Holy shit balls.
After a gruelling 24 hours I just had to go to the pub for release. Not good for the mono-ab I know but FANTASTIC for the soul!
You know when you have one of those conversations and connections that you wish could last longer than a brief chat at the taxi-rank? Yeah I had that tonight. Words that flowed probably free-er than you'd like to admit but what gives you the push again to believe in your spirit.
It's random and it's unexpected but it's awesome. It's true to assume that I am a nerd of words. Seduced by the power of the conversation. Turned on by the freedom of speech...
It's all about connection. You meet someone that has solidified their passion and their place in the world and they don't give a rat's bollocks what anyone else thinks. Jesus I crave to be that confident.
Okay so I might be just a little pissed but a wise man once said that that was the juice of creativity... opens the mind. Hence my verbal squirts here.
So.. to update you... had this fantastic splurge of inspiration, got it all down here, exposed my soul, bled my heart dry, even signed off all heartfelt and true, ran naked along Albert St (metaphorically) and what do you know? I lost the rest of my ramblings in the unstable environment that is the online world. Aww shit.
Now I'm too far gone to remember all the awesome things I said. Maybe it's for the best and they weren't that awesome after all. But not one to give up... I'll try and recap... just like a Sunday night Dukes of Hazzard episode... but without the tight jeans :-)
I have always wondered... why have I not had a relationship with a creative??? They GET me, they INSPIRE me, they talk like a song I could listen to on repeat and they bring laughter and reality to my world.
You all know me... I shirk the problems, am great at advice but shit at taking my own... then... when I finally emerge from hobbiton, I remove the invisibility ring of the real world, shave my feet and re-surface into the world of the unknown.
The life of the lonely creative. No wonder we drink.
So I'm sitting in my little study on my Friday off in my mis-matched jarmies listening to the rain... yes once again its raining on my cheeky long weekend and I'm feeling ever so slightly flat. No not FAT... flat. Almost a juxtaposition but not quite...
I'm a bit disappointed in myself to be honest. I started this wee story with such passion and commitment and fresh inspiration and yeah a little too much Pinot Gris last night and I was on fire. Fingers flying over the keyboard with the speed of superman, ideas and anecdotes flowing like perfect rivers from a fountain of literature... I was in writer's heaven... the perfect post and then...
It all went horribly wrong.
If there is such thing as an afterlife... could someone scrap up my lost words and dump them back in my brain because that's the only place I can think of where they went. They just... disappeared. Like the hot guy I had a crush on for ooh months at high school and finally ended up snogging in a dark corner of the school ball. Only to have him suddenly wipe off the pink lipstick, stagger off to the loo never to be seen again... leaving me sitting alone at a table, feeling more of a loser virgin with every excruciatingly long passing minute and wondering how many people saw my cheap undies while my legs were flailing about like a windmill in a hurricane.
Yes that's how I feel this morning. Gutted. And I know that it was just a little bit my fault. Being slightly pissy-eye (yes the downside of a lifestyle change is that booze hits your brain at warp speed and reacts with it like Woodstock-strength LSD.) I wasn't functioning as well as I usually am on this thing and didn't really take much notice of the non-responsive 'save' button until it was too late. As much as I rebel against the "do not get pissed and blog" rule - coz that's when it's really magic, the ramifications of blogging while smashed can be gutting - and I do feel like a tool. Because it WAS magic.
Okay sure you guys (all four of you) are smart cookies and can tell when Miss Stylz has had a wee too many drops from the jungle joose jug because her stories are insane... but that's why you're here and that's why you're my friends. Embrace the freak within :-)
Maybe I should have a drink... okay so its only 8.20 in the morning but what harm can come? It might re-ignite that particularly glorious creative flame I had blazing at 9pm last night until I passed out with my jarmie pants on inside out and a random twig stuck in my hair (I have no farking idea... if I can't find my words how the hell am I supposed to know how I got the ability overnight to sprout branches from my head - just another hidden talent I reckon).
Anyway... this wonderful story last night... it was all about me. Hehe. Actually it was about you lot, and creativity and love and the spirituality of being special and......... yeah okay I definitely was hammered but it was cool and very well written for someone that was typing on dual keyboards thanks to double vision. (Yes, yes I know... another talent - they just keep surfacing... like jobbies that won't flush).
On the upside... I AM shrinking. Not of old age but actually shrinking. My mono-ab is retreating at a rate of knots and my Angus Burger craving has all but dissolved (until just now.... DAMMIT). It's been just over two weeks and today is the big day of tape measures and scales. I'm a bit nervous but I'm confident... when you can actually sit down in your jeans and still have the ability to breath you know you're doing okay. When you can't cross your legs without your fly simultaneously exploding open due to the gravitational pull and immense pressure of the bulge... it's certainly nice when you can finally rise up from your chair without frantically grappling around your crotch to try and find where the fark the little metal zip thingy has escaped in fear to.
It's nice to peel off your jeans at the end of the day and not look like you've been hacked to pieces when you see the swollen red welt reminder that your body had punished you with for cramming it viciously into pants you have no business even looking at let alone wearing out in public.
It's nice not to have a camel toe.
It's nice not to have to find a top that is more of an illusionist than David Copperfield to hide a life-preserver sized mono-ab hanging over your skin-pinching waistband.
It's nice to put back fat behind me. (hehehe - oh come on that was GOLD)
It's nice to put on a bra for support and not have 14 other pairs of nipple-less breasts pop out around it.
And it's nice to wear undies that do not require a mining crew and drill bit to retrieve at the end of the day.
So all is not lost. Words, yes, braincells, yes, weight, definitely. The balls to get up and start again... never.
One word of advice before I embark on whatever surprises and inspirations the day may bring... SAVE NOW. Okay that's two words but hey I'm a giving kinda girl.
Stay cool, hug a new friend because they don't come around often in this world as we get older, and for farks sake have a bloody good laugh.
Peace
Skinnier Stylz
xxxxxxx
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Behold! Belly dancers and a free Friday...
Well hello there my dedicated followers...
Doesn't it just rip your undies when the first Friday you have off the weather is arse. You know, even though the trade off is 10% less salary, I think I might like these regular long weekends... its so nice to be regular :-)
But it was kinda weird to begin with - last night was one of the L O N G E S T nights in history I think... jeez why aren't like that when I'm working the next day - you get a whole hecka shit done! Maybe I was bored - or horror of horrors - lonely but the evening went on forever.
I think I was just a bit excited about my Friday off... it made me feel... ooh kinda 'naughty' in a way - not in THAT way you sick bastards... in a wagging school kinda way. Like I've faked runny poos and takin the day off to go to the beach or something - or been up all night er.. 'talking'... and you utilise your rough voice to call in sick so you don't have to er... 'exit the moment' so to speak - not that I ever DO that... I have too much guilt and work ethic. What a freakin nerd huh?
I slept like a baby... got up and got cracking. 7 yawns in a row around 1pm today told me perhaps I could have done with a wee sleep in but hey, I got shit done and that... was awesome.
I finally completed the saga of the lost phone... my baby never turned up and with the phone network not being able to find their arse with both hands I've resorted to my old 'still can't work the thing for shit' model. Consequently if you've received phone messages at odd hours with what sounds like a train station/rave in the background and text messages that read "hey ho" don't take offense... joystick issues. Who ever thought up the bright idea to put that microscopic useless piece of plastic in the middle of the phone must have been one-helluva coordinated wanker that's all I can say.
So I rock into the cop-shop... yeah got to admit it... little bit of wee came out - wasn't drunk, have warrant and rego and wasn't in trouble but I still got a bit nervy about being there. Rang the buzzer and asked this incredibly casual looking bloke if I could file a police report... "So what's happened to ya" he said without looking up from his report pad. Vik goes into nervous Woody Allen mode.
"Yeah well ah you see..." rattle rattle blah blah blah TMI garble garble "missing phone not like me SOO organised Cambridge morning rang taxi rang hotel no luck broad daylight Telecom are arse insurance..so this means I don't have to pay an extra $300 bucks - primo for me... and that's about it really".
He just smiled... took his finger off the "call the whitecoats" button and politely gave me my police report. Sweet man. Off I went.
We now cut to the Telecom shop - lovely little Asian salesgirl Diana whom I ripped into the last time I was there [because I failed to supply a police report which Telecom insurance had failed to advise me] saw me walk in, went white, totally tried to hide (and being so petite she could have done this easy - behind a freakin Nokia handset actually) and came over with her hands shaking. Being the nice person I am I said sorry... blamed it on a bad day - just stopped short of mentioning PMS, slapped my glorious documentation on the counter and held my freakin breath.
She walked away with the phone on speed-dial to the insurance company. I felt dizzy so I remembered perhaps another breath was good... let out a wee nervous fart and waited.
She emerged with a grin on her face, colour in her cheeks and a lovely little box that held my sparkling new phone. I let my breath out with a big sigh and tried hard not to well-up in the shop or fart again.
Yay! I walked out of there like I was on lithium... whatever that feeling is like - I expect its awesome.
Slid past the pharmacy... when a glowing light beckoned me in... it was a set of scales - oh god. My stomach knotted, I started sweating and I'm pretty sure I let another one go but I thought to myself "You need to know... since you've started this journey you need proof" so I held my breath again and walked towards the looming mechanism of depression.
The result - not as bad as I thought - in fact I have lost a couple kilos. I am under 80 which is awesome for a shortarse like me... yes my BMI could run a fish and chip shop for a few months but it's not too bad... so I chatted to the skinny "yes I used to be size 14" (whoopdy shit) nutritionist there for a wee while and got some bloody good and well-needed inspiration. Reinstating the fact that I can actually do this... and I only need to shed about 3 small children and I'll be farking gorgeous. Great! I thought it was going to be more like the equivalent of an entire Catholic family.
With my new found willpower, ignorning the grumbles in my mono-ab I sailed out of the chemist in search of whiteware... yes if you blend it... it will come. The taste that is. If I'm going to have a love affair with cauliflower and his other dirt-grown counterparts, I need something to be creative with - AND this one (so sayith the box) has ICE CUTTING BLADES. Orrsum. Once I'm skinny I can make margarita's to celebrate - WOOHOO!
So a full day of delight and expeditions galore was had... and tonight just to give me ADDED inspiration, I'm off to watch a play about belly-dancing. Yes. With bare tummys and tinkly coin belts. Very cool.
Speaking of hunger pains... must share a brief moment of weakness with you... weakness and triumph so all is not lost... I was driving back from a school drama show on Wednesday night... I'd been fantastic all day - even after the low-life arseholes in my office were filling it with the delicious smell of freshly baked sausage rolls... one of my many weaknesses. But I kept my cool, enjoyed my rabbit food and dead fish and successfully polished off 1.5 of the two litres of water I need to drink to stop me from shrivelling up like a rasin. So I'm driving home... it was about 9pm and I was freakin starving! All I could think about was a bloody Angus burger from maccas. And I mean ALL. I had a limited time period, I needed to get home for my fix of vampiric pleasure... True Blood... so I was gauging how long it would take to get to Kelston, go through the drivethru, get my delicious calorie loaded burger and scream home to rock and masticate in a carnivorous frenzy in private while watching the bloodsuckers.
I WAS CONSUMED
I WAS TALKING TO MYSELF
I WAS A MESS
I WAS SHAKING
I WAS SWEATING
I WAS WEAK
I WAS LOSING THE BATTLE
but then... [insert heavenly harp music here]
I DID NOT PULL INTO THE MACCAS DRIVETHRU.
I DID NOT HAVE A 3 BILLION CALORIE BURGER FOR DINNER
I DID HAVE RABBIT FOOD AND DEAD FISH
I DID POLISH OFF THE 4TH BOTTLE OF WATER
I DID HAVE TO WEE THREE TIMES IN AN HOUR
I DID FEEL REALLY PROUD OF MYSELF AND I DID...
...still want an Angus burger - but I want collarbones more.
GO ME!
Well... not the most thrilling post my friends but hey... need to keep you up to speed with the goings on. Hope you have a fabulous weekend and please... have a burger and a few beers... on me :-)
Peace out
Skinny bum Stylz
xxxx
Doesn't it just rip your undies when the first Friday you have off the weather is arse. You know, even though the trade off is 10% less salary, I think I might like these regular long weekends... its so nice to be regular :-)
But it was kinda weird to begin with - last night was one of the L O N G E S T nights in history I think... jeez why aren't like that when I'm working the next day - you get a whole hecka shit done! Maybe I was bored - or horror of horrors - lonely but the evening went on forever.
I think I was just a bit excited about my Friday off... it made me feel... ooh kinda 'naughty' in a way - not in THAT way you sick bastards... in a wagging school kinda way. Like I've faked runny poos and takin the day off to go to the beach or something - or been up all night er.. 'talking'... and you utilise your rough voice to call in sick so you don't have to er... 'exit the moment' so to speak - not that I ever DO that... I have too much guilt and work ethic. What a freakin nerd huh?
I slept like a baby... got up and got cracking. 7 yawns in a row around 1pm today told me perhaps I could have done with a wee sleep in but hey, I got shit done and that... was awesome.
I finally completed the saga of the lost phone... my baby never turned up and with the phone network not being able to find their arse with both hands I've resorted to my old 'still can't work the thing for shit' model. Consequently if you've received phone messages at odd hours with what sounds like a train station/rave in the background and text messages that read "hey ho" don't take offense... joystick issues. Who ever thought up the bright idea to put that microscopic useless piece of plastic in the middle of the phone must have been one-helluva coordinated wanker that's all I can say.
So I rock into the cop-shop... yeah got to admit it... little bit of wee came out - wasn't drunk, have warrant and rego and wasn't in trouble but I still got a bit nervy about being there. Rang the buzzer and asked this incredibly casual looking bloke if I could file a police report... "So what's happened to ya" he said without looking up from his report pad. Vik goes into nervous Woody Allen mode.
"Yeah well ah you see..." rattle rattle blah blah blah TMI garble garble "missing phone not like me SOO organised Cambridge morning rang taxi rang hotel no luck broad daylight Telecom are arse insurance..so this means I don't have to pay an extra $300 bucks - primo for me... and that's about it really".
He just smiled... took his finger off the "call the whitecoats" button and politely gave me my police report. Sweet man. Off I went.
We now cut to the Telecom shop - lovely little Asian salesgirl Diana whom I ripped into the last time I was there [because I failed to supply a police report which Telecom insurance had failed to advise me] saw me walk in, went white, totally tried to hide (and being so petite she could have done this easy - behind a freakin Nokia handset actually) and came over with her hands shaking. Being the nice person I am I said sorry... blamed it on a bad day - just stopped short of mentioning PMS, slapped my glorious documentation on the counter and held my freakin breath.
She walked away with the phone on speed-dial to the insurance company. I felt dizzy so I remembered perhaps another breath was good... let out a wee nervous fart and waited.
She emerged with a grin on her face, colour in her cheeks and a lovely little box that held my sparkling new phone. I let my breath out with a big sigh and tried hard not to well-up in the shop or fart again.
Yay! I walked out of there like I was on lithium... whatever that feeling is like - I expect its awesome.
Slid past the pharmacy... when a glowing light beckoned me in... it was a set of scales - oh god. My stomach knotted, I started sweating and I'm pretty sure I let another one go but I thought to myself "You need to know... since you've started this journey you need proof" so I held my breath again and walked towards the looming mechanism of depression.
The result - not as bad as I thought - in fact I have lost a couple kilos. I am under 80 which is awesome for a shortarse like me... yes my BMI could run a fish and chip shop for a few months but it's not too bad... so I chatted to the skinny "yes I used to be size 14" (whoopdy shit) nutritionist there for a wee while and got some bloody good and well-needed inspiration. Reinstating the fact that I can actually do this... and I only need to shed about 3 small children and I'll be farking gorgeous. Great! I thought it was going to be more like the equivalent of an entire Catholic family.
With my new found willpower, ignorning the grumbles in my mono-ab I sailed out of the chemist in search of whiteware... yes if you blend it... it will come. The taste that is. If I'm going to have a love affair with cauliflower and his other dirt-grown counterparts, I need something to be creative with - AND this one (so sayith the box) has ICE CUTTING BLADES. Orrsum. Once I'm skinny I can make margarita's to celebrate - WOOHOO!
So a full day of delight and expeditions galore was had... and tonight just to give me ADDED inspiration, I'm off to watch a play about belly-dancing. Yes. With bare tummys and tinkly coin belts. Very cool.
Speaking of hunger pains... must share a brief moment of weakness with you... weakness and triumph so all is not lost... I was driving back from a school drama show on Wednesday night... I'd been fantastic all day - even after the low-life arseholes in my office were filling it with the delicious smell of freshly baked sausage rolls... one of my many weaknesses. But I kept my cool, enjoyed my rabbit food and dead fish and successfully polished off 1.5 of the two litres of water I need to drink to stop me from shrivelling up like a rasin. So I'm driving home... it was about 9pm and I was freakin starving! All I could think about was a bloody Angus burger from maccas. And I mean ALL. I had a limited time period, I needed to get home for my fix of vampiric pleasure... True Blood... so I was gauging how long it would take to get to Kelston, go through the drivethru, get my delicious calorie loaded burger and scream home to rock and masticate in a carnivorous frenzy in private while watching the bloodsuckers.
I WAS CONSUMED
I WAS TALKING TO MYSELF
I WAS A MESS
I WAS SHAKING
I WAS SWEATING
I WAS WEAK
I WAS LOSING THE BATTLE
but then... [insert heavenly harp music here]
I DID NOT PULL INTO THE MACCAS DRIVETHRU.
I DID NOT HAVE A 3 BILLION CALORIE BURGER FOR DINNER
I DID HAVE RABBIT FOOD AND DEAD FISH
I DID POLISH OFF THE 4TH BOTTLE OF WATER
I DID HAVE TO WEE THREE TIMES IN AN HOUR
I DID FEEL REALLY PROUD OF MYSELF AND I DID...
...still want an Angus burger - but I want collarbones more.
GO ME!
Well... not the most thrilling post my friends but hey... need to keep you up to speed with the goings on. Hope you have a fabulous weekend and please... have a burger and a few beers... on me :-)
Peace out
Skinny bum Stylz
xxxx
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