excuses make me want to do drugs and die in my bathtub whilst listening to Melissa Etheridge on repeat.

Which therefore, brings me to the point of this blog: Rehab for the Soul.

In order to banish Anxiety Girl, back to the deepest circle of Hell, I have decided to take myself on a journey of life rerevalutation (yes, two re's) back to where I used to live, Cabbage Tree Creek.
Do not be fooled by its middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere title, its a delightful town that boasts a music studio/gallery and a general store that's heritage listed.
After all, they do say that Home is Where the Heart is.
And my heart is forever in Cabbage Tree, hidden somewhere amongst its rolling hills and towering gumtrees, frolicking with fauna and picking the flora to put in its hair...

When I was first kicked out of home by my Mum at the tender age of Thirteen, I was shipped off to my Dad's, nestled just off the highway in Cabbage Tree.
In the beginning, Cabbage Tree, to me, was Hell frozen over with some trees and grass.
But when you're at a point in your life (yes, at Thirteen, I was already experiencing a midlife crisis) where nothing is beautiful anymore except when you're so boozed-up on Passion-Pop you think everything is beautiful, Cabbage Tree saves you from your impending doom of early alcoholism.

I spent most afternoons, scouring Kangaroo hop-paths on horseback, trying to find Scrub Cattle, lounging around in ever-green paddocks beneath shady trees, feeding our local goanna's, possums, bats and other critters, or down by the creek, paddling about near the sandbar and boulders - and warning my friends about the resident tiger snakes.

Cabbage Tree is one of those places where its so remote, no fucker will bother you. You're forty-five minutes from the nearest supermarket, fifteen minutes from the nearest surf beach, and completely surrounded by the Snowy Mountains.

I met a woman named Wendy, within the first two weeks of moving to Cabbage Tree Creek. At the time, I had - in no incertain terms - disowned my own mother, and was forced to live with a father who left the hosue at 3.30am and returned home around 8.00pm, expecting his dinner cooked and his house spotless.
Wendy and I hit it off straight away: she owned Scotch Collies.
In the beginning, we started going for walks together. With the dogs.
And our friendship blossomed from then on.
It didn't take long for me to realise that Wendy and I were peas-in-a-pod, although we were an odd match. In my opinion, She was, and always has been, a teenager caught in an adults body.

Would I have survived my time with Dad, before Mum and I patched things up, without Wendy and Kev?
Maybe, but I wouldn't have done such a good job at mending myself without them there to turn a bad day into a brilliant one.

So, I'm off to spend two days at Wendy and Kevin's house, basking in the sun, laying about on her back porch and drinking iced coffees all afternoon, walking our usual paths to shed our iced coffees, and doing some mosaics.
Its an odd way to re-revaluate your life, and rehab the soul, but it works for me.

Just being home.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

What I Think Boys Use To Make Themselves Look Cool.

I have many years of observing the opposite sex. The knowledge from observation has grown since I was five, when I thought Dinosaurs would make one one of the cool kids, and I'd be totally in with the boys.
Sure, they guys thought I was pretty cool because I had every Dinosaur toy known to man (except for the Godzilla robot: man, I wanted that), but knowing too much about that scared them off.
Since then, I have spent my time observing various social groups of the male race, and have formed this list on what Boys Think Make Them Look Cool.

1) Tattoos.

I bet this guy got dumped by his girlfriend in highschool...

Tattoos give everyone the power to make themselves feel like a badass - boys get them to showe them off; girls date the boys to parade off how much of a "bad boy" shes fucking.
This fails when your boyfriend looks like the walking dead, a over-muscled-gym-juice-junkie with his prissy little Chinese symbols for "peace, love and unity" inked on his spine, or when he just gets STUPID tattooed on his forehead for fun.

I prefer sleeves on guys, if they've got tatts. There is also this huge "misconception" (thanks, mum, for your undeniably stupid concept) that girls aren't attracted to tatts: on behalf of the female population, I'd like to debate this rumor, or jsut blatantly say is complete bullshit.
I'm trying to find a minority that doesn't like boys with awesome tatts.
Seriously, every girl has fantasiced about that sexy, tattooed guy that just brushed past her.
I wonder if he's really...
Do you think he'll ever want to do...
Oh man, jump me right now...

The only issue I have with tattoos, is stupid fucking japanese ones, along with portrait tatts - its a nice thought, but I'm yet to see a nice one. And ridiculous, badly thought ones ones in general.
Particulary ones on the face. I've seen one person pull face tatts off, and thats Kat Von D.

Here are some tattoo fails.

This just blankpoint scares me.

I just feel sorry for this guy.

2) Leather Jackets vs. Suit Jackets.

Mystery Jets Vs. Vains of Jenna.
Fuck it, I'd do them all.

I prefer leather jackets, but its an aquired look. If a football jock tried to make leather jackets happen, I'd find myself hitting him up for slander.
Suit jackets can cause some girls to prematurely guess how sophisticated and intelligent her newly-spotted catch really is. See, boys are becoming smarter.
Evolution is kicking in, you dig?
They have started to pick up on the super-sonic waves from our brains, and started to sit up and realise what threads make us want to jump them like a wildebeast.
Suit jackets don't do it for me so much; ties on the other hand, get me thinking.
But leather jackets?
Oh baby.

3) Facial Hair.

This guy fell asleep on his back lawn.
Due to being a low-down, good-for-nothing, lazy hippy, he neglected to mow the grass. His wife did it for him.
This is the result of a very fortunate run-in with his wife and her lawnmower. And he still looks smug.

Someone please give Ludacris the memo: spraying your hair on is just not the style no more, dawg.

A subject debated by all women kind.
"Your beard is itchy!"
"But I like the filthy look!"
"Oh, baby, I can taste my pussy on you. Go wash your face."
I'm guessing that would be one advantage of having facial hair: if your boyfriend was tongueing someone else's twat, you'd certainly be able to smell it.

Facial hair is nice, in moderation. I'm not down for the hairy-dog look. Stubble gets me going.
Mutton chops and mostaches, not so.

4) Band Shirts.

these kids got fined for wearing their "Jesus is a Cunt" tees.
I lolled.

Band tees can tell you a lot about a person.
This Cradle of Filth tee tells me that this couple are angsty, pushed-aside-by-the-world, depressed teenagers. And that their Daddy's hate them.
When I see someone wearing a Madonna shirt, I wonder whether or not he has really been touched like a virgin.

I prefer someone, that when I say "Hey, I've heard of that band!" to give me a five minute run down of their favourite tracks, the "best EP the ever released!" and which band member they love the most.
Not, "Oh, dude, this band is rad."
And leave it at that.

5) Piercings.

this is photographic evidence of this guy's attempt to be "badass."
He didn't realise his epic fail.

lipstick for men; check
blue cashemre sweater in ladies size; check
pensive, deep, thoughtful doe-eyes; check
clean shaven; check
totally perfect salon-styled hair; check, check
terribly designed sleeve tattoo; check

perfectly shaped and plucked eyebrows; check, check, check, check.

Piercings can be good, some can be bad.
I've never been a big fan of lip or septum piercings. The photograph of said Princess
above is cold, hard proof that piercings are not for everybody.
Sometimes, they just make you look like even more of a fag.

Or winner of this months weirdo trophy. See Right.

6) Hairstyles.

Raffel just hung his head out the window for too long, sending his brain careering from his ear in the process,
note the brain-dead stare and hawwian tshirt.

This is Ash, demonstrating how to still look manly and attractive with a floral doona cover.
He also gives everybody a good view at sex/bedhead should look like.

This is a subject, sometimes better off left to the women to decide on.
David Beckham says it all.

I'm sure he endorses the "Hey guys, lets all look like *S.N.A.G's TOGETHER!"
(*snag = sensitive new age guy.)
I like the "I jsut had the most incredible sex of my life" hair, or just the classic Bedhead.
I refuse to date a man, or be around one for that matter, who spends more time in front of the mirror than I do.

7) Coloured Shirts. Mostly Pink Ones.

Enough said.

8) Flannel Shirts.

Ben Kweller.

Flannel can look great, when worn the right way and on the right person. However, its become over popularised and often the subject of heated discussion between country boys and the city kids. Country Boys, you stopped wearing flannel when people told you it was uncool - don't try to claim it back now that its a global fashion movement.
Its something I don't mind on a guy, as long its not worn day in, day out.

9) The I-Haven't-Showered-In-Two-Weeks-Look vs. I'm-Channeling-Californian-Musicians-Circa-1960.

This guy just likes the scent of his own sweaty hair vs. The Killer's Sophisticated I-Like-Beards look.

Not washing in a week is fucking disgusting.
Trying to make beards look hot isn't really going to happen for you.
But hey, if you can sell it to a broad-spectrum audience, still make money and score girls why the fuck not?
I love The Killers. But Brandon Flower's 'stache is negotiable.

10) Sleaze.

Boys who think sleaziness is a sure-fire way to turn girls on, can dream on.
Making sleazy remarks about the "roundness of your tits" or how well I could "take a dick" doesn't make me think Wow, what a lovely guy - mum would love him!
It seems to often be an Italian or metro thing: the sad relisation here is that both are coming into each others categories.

The end.
This may be updated sometime in the future. But this is just my top ten.