The House Of Sick

Don't come to our house- there's an ill wind that blows no good (as the old jazz standard says). I woke up on Saturday morning feeling like total crap. I went as far as Vinnies in Mason St and went back home to bed. Spent the rest of time riding the gravy train. Moved my old carcass to the couch and stayed there all night watching telly. I better have lost weight. Woke up yesterday morning feeling better, just weak from all the lying around I'd been doing. By last night, I was feeling great. Then my housemate,Sarah starting doubling over, saying her guts were giving her grief and then spent the rest of the night driving the porcelain bus. We've been trying to assess what has made us both feel so crappy. I think mine was due to my overindulgent evening on Thursday. As for Sarah, it could have been the crap coffee we picked up on the way to the market or all the fruit she sampled at Little Saigon market. Then again, we were watching Australian Idol at the time which says a lot....

He's Just Not That Into You- Duh...

What the world needs now is not another cliched and predictable movie. I rented 'He's just not that into you' on Sunday night on the recommendation of friends who generally have credible film tastes. All I can say about it is, I've seen it and I never have to watch it again. For those who have not seen nor wish to, here's MM's synopsis of said fillum. Characters include Gigi, the stalker chick who has a date with Connor who cuts their first date early to be with Anna who wants to be with Ben, a married man who is married to Janine because she said 'marry me or else'. She believes she is lucky in love. Then there's Beth and Neil who have had the long term relationship - Neil doesn't believe in marriage and Beth breaks up with him because she does. Gigi meets Alex the bar manager at his bar whilst stalking Connor. He becomes her confidante and adviser in all things male ("if he says that, he's blowing you off"). Mary does the advertising for a magazine in which Connor is her major client. She is having a cyber relationship with Jude who 'my spaces' her- the gay boys in the office advise her that this is the 21st century 'booty call'. I think you can surmise from this description where it's all gonna go. Verse, chorus, verse.. All I can say is, thank god I watched 'Milk' first. Great film about a great man with a vision and message of hope. Let's 'hope' all films of 'He's Just Not That Into You's' calibre will go away and die the cruel death it deserves. Oh and if anyone can help me get that 90 minutes of my life back, I'd be most grateful.

Maybe Tuesday Will Be My Good News Day

I've taken a vow of silence this week. Let's just say life on the domestic front is less than perfect. Ms Thing has been asked to leave the building and I have agreed to do so. However, I don't wish to talk to anyone. In short, I haven't been having a good time of things emotionally which has translated to 'bad housemate' therefore the problem must be removed. So, I'll stick my stuff in storage at the end of July and then fuck off to Sth America. Three weeks of tango,drinking,sight seeing,afternoons in Cafe Tortoni and mass consumption of beef should see me through. I guess I'll be a vagrant on my return until I find somewhere decent to live. This share house caper is -as the Yiddish say- for chumps. I went back to it as a way of not being insular and hermit-like but in all honesty, it's driving me straight back to medication. Or the bottle... mmm alcohol! I'll get out of this funk but it's just that life is sucking big meaty one's at the minute. I'm actually finding some solace and clarity in my silence. I'm looking forward to living alone again if the truth be told. I'll be poor but at least I'll be happy. No more living with petty bullshit and anal retentive ways. I love my organised chaos and my sometimes burst of obsessive tidying where I'll spend a day cleaning and tidying absolutely everything which may include vacuuming out drawers... yes be afraid, be very afraid. Just read my horoscope in the Age that tells me tonight is a good night for cleaning out my cupboards and not to think about romance of any kind. **Queue Twilight Zone music*** (oh yes and why would I think of romance of any kind? Are you winding up, Virgo?). So, apologies for this kind of downer post. I promised myself I wasn't going to spill forth my surgery scarred guts on blogs anymore but this one has been oddly healing. Anyway, let's leave on a positive note- here's me drinking to me;

Margarita with a Margarita

Rant

It's 3.30 am and I'm wide awake. Probably due to the fact that I've been sleeping through the day because of this goddamn cold I've got. I had a weird discussion with my housemate earlier. She was up in arms about the story in the news today regarding children (AS YOUNG AS SEVEN!) pole dancing. I was bemused by this because I felt it was a bit rich and ironical coming from someone who sells dildo's for a living. My retort was that I didn't give a fuck if kids want to swing on a pole-we did it as kids on the monkey bars and frankly it's not that different. Whilst the monks and other citizens of Burma are being executed for fighting for democracy, while we are being fucked over by our government, who gives a fat frogs clacker if kids want to swing on a pole. People need to shut up and think better. I guess they'd rather stuff McDonald's down their kids' gullets while they sit on their globulous arses getting juvenile diabetes. At least they won't be involved in that scandulous activity. My advice to these ignoramous Anna Coren arse sniffing losers- fuck off and die. I've run out of aloe vera tissues and the regular ones feel like sand paper so if I sound a tad cranky- that is why. Maybe I shouldn't have watched Pulp Fiction either. I feel like popping a cap in someone's arse...