I GIVE UP

Thats it I give up. This may be my last post, dear and valued readers, as I am so sick of both my job and the process of job-seeking as a whole that I am seriously considering going on the dole, moving to Nimbin and letting all my bodily hair grow to its full potential.

Let me just give you an overview as to why I am so fed up and disillusioned by the whole job-seeking proccess. I will itemise it job by job for you to make it easier:

Job number 1: I contact job by phone. Employer sounds interested. Asks me to come in the next day, which I by coincidence have off. I go in. She likes me. Makes me do a personality profile test. I pass. She says she will call me. I wait. She doesnt.
FOUR WEEKS LATER, she calls me. You still interested? Why yes, yes I am. So I have another interiew. Then a week later I have another interview. Then a phone interview. Then, SIX WEEKS after my initial interview, she calls me in, I get all dressed up in my dicky little suit and PUT ON MAKEUP to be told that they were prepared to offer me a different job at a far lower pay because she really like me but I didnt have the experience for the position. SIX WEEKS TO TELL ME IM NOT GOOD ENOUGH!?!? Come on. And if I have already told you that 40k+ is the lowest I can go, dont offer me less!

Job Number 2: Get a call for a job I dont even remember applying for. Go to interview. Suitably impress recruitment consultant who is convinced that I am PERFECT for the position. I am asked to wait in the city as they may interview me the same day. I do this. Fart ass around, finally get a call saying sorry they cant see me today, they will ring tomorrow. Tomorr comes. They dont ring. They finallly ring a week later and we organise an interview. Day comes. I get suited up and make my way into the city. Recruitment consultant calls. Something has come up can you come on Monday? I return from the city hot and sweaty and dressed like a dickhead on my DAY OFF. Monday comes. Interview goes well. They like me. They say they like me. They tell me they will call on Friday. Friday comes. Phone does not ring. Finally on Wednesday the recruitment lady calls to tell me that they told her that I didnt get it. Dont worry about calling me, Im just a mere shit kicker!!!

Job Number Three: Friend says: I have the best job for you. Give me your resume and I'll give it to my friend. I do. Friend rings. Friend says come in. Friend organises a trial run with one of the teams. No mention of pay or whether or not I have the job. I arrive at trial. Job PAYS LESS THAN I WAS TOLD, the shifts are shit and the only way to make decent money is to work overtime on your overtime. I walk out. They fail to understand why.

Can you see, dear and valued readers, why I am so jack of the job-seeking situation? No consideration is given to us jobseekers, we are expected to be at their beck and call and they think its ok to LEAD US ON for WEEKS at a time and THEN tell us that we are not good enough. If I am not good enough now I was sure as hell not good enough 6 weeks ago when you first saw me. And if I am NOT GOOD ENOUGH, why cany you grow some bloody balls and tell me? Dont procrastinate for a while and then pass me a message through a poor recruitment consultant who was nice enough to bat for me in the first place! And dont talk a job up then be surprised when I walk out the door when I find out how shite it really is.

GGGRR If I was recruiting I would at least have the decency to talk to people I interview. And I would be honest enough not to build peoples hopes up by telling them they have a chance when they really dont.

Its hard, finding a new job. Its physically and emotionally draining. It HURTS when someone says you arent good enough.

So farewell fair world, I am off to Nimbin to live in a commune and only wear clothes every second Sunday. Ill plait my pubes and never ever wash my hair again.....

Oh wait. I have a boyfriend. Oh, and a mortgage. Looks like its seek.com.au again for me.........

Job Hunting

Attention all fun and funky fashionistas! Are you a RETAIL SUPERSTAR! Are you ready for a fantastic challenge in a dynamic team environment? Do you have a positive CAN DO ATTITUDE and great INTERPERSONAL SKILLS?

In the last month I have read so many Positions Vacant Ads I am beginning to sound like one.

They are all so tacky. Most of them are hyping up really boring and uninteresting positions with phrases like "fun team environment" or "unique role for the right person". But lets get down to it. Most of these roles are either:

a) talked up glorified store assistants roles

b) boring communist call centre environments.

Just once I wish I would read an ad that was REAL. An ad that said what the job really was.....

"Are you unskilled, uneducated, unintelligent and looking for a role where you get kicked around by and asshole job for a minimum wage? Are you looking for a role where the the highlights of your working day are smoko and hometime? We are looking for an unenthusiastic shitkicker to join our team of highly bitter and resentful people. You will be required to stand around, complain about the shithole you work in, occasionally act as though you are actually working and blame all your mistakes on the outdated computer system. Overtime is unpaid and essential. And we will make sure that you miss out on as much fun as is humanly possible."

See that is real life. That is what 50% of the jobs that are in the leader each week should actually read. You are not a "fashion expert", you are a store assistant that didnt make it into a design course. You are not a "hygiene consultant" you are an underpaid cleaner.

Im not sure if this made sense but its what I think.

The End

Danoz Dreaming

I need help. I need support. i am ashamed of what I almost did and Im not afraid to say it. There has to be some form of 12 step meeting held in a church basement for people like me. Or, for people like what I am about to become......

It started innocently enough. Im on late shift tonight so I thought I would sleep in for an extra hour or two and then get up and be a bum for a little while before I went to work. All was going fine. I woke up at 9.30, shower, breakfast..... then I TURNED THE TV ON.

Nothing wrong with that you say, we all have our lazy mornings where we decline to do anything even remotely productive, and so far not there is not. It is what happened AFTER I turned the TV on that has turned me into a shamful borderline PERSON WITH PROBLEM.

The television was tuned to channel ten, and the program of choice was Good Morning Australia with good ole Moonface himself Bert Newton. I stared blankly for a while- a couple of very B grade lounge singing celebrities, a washed up old superstar with her new protege...... Then IT happened.

Bert said "And now heres a word from Moira" and suddenly I came face to face with the all new all amazing 49 piece super storage set, complete with lids and plastic stand to hold and organise. These quality containers all come with interchangeable lids so you will never be left with one container that is lid free. Microwaveable airtight, there is nothing these containers CANT do. And what about for use in other parts of the house? Store your nuts and bolts, use them in the laundry, keep your hair clips rust free. These containers do everything, from negotiating conflict situations in the middle east to feeding starving masses in small African nations.

AND ALL FOR ONE EASY CREDIT CARD PAYMENT OF $49.95!!! And if you ring today they will throw in ANOTHER SET for HALF PRICE. I tell with 98 of these miracle wonders, we could abolish terrorism! Civil unrest would be a thing of the past, and those EVIL COMMUNISTS would be GONE FOREVER.

Yes it sounds too good to be true. Hell it IS to good to be true. Because logically, the containers will probably buckle, the lids will be mishapen, and the stand will be too small to fit them in. And when is anyone going to need 98 miracle containers? Am I really going to find 98 uses for something that looks suspiciously like a chinese takeaway container with a fancy blue lid?

NO I AM NOT. Which brings me to the reason why I feel so ashamed. I WROTE THE TOLL FREE NUMBER DOWN. I wrote down the number that flashed when they said CALL NOW! I am not going to publish that number here, because I do not want to tempt any of my poor readers with such a FANTASTIC DEAL. But the fact that I wrote the number down means that I actually entertained, even if only for a few seconds, the idea of ringing up and PURCHASING 49 glorified fast food containers and a dodgy plastic stand to hold them in. And that, dear reader, is sad and frightening.

Imagine if I did- would I be able to stop there? Next would be the MAGIC BULLET, which may sound like a sex toy but is in fact an "amazing new concept in food processing". Or maybe I need a couple of bagless vacuum cleaners (buy one get one free- do you really need two?) or a super duper slicer-dicer that is sold by some old pommy dude who talks too fast and expects to amaze me by the fact that he just cut chips. The television shopping possibilities appear endless....

Its a dangerous and frightening addiction, and I think that all products by Danoz Direct and Home Shopping should come with a Health and Safety warning and information one the TVS-line- Thats TV Shopping addiction line for those of you who dont know. They should have those little warnings flashing up on the screen.

Well I must go, that was the doorbell and I have a feeling that my Amazing Ab workout machine that will also braid my hair and wash my dishes has just turned up- all for 4 easy credit card payments of $59.95..... BYYYEEEEEEE

Boredom

You know you have had a boring and wasted day when the highest point is the free sandwiches and orange juice that got served at lunch.

Today I was rostered to come in (on my day off I might add) to do the following course: OH&S Introduction to Safety and Procedures in Construction. Basically it is a course specifically designed for people who are starting out in a career in construction. You know: Building. Roofing. Tiling.

I learnt valuable things about the height of scaffolding and the benefits of hard hats and roof harnesses. Well it would have been valuable. Except for the fact that I am not starting a career in construction, nor do I ever INTEND to start a career in construction. The world would have to be a very dark place and job prospects exceedingly scarce for me to even consider the possibility of maybe possibly even thinking about applying for a job in an area such as construction.

For goodness sake, I complain about what I have to wear for work NOW, let alone if I had to run around in huge boots and flannelette and a yellow safety hat. Hats make me look like a prepubescant boy. And I gave up flannelette around the same time I gave up Kurt Cobain shirts and adolescant depressive tendancies.

In fact, out of the 25 people who attended this incredibly useful and relevant course today, not a single one of us worked in an industry even remotely RELATED to the construction industry.

I personally think that my employers would have been better off putting the money into something I need- like say, the "dangerous dog" training that is a legal requirement of the job I do that I have not yet done even though I spend half my time chasing pitbulls in housing commission areas. Or maybe they could have spent it on an extended holiday for themselves so I would not have to SEE them anymore.

I have to admit, however, that I did learn a couple of interesting things today:

Moe (friend and colleague) can sleep in an upright position with his eyes almost open.

The little Japanese girl that came late and sat in the darkest corner snores REALLY LOUD

The gaggle of student town planners that sat around a desk at the front and giggled over a bunch of photos that one of them apparently carries in her bag for all occasions are REALLY ANNOYING.

It is possible to be bored to tears.

Well at least lunch was ok- who can resist those plates of little sandwiches? I had an egg one, a chicken salad, a turkey and cranberry...... the high life that was. And the orange juice- how generous to offer something other than stale instant coffee and out of date milk. They spoilt us I tell you.

And at least I didnt have to spend the day pretending to be nice to work colleagues that hate me almost as much as I hate them......

Finito

Edu-m-cation

I have been recently thinking about furthering my education. Starting a degree. Actually finishing a degree. I want pretty letters after my name, letters other than DUMASS.

Since I am absolutely useless in a classroom environment (Marissa is a distraction to other students and is currently disrupting the class. Marissa will not sit still and needs to be the center of attention) and since I am really not prepared to live my life on the meager income of a student/ part time bartender/ occasional charity collecter/ dad can you lend me $500 my car exploded, I have decided that online and correspondence degrees are really the only way to go.

So I logged myself onto openuniversity.com.au in the hopes of finding myself a degree that I could actually see myself managing to complete.

I came up with two options: Batchelor of Arts: Politics and History and Batchelor of Arts: Internet Studies. Bare in mind, unless you want a degree in Advanced Maths or Info Tech, an online Arts degree is the only option. So dont accuse me of copping out and going for the original "I dunno and I dont care" degree....

The Internet Studies one actually sounds rather interesting: it covers such subjects as "Internet Communities", "Social Impact of the Internet" and, my personal favourite, "Cyber Analytics". I like the last one purely because it sounds dirty. Try it. Say it out loud. It sounds like you just logged into Yahoo chat and have started a conversation with 'ten-inchstallion69 about the weather.

The Politics and History one sounds good too, because I have already started a degree in that once before and therefore I would know what I was getting myself into. I like history. I like politics. I know that I find these subjects interesting. And, on the upside, meet the requirements of NSW high school teachers so I could do the teaching bridging thingy or a Dip Ed or something and get a REAL JOB.

See I know in my heart and brain what I am going to chose. Politics and History MAKE SENSE. They dont change. History was the same last year as it is this year. Internet and computers change all the time. What was correct about the internet 5 years ago is not correct now. It is so easy to become obselete in this world of Cyber Analytics (love that) and 120gig hard drives. I figure that if I study anything relating to the internet, by the time I completed the degree I would have to do a degree to catch up on what had changed since I DID my degree.

Six years ago Stalin was named the most evil man in the 20th century over Hitler, because while Hitler killed more people, Stalin killed almost as many and they were his OWN kind. He is considered more evil because he was mad enbough to attempt genocide on his OWN RACE. Six years ago he was the most evil man of the 20th century, and he still is today. I take comfort in this, not the fact that Stalin was evil, but the fact that you cant change history.

Same with politics. You can change an Act. You can pass a law. You can claim the recession we had to have and you can call Mrs Carr a mail-order bride, but you cant change the political building blocks and ideology that this country works on. I could tell you ten years ago that our political system is based on the British model, and I can still tell you that now.

So I guess my mind is made up. Politics History? I think it is the way to go. But I mourn the loss of Cyber Analytics...... Hey baby wanna cyber? ASL?.......

However, dear readers, I feel I need input on this situation. Which do you think I should choose? What do you think I am suited to? Which do you think I actuallly have a hope of completing? Does the world really need another Arts major teaching Hippy subjects like Politics and History? Or would it benefit from more cyber nerds..........

ANSWER ME!!!!!

Dying

Well, dear readers, it seems that with me, when it rains, it pours. Three posts in as many days that must be some kind of record!

Im writing this because I am sad. And not sad in the usual self indulgent way that I tend to be sad. I think I am sad for someone else, but Im not sure. On second thoughts, maybe I am sad for me.

Today I went to Bankstown Hospital and fed lunch to a woman who is dying.She is a member of my extended family- not actually a blood relative, but a member all the same. She is my cousin Adams grandmother. Her name is Roma.

I think we are actually the closest thing to family that actually comes and visits her. My cousin now lives in America. My cousins mother, her daughter, died almost ten years ago, after being in a vegative state due to a car accident when I was 3. She has two other grandsons, but she has no contact with them. She has two sisters, one who is as sick as her and cannot come and visit, and one whom she does not get along with. So its us who are her family right now.

My parents have been going in to see her every lunch time, because for some reason she refuses to eat when they are not there. So they bring her strawberry yoghurt and McDonalds cheeseburgers, because they are the only two things which seem to make her happy right now. The doctors have told my parents that she refuses to eat anything, except for when they are there. So they go, every day at 12 and spoon the food into her mouth.

My mother could not go today so I went in her place.

I remember Roma from my childhood. The Roma I remember is quickwitted and acid tongued. She could go a round of insults with my father like no-one on earth. She was active and busy. The Roma I remember loved a beer (just one) and told dirty jokes that forced my mother to cover my ears. She had died brown hair and a big cackle of a laugh.

In the bed at the hospital sat a tiny, frail, colourless imitation of a lifeform. Her hair, her skin and her eyes are all devoid of life and light. Her face is so thin and sallow that it is literally sucked under her cheek bones. Her hair is grey. Her eyes were creamy and sunken, with no sparkle. When I walked in I thought she was already dead.

When she woke up she was barely there. She didnt realise who we were at first. It probably took her 20 minutes to realise that we werent the nurses. She didnt remember that my parents had been there yesterday. She was confused.

My father held her and I fed her. Spooned strawberry yoghurt into her mouth, broke up the cheese burger into tiny pieces. Sometimes she fell asleep while we were feeding her, and would wake up and open her mouth for more. I fed her some of the puree'ed mess the hospital has given her- vegies and mince. And I held the cup of "liquid white" (dont ask but it looks revolting) that she has to drink since water is not thick enough and fills her lungs.

Roma has refused the IV that will get her better. So I guess in a way we are just feeding her so whe will die anyway. She wants to die, she told my mother, please let them make me die.

And as sad as it sounds, why shouldnt she be able to die? What has she got to live for? I know that I would not want to exist for an extra couple of years as a vegetable who is fed by nurses and cant shit for herself. I would hate to be alive for a couple more years to be put in a bed at a nursing home where I would rot til the end. She is ready to go and that is fair enough she is sick of the pain.

And the sad thing is I want her to. I wouldnt want to live the way she is living, with no dignity and no say in what happens. She has lived. She deserves to be able to let go.

Thats all.

SPAM

It has been brought to my attention that SPAM has been posted to my comments section which I feel is more appropriately used for CONSTRUCTIVE COMMENTING.

This is an outrage. Am I safe from spam NO-WHERE? Can I not be online and be free from this dreaded SPAM EPIDEMIC?

No, thank you, I do not need penis extension cream. And NO I do not need herbal viagra. I dont need free porn, on-line gambling or better security for my family. My computer may be at risk, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, but I think the biggest risk is that some poor unsuspecting person may actually BUY penis extension cream from you spam nazis and then they will end up with a sore penis and a nasty rash.

Spam is tacky commercialism in the worst way. And I generally dislike most forms of commercialism to be bluntly honest. But unfortunately, avoiding commercialism would mean hiding in my house, eating only the produce that is grown in my own garden and drinking only non-commercialised beverages like well...... water. Boar water. And of course it would mean no TV, no puter no radio and no movies.

However I have no garden, and no green thumb, nor do I have a boar (is that how its spelt) or intend to drink boar water. And if I give up mass media, I will not get to watch house or enter my freq club codewords, and I guess seeing CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY is out of the question. And, I am happily addicted to Pepsi Max.

So I guess the spam has to stay. But be warned, dear readers, THIS IS WAR. My filters will be on, and I will be ready to hunt down and shoot the next bastard who attempts to sell me an all natural weight loss miracle pill that guarantees to turn me into Angelina Jolie in 30 days or my money back.

I am done.

PMS

I have PMS. Thats right. Right this very second you are reading the rants of a female plagued with the dreaded PMS. If this is a frightening fact, please stop reading now. Actually wait. Dont stop. IF I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THESE BLOODY RAGING HORMONES THEN ALL OF YOU BLOODY WELL SHOULD. Share and share alike, thats what I think.

I thought I had PMS last week, but it turns out that was a mere case of the mid-week blues. I havent had REAL PMS for a while, so I had forgotten what a raging PMS episode can feel like. WELL NOW I KNOW.

Firstly, I am completely irrational. And I mean completely. Anything that anyone says can be completely misconstrued and turned into something completely different. A simple look can mean that someone hates me. Laughter behind my back, even if it is obviously about something unrelated like porno pics involving 2 buffalo, is obviously aimed at me and they are obviously laughing at my expense. Anything said in the wrong tone means that the person who said it either hates me or thinks they are better than me.

I also have a very short fuse. For example: No carparks left in the carpark at the gym. Now without PMS I would drive around in a relatively calm and methodical manner unitl one became available. TODAY however I burst into tears of frustrated anger and burnt rubber around that lot for ten minutes, screamed out a very naughty word and then drove home fuming. I also abused a woman (in a 4WD of course) for trying to sideswipe me when she pulled out of a park without indicating or looking. Well not verbal abuse. But alot of horn action and a few rude gestures were sent her way. I spent 10 minutes screaming at some boofhead who decided it was a cool idea to do 40 in a 60 zone. I rammed the breaks on something fierce when some trashbag in a beat up van decided that it would be fun to sit right up my ass. I went off at the man in my life for a matter that is rationally not really a matter at all.

I am also incredibly teary. I have cried 4 times- no wait 5 times including the carpark rage- 5 times in the past 25 hours:

I cried while listening to "Your beautiful" on the radio- you know that bit where he says "I saw your face in a crowded place and I dont know what to do. Cos I'll never be with you"? yep set me right off. In fact I am starting to tear up again now.

I cried while listening to "Throw Your Arms Around Me" Also on the radio.

I cried while I was out walking and an old favourite song of mine came on that I forgot was loaded onto my MP3 player. Now I have to admit that its a christian song so I wont even bother to name it. But yep, walkin, sweatin and cryin I was.

I cried when I got home and tried to work out dinner for myself and couldnt find anything to eat that I wanted. Then I realised it was because I wasnt hungry and I think that made me cry even more.

And, of course, I cried while in the parking lot of the gym.

Finally, as much as a person who is in the state I am in should keep themselves hidden from rest of society until they have dragged themselves from the dregs of PMS hell, I crave human company. Well, more than that I want A BIG BLOODY HUG. Which is irrational as nobody in their right mind would dare to come near me let alon hug me. But there you go.

I am irrational, angry, teary and in need of affection.

GOD I WISH I WAS A MAN!!!!!!!

Faith

I am reading a book at the moment about a seven year old girl who is talking to god and healing people. She is unwittingly afflicted with stigmata. She is not religious or pious in any way. She is just a little girl who is doing what she feels is right. And of course, she is attracting a flock of religious fanatics, people who are willing to follow any little lead to touch a little piece of God.

So while I was enthroned today (some might like to call this particular activity a 'moment of contemplation') I began to ponder- what is it about faith and miracles that make these people so passionately defensive? Why will so many people who are otherwise sane and normal, stare in awe and wonder at a piece of toast that appears to have the face of Jesus burnt into it?

I mean really. Lets just look at the so called "appearances of the Lord" of late:

* Jesus appears to some guy on a piece of toast. This toast is then sold for a mint on the internet.
* Mary (who is not even GOD for crying out loud) appears in the shadows that appear on a fence line near the beach in Sydney.
* Some enlightened being finds the image of Jesus in the rings of a tree when he pulls a branch down
* A catholic statue of Mary starts to weep tears of milk at regular intervals. The statue is later found to have a TUBE THROUGH THE MIDDLE OF IT with milk being pumped through to the eyes.

Yeah these are crazy, and I am 100% certain even the most surreal of them (ie Jesus in tree) can be explained throught the laws of nature and with basic probability. It doesnt mean that they are second comings or religious messages. Hell, I saw Kurt Cobain in a cloud formation once, and Im pretty damn sure that doesnt mean hes a coming back to sell more records.

But even when these "miraculous appearances" are proven to be of science, or of human hands, people are still so eager to believe. And its not just christians and its not just christianity.

Think about when you read your stars. You flick to the page in the paper, find your starsign and have a quick read. Firstly, you pick out all the bits that you dont like. These you mentally bin, because they 'dont apply to you'. Then you re read the good bits. And then you start to believe that they will come true, no matter how flawed your method or the argument. Suddenly you are walking on air because 'a financial proposition will pay big dividends' or 'a strange man will bring exciting temptations'. There is no justification, no evidence and no proof that these things will happen. There is just you, a bogus medium and a lotta blind faith.

And there, my dear readers is the key. Blind Faith. We know its not real. We know its not true. But we are so desparate to believe in something we will do so without reason and without logic. We will do so blindly.

When we want to believe something so badly we will. When we want something so badly we will get it. Our brains are powerful things. I have no doubt that we can heal ourselves or make ourselves sick just by believing it.

I think I get the jobs I do, as underqualified and uneducated as I may be, simply because I believe that I am capable of the job. I think therefore I am. And I think its the same with blind faith.

If you have nothing to hope for and nothing to believe in, a little blind faith might make your day. And if you are that desparate for it to be true, then it becomes truth for you. Such is the power and strength of thought.

I dont know if blind faith is a bad thing. I dont know if its a good thing. But it is such a big part of the way so many people live their lives. I think it is interesting.

Thats really all I wanted to say. Til next times....

GGGRRRRR

Ok Im pissed off. And I fully intend to make my point and this is the place I am going to make it.

Now I warn you I am seriously angry. I am seriously angry and passionate about what I am angry about. Last time I was this angry I placed a misguided petition to GM on the web for big horns for small cars. And this issue affects me far more.

Ok, let me start at the beginning. Most people who know me know what I do for a job. And they know what I used to do. But if you dont know I'll just give you a brief fill-in: I used to be a transit officer, which is security and law enforcement on the public rail network. And now I am an enforcement officer for a local government.

As an enforcement officer, I have to do one shift a week of parking patrol. Now we have parking officers who do this 5 days a week. Basically they issue infringements to people who are not obeying the Australian Road Rules for parking.

Its not my most favourite job. Its not the most mentally stimulating job, and when you pop infringements on peoples windows for 8 hours you generally arent making any friends. But I have to do it, so I grin and bear it and try not to let the frustration of angry drivers get me down.

I mean fair enough. No one is ever happy to be told they are wrong. And they are especially unimpressed if they are told it by way of a monetary fine. I would be too. Hell I have been too. I have had a parking fine. And honestly it pissed me off bigtime.

But the other day, on a parking shift, myself and my partner were doing our job, minding our business. And a guy, about my age walked past. "Hey" he said "Look at that scum" I looked up at him "Thats right you. You are scum" Then he laughed and kept walkin.

It wasnt his car. Actually it was none of his business. But he thought that he was within his rights to call me scum. And keep walking. Im sorry- SCUM??

Last I checked I wasnt molesting young children.

Last I checked I was not selling runaways on the street as prostitutes and loading them with heroin so they cannot escape.

Last I checked I had not forced an entire race of people into slavery and then brutally murdered them and raped their offspring.

Now the week before this incident, on another parking shift, I was doing much the same, doing my job and minding my business, when a lady screams accross the road "you obviously dont have much to do" I turn and a very large lady with spiky hair and an angry face walking towards me.
I say "is this your car ma'am?" and she says "no its not but what right do you have to do that"
I start to go into my spiel- I am an authorised officer under the local government act- yadiyadi- when she FLASHES HER POLICE BADGE and then STANDS OVER ME with her fists clenched and raised and says: "you are a piece of shit". Then thumps one fist into the palm of her hand at me. Which, by the way can be considered a threat of physical violence and is an offence. A POLICE OFFICER.

Now bear in mind- this is me doing my job in my workplace. For all intensive purposes I am in my office. So let me turn the tables a bit:

You are at your desk, doing your work, answering your phones, putting your customers on hold for - oh 45mins is the norm- and I come walking into your office. "Your scum" I say. You look up. "Thats right, you. You are a piece of scum" I then laugh at you and walk away. What would you do? More than likely you would have me physically removed from the premises.

Or say I physically threatened you, took away your personal space and called you a piece of shit. Say I walked up and spat on you. Say I made you feel unsafe and threatened by my violent behaviour. What would you do? You would call the police and have me arrested is what you would do.

Now lets be honest: I am sure at least one person who is reading this is guilty of doing something like that to a parking officer, a ranger, a copper, a transit officer, or a security guard. And if that person is you, What gives you the right to abuse someone like that? Do you think they deserve it for just doing what they are employed and payed to do? Do you think its ok cos they are officers not people? IF I DID THAT TO YOU HOW WOULD YOU FEEL?

These are the people you ask for help when a car is parked over your driveway, when a dog is attacking you, when you are being harrased on a train, when someone has assaulted you. When the times get tough you rely on these people, but when they are performing a function of their job that you dont like you abuse them. That DISGUSTS ME.

To treat another human being with so little respect appalls me. I am ashamed to think that people I know do it too. Just because you dont like their job doesnt mean you have the right to treat them like second class citizens. And that goes for all jobs. And all people.

I am sorry this is such a long post but I am so upset about this.

Bye

Maitanence

Today, for the reading pleasure of the millions of female fans that I am sure that I have around the globe, I am going to bitch for a few hours about maitanence. So if you are male and therefore a bit puzzled by the whole strange and bizarre world of female beauty maitanence, you have two options:

1 Read on, and be enthralled by the world of a girl, her tweezers and her exfoliating mask

2 Stop reading now as the rest of this may be a little

joe is taking over this post..... family guy rulez... "fox was like do you want to make a new family guy movie" and then i was like " Fuck yeah!" ,Lois.

Well yes thanks very much to the man in my life for taking over and speaking words of absolute brilliance into my blog.... now where was I.....

Oh yes. 2 Stop reading this now as the rest may be a little overwhelming.....

I spent over an hour this evening confined in the very small and very claustrophobic space of my bathroom. This hour of my life, which I may add I will NEVER EVER get back, was solely devoted to the art of female maitanence.

I am plucked and exfoliated. I have smooth hairless legs. I can proudly lift my arms and not be afraid of small forestry projects. The hair on my head is clean, shiny and treated. My skin in johnsons milk wash smooth. And my "bikini region" as it is so politely put on the back of some packaging I came accross is about as close to good as you can get without paying some masochistic waxing fiend to do it for you. I guess you can say that on female terms, I am pretty socially acceptable right now.

Which brings me to my little bitch: WHY MUST WE GO THROUGH THESE INSANE BEAUTY REGIMES??? Why must we pluck and wax and tone? What purpose does it serve?? The pain we put ourselves through in the name of beauty is unbelievable! Not to mention the financial burden...

Let me quickly itemise- I have cleanser, toner, face moisturiser. Makeup remover. Eye cream. I have a state of the art venus razor, and sensitive skin hair removal mousse. I also recently purchased this rather nifty stuff called 'slo-gro' which is apparently meant to make the hair grow back sparser and finer- time will tell. I have body wash, body buffer, body moisturiser and body butter. I have exfoiliating scrub, an exfoliating glove and exfoliating masks. This is insane people.

On top of all these we have the maitanence that we pay others for. Now Im growing my hair and only get my eyebrows waxed every 4 weeks so I get off pretty lightly here. But .for those who get all that stuff done it can be pretty costly- not to mention painful.....

I know two girls who got brazilians and said it was more painful than childbirth. That means they would rather endure pusing a rockmelon through a mousehole than let a sadistic bleach blonde bimbo get at their rude bits with hot wax and canvas strips. Oh and did I mention that some people are allergic to hair dye? I had a red scalp for weeks once when they bleached streaks into my hair.

I wish that it would suddenly become fashionable to go natural. How easy would life be if it was sexy to be hairy and have straggly split ends? If wrinkles and cellulite were accepted? If it was ok to have a blackhead?

Sadly, I fear that this fantasy world will never exist. And, as hypocritical as this is, I will continue my maintanence until I am too old to grasp my razor and too blind to read the instructions on the hair removal mousse package.....

Im off now to exfoliate my bikini line and wax my face- or did I get that the wrong way round?...........

Another Day in The Office

I went to work on sunday for the first time in 4 days. Understandably, I wasnt excited about the prospect of going back to work, especially on a sunday.....

But I got lucky and landed a work partner who was about as enthusiastic as myself, and we made a unanimous decision to do as little as physically possible, and to spend as much time as possible participating in non work-related activities.

So we drove around, visited a couple of friends, stopped for a coffee, stopped for an icecream, stopped for lunch, bought socks on sale at Target.... we basically did the minimum required to stay employed and out of the managers office.

Which is why we found ourselves to be standing on the rocks out at Voodoo at 4pm on Sunday afternoon. I Dont know why its called Voodoo, but I do know that it is one of the most beautiful places that I have encountered in my short and rather sheltered little life.

Voodoo is at the end of a narrow 5km track at the end of a deserted road just past the Caltex Oil refineries which is just off Captain Cook Drive right out near Kurnell. The track leads you to a parking lot, and the parking lot stands infront of a gate, which leads you to Voodoo.

Voodoo is basically a huge sandstone point, high above the ocean, where the waves have sculpted and washed the sandstone into these amazing shapes, with caves and crannies and ledges throughout. When you stand there you feel like the smallest person on earth, like there is just you, the rocks, the ocean left in the world.

When I go to Voodoo I feel so many things. I feel completely in awe of the world. I feel lucky to have a job and live in an area that is blessed with such amazing natural beauty. And I feel really sad, really frightened and really lost. I think that there are ghosts at Voodoo. People have jumped before, and I feel like they are all still there....

I want to go to Voodoo and take photos. I want to have my wedding photos there. I want to sit there all by myself and just exist. The feelings that it brings out in my are so unexplainable, but they are like a drug and Im hooked. Ive been hooked for years.

I was going to post a funny story about the 3 Russian backpackers that we found at Voodoo that were looking for Cronulla train station. But for some reason I posted this instead. I guess I will save it for another day.

If you havent been to Voodoo, you really should take an hour and drive out to see. And let me know if you do ok?

A Little Senitmental

This is going to be a little sentimental cos thats how I feel. If you are not in a sentimental state of mind stop reading NOW. If you are up for the challenge keep going.....

There has been alot going on lately. Globally and locally events are occurring that are tragic, frightening and completely life changing. So I have been thinking alot.

Mainly about mortality. We are only here for a millisecond in the scheme of things and the truth is that you never really know when that millisecond will be up. We are all going to die, and thats not sad or really even scary, its just the truth.

Life is a gift. I dont know who from, some say God, I dont really know and its not really relevant. Whoever it comes from, life is the biggest gift you will ever recieve. And so I want to challenge you, my millions of loyal and devoted readers, to USE IT.

Im not saying change the world and singlehandedly solve the world hunger crisis. Im not saying we all need to be famous, cos not all of us are supposed to be famous, I dont think we should all be rich. Im saying that we need to appreciate the little things and make every moment as good as we possibly can.

If you see a chance to make yourself smile, take it. Even better, if you see a chance to make someone else happy, take it and give it to them. If a joke is funny share it. If someone looks like they need a smile and a hug, be the one who steps out and gives it to them.

Spend time with small children and dont be afraid to act like them. Hold hands with a loved one. Tell someone how much they really mean to you. Buy a random present "just because" and have the courage to give it away without feeling awkward.

Be friendly to someone you arent normalliy friends with, take a chance and make an outsider feel a little more welcome. Learn about who the people around you really are, instead of judging them on face value only.

This is success I think. Material objects and how many people know your name mean nothing if you are not loved and do not love. Awards and achievemts mean nothing if you are alone sad and closed off from the world.

I told you I was a little sentimental, I warned you, and you still read this. Dont laugh at me I am just saying it how I see it.

Crap

I am writing in blue because I am feeling blue. This is going to be depressing and sad but I really have no-one else to talk to so I am going to talk to whoever ever really reads and whoever ever really cares.
I am at home and all alone, hiding in the computer room so that no-one can see me and no-one will look at me. I am afraid that I have failed something, or someone somehow, but I dont know what I have done or to whom.
I am bawling my eyes out for no reason, for some reason the tears come and they dont seem to stop.
I feel like I am all alone. No-one calls me. No-one remembers me. I am confused. I am sad. I dont know what to do with myself.
Other people, when they get sad, when they are confused and upset they run to someone, to anyone, to the person that they run to. Right now I feel like they have all run to those people and I am the odd one out. I have no-one to run to and no-one is running to me.
I say fuck it, I say I will do it on my own but I dont want to I am not built like that.
I don't know what I am writing anymore, I think I will just run away and be someone else. Someone who always makes everyone else happy. Someone who is surrounded by people all the time.
Sorry.

Complexes

When I was 15, my best friend (who I must add is my best friend to this very day) told someone who told someone who told me that with my long hair and long face, I looked like a horse. Yes a horse, good ole miss horse face herself. Now I would like to say that I retaliated with quick witted humour, that I trumped her with a comeback so obscure and intelligent that it cut her straight to the bone, but if I said that I would be lying. No it actually hurt, and for the next 3 years everytime I looked in a mirror at my long thick straight hair, I thought to myself 'wow you really DO look like a horse'.
So at 18, with the cruel horseface taunt playing on repeat on the radio station that is my mind, I went to JustCuts at Miranda and got the whole lot chopped off. Cropped, spiked, short. Some have been known to say dikey.
See, the taunt, which my best friend can no longer even remember coming up with (though she did find it rather amusing when I reminded her and confessed that that was the cause for my short locks), well it became a complex for me. It haunted me to the point where it is only now, at the grand old age of 23, that I am comfortable with the notion of growing my hair back long.
I often fall victim to complexes. One person will say one thing in a fleeting comment, and BAM I'm agonising over my physical disability.
For instance, back in my born again christian days, it was a hot summers day and I wore thongs to church. My friend who was sitting next to me looked down and said "wow you have hair on the tops of yr feet" and went back to singing the praise and worship song.
So I looked down and sure enough, there was hair. I mean its not as if I have werewolf feet that look like built in furry ugg boots, but yeah there where a couple of stray hairs on the tops of my feet. Nothing too spectacular.
But the comment stuck in my mind, and I found myself finding more and more reasons to wear closed in shoes. In fact, after that comment, it was 2 years before I had the guts to wear thongs in public.
Then there was the girl who I was marking in a soccer game who said "wow you have the biggest muscles in your legs that I ever saw" Now I think this was actually meant to be a COMPLIMENT. But do you think I was seen wearing shorts or a skirt for the next 2 years? No way, you couldnt have paid me enough to show off those giant legs of mine.
The certain ex-boyfriend who nicknamed me RissaBelly cos of my belly? Yep you guessed it, No tight tops ever again. Or swimmers. In fact to this day I suck in whenever anyone goes near that region. Just ask the current man!
Now Im not sure why I felt the need to blog this, but I have two suggestions that I will let you chose from:
1) I wanted to prove to you all, once and for all, how much of a nutcase I really am... I mean Im sure that the men in white coats are just around the corner, waiting for the right moment to come and get me.....
2) This is therapy and I needed to get it all off my chest (my small chest. my tissue stuffed chest... AAAAAGGGHHHHH I feel a complex a'comin!!!)
I must dash, I have to go and will my boobs to grow for half an hour in the mirror....
Just jokin.

Nigel No Friends

It has recently come to my attention that I do not have a set group friends. Oh I have friends, and I even have friends that have been known to congregate in groups. But it has been discovered that I do not have that group of childhood friends who have known each other for so long that they can reminisce about primary school, that group who played sport together, went to school together, smoked bongs together, cheated on each other, fought with and bitched about each other, backstabbed and used each other.....

Oh right, thats why.

See I had friends in primary school.I even had a group of friends. We had a gang. We were rebellious. We sat OUT OF BOUNDS. We were real tight, we all sat together and had sleepovers...... Then I got changed classes into the "smart" class (Im not boasting, its the truth, ok?) and suddenly they thought I thought I was too good. Which at the grand old age of 10 was news to me, it had never occured to me that I was smart or particularly good- I wasnt even a fast runner! I couldnt do a handstand! How good could I be?

Now in this designated "smart class" I again started off on the right foot, group of friends, birthday parties, sleepovers.... Then my physical disabilities began to hinder me- I wore glasses, and I was rather on the "chubby" side of life. now by chubby, I mean a few kilos overweight, not childhood obesity fat boobs at 7 type chubby. Festively plump is more accurate. But unfortunately being a four eyed thunder thighed butter ball does not make you "most popilar girl in the world" material anyway.

Now with both of these groups Im sure I could have begged. I could of grovelled for their acceptance and agreed to be their slave in return for the charity of their friendship. Actually, in the case of the last group, I think that is pretty much what they wanted me to do.

But its not in my makeup to be so undervalued and it is NOT in my makeup to beg and grovel for the acceptance of people that really isnt worth it in the first place. I might have been young, but I had a good enough judgement of character to recognise petty superficial morons when I saw them.

Besides, to be honest, I didnt really like them all that much anyway.

Now in High School, when most people quickly found their circles and formed their cliques, I found that I really didnt fit any of the little groups that popped up. Not beautiful, not nerdy. Arty, but not in the way of the arty girls. Not sporty enough for the sporty ones. Not "fully sick" enough for the Bankstown Girls.

Now I guess that some people learn to assimilate and to become like those around them specifically so they fit in. Now I may have tried this at many stages but it never worked and my true colours always shined back through. oopps.

So I sat in the "assorted misfits" pile and gradually we sorted ourselves into our own little sub-misfits groups. My best friend (to this very day) was also an assorted misfit.

So there you all go, my dirty secret uncovered. I dont have a group of friends that I grew up with and who remember the time I farted under the ping pong table at Sharons 7th birthday party when we were hiding from Naomi (but now you guys know anyway.... doh). Oh, the shame, the dirty dark shame. Indeed.

To be honest, I dont think it is really such a horrible thing. I have friends of all ages and from all walks, and I probably would not have had the honour of meeting some of them if I was hiding in the comfort of my own group. But thats just my opinion, and my opinion is based on the fact that I am happy.....

Indeed

Sick Days

TO THE PERSON who started this evil, wretched nauseating virus that is currently infecting the Sutherland Shire- in future, please keep your feral bugs to YOURSELF!!!!
This bug, which has swept through our little social circle, is also sweeping thru local preschools, and is a potential threat to my ENTIRE WORKPLACE, is one of the worst I have ever personally encountered.

To put it in the words of the man in my life "its like ebola that only lasts for 24 hours." Damn straight it is. Every orifice. And thats putting it politely.

4 hours into it and you hardly have the strength to sit on the floor of the shower. You want to sleep but you cant. You want to read but you cant. It is worse than the worse comedown in the world.

But the worst part it- I HAD TO USE A SICK DAY FOR THE PURPOSE OF BEING SICK!!! How unfair is that? Sick days are my "get out of work free" cards: for use in desparate situations when really really over the work place. There is no point in having a day off if you cant ENJOY it!

Sick days are supposed to be used for things like rebellious mid week shopping sprees or trips to the easter show, not for sitting on the couch feeling like shit, watching crappy dvds while wearing you boyfriends daggy t-shirt and toobig socks, sipping flat lemonade and trying to hold down vegemite on bread! Sick days are small pleasures that are meant for living!!

On a high note, the man in my life did a wonderful job of taking care of his ailing girlfriend even though he was sick as a dog also. Lovely man he is.

Oh, and my stomach is flatter than its been since my birthday last year where I drank til 8am in the morning and then vomited to 9pm the next night. Viral weightloss, the new diet by Rissa......

Well Im off now, to gorge in all the foods I missed since my appetite is back (2 days without chocolate is a long and torturous time for me) and to gain back the weight I lost......

Epiphany

Well, kind and loyal readers, it has happened. I have had an EPIPHANY. And while that may sound rather painful, it is not really the cruel and unusual activity that I thought it might be.

Before I go any further, I must shamelessly promote the fact that my friend amy now has joined us in the world of unread blogs. Amysmentalward. Amy is just as weird as me, maybe even weirder (and amy I know you love me in a lesbian way, but lets keep that quiet, you know it will never happen).

Ok, my epiphany. I was going to rant and rave about the evils of giant fast food corporations (watched supersize me on fri nyt), but I think I will leave that for another day. My epiphany is far more important than my newly discovered war on fast food.

It all begins with a song, and a very boring nyt shift. Doesnt it always? So yeah, driving I was drivin through downtown Kurnell, on my way to freak out the bong smokers at the point (my work car has warning lights on it, similar to the coppers ones), when love song dedications (yes sad I know, but it was slim pickings radio wise this eve) started playing Hands by Jewel. So I cranked it and started singing my lil heart out (very badly). Ive heard the song a million times, I know the words off by heart. Its an old fave.

This time however, for some reason unknown to me, be it God, be it aliens in lil spaceships, be it a very large coffee with caramel from Gloria Jeans, a line stuck out to me, and suddenly presented itself to be the answer to so many lil niggling problems.

In the end, only kindness matters

Der, you may say we know this but have you ever really thought about it? The money I make, the things I buy, the promotions I get- will never make a difference. Who cares about it when everything is so very fragile? Life could change in an instant- in fact thats the only way it does change.

What matters is the people I effect, the manner in which I deal with them and way I make them feel. We are all walking testimony to the people around us.

If I am kind and effect you in a way that is positive, if I do something small that makes you smile, then I have given you something that you did not have before. And even if you dont realise it, you pass it on- the kindness, the smile, that stupid joke that makes you giggle.

And when I give that kindness and recieve kindness in return, I dont focus on the negatives, I dont find things to get me down. The kindness grows, and therefore we all grow.

So I am going to be kind. I am going to go out of my way to make your day. I am going to smile at someone who looks sad. I am going to make time for someone who needs it. Its like that movie pay it forward. I think it might be what I need.

This could all be just me talking outta my ass, Im tired and I just had a most mindnumbing night in the office. But it might not be.

I dunno.

Being Blind

Glasses can make you look, studious. They can make incredibly feeble minded raving idiots appear to be intellectual and insightful. They shield our eyes from the sun, they make us look cool. Some of us, and I think we are actually a minority group, even use them to correct our vision.

Which is why the unfortunate events of this morning happened.

I rose gracefully from the bed at 8am, as the mans flatmate had left the house by then and Im kinda intimidated by him (strange but true). The plan was simple- quick shower, quick bite to eat then off to work.

I stepped into the shower and began my normal cleansing routine.... now you may find this strange but I generally shower with my glasses on. Its a security thing, and that way I can see the soap. You see I am really bloody blind! I only take them off when I wash my face....

So I took them off to wash my face and placed them on the soap dish. I washed, I rinsed. I washed again. (Wakeup wash). Finding my face suitably clean I reached for my glasses, went to place them upon my nose and---

POP. The lense fell out, as the dodgy loose screw in the sides went flying into the atmosphere. The lense landed in the drain.

This was a matter of urgency. I shut the water off, grabbed the lense and went searching for the screw, crawling the bottom of the shower in desperate hope. I must have been a sight - naked and wet as the day I was born, crawling around in broken glasses squinting with one eye shut(thats what I have to do when the lense falls out). And after much searching and much frustration, I came to a distressing conclusion- the tiny screw that holds my fragile glasses together was lost forever, poured down a drain like so much wasted water and soap. I was heartbroken.

You gotta understand- when you are as blind as me, not having your glasses on pretty much disables you completely. You cant discern distance. When I havent got them on, I cant even see things that are on the floor in front of me. It is a total loss of control. I can't even leave the house- Id end up walking in the wrong direction and falling off the cliff. And I definately cant DRIVE, that would be a suicide mission.

So here I am, now running late for work, holding one lense in my hand and walking, sopping wet and in a skimpy towel through the apartment still squinting with one eye shut. I remember, in a flash of brilliance, that the sticky tape I bought to wrap pressies with last weekend is still on the table. So I grabbed it and did a little bit of a home optometry job on my poor broken glasses. Thankfully, it worked.

I had to use so much tape however, that my glasses appeared to have some form of unnattractive growth attached to the side. But given how late I was, and the fact that I was still butt naked, I figured that this would have to do.

Vanity asside, I made it to my new place of work and was greeted with 'wow hey did you break your glasses?'. NO YOU DOMKOPF, I thought they would look a hell of alot more interesting with a dirty great big piece of sticky tape wrapped around them. Kinda suits me, yeah? Its great when your already nervous, self-conscious and stressed, how people manage to make you feel a whole lot better.

When I went out to my first job, I went via the optometrist on the corner near the bread shop at engadine. Now I dont know if anyone actually uses him, but the man is a saint and I will love him to the ends of the earth. Not only did he FIX MY GLASSES, he REFUSED ANY PAYMENT, and asked me instead to make a donation to the cancer council thingy that he had a donations box for at the counter. I was so grateful and full of love that I folded up a tenner and put it in.

Well I figure its $10 well spent- I can now walk with my head held high and without my hair fixed over my hideous home optometry glasses job, the man was really nice and wished me a great day, and someone, somewhere is going to benefit from the research by the cancer council.

So there was my ridiculous start to the day- I think maybe I should change the name of this to "Rissa- a girl and her catastrophes"......

ACTION!!!!

I have decided, after last nyts little episode, that I will take action and do something to stop the discrimination against small cars.....

www.PetitionOnline.com/bighorns/petition.html

Yes I know i have too much time on my hands it is a real life petition. But you try having 5 days off in a row and PMS simultaneously and you see what you come up with!!!

So, to all my millions of readers...... (heerrrrrmmmmmm, or the 3 of you anyway!) SIGN MY PETITION, and remember - small cars have feelings too!!!

I must be going mad.

Small Cars Have Rights Too!!!!

Well, dear readers, tonyt I must rant and rave about an issue that is very close to my heart. An issue that is so important, so pivitol to the continuation of the human race that I think that I should campaign until it is taken to the united nations and passed as an international bill. I am speaking, dear readers, about the plight of the small cars.

I am a small car driver, as I am sure that many of my thousands of readers out there also are. And because of this, I am often pushed around, tail gated, swerved into (MOSMAN MUMS!!! GRRRRR), and cut off at round abouts. I get dirty looks when I dare to enter overtaking lanes. People in landrovers shake their heads as they pass me when I am struggling up Mt Ousley.

It is a disgrace. An outrage. It is discrimination against us, the small car minority and it is NOT FAIR. But the final hair was pulled directly from the camels back tonyt. Dear readers, tonyts little 'incident' is the final straw.

I was driving along, innocently enough, home from the mans house. I was singing along to some inane little ditty on the radio. Deciding whether I was going to eat an apple or a large piece of cheesecake (cheesecake won that round). Generally contemplating the meaning of life.

I reached the large roundabout that is at the beginning of the main road of our suburb. I indicated the direction I wanted to go in. I paused to make sure I wasnt going to cut off any oncoming traffic. And then, as I have done on countless occasions before, I entered the roundabout at a safe and resposible speed.

Just as I began to curve around the roundabout, a HUGE TRUCK with 2 HUGE TRAILERS decided that, since my car is a 1.5L 2 door hatch, it MUST NOT EXIST, and drove directly onto the roundabout right in front of me. Im lucky my breaks are working, cos if they didnt I would have been the filling in a truck sandwich right now. I had to stop completely on the roundabout while this monsterous creature went around it. He did not look. Hell I doubt if he even knew I was there. Doubt he even cared really.

i was furious. So furious, in fact that I did something that I dont ordinarily do. I slammed my hand down on my horn, and hard as I could, to show this road hogging beer bellied speed freak truck driver that I was not just a small car driver, I WAS A PERSON AND I HAD FEELINGS TOO.

I was expecting, for some reason, that my horn would come out with a huge bellow, thus reflecting the frustration I felt at that time. What came out however, was an embarrasing "toot" noise that will haunt me forever. I was humiliated. It was almost as bad as farting in a crowded elevator.

So I have come to a decision. A decision for me and my fellow small car drivers. I feel that all small cars should be fitted with very large, very loud and VERY SCARY airhorns. You know, the ones that those evil trucks get. Imagine, driving along in yr small car, pissed off by the wrong road hog, tailgated, cut off and-

HHOONNNNNNNKKKKKK!!!!! Next thing you know that stupid road hog is being carted off to hospital with a cardiac arrest.

So I will campaign for my rights. Now is the time for a change dear readers, and that change is simple- SMALL CARS NEED REALLY BIG HORNS.

That is all.

Soccer

Its amazing how incredibly competitive we get about very small things. Like, for instance, indoor soccer.

I didnt play tonyt, my ankle is a colour somewhat reminiscent of a very ripe plum and about the size of a small grapefruit. But I went, as we all do, to offer support, be the cheer squad, and generally cause trouble for the other team.

We played "the greeks", the team that we anihilated in the grand final last season. At the end of the grand final they walked out and did not recieve their trophies- because they didnt want to come second to us. We hate them. They hate us.

So when we play, for some unknown reason, the game becomes more important than the fifa worls cup. We go out for blood. Our supporters riot. The sports club actually gets a couple of really big guys to come and stand with with us to discourage brawling on the sidelines.

So tonyt they won. You would have thought someone had just told them that they had one the bloody lottery- punching the air, dancing and hugging each other, screaming and i think i even saw tears. There was passion and joy and celebration and-

GUYS IT IS JUST A SOCCER GAME!!!! And really it wasnt even an important one! Now dont get me wrong, I like to play and I like to win- but keep it in perspective people.

We are all C-grade players - we not exactly contenders for the socceroos. And we dont get sponsorship deals, television interviews or endorsements and adoration if we win - the closest we come is getting to gloat at work the next day.

In fact the only thing soccer has given me in the last two days is a sprained ankle and sore thighs- not exactly something to be celebrating about.

To end the story, our little unimportant game ended up with the other team, after winning the game and gaining the victory they so desired, coming up and telling us all that "we know people and they are going to fuck you guys up. Just you wait." Charming.

We will have the last say however. They were threatening a team that consists of coppers and council rangers.... and I know that a certain team will be recieving littering fines in the mail.....

.....nothing to do with me of course, but eh, revenge is sweet!

Friendship

Friends come and go, new friendships get made and old ones fade away. We live in such a life of convenience that if a friend doesnt fit our needs, if they do not match our place in existence, we dispose of them and quickly discover more.

Some friendships last the distance, some friendships are so sacred and important that we are prepared to grasp onto them and keep them with us, no matter how much we change, how far we go or how different our circumstance.

I think I have lost a friend. One of the latter, one I have held onto and no matter how confident I am, no matter how happy I am, it really does hurt to let it go.

We became friends when we were almost 13, over soccer, pot, and the fact that we caught the same train home from school. At first we were casual aquaintances, but it slowly grew to be so strong that by the time I was 16 I didnt know who I was without her. We have always been different - her the pretty, confident athletic one, who always had a boyfriend and was the centre of attention, me the strange one, less attractive, less conventional. She listened to top 40 and loved the beach, I loved newtown and listened to JJJ.

Her family had let her down, and I mean really let her down, leaving her alone, and constantly disapointing her when she needed them. For her I was often her family, her saviour from them.

I was picked on and ridiculed, both by my school friends and by her friends outside of school. She was my constant defender, whos guard over me was ever strong and inpenetrable.

When she turned 18 her birthday was ignored by her family. I bought a cake, a slab of beer and we created our own party. I can honestly say that at that point we didnt need anyone else. We were happy with each other.

We fell out at my 18th, she didnt turn up cos she was on drugs and it broke my heart. Also our boyfriends were both wankers so we went our separate ways - her into drugs and clubs and me into abuse and control- we were neither winners and we were both miserable.

At 20 we became friends again, both freed from our evil boyfriends. We bonded again over soccer- and within months we were as close as we had ever been. I spoke at her 21st birthday party. She spoke at mine: she told me I was beautiful and wonderful and that she was the lucky one because she was friends with me. No one had ever told me that before.

At 22 we moved out together - and straight back into the drug scene that almost ruined our friendship the first time. It almost did again but we made it thru and we were still strong.

On her 23rd birthday her family disapointed her again- so i went and saved her like old times. We went and got drunk, and then i bought 2 tattoos, one for her and one for me. So she has freedom printed on her shoulder blade, and I have a butterfly design on my back, symbols of what we always wanted to be.

And now less than 12 months later we have drifted apart. She hardly spoke 2 words to me at soccer. I guess that there are reasons- For the only time in our friendship I am happy and secure, in a good relationship and I think maybe she has lost alot of her own control. I think she is angry about things she cant change and I think that its strange for her that I am not there following her around anymore.

I miss her tho - for the longest time she was the one who always told me I was good enough. She built me up and made me feel important - to her I was. I will always remember, one emotional drunk night, her crying and screaming and saying to me "Riss I wish you realised how amazing you are. I wish you understood that I want to be more like you."

Friends like that dont happen often.

42

Ok, down to business. Above is the answer to THE QUESTION. For those of you not of a nerd persuasion its from Hitch hikers Guide to the Galaxy. Gotta luv Marvin the Manic Depressive Robot....

Now for my gripe of today - why is it that women driving large 4WD with kids in the back think that they do not have to indicate on a roundabout? is there a stupid women in 4WDs exclusion to the Australian Road Rules? I think not. I mean really, when you have small children in the car, don't you think that you would be more cautious and therefore follow the road rules in a more diligent manner? Perhaps it is because these women in their petrol guzzling road hogging school zone hazardous death traps for kids vehicles that are predominately designed for OFF ROAD USE have a false sense of security and therefore invivibility while driving (or attempting todrive) these vehicles. GGGGRRRRR
If, by any chance you stumble on this blog and you ARE a 4WD driving female "mosman mum", please let me give you some advice:

* learn to park. Just because yr wheels are big enough that it is no trouble to go up a gutter accidently doesnt mean that it is ok. In fact it is an offence under the australian road rules.
*look when changing lanes. Bigger car equals bigger blindspots, which means you are more likely to miss those of us in smaller vehicles.
*look when reversing at shopping centres and driveways. Same reason as above.
* Your indicators ARE YOUR FRIENDS. I am less likely to almost plow into you if I am aware of where you are heading.
* BUY A NEW CAR. It is all a status thing for you people, so perhaps a nice merc? a beamer? They are not only expensive status symbols, they are also a safer and far more attractive alternative.

Ok I guess that is it from me I tend to go on a bit....

Self Improvement

Welcome to Rissi's Self Improvement Post.

The time has come for change. Big Change. There comes a time in the lives of all of us where we must grasp the challenge of self improvement with both hands and drink it into our very souls as it is the lifeblood of change...... OK MAYBE NOT. I may have taken it a wee bit far there.....

My desire for self improvement is driven by a combination of factors: I just started a new job, I joined a new gym, and its the start of a brand new month. Oh and i really like typing the words self improvement. Its kinda fun..... Oh and if anyone is out there feel free to comment....

1. Save $10 000 (rissi wants a house. and a camera. and a new car stereo)
2. Learn to whistle. Ive been told its simply a matter of practice.
3. Study book I borrowed off Joe on personalities
4. Go to gym at least 3 times a week for at least an hour each time.
5. Remember to turn up to soccer on Sundays
6. Improve flexibility for purpose of bedroom aerobics. (gotta love bedroom aerobics)
7. Become familiar with all Acts, Regulations and Laws regarding my new job (theres heaps)
8. Write life changing Aussie novel (after so many false starts)
9. Enrol to do B. Applied Social Science via correspondence (next semester?)
10. Read only intellectual and challenging books (goodbye easy read chick books)
11. Put ball in motion re Support network for shire females i keep talkin bout
12. Discover natural hair colour

Ok i guess thats about it.... Im sure there are many more and they are possibly more useful but eh. Ill update in a month. Im sure Ill be far more intellectually enlightened.....

After The Weekend

Ok ok ok. In hindsight I may not be the socially deprived individual that I previously claimed to be. Maybe I over react just a lil bit!
Said person of male persuasion came thru and we ended up goin out to dinner - it was really rather nice, at the sailing boat club an all.....
Other friends pulled thru also I guess maybe I should learn to give them all a little more time to think of me, after all I am pretty far down the phone list alphabetically!!!
So yes. I drank a little too much this past week however and am officially going to have a break from drinking. Oh, and from all this food that I been eating. So I think I am going to go into this next month as an old grandma, no alcohol and no food!!!
Sex tho. I think I will still have sex.... its good for you, right? All that cardio, not to mention the flexibility that it maintains.... So I can still have sex.
So I guess this is a new regime - less grog, less food more sex. Sounds good. This could lead to a book or something... Rissa's no food no grog more sex diet.... hermmmm

Well its a friday eve and i am just sittin. I have as of yet no plans and no-one has actually invited me anywhere. How tragic am I? I USED TO HAVE PLANS EVERY WEEKEND DAMMIT!!!! When did I become so socially rejected? When did I become the forgotten one who disapeared off the social scene? I guess its only 5:30pm and the night is still very young, but I still cant help but feel like a socially rejected old maid, sitting here waiting for an offer of kinship to be charitably donated to me.
Im sorry but I think I am just feelin a wee bit lost this evening. I have just left one job and am about to start a new one on Monday. So I am currently between vocational identities and I am not really sure where I am going. I just left a team of the most fantastic guys to move into a job that I really know absolutely nothing about. I cant even believe they hired me!!!! So im scared, i feel lost, AND I HAVE NOTHING TO DO ON A FRIDAY NITE!!!
I guess it would help of certain partners of the male persuasion would answer their girlfriends back in a timely manner. Cos if they dont wanna do anything with me well thats fine, but I would really like an answer so i dont end up making 2 lots of plans.
To make it worse not only do I not have any plans, I live with my parents (save me, please) which means this no plans dilemma could mean a night SITTING AT HOME with good ole mum and pop. But even they have plans - well, when I say plans I mean they are going to the supermarket to buy their groceries and then they are stopping in at Red Rooster and buying dinner- but at least they HAVE plans.
Ok, this is gettin way to depressing, so I am going to end it here and MAKE PLANS. Stuff the world I'll do it on my own.

First Try

ok this is my first go at this so im gunna give it a shot..... happy anzac day world! just got back home after bein out all weekend and my friend shezy is down from port..... so this is pretty much just a practice run before i go to bed!!!