2004-05-13

I'm alive and well and have very sore feet...

Have become retail drone for the fabric cuttin' bitches whilst one of the wogsluts is off getting married. Oh, did I mention I am OVER being little Miss cross-cultural?! Who cares who shagged who in ancient whatever - who the fuck do i look like, Aristophanes? Its the gossip, the endless gossip. Thank god I'm a bogan skippy chick with no sense and much less sensibility, life is so much simpler when you ain't married to a cousin.

went to Sydney and had a real blast, and nearly didn't come home but decided to get on the plane because i didn't have any money left and Sydney is not free to live in... yuh, like anywhere is. But I truly miss my lovely little beachside sprawl, and I long for those drifty autumn days that Sydney gets, as well as the smoggily stuffy summer ones (I have a secret love of smog), and I can never move back there as long as I live with the current husband as he has vowed never to return there to live after a horrifying experience that involved a career that never quite happened.

(short break here to go and get my vanilla slice that I have been saving up for dessert)

On review that last thought makes no sense at all, but let's leave it that i will probably be in Melbourne for some time to come.

Saw some great old pals who thought I was lost forever (they never come further south than Canberra) and who made me drink copious amounts of booze. One of them (the ex-lezzo-fling-thing) took me to some wog clubs in Parramatta where I proceeded to get very drunk so as to avoid thinking about how old and over dressed I was. That seemed to work quite well and ended up pashing (nothing more!) a landscape gardener from St Marys. Hurray! Then me and the ex-lezzo-fling-thing went for a drive the next morning and were in a car crash on the M4 but that was cool cause we weren't to blame despite the fact that her blood alcohol was pretty much in the "I am so fucked up still" zone. ooops. no-one died.

had some beer with my adorable old Italian bass player with the huge wang, but he's turned all responsible and wasn't into recreating any events from our youth. Ran around a park for two hours with my god-daughters (6 years and 1.5 years, both complete monsters that i love to death), went fishing illegally off a bridge with some homeless guys, drove around the city in a new Beamer 4WD (they're cool for a suckhole yuppie trash car), ate Chinese food from China town, saw the very first open to the public session of Kill Bill 2 to be screened in Sydney, sang with a gamelan player in Circular Quay, bought t-shirts from Gowings (they have the best stuff, check them out online at www.gowings.com.au) and had the Freaky Violinist pump me for info on how to score with married chicks. More on the Freaky Violinist some other time...

And now, retail therapy. Not mine. Me offering it to other people. There are times when working at the sex shop seemed like the most reasonable retail I've ever done - at least i could be fairly sure that people would enjoy and get some use from the products! But cuttin' fabric for rich bitches - roll on June and my singing career. Someone discover me please!!!!!!

bitch - moan