Big Love?

I watched an episode of the new series on SBS tonight, Big Love. For those of my multitudinous readers who have not heard of the series, it is basically about a familiy of polygamists that live in a suburban town in America. I guess it is based on the pockets of fundamentalist polygamist mormons that exist in pockets in places like Arizona and Salt Lake City.
Anyway the show brought up to me an interesting point. There was this scene where a poligamist who had many wives and was a sort of spiritual leader for the fundamentalists is being interviewed by a paper. They are asking him questions about the type of life he leads and the legal implications, and he says "if the American government can give rights to homosexuals living in relationships, why cant they allow us to live our lives as we chose and leave us in peace?"
Good point. I tend to agree.

Personally I dont think that i could be a second or third or tenth wife in a polygamist family. I like attention too much. But if the women are consenting and able to cope with sharing a husband, if the families are healthy and happy, then why all the fuss? Kids with a large loving support network, siblings to play with and loving parents. As long as it isnt all child brides and dirty old men, I really cant see the problem with people living the way they want.

I think we spend too much time worrying about other people's lives. We care too much about what religious book they are reading, who they are sleeping with and what they believe in. Just because you dont think having two wives is right for you doesnt mean that it is wrong for Joe Bloggs and his wives Betty Cathy and Ursula Bloggs. We are all different. We all have different morals and beliefs. We are all most comfortable in different situations.

So I say GO ON! HAVE YOUR WIVES! And let me have my man, Pink and JD from SCRUBS. I think that is right for me.

Sexuality

I dont know what makes someone gay and someone else not gay. I know that some people are gay and some people are not.

I know that for some reason it is such a horrible thing, that people are condemned and isolated by their families and loved ones because they are gay. I know that sometimes being gay means being deceitful, I know that sometimes it means that you have to do one thing to pretend that you arent doing another.

I was "seeing" a man once, who was gay, or he thought he was, or he wasnt sure. All I know is that we never had a real relationship, but he let everyone in his family and in his extended group of friends think we were. Why? So that he did not have to face their pain and disappointment when they found out the truth.

I dont blame him for this. His family were rurals, from the country, and he had 3 older brothers and a younger sister, the boys were all working in the mining industry, married and with children and his sister engaged to a man, a miner. Their realm and his truth were not compatible so he pulled me into his lies so that they could sleep well at night.

I lost contact with him, somewhere down the tracks when he moved interstate and I moved on with my life. I did hear at one stage that he was living with a woman, in the country town he grew up in. I remembered how it was, being with him and knowing that there were little secrets, and it was sad to think that he still had not faced the truth of his sexuality. I still know his truth, I have known it since the night he confessed with tears and heartbreak, and I know that he is still living a lie.

It is unfair, I think. It is unfair that I can profess my love for my other half so proudly and openly, simply for the reason that I chose to love a man and not another woman. It is unfair that this man I once new has to live a lie, or half a lie, and always have the truth eating him up inside. All because he does not feel how I do, and does not conform to the apparent norm. What is normal anyway?

My Pet Hates

Well, dear readers, two posts in one week! I know that i am spoiling you, but I feel that, as my loyal fans and devotees, you all deserve it.

I've had a hell of a day. The kind of day that makes you want throw random objects at innocent people. The kind of day that leaves you wishing you had the guts to tell rude old people to get fucked (harsh, arent I?).

Today it seemed as though people were going out of their way to piss me off. Whether they knew it or not, it seemed that every person knew exactly what my pet hates were and all were intent on turning my day into my own personal hell......

So here we go. My pet hates. In a list, on a blog, for all the world to see. Hopefully those of you who apparently love to go out of your WAY to annoy me (and I know you are out there, im just hoping that you are reading this blog) will take some notes....

1) One word replies to text messages. Really people, why waste your 30c? Why waste money on stupid text messages that say things like "ok" or "cool" or even worse "yup" (worse because its not even a real word, even the online dictionary describes it as slang). A certain man in my life sent me an annoying one worder today (and yes it was the evil "yup") which irritated me so much that I almost threw my phone in front of an oncoming truck. My figuring is: if you cant do me the decency of writing me a complete sentence, or at the very least the text version of a complete sentence, the DON'T BOTHER WRITING AT ALL. Easy.

2) People who call me "girly" over the phone and then assume that Im either a receptionist or a secretary. These people are generally older males, and they generally think that they can talk down to me and treat me like an idiot who wont understand the "big words" that they are saying. Just because I am female and I have a nice phone manner does not mean that I work in a role that involves me picking up some overpaid assholes drycleaning or filing his paperwork. No offence to all those secretaries and receptionists out there but that is NOT ME and if it ever is me, I will take my own life. Wait though, secretaries arent called that anymore are they? Personal Assistants now, thats right... bet thats their pet hate- being called a secretary! However I think that even if I WAS a receptionist or a personal assistant, these horrid old men would still be one of my pet hates.

3)People who mispronounce words. For instance "aks" instead of ask, "liberry" instead of library, "excape" instead of escape. I mean really, its cute when you are four years old, but when you are thirty-three and you need to aks me directions so you can excape to the liberry, it really doesnt sit so well. If you can't pronounce simple words, take a class, practice your pronunciation, or if all else fails, say something else. Request directions so that you can hide in the big place with lots of books for christs sake, I dont care.
Dont get me wrong- this isnt an issue with slang, or shortening words or anything like that. I also dont have problems with people who cant pronounce big words- deoxyribonucleic acid for example - even funny names like Dzminski - they arent a problem, because WHO CAN pronounce those words unless they have a triple degree in science, english and russian history?

4) (and finally) Big women in tiny clothes. You know the ones. Size 20 and trying to fit into a size 12? The ones whose guts are so huge that they not only fall over the waistband of their pants but actually hang out from under their shirts? You see them all the time- big fat girls wearing little tiny outfits that make them look like really bad comedy skits, fat bulging out tight sleeves, pouring from under tiny skirts and pooling around ankles adorned with impossible heels. For some reason, I find these people sad and kind of frightening. Sad, because it seems that they have bowed to social convention and think that they must squeeze themselves into ridiculous outfits in the name of fashion, and frightening because they have the guts to wear these outfits and seem to think that they actually look hot in these outfits. I also worry about where their friends are- I mean if I close friend of mine was about to walk the streets with more muffin top than clothing, I would stop them and tell them. And I would like to think that if I were to do the same, my friends would tell me. The only thing worse than a cheap slut is a cheap slut with cankles and a gunt. Really.

Ok well thats it. Now you know that I am a horrible person with really stupid pet hates. Oh I did forget one, the one about people who try to force their religion on me, but in these times of vilification tension and hate, I thought I would leave that one for another time.....

Have fun

Traumatised

Thats right dear readers, as above. I am traumatised.

I have spent the last 15 minutes doing something I would have to say is the most disgusting and unnecessary thing that I have every had to do. So disgusting that I am this close to declaring myself vegetarian and joining a hippie commune in far north Queensland.

I guess I should start from the beginning.

My beloved other half, in all his divine wisdom and incredible intelligence, bought himself a frozen chicken to stuff and roast. Now the man of my life is a relatively good cook (when he feels like it that is), and for him the joy and challenge of making stuffing and shoving it up a chickens arse is quite satisfying. Not so much for me...

Now love of my life took this chicken out of the freezer to defrost on Sunday, as he had grand ambitions to create his take on the traditional culinary masterpiece that is the Sunday Roast. This chicken has now sat in the fridge until today, which is wednesday, awaiting the attention and genius of my love. This, unfortunately, was not to be.

It started with an email. Honey, do you want to cook the roast? Well yes, I thought, I am a capable woman, I can breach corporations to court for large amounts of money, I can do 8 pushups on my toes, I can make several different variations of stir fry and a great red curry, OF COURSE I CAN ROAST A CHICKEN!!!!

Love of my life then emailed me a complicated recipe that involved apricots, breadcrumbs, onions, lemon rind..... oh and about 6000 other items that I have blocked from my mind through trauma.

I took one look and thought, hang on. I stick what where? He wants the apricots up.... there? APRICOTS UP WHERE??!!??

So, I begin. Cook the onion, heat the apricots, mix the stuffing. Easy. Sort of like a cake. So, full of confidence and smug pride in the fact that I can ROAST A CHICKEN, I take take the next step. I took the frozen chicken out of the plastic freezer bag.

Um can i say EW and YUCK. First of all, there was DEAD CHOOK BLOOD. pouring out of that disgusting carcass! And cold loose chicken skin. And then the worst bit, the chickens arse.

Now I tried really hard to spoon the stuff up it, keeping my hands as far from the dead chooks rear as I possibly could. However this is very time consuming, considering you have to hold it open and carefully press it into place. So, out of frustration and distress, I grabbed the gobfuls of apricot muck, and stuck my hands right up there too. It was the single most horrifying moment of my life ( i have an irrational fear of raw chicken). I was raping a dead chickens arse. If I was a chicken I would feel violated.

Dont get me wrong, I have roasted before. But to me a roast is a pre-prepared chicken roll that i bung in the oven with a couple of potatoes and some pumpkin. Not a whole chicken with horrible skin and a rear end that requires my attention.


Now I feel dirty. i feel like I need to cleanse my entire body, to scrub the feeling of raw chicken arse off my body. I am horrified. I think I am going to need counselling to recover from this horrifying ordeal. In fact, I am going to have a shower right now and take in the big scrubbing brush to scrup this off my skin.......

Toodles

SPORT SUX

I have a confession to make. Some may be shocked. Some may be offended. Some may NEVER READ MY BLOG AGAIN (dum dum DUUUUM)......

I am really crap at sport. There you go, said it. I am probably one of the worst sports players that ever walked the earth. I am so bad that when I played soccer, they would only sub me on the field when an equally shit player came off and they would generally place me in a position where I did the least damage humanly possible. Well, maybe thats an overstatement, I played soccer for 15 years and Im sure I managed to play a few half decent games. Probably only by accident though.

Its not that Im unfit, I go to the gym 4 times a week and I can run 5k on a treadmill. Its not that Im selfish, I love team sports and I am always looking out for whats best for the team. Its just unfortunate that what is best for the team is me sitting on the sideline with a beer and a rug over my knees.

My problem is not my brain, I know WHAT I am supposed to do and I know WHEN I am supposed to do it- though WHAT I should be doing is NOT PLAYING and WHEN I should be doing it is NEVER.

The problem is, and all my fellow uncos out there will completely relate to this, that my feet will not do what my brain tells it to do. My brain knows, my feet know, but they seem to be ignoring each other when the time comes for them to act like a team.
My eyes dont work, my arms turn to jelly. All of my hard work and training go out the window when I play team sport. My legs seize and refuse to run. People on the sideline scream 'get moving Ris' but they dont realise that I am virtually glued to the spot.

I think it is actually a combination of pessimism and fear that destroy me. I am afraid of letting people down. I am afraid of fucking up and costing my team a goal. I am afraid that they will all laugh at me. i am afraid that I will be the last one picked..... well I probably already was.

The stupid thing is, all I ever wanted to do was play sport. I was always so keen. I ran in every race (I think once I even came SECOND last), I swam at every swimming carnival. I tried to play hockey, soccer, tennis, basketball, softball. I turned up early to training, paid to go to extra training camps. I put up with comments about my weight, my glasses, my nerdiness, and still put in the effort day after day week after week. I would listen to my parents, and believe them when they said practice makes perfect. I TRIED, gave it 100% EVERY TIME WITHOUT FAIL WITHOUT QUESTION.

Now that might sound like a good attitude, like I did the right thing. But is setting myself up for failure after failure week after week and putting up with put down after put down really THE RIGHT THING. The amount of times I was pulled off the field and sat on the bench because I was not good enough and the other PARENTS on the sideline were booing me was ridiculous.

Is it really the RIGHT THING to allow yourself to feel this way? I know we grow up and then its all good and you dont feel so bad and you can laugh at yourself and no one judges you for being crap and bullshit bullshit bullshit, you are good at other things, you can write really good stories well WHO CARES if you can write good stories, WHO CARES if you are grammatically correct and can spell words that other people have never heard of, WHO CARES if you are booksmart, I can tell you who, not many people. What am I going to do, compete in a word Olympics? Go and play theatre sports? PLEASE!

Actually, the theatre sports is actually a pretty good idea........

But anyway. My other half pointed out that I am better at reading and writing than him..... woo-hoo. Thats not actually a supported fact, as he is getting hundreds of hits on his blog every week and I dont think that even my friends read this anymore.

And its not as if people who write well get invited to "drinks after the game". We get invited to edit peoples pamphlets and read over peoples assignments. Then we get asked what this word means and how to spell that. Wow impressive.

Ok, well this rant is pretty much over, I have stopped making sense, and I am no longer feeling like shit. Hell Ive even started to laugh while writing this which has got to be a good sign.

Its sad that Im crap at sports, I really love them and I would like to play. I even want to play scary touch Aussie Rules even though I quit last night and they probably have a new girl to fill my space.

What do you all think cyberspace peoples?

Being 24

Many apologies, dear readers, as this will be yet another meaningful and deep post contemplating the complexities of my life. But I promise, AND YOU CAN HOLD ME TO THIS, my next post will most definately be cynical and judgemental as usual. I PROMISE. Just bear with me.....

Its pretty tough in this day and age, to be a 24 year old woman in this day and age. We live in the age of choice and freedom. Im learning, however, that with choice and freedom comes expectation. Expectation from ourselves. From our families and our friends. Our partners our teachers our bosses and busdrivers. From those people in highschool we didnt even like, but had to be nice to because their parents were friends with our parents.

My parents expect me to be brilliant. They expect me to go back to uni. They think that I should get a degree and do a doctorate and be accademic and be successful. They want a daughter that they can boast about. My mother in particular wants me to have a GREAT CAREER, not just a job. She wants me to have this super duper job, not to worry about babies and to be one of those new age women who has kids at 42.

Mr friends expect me to be the one who succeeds. I, you see, was the one who always got the job she wanted, who always got the traineeship. I once (famously among my friends) walked into a service station barefoot to buy a coke, and came out with a job as an assistant manager. And Im the one who went from being drugged up party girl to practically married housewife with a mortgage in 3 years.

The world expects women today to be everything. We have to be able to hold down a great job, have babies, keep a household and stay thin. All at once. And if we dont, the world judges us. We have to be ambitious. Its no longer good enough to want to be married and have babies. Its no longer important to be good mothers and to teach and nurture the leaders of the future. People look down on women who want to do that.

In saying that, however, women are still expected to have babies. But not too young. Young mothers are not kosher, according to the world these days. But be careful. You dont want to be too old. Old mums are pathetic and sad, desperate maids who get knocked up because they realise that time is running out. Thats not good in the eyes of the world either.

We have to be independantly minded, because marriage is old fashioned and nothing is forever anymore. There is no room for women who believe in love. There is no room for women who are happy with part time jobs while their husbands work to support their family.

I am a young woman in my mid twenties and I am afraid that I am going to fail. So afraid that it affects my relationships. I am afriad that I will stuff it all up, take a wrong turn and end up lost. No because I feel that I have made the wrong choices. I know that I made the best choices I could with the oppurtunities I had. I am afraid because there is so many judges and so many standards, but no-one will tell you what you are supposed to be. Im doomed if I do and doomed if I dont.

You see, sometimes I think that I dont really want to be the new age woman with the new age beliefs. I dont think that men and women are equal. I have never known what I wanted to do as a career. I have never had a five year plan with choices for promotion.

The only things I have ever really wanted out of life were the things that my mother told me I didnt need. A stable home. A loving husband. Kids to teach and love that are a part of me. I might be an oddball and I might have been "the smart one" but all I have ever really know that I want is the suburban dream.Sure there are other things that I want to do. I want to write a book and I want to be on Oprah. But if I had to chose between these things and what I have always know I wanted, I would chose my traditional suburban dream.

Its tough being 24 in this day and age. With the pressure and the expectations, everything I want will always be wrong. There will always be someone who knows better who will judge.

Crikey.

So Not Good

I am so unhappy at the moment. I dont know why, all I know is that I am. Its my job its my life. How can I know so many people and still feel lonely? I live with one person and one cat and I spend so much time feeling like the only people on earth.

I dont think anyone actually wants to spend time with me. Well correction, the people who I wish wanted to spend time with me dont seem to want to. I feel avoided. I get the distinct impression that people will go out of their way and find other things to do.

I am so quietly miserable. I can fake it, and I do. I fake being happy I fake laugh, I pretend that I feel secure, happy and that my life is on track. I should have been an actor I fake it so good. But I cant remember the last time that I actually felt as happy as I pretend to feel.

Im sick of crying at night. Im sick of feeling like a failure. But I dont know how to make things right anymore. Dammit Im sick of the fact that I am crying right now. Maybe its PMS but who has THIS much PMS?

Im sorry to load this all on you, whoever you are if you even bother to read this. But I gotta tell someone and no-one else really seems to listen.

The end.

True Confessions

I have a confession to make.

I am not proud of it nor do I want anyone to judge me for the decisions that I have made. I understand that this confession could render me a social outcast (nothing new) and I am sure that I will lose friends because of what I am about to say.

I hate NRL. I hate the teams the game the players. I hate the cheerleaders (I have tit envy). I dont understand the rules, nor do I wish to take the time to learn them. I dont care who you tip- cowboys or warriers? Who ARE the COWBOYS? WHO CARES! I dont understand what a line drop out is. i dont understand why you gotta throw backwards to move forwards. I dont understand why they call it football when you dont use your feet much. I dont even understand why they call it a "ball since it is not round.


Dont get me wrong. I have TRIED to get into the phenomenon that its NRL. When you live in the Shire and go to school at Kogarah (home of the mighty Dragons. Yay.), you kinda have to at least pretend that you care about the fate of 11 meatheads, 25 big titted lollipop cheerleaders and a stupid mascot. I have supporter gear. For both St George and the Sharks. Ive been to the games. BUT I DONT CARE.

For me, there was always two reasons why I went to the football. Well for a brief period, there was 3. Firstly, I have always known someone who knows someone, so I have always been able to get in for free, or for a substantial discount. And even if you hate the game, who can give up a free ticket? In high school it was COOL that I knew a security guard who could get me into the lockers after the game. I mean I think that St George LOST, but I dunno.
Secondly, it was always a place where we could go and score beers. When we were underaged, there was always one drunk fanatic who thought we were cute lil' dragons supporters who was good for getting us a few VBs and passing them over to us to drink behind the hill. And when we were legal, it was all about buying 4 at a time, and trying to drink as many as fast as we could, so that by the time we were in the club pretending to listen to the presentations we were barely able to stand.
Thirdly, and mind you, only in my younger years, it was the perfect place to go when we were stoned. No one noticed our red eyes and if they did they probably attributed them to our emotional involvement in the game. And there is ample cheap dodgy food that is easily accessible whould we get the munchies. Hot dog and wedges with sourcream and sweet chilli? Sign me up.

But for me, once the novelty of getting in for free, the joy of drinking feral VB and the fun of getting stoned wore off, there was nothing left but a bunch of overgrown meatheads running into each other wearing stupid shorts.

I cant enjoy an experience if I cant understand it, and to me, the game of NRL simply highlights all the things that are wrong in this world at this time. The idolisation of idiots and anorexics. "My teams better than your team". Need I say more.

So I hope, dear readers, that you can still respect me after my confession. I understand if you no longer see me as a "true Aussie". I understand if I am evicted from the shire cos I dont care if the sharks never win a premership. But please, my friends, try to be understanding.

Bye.

Im Ba-ack

Get excited.
Get emotional.
Get ready to jump outta your seats and pump your fists in the air, cos I AM BACK and I am sure that I am far more cynical and unimpressed with life than I was when I last put typeface to computer screen.....

Now that the Nike advertisement of an intro is over, yes yes oh valued readers, whose numbers are in the thousands I am sure, I have returned to the land of blogs and am ready to bitch to all who care with a vengeance.

But before the torrential downpour of whinging and cynical moaning begins, I feel I must catch you up on what has been going on in my life since I last wrote.....

First of all I AM STILL IN THE SAME JOB!!!!! I am actually sitting at a desk at work now, pretending with every inch of my body to look as though I am intently working on a Dangerous Dog Declaration. And yes, I still hate the place. So if any valued readers would like to employ me to read books/talk shit over a cup of tea/go to the gym you know how to contact me. Herrrrrmmm, Im sure the offers will FLY on in.......

The man of my life and myself now have a unit and a mortgage..... its actually a rather nice unit and for the most part I really do enjoy this step in my life...... except for when I have PMS......

A whole bunch of my friends have gotten engaged- so I have been and am currently still going to engagement parties, hens nights and kitchen teas..... which sounds like a blast. Except of course that every one of these occasions means I have to buy a present, often for people I have barely spoken to for the last 3 years. Now I dont mean to sound bitter BUT WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME THEY BOUGHT ME A PRESENT!?!? I am actually tempted to fake my engagement just for a shiny new stainless steel toaster and a clothes dryer.......

And finally, I am ashamed to admit it, but I am hopelessly and completely addicted to the Aussie Biggest Loser. Seriously. I even shout at the television, in the vain hope that a time vortex will open and the contestants will hear me. OH MY GOD I AM TURNING INTO MY PARENTS. Oh how it hurts to age....

Well I guess I am done with this post, but I shall be back. Wait till you hear about my new GREAT CAREER IDEA and why I LOVE OPRAH.......

Til we next meet oh valued readers, farewell and blessings from some completely non-denominational and non-political higher entity.....

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?...........