Saturday, August 29, 2009

Updates on Snot and Birthdays (how exciting!)

My birthday, for those confused by my last post, was on Thursday. On Thursday, I left my apartment for the first time in days because of the sickliness. It was low key and nice. I talked to my family on skype - my neicephews wished me a happy birthday while they ate chocolate ice cream. And then I met my friends M. and Jess in the city for hot chocolate and a free Boost smoothie. Getting a free smoothie because it was my birthday was the most birthday like thing that happened to me.

But I had big plans, you guys. I was going to do this whole 25 by 25 thing. 25 things I wanted to accomplish before I "became as old as a decent size tree" (Um, thanks E. for that AWESOME analogy). But I only came up with like 5 and then couldn't be bothered to think of any more.
They were:
1. Apply for Australian Residency.
2. Get a job.
3. it's a secret - but you know, it's there.
4. Learn the whole thriller dance
5. ....? Ok, I lied I only had 4.

So, what kind of 25 by 25 list could I have with only FOUR items in it? The lame kind. So, I scrapped that idea which left more room in my brain for my more important thoughts like how I can get James Blake to marry me and wondering how sick I'd get if I drank the entire pint of home made Maple Syrup my parents sent me?

The real celebration for my birthday started back months ago when John-the-Beatle and I ate at a restaurant that had a whole gluten free menu that included (wait for it...) pizza, pasta, and beer. The Holy Grail of Gluten Free Delight. About 3 weeks ago I reserved a table there for a bunch of my friends to come celebrate with me on Friday. This is the first time I've ever really thrown myself a party. And it was so much fun.

I could've done without the snot. I mean honestly, it's bad! And my voice, we kept trying to pin point exactly what kind voice I suddenly had. I think we narrowed it down to Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High because it was lower than Bob Dylan's, a bit higher than Johnny Cash. Righteous dudes - all I need is some hot babes and some righteous waves.

It seems fitting to end this with the closing words from This Guy's toast. Say it together now:

"To D, who is not a slut"

Friday, August 28, 2009

It is/was my birthday, and I'll be snotty, even if I don't want to be.

I am 24.

The curser has been blinking next to that 24 for hours. No, literally, hours.

First of all, this whole living in Australia - my summer birthday is now a winter birthday. Yes, that blows my mind. Secondly, my whole "I've never been sick on my birthday because it's summer" run is now over. The snot, people, oh the snot. (An update on the Hanky versus Tissue debate - I actually quickly got over the gross factor, am a hanky convert!). Not to mention the husky call girl voice - hot da-amn.

And you know what, that's all I really want to talk about today. Come back tomorrow, for the real post on my 2 day sickly birthday extravaganza! Boo ya!

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Environmental Wednesday: A Water Edition

I am really sick, guys. So, this is going to be short and then I can return to my supine state and my How I Met Your Mother DVDs.

Where I grew up, water is not an issue. It rains all the time, but we had a well and my dad was paranoid about it going dry. So, I was taught to turn off the water while brushing my teeth, and to be careful to not to leave faucets (seriously, that's a word right?) dripping.

Moving to Australia opened my eyes as to what it means to be "in a drought." Melbourne hasn't had an "average" year of rain in over 10 years. It's recommended that you take 4 minute showers with a bucket under the shower head to collect the water to water your garden. I've become really conscious of water that goes down the drain and how I could have used it better.

Half a Teaspoon is an Australian based website trying to help people conserve water. Their name comes from this: if the world's water was a litre, the clean drinking water available for the billions on the planet would be half a teaspoon. But what really got me is this ratio for every litre bottle of water you buy it took 3 litres of water to produce it.

The point: Don't buy bottled water. And think about the water you could be saving while you brush your teeth, wash your face, wash your hands, the dishes, your garden, your yard, your car...

I feel fuzzy.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

And Mr. Slurpee called me no fun! Take this, bitch.

I have been a social butterfly, and will be for the next week or so. For example, on Friday night I had a date and then met up with friends at a dance club and danced until 3 am. Suck on those apples, Mr. Slurpee.

The date was lovely, and that is all I am going to say about that, oh, well that and it wasn't PG.

This guy, my first friend in Australia, who is biking from Adelaide to Ayers Rock to raise money for cancer (Crazy? Slightly. Totally hot? Obviously). Some 2000+ kilometres!! One of many fundraising schemes was that a club hosted the team and all the proceeds went to the cancer research. So when This Guy asked me to go I was totally there and bringing all the people I could muster up (two people - I don't muster well). By 1:30 am, my friends had left, and all of This Guy's girl friends had left as well. It was just me, This Guy, and a bunch of his mates. Now, I have never been out clubbing with boys before. And it was an eye opener for sure to see how they went about trying to pick up girls. It was so elaborate. I mean SO ELABORATE. There was planning, and then reworking the plan, and then implementing, and then holy jeebus if I know what else.

When I asked if they had considered just asking the young lady of their choice to dance, they looked at me like I was crazy. Fellas, that's all I want. Just ask me to dance.

All these guys are taking salsa lessons and This Guy misinformed them that I was some kind of salsa guru and so they each took turns attempting to salsa with me to techno. Unce unce unce unce.

I think the main lessons to be learned here are the following:

1. Just ask the girl to dance.
2. Salsa to techno does not work.
3. I like to be dipped.
4. I am several barrels worth of fun.

The end.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Yes, but how do I know you're there?

So, I've dived back into the dating site with a vengeance. And there has been a guy (Persistent Guy [PG]), who every time I talked to him he asked me out a date. Which was a nice change from a certain slurpee connoisseur that we all know and adore. Anyway, so I agreed to go on a date with PG 730 at The Designated Spot on Tuesday night.

I get there at 715, because I am perpetually early, and I wait.

735...I wait. I see a pirate dressed as a colonel. Followed by Einstein.

745...I wait. An old man starts shouting "THOSE WERE THE KEATING YEARS. THE LYING KEATING YEARS" and then walks off.

750...I wait. I know what you're thinking, why didn't you call him? I HATE THE PHONE, PEOPLE.

8...I finally text him, "Um, PG? you close by?"

805...He calls me. "Who is this" he says.
Me: YOU CALLED ME. But it's D.
Him: Can you prove that?
Me: Um, no, but it's me.
Him: Where are you?
Me: At the Designated Spot, where are you?
Him: Can you give the phone to some one there to prove that you're there?
Me: Um, no.
Him: Well, how do I know you're there.
Me (getting distressed and creeped out): WHY WOULD I LIE?
Him: Seriously, can't you just talk to someone who works at The Designated Spot give them the phone and prove it. Because it doesn't SOUND like you're at The Designated Spot.
Me: You know what? Goodbye.

I hung up and walked to the tram stop. He calls again. And I answer, because....???

Him: Look, I just need to make sure you're not my stalker...
Me: is she American? Because this is the only accent I got.
Him: No...
Me: Than it isn't me!
Him: Where are you now?
Me: I am about to get on the tram to go home...
Him: It doesn't sound like you're at the tram stop.
Me: You're really freaking me out, and I am going home. Goodbye.

He calls me 10 more times and leaves two messages and I ignore each one. I finally check my voice mail and he has put my name down for the wrong number in his phone and so when he called that person they were clearly nonplussed by his questioning about this so called date. A semi-honest mistake.

He calls again (living up to his name...), I answer. Why? You ask. WHY? Well, to be honest, I thought I was going to tell him off. I thought I was going to say, "YOU BLEW IT DUFUS."

So he starts apologising. He starts grovelling. He is so sorry. He says "I acted like a dickhead" and I, uncharacteristically say, "you WERE a dickhead." He says, "babe [and I vomit in my mouth], I am so sorry. Don't go home come out with me. Please, let me make this up to you. Please. Please? I owe you dinner. I am so sorry." I say, "Don't you see it as a problem that you haven't even met me yet and don't trust me?"

This is why you don't date people from the internet, internets.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

It's Wednesday, But I am not feeling particularly Environmental

In lieu of last weekends events, I am just not feeling very educational today.

I've been pretty upbeat, mostly, but I've been feeling a little homesick. Which is only made worse because my parents keep sending me pictures like these:

Monday, August 17, 2009

Hit the road Jack, and don'tcha come back no more no more no more no more...

Over the weekend, Mr. Slurpee and I had the long time coming heart to heart about what we were doing. And as it turns out, what I thought we were doing and what he wants were very different things. Very. Different. How awkward.

At first I sighed in a resigned way like "Yeah, I should have seen this coming." But as I told Rhea what happened, I got angry, there was no way I could've seen this coming! And then, I cried. I cried myself to sleep and woke up with swollen eyes and a headache from dehydration. But I don't want to be angry with him, I don't want to remember him through questions of "WHY WHY WHY", but of the amazingness that was him.

And so:

I adore that he used to call my freckles chocolate chips as he kissed them.

I like how he had to be touching me if we were sitting on his oh-so-comfortable-couch whether it was just his leg resting against mine or pulling me towards him so I was snuggled against his chest.

His couch was awesome. It was the thing I looked forward to most after my long flight from LA. Knowing he was going to pick me up at the airport, and bring me back to the couch, where I could finally be supine.

He wasn't afraid to break me - and I appreciate that, sort of - and I mean that in a wrestling, tickling kind of way.

He always remembered all of my food allergies and occasionally made up some extras.

He sang in the car and sometimes seat danced.

I loved that he called me "fro puff" or "my little fro puff."

His favourite 80s song is "Uptown Girl."

He had the hottest name I've ever heard--hotter than James Blake, impossible you say? I wish I could tell you his name, I mean, seriously hot. Whenever I'd tell one of my girlfriends about his hot name they'd be all "yeah, yeah" and then I'd say it and the response was inevitably "Wow, that is a really hot name."

He thought I was a red head - and perhaps this should've been a sign of insanity, but gawd, I've always wanted to be a red head.

I love how he hugged me when he was wearing his big winter jacket. He'd put his hands in his pockets and open the jacket up so I could snuggle against his body and then wrap the jacket around us both - Mark Darcy Style in Bridget Jones - I've never felt so safe.

He made me want to say yes, even though I still usually said no, he made me want to be the girl I always thought I'd be. And in a way, for a brief moment while we talked, I became her: I said words I've never said. And I did things I normally wouldn't do.

Mr. Slurpee, I know it's over. But I can't help it that I'm a bit in like with you.

Friday, August 14, 2009

The only thing that could have made it worse would have been a loaf of bread (my kryptonite) and a pair of socks


I started my internship on Thursday. I have my own desk. I've never had my own desk before, I was starting to feel all grown up with my own computer and my own chair and my own little cubicle, and then I looked to my right and there it was. I was face to face with it. It stared at me and I, well, I cowered in my shoesies. My nemesis: the phone.

So, I am still on the dating site, Mr. Slurpee and I aren't exclusive, and the real fear is I'd lose my nerve and never go on again if I signed off. The newest guy who has been talking to me used this line when he found out I wanted to be a science writer: "So, what would you write about the chemistry between us?" It's hard not to be both a little disturbed and also amused by that line.

Happy weekend...What are your plans? Can I live vicariously through you? Please?

'cause I'll be here, writing an essay.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Ways to make your daughter move back home: lesson two

Much like Lesson One, Lesson Two comprises of getting a puppy. My parents are getting a second puppy. How many puppies will that make my lovely folks have: Three. Three dogs. How many dogs will I have? That's right, none. It's a tragic state of affairs and my heart aches a little looking at this furry little rascal. Meet the newest Australian (shepherd) member of our family:

Yeah, just they wait until I adopt some cute little baby and stay in Australia forever, they'll regret rubbing this puppy nonsense in my face then! Oh, who am I kidding. I don't want to adopt a baby. I can't even hypothetically rub this in their face. Even in hypothetical terms I am not evil.

And to top it off, my dad got an iPhone. It's just that he is way cooler than I am.

And, AND, all of my pants have decided that they are too good for wearing and have spontaneously holed themselves or lost buttons.


and AND and, I might have to wear socks today! HORRORS.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Environmental Wednesday: Back to School Edition

A. I am listening to Car Talk* as we speak - after my last Environmental Wednesday post, I started Jonesin' for Ray* and Tom*, it happens, doesn't it? (haha, they just said "who are you going to trust the one whose nuts didn't fall off or the one whose nuts fell off" bwahaha, out of context lug nut jokes are funny).

B. I've been surfing around the blogosphere recently and have noticed people saying they're going back to school, or their kids are and I'm having southern hemisphere/northern hemisphere problems. But anyway, I have some guilt about back-to-school purchases. [I wasn't even listening to them and started laughing because they did. People don't laugh enough]. Especially after reading this fact:

"Americans use about 31.5 million tons of printing and writing paper each year, requiring 535 million trees, most from virgin tree fiber, and 12 billion gallons of oil to make."

and recycling paper uses 28-70% less energy than producing virgin paper. And about 80% of paper can be recycled.

Staples*, Office Depot*, and most office supply stores sell note books and folders made from recycled paper and materials, I encourage you to consider this when purchasing paper for any variety of your paper needs - I certainly regret not looking into it.

I think this is one of those things that we all do - recycle paper - but I never really think about buying products from recycled goods, do you? This is a short coming in the "reduce, reuse, recycle" slogan. Yes, we should be more careful in how use paper products! Yes, we should make sure to use half-used paper! Yes, we should recycle paper after we use it (both sides!)! and YES, we should make a conscious effort to purchase paper that is made of out recycled paper.

*I was not paid by any of these people to pimp out their goods - hah! lug nuts, ahem, am an adult.

Monday, August 10, 2009

I should be dead; and that's not really being overdramatic.

My relationship with food is ... touchy.

I'm allergic to a lot of it. And some days even things I am not allergic can cause problems. Nuts, for example, I can eat with no problems for months and then for like 2 months if a nut passes by my lips - well, let's not get graphic - I spend more time in bathrooms than normally.

I've gotten pretty good at letting my body tell me what it needs. I've been craving cauliflower. Weird? obviously. But hey, who am I deny myself cauliflower?

Walking home from yoga yesterday, I was pondering what I'd have for lunch. Mac n no no, but cheese sounds good. Hmm...cheese on what? As I crossed over High Street, it hit me. My day could not go on without Mashed Potatoes with peas and cheese melted over it (and cauliflower...but even I think that's weird, so let's not mention it). This was it. I needed mashed potatoes.

Anything you need today?

Sunday, August 09, 2009

If I can take a moment to be serious...Word to your face

These ladies are bringing the heat, bitches.

Why yes, I am doing homework, thanks for asking.

Thursday, August 06, 2009

The Hair Gauge: Cute Boys Apatow and Tennis Style, That's Just How I Roll

Hair means a lot to me, and not just my own hair in its whimsical 80s glory, but men's hair. Mr. Slurpee got a hair cut (and it's hot...) and Bobo asked me to describe it to her and the only way I could was tell her it was about a Ted Mosby on the hair hotness scale. But this raised other questions who else is on the hair hotness scale? How does one gauge? With further discussion and much arguing (that's a lie)...I give you...

THE HAIR HOTNESS SCALE. Buckle up, kids, it's going to be awesome. The scale ranges from 10 to 0. 10 being The Motherload of Hot. And zero being...well, you'll see.

The 10 being: Fernando Verdasco. Tennis player. Hottie. The only man who could woo me away from James Blake. Bonus points because he makes me want to sing Abba...FERNANDO...there is something in the air tonight the stars are bright...(All together now)...Fernando they were shining there for you and, no one else, ahem ONWARDS.

He recently got rid of his faux hawk and perhaps has gotten hotter, no one saw this coming, but the world rejoiced.

Now coming in on a 8.5 is Ted Mosby (aka Josh Radnor) of How I Met Your Mother...

Don't you just want to rumple his hair?

Coming in at 7 is an interesting case of James Blake. Who with no hair has wooed the hearts of many, or just me(?), sometimes baldness is hot. I think the lesson to be learned here is having a hot head of brunette hair is less important that rockin' what you got. I hope you're takin' notes fellas 'cause I am laying down some knowledge.

HOT DAMN is that man foxy. It's just we're so happy together it's hard court season, so he can start winning again.

Now this is where things get out of order and confusing there is Jason Segel (ok, so look, my love of all things tennis and all things related to (even obscurely, like Ted Mosby through Segel - my mind is a twisted place) Judd Apatow are heavily highlighted in this particular Hot Hair Gauge...It can't be helped. I am prejudice!). I adore him. But is he a 5.5 because he has had pretty damn good haircuts?:

Or a three because he has made some bad, bad, BAD choices (which we've all made mistakes...I mean I brushed my hair all through high school! - it was bad, no I don't want to talk about it) and refuses to go back to his cute self? How much does potential awesome count versus insanity? These The Big Hair Questions (BHQ).

No one wants that. Look, he's still adorable, but THE HAIR IS NOT FLATTERING.

Now there is a range from about a 3 to a 6 where the fellas are rockin' their hair but it can be touch or go - you know the average range - bad hair days ensue. Guys like (le sigh) - Roger Federer, Marat Safin, and Seth Rogen:

Rolling down to 1 is ... Look, I know you've seen this coming, but Rafa Nadal. The Monkey himself. Now, I'll be honest, longish hair on men doesn't do it for me, and I dislike Nadal, BUT! In my defence, I did try to pick a picture where Nadal was showing slightly more of his human attributes versus his primate ones, and one where his hair didn't look greasy. Also, the picture is one where The Fed Ex also has a questionable 'do (my brother calls it flock of seagulls, I think that's a little harsh) Furthermore, the persistence of Nadal's to keep a cut which is not at all flattering ranks him at the bottom of the leaderboard:


I believe no words are needed.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Environmental Wednesday: The Car Edition (part one of several, I'd imagine...maybe?)

1. Thank you all for your kind words of encouragement on my last post. I am sorry (I can't stop...Yes, it is becoming a problem) if you felt like you had to say something nice.

2. On to environmental Wednesday! Yippee.

So I've always wanted to dabble in car mechanics. I like to know how things work. How to take them apart and put them back together again. I like to get my hands dirty, covered in oil and grime; I like knowing I accomplished something.

However, cars are a problem in terms of well, everything! I was reading a website that was saying "10 tips to reduce your carbon emissions and save money" and who doesn't like to save money reduce carbon emissions. So, the first thing on the list was idling in your car, which apparently idling for more than 10 seconds causes unnecessary wear and tear on your car and costs Americans 78.2 billion dollars per year. But who turns their car off at EVERY stop light? And what about those of us who live in cold climates where warming up your car is a necessity? I'm a proponent of saving money and gas but, is it just me, or does that seem to be a slice of the ridiculous? Personally, I think this is a question for car talk. And if you don't like Ray and Tom, we can't be friends.

So, I looked up more stuff on how to improve your gas mileage and save the world.

1. Replace your air filter - 1 in for 4 cars needs a new one. Save 20 cents per gallon (apparently there are some assumptions in here...but who has time for that? WHO?).

2. Tire allignment, fix it. Save 20 cents per gallon.

3. Okay I am not going to lie to you...I am skipping some of these because saving a cent or two (matters, don't get me wrong...but we want RESULTS PEOPLE). Slow the Eff down. No seriously. Driving 65 on the highway (from 70) will save you 14 cents per gallon.

4. No fast stops! herky jerky driving is a gas waster (Notice how I started off being all Australian with my use of petrol and then fell back into my American trash talk of 'gas'?), anydoodle could save you 66 cents per gallon. SIXTY SIX.

5. Stop Braking (I think they mean heavy foot braking...because let's face it, if there is a moose in your way (and if you're me there is always a moose) you'll brake. Trust me.) 70 cents!

6. They have idling too - but they say thirty seconds. Every thirty seconds you don't idle you save 1 cent. I like this one better. and thirty seconds seems a much more reasonable amount of time no? (are you still reading this....? yooohooo!)

So by my rough calculations you could be driving for practically FREE because you'll be saving $1.90+ per gallon. Math doesn't lie people.

In summation, while proper maintenance on your car is obviously a great help (remember to check air in your tires because that gives better performance AND saves gas!), slowing down on the highway is probably the best and hardest of these ideas. It's the one I struggle with the most. But I say, give it a try. Or do it sometimes. Think of it this way, it just gives you more time in the car to listen to Car Talk.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

Cold and Unresponsive: A post you should probably skip.

First of all, no one get excited. I am not overwhelmed by The Darkness (my own stupidity, maybe), my family hasn't disowned me (although, I need to say I'm sorry to them too), and Mr. Slurpee is still around.

However, this morning as I did my yoga class and was asked to declare an intention for the day I decided I would be intent on forgiving myself. Well, ho boy, did that open a can of worms that no one wanted to see. Now, I am just struggling to say anything except I am sorry. God, I am so sorry!

Self, I am sorry that I am not the girl you thought I'd be. I am sorry I am not as funny and outgoing and I don't sparkle like you thought I would.

I am sorry I get so scared. Even if it is for a fleeting moment. Amazing isn't? I can move around the world all by myself and find that less scary than just saying these words out loud "I like you" or "call me" or picking up the phone or applying for a job or letting someone in.

Most of all I am sorry I am not a yes person. I believe firmly in 'no'. I said no. No I don't want to eat it that, what is it? NO! I can't. I won't. I shouldn't. It scares me. How did I turn into a no person who believes so firmly in YES? How does that happen? And while I can promise I will change and be more yes and less no, we both know, I won't. I may have all the optimism in the world, but I know this is me. And me? I am sorry for that too. But look, its the only me we've got, you know? So, let's buck up? I think everyone is tired of hearing your excuses, and more tired of hearing you apologise for them! You'll change when you're ready.

(Ahem...I am sorry for this post though...).