UnSexyland Pt II

July 27, 2012

Cool. My statue is shiny and polishing wipes disposed of, let us, as Tim ‘Cuddles McGee’ Gunn says, “carry on”.

Immediately after this was taken I picked  a coarse curly hair out from between my teeth. Weird.

I recently did a uni assignment on energy drinks, so have a degree to back me when I say this tasted like synergy with a creamy mouthfeel. I ordered a pallet.

Would you like to taste some suspicious looking congealed white gunk with fingerprints in it?

Would I???!!!


Marital aid or childrens bath toy?

Why not both?

The diamontes means she can stay a lady while pegging her man

After much umming and aahing and crotch thrusting (much to the disgust of Flatmate, but I was just trying to show her what our friend will be doing while wearing the present, not that she’ll ever use it because it was a novelty gift, oh we so WHACKY) we got what we came for, and a whole lot more.

Was speaking to Jeb about our excursion and was most amused to learn he has an innate ability to sense if a suburb has one of these stores in it. To be fair, they do seem to have a general pattern of being located in far-flung suburbs that only exist to house industrial warehouses and a new housing estates, but still. It’s like he can SMELL them.


UnSexyland Pt I

April 27, 2012

Previous experience has taught me that when sexuality is sold to the masses, it often turns into something about as sexy as a cup of hot sick with a dog hair in it*. Before Christmas Flatmate dragged my hungover ass to Sexyland in Airport West to buy a very specific present for a friend.  I’m not above juvenile snickering at the contents of the store so let’s take a tour of Sexyland, Airport West.


Apparently bachelorettes are unaware of the words penis or cock or Beefy McManStick or piledriver or even doodle. PECKER? Really?

Completely agree with Flatmate when she said ‘out of everything in this store, this wall is the most offensive’. Not that I was offended by anything in the store apart from the overall tone of good clean sexy fun. Sex should be sweaty, dirty, clandestine and kept in shameful dark corners.


Something something Bachelorette party in MY box. Even *I* don’t know what that means.

Are you seething with jealousy that your best friend is getting married and you’re going to die alone with a robot cat for company??
Is passive-aggressively ruining the bride’s bachelorette party a good outlet for this hostility???

We have just the thing for you!!!

This takes the pain out of of planning a hens night that the bride-to-be might actually enjoy, with enough disposable crap printed with male torsos make the most heterosexual woman long to see a pair of tits! We’ve only included enough for a party of eight, which is sure to be enough, maybe even too much, because if you’re buying this then you’re an awful person with no friends!! We’ve even included a banner saying ‘Something something… It’s the girls last night out!’ because everyone knows once you get married, you’re chained to a broken radiator for the rest of your life!!! EXCLAMATION MARK!!!!



I stood and stared at this for a solid few minutes, trying to work out what the fuck it was, why it was so angry, what ‘Kum Fock Yu’ meant and where in ones house one might place it and for what reason. But then I remembered I was at Sexyland Airport West and moved along. Never getting those minutes back.


Won’t SOMEONE think of the tanlines? 

I know I’m (the) tits, I don’t need these creepy hands to tell people that.


Not sure why Magic Silk decided to go all coy and grind this models nipples off, but dudes, you produce cupless and crotchless underwear, I don’t think exposed nipples are going to turn off any potential customers.

All of this unSexiness has given me the vapours, so I’m off to Polish my virgin Mary statue. More to come.

*Credit goes to HG Nelson for that particular phrase.


January 13, 2012

One evening Arbourman and I were drunkenly yelling at the television when we stumbled on pissed and shouty gold.

A Nickelback concert. Again, let me tell you the tale of this momentus, erm, moment through the power of shitty mobile photos:


I’ll start you off with something tame. What is that on her head? Does she think she’s Mel Gibson in that movie ‘Signs’?  Is she going to call me Sugartits  and demand I just fucking smile and blow her because she deserves it? If the aliens were smart enough to build a fucking spaceship wouldn’t they have been smart enough to a bit of research and find out the planet they plan to invade is, oh I don’t know, 70% covered with the very thing that kills them? This photo and that movie, so many questions..

Nice... beads?

I like to think her dad is the one a few rows ahead using his metal-hand to keep a bit of his slutty daughters nipple under wraps. Because that’s what dads do? I blame my dad not being alive for my rampant ‘Spring-breaking’. What’s your excuse?

We decided this was a mother-daughter tag-team act

Yeeeeah, wave your hands in the air like you just don’t care (about your sense of self-worth or the fact you paid for a Nickelback concert)

Again, I blame a lack of a strong male role model for this.

Cowboy hat with sunglasses on top, titty beads, nipple piercings - potential boyfriends take a ticket and line up (for castration for the good of the human race).

I have nothing to add..


Does she not know the RULES? If you’re going to be on someones shoulders then the rules specifically state you gotta flash your chesticles at the band. Pfffft, rookie mistake.

I am astonished this many people are willing to publicly admit their love for Nickelback

Here we will play a little game of Where’s Wally’s Wahwahs. Found them? Good For You, you go treat yo’self. And yes, I did have to google another name for breasts that starts with W, because I care.

This seems like a lot of effort for what essentially looks awkward and not very pleasurable

Did I mention how drunk we were? When we saw this, it was agreed we’d accidentally drank ourselves to death and had gone to heaven. Or hell. Hard to tell really.

Three thumbs/fingers up!

At least Chad Kroeger seemed enthused by the quantity if not quality of the girls gone wild attending his show. And if I’m honest, we had a fucking blast watching the hilarity that is a Nickelback concert.

Egh, I had to google him to find out his name and this appeared

GAH! Kill my eyes with fire!

And now you’ve seen it, a problem shared is  problem halved and all that right? You’re welcome.

Jolly good show old chap tootle pip

January 11, 2012

Yet another year rolls around and yet again I am the most selfless, GIVING saint on earth, attending the cricket for a friends birthday. And in keeping with tradition (and caving to my fans demands*) here’s a brief rundown in photo form.

I know there's footy moles, but what is the cricket version? Cricket Sluzzas? That'll do (pig). And you should have seen their faces, their makeup gun was set on whore..

Obviously you need to dress up when going to the cricket. When you’re in the members section that is.  No thongs, no unbuttoned shirts, no fun, amirite? Did I mention we were in the members section? Although I do love to sit in my fucking tower and glower at the peasants below, they’ve gone out of their way to take all the fun bits of the cricket. No drinks at your seat, no glassing cunts, I mean what is there left to do?

Shitty photo due to giggling.

Watch Australia’s Funniest Home Videos, that’s what else there is to do. I adore this show with a love that is deep and endless. To all of you that pooh-pooh it (I learned to speak like that in the MEMBERS section, did I mention that where we were sitting?), I dare you to watch it without at least three belly laughs. If you can do that then you are a humorless git and I unsubscribe from you in general.

As you can see they went all out with the pyrotechnics

I think I spoke on behalf of all 18 people in the stadium: ‘Well that was a bit shit’.

You should have seen the OTHER guy! Wait, what?

Any excuse to scarf down a disGUSTing hotdog. As I told the assembled company I would, I showed it who was boss. And got a smokin’ hot profile pic in the process.

I'll take my footlong in the library thank you Jeeves

But of course the MEMBERS SECTION (did I mention that was here we were)  has a library, makes perfect sense.

As you can see the crowd went wild

When they finally did put on some good fireworks on the crowd were long gone, so I was pretty embarrassed on the fireworks behalf. Also, since when is a stadium full of smoke a good idea? Never? I thought so too.

And thus ends my cricketing adventure for this year, happy birthday Ms A. J. Black, cant wait for next year (Bay 13 next time please).

*Not really, but at least 3 people demanded I ‘blog about it’ when I mentioned I was attending the cricket. Not sure why this particular activity warranted it, as opposed to all the other fabulously retarded things I do, I guess they just needed to believe I had an ulterior motive for going. Which is fair enough, I’m all about ulterior motives, furthering my own agenda and the such, so I guess they know me well. Well here you go, HAPPY NOW?

Adventures in quitting smoking: Sleep (or lack thereof)

January 6, 2012

I previously mentioned sheer exhaustion. Let me expand. I’ve experienced insomnia as much as the next person, having the occasional bouts when stressed/depressed/smoking too much crack. I’m sure I’ve complained about it to someone who has *real* insomnia who wanted to put their shoe up my cervix. Fuck. Me. Have my eyes been opened.

Unless I drink myself to passing out stage, I’m waking up at 4am every day. This extra waking 3 hours would normally would have been spent killing time & braincells watching rubbish like The Real Housewives of ButtfuckNowhere, but because I’m a jackass I got rid of my bedroom Foxtel 2 days into this project. So now I pass the time by thinking about all the things I’ve done or haven’t done that I regret and generally beating myself up. Playing that ‘What if’ game your mind bullies you with.


OR I’ll have something akin to a panic attack, but am pretty sure it wasn’t. To explain:

I’ve had a recurring dream since I was young that wasn’t exactly a nightmare, but wasn’t a one of neutral either (like sitting around eating stale BreadTop waiting for the tram). It wasn’t an enjoyable dream like that time Fox Mulder totally touched my boob, that was awesome. During this dream I’d experience this weird feeling that I was never able to properly identify, I just always had this infinite feeling of dread upon waking.

Now that I’ve experienced it awake I’m able to identify it. Best way to describe it  that feeling you get when you step onto an escalator that isn’t moving. That split second of terror and vertigo because it feels like you’re going to tip over and smash your front teeth on the grated metal step? Rather than being momentary, it goes for a good 5 minutes, pinning me to the bed.

Once its over I feel like a rag doll made of lead. Never experienced it awake before, and it’s only happened a few times but jesus christ if there was ever a reason to quit quitting then this is it

OR I read. Been doing a lot of that, so I guess that’s a bonus..

Adventures in quitting smoking: Anger

December 21, 2011

Aggression is something that naturally happens when I’m quitting, so I was interested to see how my rage levels would rise with drugs giving it five-across-the-eyes. So far I have threatened Flatmate with:
Murder (I found out she deleted a program I wanted to watch)
Murder-suicide (I found out I had drunkenly given her permission to delete it)
A merciless beating (She expressed fear)
and finally..
To ‘rip your Christmas tree apart limb by limb and douse it in battery acid’ (I only do it because I love her)

I also managed to blow up at MexicanTacos more in one week than the entire time I’ve known him (which is never, so that statement was  a bit shit. Carry on). The episode I’m most ashamed of occurred in the middle of the office, ending with me shouting ‘SHUT UP I DON’T CARE I’M NOT DISCUSSING THIS ANY MORE’. But really, how DARE he try and help me by gently explaining how I could add an economics minor to my degree by taking one more economics subject, the nerve of some people etc.

Lucky for my loved (and hated) ones, since the first week the rage has faded, mostly kept in check due to sheer exhaustion. While I’m not about to go around hugging bitches, nor will I cut them.

Although if some people must insist on turning the volume of the television up to a level that is NOT a multiple of 5 I can’t be held accountable for my actions. 

Adventures in quitting smoking: Sick

December 13, 2011

Inspired by various friends, my doctor and my own vanity, I’m attempting to quit smoking.  Again.
This time around I’m using Champix, a prescription drug that stops nicotine getting to your ‘fuck-yes-that-feels-good’ receptors. Oh, it can also cause depression, anxiety, agitation, aggression, mood swings, hallucinations, self harm and on top of all this, difficulty sleeping.

Good times.

First up, the nausea, oh the nausea. It comes on quick and powerful, mainly when I’m walking to or from work. Walking in this morning I almost vomited on a deaf cat, so there’s that.

I’ve also got the attention span of a toddler on a 3 day Whizz-Fizz bender. One minute I’m at my desk reading a report, the next I’m downstairs in Big W examining the ingredients of kitty litter, and not entirely sure how I got there. Do you call it ingredients? Or is that just in relation to food and drugs? I should wikipedia that right now.

Okay, I’m back, did you know that  training your cat to use your toilet is a thing? I just spent 20 minutes watching the training videos and frankly it seems unhygienic, and I feel a bit dirty not just because I watched multiple cats ‘eliminating’ (their prudish word, not mine), but you could TELL the cat didn’t like being filmed during this process.

Don't look at me like that, maybe if you had tried harder in school you wouldn't be in this position..

I feel the stained walls and grainy quality of the photo really adds to the seedy vibe, no?

Also, one of the videos was a bit on Sunrise with the devil, Kochie himself, so make my brain-bleach a double.

Quite the scene

October 3, 2011

Every Sunday morning (once I’ve climbed out of whatever dumpster I wake up in and brushed the mouldy lettuce out of my hair), I’m quite partial to grabbing a copy of The Age and settling in for a good old fashioned hipster-bash. I’m referring to the ‘Street Seen’ section of the M Magazine.  Intrepid reporter Arsineh Houspian tracks down the fashionable folk of Melbourne and asks them the hard hitting questions.

Now because Arsineh hasn’t seen fit to trawl the mean streets of North Fitzroy and ask ME the important questions, I thought I’d do her job for her* (lazy much Arsineh? Tsk, some people…) Here goes:

I AM still wondering is your name really pronounced ARSE-I-Nay? Really? Your parents must have really not wanted you. Really? Really.

I AM WEARING shoes made by some child in a third world country (but it’s totally okay because once I did the 9 40 hour famine in high school and thus have given back to charity or something), jeans I bought in NYC while getting my degree in MENSA, a t-shirt I fashioned out of wizz-fizz wrappers during a 17 hour wizz-fizz bender and my drinking hat came from Sams Warehouse in Northcote.

My biggest conundrum is whether I 'Bring It' to the public at my 30th party or on NYE.. I think the answer to that is 'yes'

MY STYLE IS boho-hobo-no-homo-yoko-ono

I ADMIRE THE STYLE OF anyone who is not me because of my crushing insecurities. And Katy Perry.

MY FAVOURITE LABLES are those ‘Buy me, I’m cheap’ ones you see on bargain-bin CD’s at JB HIFI. And Katy Perry**.

MY FAVOURITE PLACES TO SHOP ARE my sister’s wardrobe (the price is right, amirite?), the dumpster on a Sunday morning and SuprỄ.

MY BIGGEST FASHION MISTAKE was that time I skinned that baby giraffe and fashioned it into a romper – at the age of 25, can you believe it!!?? A romper suit! EMBAR.

WHEN  I WAS A KID I was probably awful.

I WOULD NEVER BE CAUGHT DEAD IN a vegetarian restaurant. If they can’t see fit to kill something for my delicious enjoyment, then why should I be killed and placed in their restaurant? What a stupid question.

Arsineh, you’re welcome.

* Actually, this post is dedicated to my amazeballs flatmate for inspiring me to do this. And for occasionally forcing food down my throat when I forget that you need food as well as wine to survive.

**I caught a whiff of her ‘fragrance’ a while ago, I feel she captured the essence of fame-whoring, semen and shame perfectly.. Team Katy and all that.

I’m not here to make friends (only I am)

September 16, 2011

One of my favourite ways to pass the time is to play drinking games with reality TV shows based on my shameful knowledge of the cliches that are thrown around. Apart from my go-to favourites ‘thrown under the  bus’ and ‘RRRRRGGG RRRGGGGGG RRRGGGG‘, the other old chestnut that is trotted out on the regular is ‘I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to win’.

As much as I love the bitchiness of the sentiment, I disagree. I AM here to make friends. Last time I wrote about moving offices, someone who read it recognised the company and new office and realised we worked at the same place. He emailed me, and lo and behold, he is one of my goodest friends today.

So, I moved offices again and am here to write about it,  hopefully making a new friend* in the process.

Basically it was a boring repeat of last time, I made plenty of jokes about people’s boxes (yes, they were crates, BUT STILL), it was as scary as any sort of minute change is blah blah.

The best bit of moving has been the team we’ve moved next to. They are a bunch of… characters, as the ever polite Mother would say. They are what we call ‘Lifers’. Or ‘Cockroaches**’ if youre talking to  my work wife Mexicantacos or I. They work on a product that is in the oh-god-just-die-already-I’m-not-interested-in-your-boring-ass-stories-just-give-me-my-inheritance-already stage (marketing term, sorry) of their product lifecycle. The mutual hatred we’ve built took all of, I don’t know, 20 minutes to set in.

On the toilet doors are signs encased in plastic sleeves (I mean, really, who uses  those plastic sleeves anymore? Thats right, THOSE guys) asking the cleaners to announce themselves before entering the toilet. This was a massive red flag for me because how else am I supposed to be mock surprised when I’m all naked and junk and the cleaners with their 200 bracelets that I’m sure aren’t disinfected after a hard days work being shoved down our toilet bowls come in? That’s how all beautiful relationship start, right? I just knew it was that team that put those signs up. THEN..

I might have seen a health & safety document on the printer and I might have thought to myself ‘well these are always good for a laugh” and so took it back to my desk. Maybe this document was 11 pages long, and 5 people were interviewed within. Were the words ‘breaking her fingernail’ involved? Perhaps. The poor dear had to take herself off to the hospital to get an X-ray. Which confirmed, no, she didn”t break anything apart from her precious fucking nail. Her nails that I’ve seen – they’re not much chop.

Apparently Doreen*** was exiting the toilets at the same time someone else was entering and they pushed the door with what must have been excessive superhero force and boom, there’s your compo claim.  While shows like The Office are hilarious and cringeworthy, I didn ‘t exect to come up against such similar people in the real life. My mind is blown and amused and disgusted and a little bit sad.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go and turn my head too quickly when my boss calls my name and get whiplash and never work another day in my life.

*Hot dude who sits at an appromimate 60 degree angle to my left, I’m looking at you. No, really, I’m looking at you, as I typabhkadjheukhs. Okay, I’ll stop now. (No I won’t. *repositions wheelchair and adjusts telescope* What? FINE *spins around on swivel chair and adjusts A4 piece of paper I’m squinting through. AHOY!*)

**As in they have survived the numerous nuclear redundancy waves that roll about this place

***Not her real name, but she’s such a Doreen, you know?


March 25, 2011

I’ve just discovered Cleverbot. I’ve fallen into a deep deep Cleverbot K-hole and can’t pull myself out of it.

So far we’ve discussed the merits of eating rabbit, the fact that I don’t own a pony and why this doesn’t bother me and the reasons cleverbot can’t ‘attend to my genitals’ (apparently because ‘Its Shilpa Raj’) (Fair enough)

Also, Cleverbot’s kind of an ASSHOLE.

Seriously, what an asshole