More Things That Can F*#king Eat Me

– Enthusiastic housemates. I don’t care that you have managed to cross off all the things on your to do list before midday, I really don’t. I don’t care that you actualised your dreams, I really don’t. All I care about is lying here on this couch, in this dark room, eating these end-of-day-discount donuts and watching The Golden Girls. Please take your enthusiasm for life to another room and fuck it if it’s that tangible.

– Whoever the fuck keeps naming Melbourne the world’s most liveable city or whatever. Please stop, my rent is high enough as it is, fuck off and stop making my home expensive. Continue reading “More Things That Can F*#king Eat Me” →

How ‘Bout Them Transparent Dangling Carrots?

As children we all aspire to the absolute unobtainable, our budding imaginations running riot and we believe even the most fantastic things to be true. Kids believe in things we as adults don’t, like mythical creatures and the like, because the idea that they exist is so exciting, so thrilling that believing they aren’t there is unfathomable. As a child you are allowed this imaginative liberty and you don’t even know it. Much like the unreciprocated hum of a crush.

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All I Want For Tuesday, Is You

The day is long and hard. The night before was fun and easy, but this day is long and hard. You clutch your sixth cup of caffeine like a junkie clutches to life under a bridge in the rain, and check again to see if the clock was maybe hopefully lying to you. Nope. 10.30am. This 9-5 shit is some other kind of fucked up. The slow ticking of the wall clock exacerbated by the hangover and as you stare at it to will it to go faster, the hands seem to taunt you by doing a slow dance back and forth in time.

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Some Things That Can Eat My D*&K

–          Christmas. It’s only October and the halls are already getting decked with boughs of holly. The tinsel, the fake snow, the red and the green power-clashing in the worst most fuck ugly way; it all makes me want to vomit in someone’s mouth. The only good thing to come out of Christmas are the tacky kitsch jumpers, but it’s fucking summer down in this hemisphere and we have no use of them. Continue reading “Some Things That Can Eat My D*&K” →

Out Of The Closet, Into The Fire

There was a time in my life when the idea of talking about my sexuality was about as likely as pig flight. Now, I talk about blowjobs the way most people talk about yoga. The act of ‘coming out’ will soon be an outdated one because eventually kids can grow up to be whoever the hell they want to be and it won’t be questioned and they won’t have to ‘come out’ because they will have grown up ‘out’ because that is the way it should be because, nature. Unfortunately, until that time, some kids are going to have to run this uncomfortable gauntlet, but lucky for them, they don’t realise how much good it will do them.

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That’s Not a Lizard, THIS is a Lizard.

Whenever I speak to a fresh American, almost always the conversation turns to how I managed to survive in such a dangerous environment. They’re talking about all the deadly animals and the heat and I guess the nasty nature stuff that was used as propaganda in the days when being sent to “The Colonies” was a punishable crime, and parents would use it to keep their kids in line. I get it, my country is big and red and we have deserts to spare, but that doesn’t mean we were all raised Survivor-style then moved to the cities when we came of age.

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Eating Out

I have a near crippling neurosis of eating out. Not in a sex way, I do that fine, but in a going to a restaurant and sitting down by myself and dining kind of way. It’s fine if I’m with another person/s but for some reason by myself I go through a struggle akin to devil possession. Finally, at 25 and with the chances marginally high that I will be alone forever, I decide I must break this mould, as a matter of survival.

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That Time I Did An Exercise

Exercise is my space – my final frontier. It has eluded me for years but it’s getting to a point where I feel like I should venture forth and find that galaxy far far away. I am told constantly by friends, parents, doctors that exercise is good for you, it will pump you up, keep you going, give you the energy to you’ve been looking for, but its just so…ugh.

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Silver Magic Ships

“No, I’m not putting my hands up. I don’t even like Detroit”. I stand on the outskirts of the smoky karaoke bar, deep in the heart of Chinatown, arms crossed, forbidding myself to participate. My friends on stage are riled up Lady Marmalade style, and the crowd around us is the regular daddy-issue-blondes and football-is-a-real-thing-dudes.

“Come on”, my friend coerces me, “I just found some acid. Let’s drop”.

My night takes a turn of the unexpected kind.

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