SexBomb's Escapades

She knows I talk about her and she's such an attention whore, she buzzed me tonight just to be sure to get her 10 seconds of fame (from all 3 people silly enough to read my drivel and rubbish).

Here goes the beginnings of the story.

John Travolta (the dance instructor) is quite the little cutie. It has been discerned that he is of the straight persuasion, and the other important things like he is available and looking (not to mention he has a great butt). He's also been rather complimentary to her of late, and it's been commented on by one of the other girls in group class that this is different behaviour from the norm (or at least what she's seen). All good signs!

Being your typical female, The Bomb is somewhat hesitant when it comes to the actual "Hey wanna go out and see a movie/have dinner/get a drink/run away to Tahiti together" part.

Having said this her sleuthing skills are rather extraordinary and guess who she dug up on a dating website.

Tuning her profile a bit (hiding the photo and eliminating one or two comments that might have given the game away) the Bomb sent Travoltage one of those little free messages that read something like "I think we'd have fun together" or something equally naff (but naff is preferable to spending money needlessly of course).

Then comes the 'eeeep' bit last night. He replied!!!! and said he'd like to see her picture. Now her tongue is tied up in knots, belly's doing backflips and the heads running a million miles an hour with the "what if's?" and "wtf do I do now?".

Being the (boring) sensible friend (who'd barely slept through the day) I recommended giving it the 24 hour rest treatment while we plan the next instalment.

An hour later I get a text, she's still lying awake doing one of the things she does best.... having a stress out...

The dilemma is... does she:

a) Fess up at group class tonight

b) Fess up via hotnnasty.com (yes I'm taking the piss, but it's some dating site)

c) Run like buggery and just not reply (if she does she'll be hearing from me, it will be loud AND annoying)

d)..... buggered if I know

Anyone with fantastic ideas we'd both appreciate them.

SexBomb, gorgeous as she is, is terrified of making an ass of herself and spoiling a good danceypants relationship.

I'm extremely outta practise at this 'approaching boys' thing having been off the market for 10+ years... help us out peoples!

A Shitty Day by all accounts

This is NOT how to start a day:

Wake up earlier than planned (after 6 or so hours of sleep, thank god it was good sleep).

Go to the bathroom and discover your toilet is quite successfully attempting to belch up foul and MOST odorous mysterious sewerage type matter.

Vainly try to correct the out of control revenge of the toilet with a plunger with an EXTREMELY short handle (thank god I had hair dye in the cupboard with gloves to use.... didn't help with the extreme nausea though).

Make a second attempt on vanquishing the bog demons by shoving a hose down the loo. How the HELL I got the job of hose shover and HE got to be the fat tap controller I'll never figure out (yes I had a dummy spit after my stomach stopped doing amazing triple flips with quadruple twists some time later).

Comb the yellow pages in desparation looking for a plumber that's not too far away (when you consider we're in a slightly boondock flavoured area) and is willing to ruin his Sunday playing with rancid faecal matter.

While waiting for the poor plumber (who's soon to make us poor I'm sure) here a 'beep... buzz...buzz' from the mobile that was still on silent (this is a frequent occurence, 8 years of having to have it on silent I rarely remember to turn it back on).

Check the missed calls register... three ominous missed calls that all seem to be work extensions.

Call straight through to the Duty Manager to find out the down low... Night Manager's sick.. out for the count... can I do grave tonight instead of the nice cruisy afternoon shift I was meant to have.

.....god I wanted to go back to bed, hide under the doona and not come out... preferably for several days.

So here I am at 5am with approximately 1 hours sleep chortling on the couch yesterday rather than watching some repeat of 'The Great Outdoors.'

Just to shmear the icing on the cake.... the fucking fucking EFTPOS lines have crashed at some stage and do NOT work.... morning receptionist and duty manager are going to have fun. I'm hoping to shirk ALL responsibility and slink off.... home or the gym... we'll see how conscious I am at that time.

The 27th August was a shitty day. What else can I say.

Thud....Fuck

Two things you don't like to hear at the gym.... "Thud"...."Fuck" (between songs in the cardio department...Maybe I'd rather hear those things than say/do them though...).

Some poor girl bunged her knee playing on the Cross Trainer (see ...I said they were evil) and flew off it backwards and managed to hit the wall as she collapsed in a little heap behind the jungle of machines.

Skaed was sweatily pedalling away on the machine next to me and was completely unaware as his new mp3 player had him sealed into his own little planet. Where I was between songs and completely lost interest in the fact I had 2 more minutes to pedal like a demented midget and try to beat the sainted frustrating 11.6km mark. Need I even say I got to the 11.6km mark... again.. and no further as I was rubbernecking rather than paying attention to the shrinkage of my ass (20 minutes on a sexercise bike = 11.6km no matter how hard either of us seem to try)

Speaking of my ass (what a hideous way to start a paragrah for those in the know) I think the shrinkage has begun... parts of me are certainly not quite as flubbery as they were two long hard weeks ago. Buff and toned are not words that come to mind... yet.

SexBomb has had some progress picking up her John Travolta (Dance teacher). It would seem he IS of the straight persuasion, is single, dating (females) and can be found on one of those "I'm desperate" websites (I'm going to get hit for that one, SexBomb only found out coz she's on the same one, teehee). Travolta has been most unrevolting this week, and complimentary to boot... so out comes SexBomb's more 'revealing' dance wear and the smile we all know and love. Very tempted just to ring up the studio and say "my friend likes you" because I haven't done that since high school... but my life is more important than that.

The pupsicle (Mad Sammy) got a trip to the beach today. I couldn't be assed driving all the way to the gym to sweat so I hopped along the beach in a half walk half stagger/jog and threw the ball for ages to dry and get the dog to smell less doggy. Which he did. Until he found the corpse.

It seriously looked like a human spine with long long since deceased skin & clothing hanging off it (bloody hope it wasn't though). Undisturbed it was gentle on the nose. When Sammy nose dived on it for a bloody great rub... PHWOAR. Another swim, a violent rubdown and he got into my gorgeous little car. Little bastard still reeked of seaweedy fishy maggoty death though didn't he. Windows down and driving at a speed approaching the speed of light to get our asses home while trying not to reach.

Threw poor Sammy out of the car soon as I got home (ok, so I opened my door and he flew out as usual) I managed to get inside without him and find my stolen hotel bottle of shampoo from some random hotel somewhere and dragged sammy to the hose for a shampoo and set. He went from stinky sphinctery to delicious in 2 minutes (but was left outside to dry just in case there was underlying pong remaining).

Back at work tonight, 2 lates, then 2 fucking fucking graveyards. If I don't sleep this week you'll know when you hear about the attempted mass murder/suicide with a plastic spoon.

Lots of lovely oldies in tonight for a 60th... am waiting to seem them all weaving and giggling like teenages. Gotta love old drunks. It's either that or wait for the swimmers to come back so I can ogle their goodies. Doubt there'll be much ogling to do due to cool weatheriness though, doh.

Yawn

So another day, another hideous graveyard.

And I am mentallyAT THE PADDLE STORE! (with not a cent to my name nor any spare credit, not even belly button lint to barter)

Now not even 3am and the yawns are taking me over. I'm determined however to save that sacred bottle of V I stashed in the fridge until at least 5am so some of the caffeine drives me home and not into another car/truck/bus/ditch/off the bridge etc.

Sleep is evading me. I look like a zombie (funny, I feel like one too) and of course the figures decided to do funky things tonight and not just straight out balance and behave (fuckers).

I had yesterday so well planned. Work, gym on the way home (and I actually went and have the blister from my jewellery to prove it), quiet piece of toast, juice, and a hot shower when I got home. Polished off a coupla chapters of a book I've pretty much read the pages off anyways and curled up to sleep. Worked a charm!

Til I woke up 2.5 hours later.... much to my disgust. From then on I only managed small dribbly non-sufficient pissweak attempts at sleep.

Said it before, but I have to reitterate, graveyard works sucks. How I survived 4 months (or thereabouts) doing it I have no fucking idea. I am NOT nocturnal!

Also sitting here in the calm (though I did sneak down to the restaurant to crank the music, and killed the muzac til 6am to prevent the monkeys in my head from rioting... I have no bananas)... nfi where I was going then.... got distracted and wandered off in search of things sugary and awake (and succeeded in finding some divineLemon Curd Tart... mmmmmmmm... oh bum, might have to go for a swim on the way home now).

3 days off are coming... in approximately 3.5 hours (when I say 3 days please keep in mind the first one IS today and I don't finish work til 7.30am (in theory, in reality I plan on being out the door by 7.10am).

Guess I'd better go finish wrapping up the bits and pieces of work type sstuff they expect me to do.

I miss the sandman, I hope he visits me today.

If he doesn't I'm going postal on his maggoty ass.

430am a-Musings

Soooooooooo yeah it’s about 4.30am and I’ve reached a pitch of madness where the voices start speaking sign language (and not very politely I might add).

I think I’ve done everything that needs doing…. As much as I am able to think after having 1-2 hours sleep since 8.30am this morning. I can feel my IQ dropping on a minute by minute basis (it’s into the negatives). Please note that Muzac does NOT help matters. Unfortunately, guests are starting to wake up so I can’t throw on red eye radio in the restaurant and dance around like a tard. Much to my disappointment.

There are good points to working this shift.
1. No bosses, I am the boss, what I say goes.
2. …..

OK so there’s a good point. That still makes me sleepy.

Speaking of being a tard. I used a Cross Training machine at the gym. Will I be tackling it again on the way home from work in the morning? The answer is a big fat FUCK no. Cross Trainers are the Devil!

I’ll be so unco I’ll be lucky to stumble up the stairs and stay on the bike for more than 2 minutes without falling asleep on the floor with my feet still strapped to the pedals like a bondage movie gone wrong. Cross trainers make my legs do weird and non-wonderful things. Damn me for not bringing the swimming gear when that’s what I think I could possibly do (they have a life guard to save me from drowning when I snooze off mid lap).

Hmmmm he smelled nice.

(yes I’m easily distracted, deal with it)

Forgotten what I was going to say, must be time to replace blood with all things caffeinated.

Progress.

OK, so I'm still going to the gym AND I haven't killed anyone yet.

This is a milestone for me.

Discovered sleep deprivation and strength sessions really don't mesh well together however.

The idea is to keep going until the muscles are fatigued.... my entire self was so fatigued I could barely be assed moving. This is obvious today when I don't hurt in the least and I swam 1km after the workout... weird.

Mental note to self... sleep, THEN do the bad stuff.

Had the roster from hell this week.. 7am til 3.30pm for 4 days, then 3pm til 11.30pm, then the next (and most heinous) 11pm til 7.30am again. Damn the casual night manager for taking time off, and damn me for saying, yeah I'll do it.... Dur.

(insert slight pause while I do my imitation of a washer woman)

Dammit, this housework faeri business really does interrupt my creative flow. Must earn enough money to get a hot houseboy (still thoroughly distracting, but infinitely more enjoyable).

Nothing to rant about, nothing to laugh about, things are just very ho hum.

Will sod off now and glare at something to pass time til I go annoy the relatives (too lazy to cook dinner tonight).

Alive and about to start kicking!

First, apologies, I'm not dead (the rumours I've been spreading should have said that I was).

Apologies also for anyone wishing to comment.... I muffed it up.... how unusual... as of now comments should be damn well working again!

I made it to Melbourne to play with the girls. I got wildly intoximicated on red grape juice in Lygon Street to the point of making a complete ass of myself (or so I'm told....). I shopped but barely spent anything... suckers. I talked a LOT of shit... as per usual. I watched SeXbomb at a dancing lesson while trying to work out the sexual orientation of her instructor (we're still unsure). My cousin's adorable daughter smeared flu germs on me... oh well, there's still love. I didn't have love however for the germs that stuck and made me end up off work in a pathetic state AGAIN. Twice within the same month is entirely pissweak. Oh well, alive and well again now.... apart from the obviously scarred mental capacity.

For those who know me well take a deep breath before reading the next line.


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Yes I joined a gym.



(waits while you pick your asses up off the floor and come to).

The dreaded 28th+2 birthday approacheth as does the early (snigger) life crisis.

I can't take this ass to a party, so I have to build a new one. So far they haven't been entirely mean to me, tomorrow that will most likely change. It's entirely possible I'll just be blogging something along the lines of 'mutter, mutter, snarfle buttocks faecal eating butt dwelling monkey maggots' by tomorrow night. But shit happens.

Other things....

Big Mac (aka dad) finally lost his temper. My whole life I don't really recall him ever having a real barney at anyone. Snide comments and sarcasm yes. Eye rolling and shrugging....

But I guess when the bogan's down the road come round the corner for the 57th time at ridiculously high speeds and take out the rubbish bin and recycling bin for the 10th time.... then do another lap and come EXTREMELY close to running the hell over you while you try to clean up the mess that you would just snap. And he did.... picked up the recycling crate, half full of empties... and hurled it at the car you just examined at close range (well cars are close when they're almost on top of you)... and bugger me if he didn't hit it!

Some time later the bogans (utterly offended that their dunnydoor had a ding of some description in it, and entirely uncaring that it happened out of pure frustration and maybe a little fear that someone had just kinda almost killed you) surfaced on the street... with friends (cowards much) and started hurling abuse, rocks and other objects at the house. They managed to break the letter box off, break the gate off the hinges, threaten some other charming acts of kindness, dent the garage door.... just classy.

Cops were called. The threats (thankfully) amounted to nothing... except amazement that my father has a temper. OK so he smacked me once when I was being a cheeky bitch (innocent angel that I am) but I timed it badly... he'd just backed the 4wd into the top of the garage door and dented both... doh.

Speaking of cars hitting things (no I didn't hit anything). We went to the old's for dinner the other night and the car and a large wallaby/small kangaroo got a wee bit closer than is comfortable. Car 1, Roo 1. Not sure if the roo made it but the front bumper didn't, one bit smashed off, another is hanging by a thread (waiting to be either insuranced up, or gaffa taped back together).

On the 'doh' side of things... SeXbomb is no longer coming to play with me in October... I've been written out of the budget.

On the 'woohoo' side of things... my Sydney girlyfriend Kinky is coming to play in September.

More girliness and silliness please.

I hate TV today. Isn't enough to watch these people stumbling along on Neighbours... why do I also have to hear the Mangler girl on the radio.... then she pops up on a 'preNeighbours' show of her own, so exciting... she rented? an apartment.... wow what a thrill.

WTF did we watch pre 'reality' TV.

I was so relieved to see the ass end of 15 hours a day of Big Brother, then channel surfing tonight, to my disgust, they're trying to work out which one of them has a brain.... talk about fishing for nothing.

On the upside... Yasmine's no longer husband hunting like a skanky whore because no one wanted to watch her shallow self centred self.

Speaking of skanky whore's ( you know I love ya)... SeXbomb made it onto TV (the one bit of TV I didn't hate this week). Well done chicka... and no I won't be calling your agent.... though mum has taped you I promise.

Have been up since 5.20am and am still awake (to my surprise) and it's nearly 10pm... think it's time to put on the extremely daggy gear and pretend to read while drooling on a pillow.

Night night!