Geoffrey Rush and his amazing magical unicorn

I’ve learned a lot of things while working in train stations: people don’t like delayed trains, junkies enjoy extremely long chats, there’s a man who walks around Melbourne carrying a giant papier-mâché carrot and, more recently, that Geoffrey Rush catches the train.





It’s not just once I’ve watched Mr Rush walk past me, and it’s not just once that I or my co-workers have failed to take any kind of action.




Yes, he’s touched Johnny Depp. Yes, he knows Colin Firth. Yes, he’s worked with a capuchin monkey. But apparently none of this is reason enough to exert myself by standing up and walking a couple of metres over to him, or to yell ‘OI! RUSH!’. My only real incentive is that it would make a pretty sweet Facebook photo.

The man has an Oscar. Oscar winners don’t catch the train. There are far more appropriate Oscar winner forms of transportation. Namely the unicorn.

Please note that I never claimed I could draw a unicorn.


Also, I still have a BOOK! If you've not yet carressed its pages, get on it HERE.

I'm not dead (yet)

It’s been a long time between drinks (blog drinks, not actual drinks. Actual drinks have been going ok) and I’m sorry. Mostly it’s because of laziness, but I also have the following excuses. I have been busy:

Trying to sell my book (which you can get here by the way…).

Trying to finish my school work.

Freaking out about that fact that in less than two months I have to go be lonely in New York, which is now under water thanks to a stOOpid storm.

Helping a friend stalk an attractive man.

Helping a friend drink.

And thinking about the big issues.

LOOK AT MY BOOK! I HAVE A BOOK! BOOK!

GAAAAAAAAAAH!

After a massive amount of blood, sweat and tears (mostly tears), the book-ified version of this blog is now available to buy and keep and love forever. If you click on the little link below, it will take you to the place where you can begin the emotional journey that is book ownership.

http://au.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/3560026

Thanks heaps to everyone who has been reading this thing. I hope you're all still laughing.

Much love,
Lauren

What happens when I try to work on my novel

Wake up in the morning with determination and good intentions.

Open Microsoft Word.

Take a well deserved coffee break to celebrate my opening of Microsoft Word.

Come back to the computer. Write twenty words.

Have a three hour long lunch/Buffy break to celebrate my genius.

Return to the computer. Reread my twenty words. Think they’re shite.

Do a blog instead.

Curse of the food hole

Food. We love it. We consume it every day. It’s either bad for us and delicious, or good for us and like licking a piece of cardboard that a sweaty monkey has rubbed all over itself. Then set fire to. Then taken the ashes and peed on them. Then served it to you as soup. And of course you took the soup because the monkey was dressed as a waiter and that’s how monkeys get you - they wear people clothes and it’s so funny that you forget you can’t trust them.

The issue with deliciousness is that once you get the taste for it, it’s hard to stop shoving things in your mouth (by ‘things’ I mean food things, stop thinking that other thing you were thinking). ‘I’ll only eat one Tim Tam’ turns into an empty packet. ‘I’ll just have a light dinner’ turns into the pain of trying to digest an entire dead animal. ‘I’ll just have a quick sandwich’ turns into a quick sandwich followed by an apple and some 2 minute noodles and a bigger sandwich and some chips and eating Nutella off anything else you could find. Generally a spoon. Or your finger.

This anti-will-power phenomenon is something I like to call ‘opening the food hole.’ It’s like opening the floodgates, except the gates are your mouth and the water is fried chicken.

For many years I excused my behaviour with the old standards ‘but think of the starving children in Africa!’ even though me having another piece of cake was never going to help a starving child in Africa, and ‘I better eat it before it expires’ when the expiry date was months away. I thought I was doing fine until late last year when I finally decided to do something about the couple of kilos I gained in Europe. I came up with a brilliant idea: I was only going to eat when I was hungry.

This plan lasted longer than I expected. I dropped two dress sizes. I had to buy a lot of new clothes. I can walk up stairs now. Well, some stairs. More stairs than before. Stairs are hard. But recently, I started to slip. I allowed donuts back into my life, and they brought their friends with them. Their cake-y, chip-y and deep fried-y friends.

I’m trying. I really am. My jeans still fit, but I’m constantly faced by the struggle of working around baked goods and having lunch once a week with that friend who never finishes her food.

It’s not my fault. I blame the deliciousness.

All by myself

I’ve been on my own in a rather large house since the 25th of April. Here’s why I should never be left alone for long periods of time without proper adult supervision:

I’m not good at killing spiders.
There’s no one to vent to but the stuffed animals.
I refuse to unclog the shower drain because the hair monster smells. Bad. Ignoring the dishes doesn’t make them go away.

I have no self control when it comes to food.

FAQ part trois

Hey, Lauren! How’s your novel coming along?
Yeah, alright. I wrote almost 400 words three weeks ago.

That’s… that’s not a lot.
It’s not like I haven’t been writing, I’ve just been busy working on other things.

Such as?
I wrote a pretty kick ass greeting in a birthday card last weekend.

Ok…
I’ve also been responsible for some rather amusing text messages.

Right. I heard you’re living on your own at the moment, how’s that working out?
There’s a hair-monster living in my shower drain that I’m too much of a princess to remove, so now I play this game I like to call ‘Can I finish showering before the bathroom floods?’ So far I’m winning.

Uh huh. And how many times have you had ice cream for breakfast this week?
Not once!

Does 'not once' mean 'twice'?
No.

Three times?
Maybe.

I was looking at some of your older blogs this morning. They’re great. Why aren’t you funny anymore?
Shuddup. You write something better, genius.

Ok, I will.
Good.

Good.
I look forward to reading it.

I look forward to you reading it.
And I look forward judging you, Judge-y McJudgeface.

That was mature. How old are you?
How old are you?

I don’t know. I don’t exist. You made me up.
Oh yeah.

You’re a strange lady.
Your mother’s a strange lady.

Good luck with the hair-monster.
Good luck with your FACE.

So... then what happened?

The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out.
Out came the sunshine and dried up all the rain,
so the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.

This is just a pattern, he never learns from his mistakes.
All these pointless antics just make his wife’s head ache.
Like his gambling problem or that pyramid scheme,
or the time he woke up naked with half a football team.

The question is; why does he want to stay out of the house?
And the answer he will tell you is his really annoying spouse.
She’s mean, she’s cold, she’s a little bit ditzy,
then there’s the fact she calls him ‘Itsy Bitsy’.

She puts their 200 kids to bed while he’s at the pub.
He returns home to her angry hubbub.
Itsy turns back to the door, ready to walk.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ she says. ‘We need to talk.’

‘You’ve been talking to your ex on Facebook, I only just found out.’
‘I don’t have time for this,’ he says. ‘I’m gonna go climb the spout.’
She throws a glass vase and yells ‘How dare you walk out that door?’
He says, ‘My dear, to be honest, I’d rather climb up that spout than yours.’

I was drinking water just now and I missed my mouth

I have a lot of ideas. Sort of. The problem with my brain is that it’s not really capable of having a full idea, it just comes up with tiny little idea fragments.
Many times I have had what I considered to be a brilliant idea for a blog. I started writing and realised that no, I was wrong. So ladies and gentlemen, I present to you what I like to call ‘The blog where blog ideas go to die’ featuring scrawlings from many random scraps of paper:

HALF BAKED IDEAS

There’s still so much I don’t understand. Why does every letter of the alphabet have its own Wikipedia page? What’s keeping Keith Richards alive and where can I get some?

Think of stupid things to put on a bucket list*

How your iPod will always embarrass you if you put it on shuffle in public: I don’t like B*witched ironically. I genuinely like them and people who come into my place of business don’t need to be aware of that. It hurts my image.

How hairdressers are like prostitutes – you pay them money for a service and they pretend to like you. They are hair-stitutes.

The meaning of life - something to do with donuts?

How I tried to get swine flu in 2009 because I hated my job: When I saw someone cough on the train, my first instinct wasn’t to move away. It was ‘quick, lick his face. LICK HIS FAAAAAACE!’

Money saving ideas – it works out a lot cheaper if you just kill the prostitute.

‘Baby it’s cold outside’ is a date rape anthem and really needs to stop being so damn catchy.

How pop music has become dirtier since I was a kid: The dirtiest song we had was Genie in a Bottle, except we actually thought it was about a genie in a bottle. Our innocent little minds never clicked that maybe there was something a bit suss about having to rub her the right way, honey.

SHORT BITTIES THAT I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF AND NOW DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT I WAS GETTING AT

I have no respect for personal space. I’m going to sexually assault you now.

Check out my new pocket watch. I’d get more chicks if it was the 1940s.

For a small fee and the cost of transporting a drum kit, I’ll follow you around all day and make everything you say instantly become 42% funnier (mathematically proven). BA-DUM-TSH!

Pineapple

Cherry ripe: you make me sick, with your dark chocolate and your grainy content.



*I couldn’t think of any stupid things except blue bucket, red bucket, big bucket, there’s a hole in my bucket, etc.

Born with a love for the wrote & the writ

Late last year my manager came into work one morning with some new stuff on her iPod she wanted me to listen to. She reckoned I’d like this guy because I have a lady crush on Laura Marling and it was a similar style. She put a song on for me, and approximately twenty seconds in, I responded with this:
‘Nup.’

Time went on. His music remained on many of her playlists. It started to grow on me. I started to enjoy it. But of course, because of how quickly I’d shot it down, I couldn’t admit to this (and anyway, no one ever wants to admit to enjoying filthy folk-ish music except for filthy folk-ish people. Unless it’s Laura Marling. Because she’s lady crush-able). So I went home to quietly Google him, expecting to see a thirty-something, slightly bulky, hippie, beardy-faced man.

That’s not what I saw. What I saw was a man child. A beautiful, inappropriately voiced man child.

About a week later I was playing some of his stuff while in the car with my mother. ‘Who’s this?’ she asked. ‘I don’t mind it.’
I told her who it was. Then I told her the story of his unexpected pretty-boy-ness. Then I loaded a video on the YooChoob machine and showed her.
‘You’re kidding?’ she said as it started. When the vocals kicked in, it was followed by ‘Oh… no. No. Nope. That’s not right.’

If you’d like to check out the freakshow for yourself, you can do so here. But a word of warning: you might get pregnant.

And if he must insist on sounding like that, I must insist he stops looking like he’s in a boy band. It’s very distracting. And confusing. And sexy. And confusing.

How to write a romance novel

Lesson one: Writing sexy dialogue
Ok, so there’s a pretty basic storyline for romance novels. Boy meets girl, then boy ‘meets’ girl. And there’s some kind of love rival who’s a dirty no-good scumbag and so on and so forth.

You have to use a certain type of language to keep your reader interested. Instead of using the correct names for things, sprinkle in a ‘ding-a-ling’ and a ‘hoo-haa’ here and there. And ‘mound’. Everybody has some kind of mound. So many mounds.

Most of it is pretty basic stuff, but people tend to struggle with writing sexy dialogue. They say it’s best to write what you know, and I’ve found it helps to take inspiration from my own life and just change a minor detail here and there.

In this scene, the attractive nameless man who is trying to get some shelter from the rain has just walked into a café where the only staff member is… let’s call her Laurel. There are no other customers. Just the two of them. And the glistening rain.

WATCH AND LEARN!

Laurel: ‘Hey.’
Attractive man: ‘Hi.’
Laurel: ‘Still raining outside?’
Attractive man: ‘Yep.’
Laurel: ‘You’re uh… you’re quite wet, there.’
Attractive man: ‘Yep.’
Laurel: ‘I mean… your shirt is all clingy and see through and… clingy.’
Attractive man: ‘Yeah… look, I just need somewhere to stay until the rain stops, do we really need to make small talk?’
Laurel: ‘Maybe you should get out of those wet clothes.’
Attractive man: ‘No, I’m alright. Thanks.’
Laurel: ‘Are you sure? You look cold. You know, the best thing we can do right now is get naked.’
Attractive man: ‘Excuse me?’
Laurel: ‘What is it they say? About shared body heat and all that? It would probably help if we created some friction, too.’
Attractive man: ‘Did… did you just lock that door?’
Laurel: ‘You know, the rain has made your skin look all shimmery.’
Attractive man: ‘Is there anyone else here?’
Laurel: ‘Nope. Just you and me. And the homeless man watching through the window.’
Attractive man: ‘I’d better get going.’
Laurel: ‘Do you want a drink?’
Attractive man: ‘No… OH GOD WHAT THE HELL IS IN THAT?’
Laurel: ‘Nothing.’
Attractive man: ‘WHY IS IT SO CLOUDY?’
Laurel: ‘It’s… supposed to look like that…?’
Attractive man: ‘I’m calling the police.’

Then she rips his clothes off and one thing leads to another and he’ll pretend he’s not interested and he’ll still go to the cops later but if he wasn’t up for it then he wouldn’t go walking around being openly attractive, would he?

Things you need to know about giraffes

Giraffes are made of papier-mâché, cotton and pure unfiltered evil.

They invented gravity.

A giraffe can run at speeds of up to 17,583,657 km/ph. They just don’t want you to know about it.

40% of car thefts are carried out by giraffes.

Giraffes faked the moon landing.

They are the only life form that knows what’s in a dim sim.

Their urine glows and can be used to power a small car.

Giraffes control nine tenths of the land in Mexico.

They know where Wally is.

They know who shot J.R.

They know how much wood a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

The Queen’s annual Christmas message is written by a giraffe.

In every episode of Seinfeld, there is a giraffe hidden somewhere.

They have a fondness for stripey socks.

The Mona Lisa was smiling because Da Vinci kept a pet giraffe who would strip and do a sexy dance for a small fee. She gladly paid this fee.

Their eyes are naturally hypnotic. This is why you should never look directly at a giraffe for more than 2.5 seconds.

The giraffe is the second most likely animal to lie to you. The first is the lyre bird.

The giraffe is the second most likely animal to heckle at a stand up gig. The first is the mockingbird.

The Eskimo pie was invented in 1876 by a giraffe. It contained Eskimo. And pie.

When boiled correctly, a giraffe tongue tastes like chicken.

If you cut off a giraffe’s head, it will continue to walk around for three days.

The traditional giraffe greeting is a peace sign.

Every time you say a swear word, a giraffe kills a kitten.

It wasn’t a dingo that took that baby.

The first pair of jeggings were hoof-sewn by a giraffe.

If a statue in the park of a person on a giraffe has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the giraffe has one front leg in the air, the person died as a result of wounds received in battle. If the giraffe has all four legs on the ground... it doesn't really matter. You're in a weird park. Get out of the park.

Would you kill the puppy?

I spent last weekend at a friend’s place. There was beer, pizza, bacon… that's the complete list of items you need for a good time. Everything was just sOOper (except that one of the dogs took a shine to me and kept jumping into my lap. This was all well and good until he decided, while still sitting on me, that he was going to ‘service’ himself. Needless to say I felt quite violated. I’d wrongly assumed I meant more to him than that).

Now, the friends I was with, we’re the kind of people who like to argue. Even if we don’t care about the subject, we’ll dig our heels in and argue anyway purely for the sake of pissing off the other person. But when we ran out of real life issues to discuss, we moved on to the hypothetical, the standout amongst which being: ‘If boiling a puppy alive and drinking the broth would cure cancer, would you kill the puppy?’

First up, a few things had to be straightened out:
1. How many people can you save per puppy? (one)
2. How old is the puppy? (8 weeks)
3. What kind of quality of life did the puppy have? (bred in poor conditions purely for this purpose)
4. What happens to the puppy if you don’t kill it? (sent to a third world country to be used for food)
5. Finally, and most importantly, is it a cute puppy? (no)

The worrying part is that I answered a little too quickly, ‘Of course I’d kill the puppy.’ It concerns me that my automatic response was ‘Kill them. KILL THEM AAAALL!!!’ No. I’m not pro-puppy murder. But I was forced to admit that I value the life of a human being more than that of an animal. If it was someone I cared about or a helpless puppy, I’d kill the freakin puppy.

I’m not a bad person. I’m pretty much a vegetarian except for when it comes to the delicious animals. Cows are ruining the environment with their gassy-ness, so it only makes sense that we should turn them into hamburger patties. And as for chickens and pigs? Well, if we weren’t supposed to eat them, they wouldn’t be so tasty. Every other animal has my permission to live. Except ducks. They’re pretty tasty, too. And turkeys. Birds in general, I guess. Kill all the birds.

Stunned mullet

Dear Sir,

Hello. You don’t know me and I don’t know you, but you came to my attention recently as you made your way past my place of business.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and having walked by the Comedy Theatre earlier in the day, I was well aware that there was a matinee performance of Yes, Prime Minister. And we all know what a matinee performance means: the city streets will be full of the elderly.

Now, you are probably wondering why you stood out amongst all of the blue-rinse-set and the Harry-high-pants’. Well sir, it was because of your hair.

It is advisable to avoid certain hairstyles, the comb-over and the mullet being two prime examples. This is why it stunned me so to see that you had somehow managed to combine the two. The level of shock and amazement led to me quite suddenly and loudly yelling ‘COMB-OVER MULLET!’ in a public place, which of course you did not hear. Because you are old.

While I admire your level of self-assuredness, you may want to consider investing in a mirror, as it is clear to most members of the general public that you do not own one.

Sincerely,
The amused.

Why I feel sorry for guide dogs

Today at work, my manager saw a guide dog waiting for its owner to come out of the toilet. It was lying on the ground, its head resting on its front paws, and she swears to Jeebus she saw it sigh.

I’d never really thought about it before, but it must suck balls to be a guide dog.

You’re born, you’re adorable, but there’s no time to enjoy your puppyhood. Nope, you’re shipped off to live with a family who will love you and take care of you then ABANDON YOU after twelve months and send you to puppy boot camp for intense training. Your fellow cadets will play pranks on you and call you ‘Nancy’ and your drill sergeant will make you drop and give him twenty if your boots aren’t shiny enough, which is really rough because you have four feet and there just isn’t enough time to shine all of them properly. Also, word of warning, you don’t want to know what he’ll do to you if you poo inside.

If you keep your head low, resist the temptation to chase your tail and don’t sniff anyone’s butt, when you’re old enough they’ll release you. But it’s not like getting out of prison, where you can’t function in society because you’ve seen things, man, and it’s changed you. You won’t get your freedom. You’ll be sent to spend the next decade with a human; a human you don’t even get to choose, so bad luck if they turn out to be a jerk who listens to dodgy music and makes you watch TV talent shows.

You’ll help this person all day every day. No annual leave. No double pay on public holidays. No pay at all. You won’t get to hang out with your friends, fall in love, chase the postman or bury anything in the backyard.

For what purpose does a guide dog live other than to serve?

So I salute you, humble guide dog. And I remind you that your owner has to sleep at some stage, and it’s not like he/she is going to see all the spots where you’ve dug up the backyard. Just saying.

How to blog like a lazy mofo

I can’t think of enough funny things this week, so I’ve bailed on writing a new blog and instead, for your reading pleasure, have translated last week’s blog into various other languages and then back into English using Google Translate because it turned out to be a lot funnier than what I was trying to write. So, I’m forgiven, yes?

You might want to peruse last week’s if you haven’t seen it. Go on. This one will wait for you.

Aquarius (January 20-February 18)
As the moon moves into the matter, which it is moving in this best of luck and all that brings you luck. Maybe. Even a happy birthday. Their cakes are disappointing and covered in melted candle wax.

Pisces (February 19-March 20)
Having too much money for something you do not need, you'll know where you bought it and what you are paying for it. Listen to lie on, you dirty, lying liars.

Aries (March 21-April 19)
Your washing machine will break and eventually profess what they had with all those missing socks. The socks will not be returned to you because, frankly, you do not want to go back where they were. However, the solution of this mystery will bring you a sense of inner peace. Have a cup of tea and a biscuit.

Taurus (20 April-20 May)
Your skepticism marked with an asterisk will be short-lived when the giraffe from the zoo and tramples you to death.

Gemini (May 21-June 20)
A Taurus you know will be kicked to death by an escaped giraffe with legs.

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
La Bamba 's torn in your head and you'll find yourself singing it as you could get a busy street. People will decisis. You go home, eat some chicken, and subpar blog write about star signs.

Leo (July 23-August 22)
Your tendency to burn bridges will bite you back when you are before the arson charges. The lawyer you can find in the phone book will be qualified, but very attractive. You two will have a brief but steamy business that the lawyer will stop by to let you go to prison, where your cellmate will teach you how to make prison tattoos. You will have a feel for this and will realize that you should have gone to art school after all.

Virgo (August 23 - September 22)
Once a wise man, "Put some pants," he said. If you leave home, make sure to do so. People have been complaining.

Libra (22 September 23 to 10)
Romance is in the air! But for you in no.

Scorpio (23 October - 21 November)
Your inner thigh, and their foolish not to go. You know that thing you need to get to the cream.

Sagittarius (22 November - 21 December)
Rising tension in the work that will inspire you to search for a new career path. The following may be very concerned, and only to see its someones birthday cake the next day and return to stressful jobs. This will be eating cake. This will be a meet.

Capricorn (19 Dec 22 to 1)
Jesus was a Capricorn. Please look at what he achieved in all of his short life. Your game and lift the buddy.

It's all in the stars

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)
As the moon moves into the thing that it moves into that brings good luck and all that, you will have some good luck. Maybe. Also, happy birthday. Your cake will be disappointing and covered in melted candle wax.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)
After spending too much money on something you don’t need, you will lie about where you bought it and what you paid for it. Stop lying, you filthy, lying liar.

Aries (March 21 – April 19)
Your washing machine will break down and finally confess what it did with all those missing socks. The socks will not be returned to you because, quite frankly, you don't want them back after where they've been. However, solving this mystery will bring you a sense of inner peace. Have a cup of tea and a biscuit.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)
Your scepticism of star signs will be short lived when a giraffe escapes from the zoo and tramples you to death.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)
A Taurus you know will be trampled to death by an escaped giraffe.

Cancer (June 21 – July 22)
La Bamba will get stuck in your head and you will find yourself singing it as you walk down a busy street. People will stare. You will go home, eat some chicken, and write a subpar blog about star signs.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)
Your tendency to burn bridges will bite you once more as you find yourself facing arson charges. The lawyer you find in the phonebook will be under qualified, but very attractive. The two of you will have a brief but steamy affair that the lawyer will put an end to by letting you go to prison, where your cell mate will teach you how to do prison tattoos. You will have a flair for this and will realise that you should have gone to art school after all.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)
A wise man once said, ‘Put some pants on’. Remember to do this when you leave the house. People have been complaining.

Libra (September 23 – October 22)
Romance is in the air! But not for you.

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)
That rash on your inner thigh will not go away on its own. You need to get some cream for that thing.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)
Rising tensions at work will inspire you to look for a new career path. You will be too lazy to follow through, and return to your stressful job the next day only to find out that it’s someones birthday and there is cake. You will eat some cake. This will appease you.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)
Jesus was a Capricorn. Look at all the stuff he achieved in his short life. Lift your game, buddy.

Smart phone my ass

Back In August I got a new phone. I was sick of everyone talking trash about my useless Motorola that didn’t do anything but be a phone. And not a very good phone at that.

As someone who knows nothing of technology, I sought the help of others as to what kind of phone I should purchase. I found that the more someone knew about technology, the more that person was against iPhones. These people recommended HTC. These people should be shot. In the face. With a bazooka that shoots cream pies.

After months of grief and attempts to find out why my phone sometimes decided it just plain didn’t want to work, I’ve finally accepted defeat and had it sent off to be looked at. For the next three weeks I’m stuck with my old brick. It pains me to say it, but I don’t think I’m going to survive.

How am I supposed to check the weather? By going outside and feeling the temperature of the air on my skin? By looking out the window like a fool? No thank you, sir.

How am I supposed to prove to everyone that I’m right all the time without being able to Google whatever it was that we’ve just been arguing about?

How can I check that big words mean what I think they mean without my dictionary.com app?

How am I supposed to tag myself at every place I go to so people can see how awesome I am? I’ve had to go back to checking Facebook on the computer like people did in the olden days, when computers took up entire rooms and were made of wood and twine.

And most importantly, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE WITHOUT MY DOCTOR WHO RINGTONES?

Anyway, I’m off to build a giant slingshot, capture some birds and launch them at flimsy structures full of pigs I’ve painted green. I have an addiction and my needs must be met.

The fountain of knowledge

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

We’re not even a week into 2012 and I can already list for you many, many things that I have learned.

1. Eating chocolate all day while watching episode after episode of Buffy is not good for you.

2. Getting out of the house so you won’t sit on the couch and eat chocolate all day is only a good idea if you don’t meet up with friends for beer and chips. Beer and chips are also not good for you.

3. ABC2 showing Doctor Who every weeknight is amazing.

4. Do not wear this top while sitting outside:

You will end up with leopard print sunburned into your shoulders.

5. If my brother invites me over for a horror movie marathon, he means it. I have never seen so many people get stabbed in one evening/night/early hours of the morning.

6. If my brother invites me over for a horror movie marathon, I will consume many Doritos.

7. If my brother invites me over for a horror movie marathon, I will end up crashing at his house, convinced that a serial killer is hiding in the wardrobe.

8. You shouldn’t let friends take you into a shop that contains shiny things. It will end with you buying a shiny thing.

9. When a co-worker tells you she reckons the customer you swoon over every morning looks a bit like the vampire dude from Twilight, and you say ‘No way, that dude is weird lookin, as if they look alike’, and you then stumble across a picture of the vampire dude from Twilight where they DO look alike… don’t admit this to her. She will give you hell and attain a large amount of pleasure from it.

10. Do not let a friend drag you to the beach when you are not dressed for the beach. Sand in shoes + high winds + more sunburn + jeans were a bad choice + her camera took a photo of you in which your top seemed to magically disappear = cranky.

11. Cranky-ness can easily be eradicated with ice cream.