36 Confessions for 2016 (20+16) – Part 2

Continued from below…

  1. When I was 18 I saw a very inconspicuous job advert for a receptionist role at a small, privately owned business. I rocked up for the interview at the provided address which was a decrepit, pink house in an industrial area. As I entered the building, this older, sleazy man was exiting and said to me with a suggestive grin, whilst looking me up and down “are you the new girl?” It was a brothel.
  2. In primary school, my friend and I had a genius idea to buy a book of raffle tickets from Woolworths and go door knocking to sell them for a fake fundraiser for our school. We then took all the money we made and spent it on junk food. Yep, we had committed fraud before even growing boobs.
  3. I like carbs more than I like a lot of people.
  4. When I was in college, I used to catch an evening bus regularly which had a smoking hot bus driver. As my stop was only half way on the route, there were always still a lot of people on the bus when I got off. Over several weeks, I plotted to pretend to fall asleep on the bus one night, hidden at the back so the driver couldn’t see me and ‘wake up’ and tell him I’d fallen asleep when we got to one of the outer suburbs. By then, most of the other passengers would have gotten off and we’d have time to talk in private. It totally worked. And he drove me all the way home, to my front door in his bus because he didn’t want me to wait for another bus in the dark! What a sexy, sexy hero.
  5. My friend’s kindly, elderly grandfather slapped me on the butt once at her birthday party. So. Fucking. Awkward. And. Also. Gross. And. Wrong.
  6. I once projectile vomited on a crowded dance floor and when the bouncer came to kick me out, I somehow managed to convince him that it was the wasted (but innocent) chick next to me and he kicked her out instead.
  7. A colleague had a muffin in the freezer at work and I asked him if I could have it, to which he replied ‘no’. I then hid the muffin at the back of the freezer to see if he would forget about it. Several weeks later it was still there so I ate it – he’d forgotten all about it so I totally earned it.
  8. I once ran into a girl I worked with years ago and pretended I didn’t remember her. This bitch once stole and processed the payment of a customer I spent 10 minutes helping during an internal store promotion (whoever served the most customers that week would win a prize). Jokes on her though, I remember her full name, where her parents live and I’m pretty sure her brother tried to sell me drugs in Civic once.
  9. One evening, I drunkenly hooked up with a former work colleague in the back of a taxi where I mortifyingly fondled his nipple the entire time. We literally never spoke of it again.
  10. I feigned a short lived obsession with roast chicken so I could start talking and subsequently befriend a hot deli guy at my supermarket job in high school.
  11. Once I was smashed at a rave and I made out with this dude in a black t-shirt. I went to the bathroom and when I came back, there were 2 people in black t-shirts but one of them was a chick. They both came up to me and we were all dancing, chatting and a little too touchy feely and to this day; I don’t know if I made out with guy or a girl.
  12. I have friends I’ve never met sober.
  13. My friend was living in a 2 bedroom place in a new area. We decided it would be funny to advertise to find a tenant for the spare room just so we could meet some new people but had absolutely no intention of renting out the room. We held interviews then eventually told prospective applicants that she decided not to rent it out as she needed the extra space. We still managed to gain a group of relatively dero male friends from the scheme, albeit for a short period of time.
  14. I once went on a date with a guy who wasn’t allowed to enter the USA for 10 years. For legal reasons.
  15. My friend’s housemate was a real dick. He had this chocolate car that he’d received for a present which he didn’t eat and instead kept it on display in his room. When he was out one day, we took the car, ate 98% of it then melted the remaining 2% of chocolate and poured it into the car shaped plastic which it was encased in. It created a very thin layer of chocolate shell but looked like the chocolate car was still in there. We put it in the fridge to set, then back into the display box and onto his shelf.
  16. I once swore at my grandma’s cat. It looked up at me so cute and innocently and made me feel so guilty that I felt sick. I later fed it my share of smoked salmon to apologise.
  17. Many years ago, I went to a new colleague’s birthday celebration at a nightclub. I got quite drunk on absinth and said something extremely graphic to her about a hot dude at her gathering. As it happens, the hot dude was her brother and I got the feeling she didn’t approve as she stopped talking to me shortly thereafter.
  18. I once purchased an outrageously inappropriate gift for an office Secret Santa. When the gift was opened, the room fell completely silent with the exception of a few ‘oh my god’s’ and everyone looked embarrassed. A few people even came up to me afterwards to say ‘gross’ and ‘what is wrong with some people?’ which I just played along with. I’ve never misjudged a crowd reaction so colossally and I’ve NEVER told anyone it was me who bought it.

As it turns out, coming up with 36 confessions was surprisingly easy, in fact, I could have given you 100. See, they weren’t that bad. Jokes! I’m going to hell.

Happy New Year, guys! Here’s to an amazing, healthy and prosperous 2016 for all. Hopefully you cause significantly less trouble this year than I have in my lifetime.



36 Confessions for 2016 (20+16)

After a 3 year hiatus, I have decided to get back into my blogging with something slightly different to my previous posts. Considering we have just rolled over into a new year, I thought that – in the most sacrilegious way possible – I would share some confessions with you which in turn, would give me a clean slate for the new year. I figured it would be much more fun than reading a generic list of New Year’s resolutions, plus, people love hearing saucy and incriminating shit.

I must warn you that some readers may find portions of the following text disturbing. Hell, even the writer found portions of it disturbing but found solace in the fact that these confessions are largely historical – which is something you too should consider before judging me or calling the police. PSYCH – they’re not that bad.

I do cite many a friend in this list but I have decided to keep their names anonymous out of respect for them. Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado I bring you my 36 confessions for 2016.

  1. Sometimes when I’m on the train or tram, I pretend to look out the window but I am actually just staring at myself in the window reflection and pouting.
  2. In high school, my friend and I baked a cake to sell at charities day and laced it with laxatives.
  3. When I was still living in Canberra, my friend and I drove to Sydney after work to have a big night in Kings Cross. We had initially intended to sleep in the car on the side of the road and drive back in the morning but one of her friends came along as deso (designated driver to all the non Aussie readers) and drove us back in the wee hours whilst we were sleeping/shitfaced. They dropped me home about 7am; I showered/ had a cheeky vom then went to work and made it through the whole day. I alluded to my colleagues that I had the runs and had to keep going to the bathroom regularly where I would take a nap by sitting on the loo with the cover down and use the toilet paper as a pillow. I’d set the alarm on my phone so I could have a 5 minute nap then go back into the office. I did this every half hour for the entire day.
  4. I hate summer and by summer I mean any temperature over 30 degrees Celsius.
  5. In college, I didn’t want to go to class one day but couldn’t be bothered leaving the house to wag and my dad was home at the time. Instead, I laid underneath my bed in silence for at least 4 hours then casually emerged sometime after lunch and said I had just returned from school.
  6. When I was 18, my friend and I came out of a club very drunk and went into a 7/11 type shop to buy a snack. We thought we heard the shop assistants say something rude about us so we refused to pay for the meat pies in our hands then attempted to leave the store. They tried to grab the pies off of us so we threw them as far as we could onto the adjacent road and ran away. About 30 minutes later we were still hungry so went to the road, located the [now smashed] pies, still in their wrappers…then ate them.
  7. I had dinner with a friend in London and purposely did a runner on the bill.
  8. I tell everyone that I met one of my good friends travelling Europe but we actually met on the internet, on a find a travel buddy website.
  9. I once got so drunk I got arrested and spent the night in the drunk tank at Civic (Canberra city) police station.
  10. In kindergarten I peed my pants twice in one day. Once school was done, my mum came to pick me up and I gave her a plastic bag full of piss soaked clothing. She asked “why are there 2 sets of clothes in here?” and I got embarrassed, started crying and had to tell her I’d wet my pants twice that day.
  11. One night, my friend who had a girlfriend hit on me at a party. Later that evening, his aforementioned girlfriend also hit on me (very seriously). They are still together.
  12. Once, my friend and I purchased some fast food. We were frugal high school students at the time so thought we’d put some of my hair into the food then take it back, complain and get a refund or free shit in return. It worked and we got a bunch of free food from them apologising.
  13. At one of my office jobs, I accidentally farted really loudly at my desk. A few of my colleagues heard and one of them jovially questioned “was that a fart?” I successfully managed to convince them it was my chair by responding very sarcastically with “ohhh yeeeaaaaah, I just came out of the bathroom, where I could have farted in private but decided I had better wait and share this one with my work mates….it was obviously my fucking chair”. Obviously, it was not.
  14. One time this guy who was generally pretty awful, said something particularly nasty to me. Conveniently, I found myself at his place not long after the incident, made my way to his bathroom and peed into his bottle of shampoo/body wash combination.
  15. I was in India on a yoga holiday at the start of last year, staying in a hut on the beach. My hut became infested with a mouse and lizard which is obviously fucking terrifying so I snuck off and stayed at the 5 star hotel on the next beach over and didn’t tell anyone and I don’t know why because I wasn’t ashamed.
  16. When I was drunk at a friend’s wedding, I tried to make a 13 year old relative of theirs smoke, drink and told them to let me know if they wanted any illegal substances because “they’re not that hard to find”. I was completely horrified when I remembered this the next day.
  17. I once got so drunk I got my stomach pumped. After it happened, the first thing I remember was sitting in a waiting room and a lady kept calling my name. By this point I’d realised I was in the hospital and thought ‘how embarrassing, I’m going to pretend that’s not me’ so kept looking at all the other people in the room when she called out. After a while I figured out that she knew it was me so finally got up, signed something and then she told me I was free to go.
  18. I went on a Tinder date with a dude solely because he had one of the cutest puppies I’ve ever seen. Shame he was a cock in person.

This post is pretty long already so to be continued…

Office Dynamics

Hola senoritas (and the male equivalent of senoritas). If you’re reading this, presumably we’re friends on facey which means you probably know I am no longer unemployed (THANK FUCK). That, together with the fact that I’ve had a couple of my mates come and visit me the last few weekends means that I have once again found myself neglecting the ol’ blog but I’m here now and I’m sure part way through reading this piece of shit entry, you’ll be wishing I wasn’t.

I have been settling nicely into my new job though and adjusting back into a routine that is no longer identical to the television guide. I both relish and take pride in a deposit into my bank account that doesn’t contain the word ‘Centrelink’ in the description. Upon realising I had gotten my first pay last week I actually got shivers, the same kind of shivers you get when you’re getting a head massage, scratching your armpits (don’t knock it until you try it) or in the middle of some pretty intense foreplay. Of course I immediately used 80% of my pay on bills and debt but still #money #youngmoney #highroller#BALLA #I swear I’ll never do that again.

Whilst I am enjoying being back at work and quite like my new job, I am still adjusting to my new role and all the little quirks of my new environment. Whether you’re CEO, middle man, a graduate, or like me and have climbed the corporate ladder from shit kicker all the way to butt hole licker, everyone experiences office dynamics on a daily basis so I have made my post today about the same.

First things first; stationery. Step inside any office and you will know that stationery is not just paper and pens; it’s the backbone of any organisation. It plays a vital role in the function of the office and speaks volumes about the general morality of your colleagues. If someone has stolen your stapler, they’re a deceitful, disorganised arse hole. It’s not just as simple as stealing it back from them when they’ve gone to lunch either because then they will know that you’re just as petty as they are. What you need to do is order a better stapler, and if the office budget won’t allow that, then bring one from home. This shows maturity in that you rose above the potential for conflict and now have bigger and better plans. Take that you filthy thief; hope you and my shitty old stapler have a great life together.


Smoko’s. Depending on your line of work these are generally frowned upon from non-smoking colleagues. If you do smoke be cautious because there will probably be some annoying and bored people in your office that will be very vocal about their negative feelings towards it and the super bored ones may even start some kind of equality petition. BUT if your boss smokes;  hello private and regular bonding sesh. Just picture it: you, your boss and a packet of Marlboro Light’s, confiding in each other, being there for each other and sharing laughter and friendship. Winning.

Laughing at jokes. It is likely that your superiors are going to be of a slightly older age group so be prepared for a stack of dad jokes, which, if you value your position, you are going to have to laugh at. This has always come naturally to me because I genuinely believe that dad jokes are the epitome of hilarity; pulling one’s finger is always going to be funny because it involves farts and farts are funny in any language – and don’t you forget it. If you don’t laugh regularly then you might come across as snobby and unapproachable which is not ideal.

Making tea and coffee. If you’re making yourself a tea or coffee you should offer to make at least the person who sits next to you one too – it’s just polite. The more people you make tea/coffee for, the better as you will acquire a reciprocated tea/coffee agreement where they will make them for you too. Depending on the size of the office though, this can get out of hand pretty quickly so just know where the line is between being polite and being impractical.

Coffee runs. These are so important to keep the peace and ensure a smooth running office. If you have gone on a coffee run, do not – ever – ask for someone to pay you back – its $3.50 you cheap bitch. If the person doesn’t pay you back voluntarily they will get you back next time and if they don’t, take note so you can hit them where it hurts – Friday night drinks ‘…well I’ve gotten your coffee the last few times so I’ll have a [$20] Long Island Iced Tea, thanks.’

Eating at your desk. It’s inevitable – you need sustenance to get through the day. Just be prepared that the moment someone hears the rustling plastic of a chip packet opening, or walks past you mid-chew, you’re going to have to share or at least offer (despite it being a snack which indicates a small portion size, suitable for only one). Refrain from saying what you really think, which is probably something like:

‘Mother fucker are you kidding? I’m on a 1200 calorie a day diet and I’m hungry as balls. I have been looking forward to this tiny handful of peanuts since 2pm. I haven’t even seen you all day but I whip my snacks out and sure enough there you fucking are. I barely have enough energy to respond to you let alone extend my arm bearing snacks. Fine. Have some fucking peanuts but until the favour can be returned, you have left a bad taste in my mouth – which thanks to you, is not the taste of peanuts.’

Instead, try responding with ‘sure’ or ‘of course’. The addition of enthusiasm or a smile is optional but don’t worry too much if you can’t force yourself to do so, your pessimism can be masked as stress from your workload.

Eating at desk

Knowing when to bite your tongue. When you don’t know a person very well and there is a gap in the conversation it can be kind of uncomfortable. Learn to embrace the silence and don’t just speak for the sake of it. Once I was making a cuppa in the office kitchen and my boss came in to make his own coffee. We exchanged a few niceties then the conversation ended when I was in possession of the sugar. I asked if he wanted me to pass it to him which he declined and I then replied with “sweet enough already?” with one of the creepiest grin and eyebrow-raise combinations you would ever come across. He was shocked and taken aback by this and didn’t know how to respond so I was forced to avoid him for the rest of the day and that accidental piece of sexual harassment has haunted me ever since.

Dressing appropriately. Ladies; I’m talking to you. Tits and thighs? No one wants to see that shit…fine that’s a lie, the men of the office do, but it’s unprofessional and inappropriate and you will get talked about behind your back. They say to dress for the position you want not the position you have so unless the position you want is bent over the photocopier with Daniel from head office, then you should probably leave that super tight white dress for another occasion.

Sexual tension. Every office or indeed workplace is riddled with it and everyone experiences it at some point. If not internally with a colleague, then there will be other outlets such as the hottie from the neighbouring office or the marketing contractor. IT guys are also popular sex objects. It is usually limited to fantasy as most people are married or in serious relationships but everyone knows that when tension is unresolved it can blow up at the most unexpected times. You have to try your hardest not to stare at their crotch/lips/boobs whilst imagining playing naked Twister with them and focus on what they are actually saying. It’s hard work.

Sexual tension

I’m now super tired and the quality of this entry is not going to improve so I’m just going to wrap it up now but just for funsies, try seeing if you can spot the following stereotypes at your office:

The baker. There is always someone who brings in baked treats and that person is pretty well loved by all. The dieters tend to resent that person but come 3pm when they need a sugar hit and BAM those diet conscious ball bags come crawling back. Haven’t quite cracked the surface of your colleagues yet? Perhaps you should seriously consider this position.

Arch nemesis. You know that person who stole your stapler? Yeah, that fuckwit.

The sleaze. Wandering eyes? Inappropriate comments? Innuendo disguised as small talk? I give you; the office sleaze. And if you’re thinking there is no one like that in your office, then you’re it.


I Love London

Last week marked one year of my return to Australia from living in London which means I have now been back for half the time I was away. It has actually taken me almost the whole year to adjust back to life in Australia and stop pining for London on a daily basis as it really was the best time of my life. This anniversary got me feeling a little nostalgic, so I decided to make my post about things that I miss and do not miss about the city of dreams.  I must forewarn you that if you think you are about to read anything of remote value or importance you are sadly mistaken (and you should know me better by now).

Tower Bridge

I do not miss the high living expenses. Yes, I’m still unemployed and everything for me right now is a high living expensive, laugh it up ha-di-haha (jerks – give me a fucking job) but I worked full time for the whole time I was in London and still lived pay cheque to pay cheque. My friend once said “London is like a serial rapist that attacks your wallet and bank account over and over again until you have lost the will to live” and I think that’s about right – its crazy expensive.

I do not miss feigning interest in the X-Factor. In the UK, they take the show very seriously whereas in Australia the X-Factor and similar shows are thought of as jokes. They are guilty pleasures and something that you watch in secret when you’re on your own, and then lie about it after OR you watch it solely to perve on a hot host, judge or contestant. That couldn’t be further from the truth in England – it is on on Saturday night and people legitimately don’t go out until after they’ve watched it. They often gather in groups with their friends and watch it for fun then have many discussions about it during the week – an activity which I am glad I do not have to partake in anymore.

I do not miss the children. It might just be a South London thing, but kids over there are scary. If you see them in a group you don’t think ‘aww aren’t they darling?!’ you think ‘oh shit, does that kid have a gun?’ And if you think I’m just being a pansy, may I remind you of the London riots in 2011 where those fearless bastards basically ran the city for a few days, leaving behind a fiery path of desolated destruction along the way? And if you still think I’m being a pansy then can I also remind you to piss off.thug children

I do not miss the phenomenon that is wearing ugg boots in public. I’m not talking about the cheeky pop to the supermarket for 5 minutes wearing them which we are all guilty of – oh no, I’m talking Winter, Central London, peak hour – women on their way to work at their professional jobs – extremely well dressed and polished from the calf up – but from the calf down are markings reminiscent to that of your typical bogan. I initially brushed this off with the thought that they would change their footwear upon arrival at work but I am told that a lot of the time they stay in these monstrosities for the entire damn day. Don’t get me wrong, I love ugg boots as much as the next extremely attractive young woman, but they fall into the pyjama genre and where I come from, wearing pyjamas in public is what distinguishes an average person from a bogan. Move north of the equator and cross a few time zones and they are considered a trendy staple for your winter wardrobe. Baffling!

The most disheartening factor to come into play is that they only seem wear the genuine ‘Ugg’ boots which are marketed in a way so that in buying them, they think they are doing something truly Australian. The irony lies in the fact that most Australian’s spend $10 max on unbranded ugg boots purchased from Kmart or Big W which can be replaced on an annual basis, without financial guilt. Genuine Ugg boots, however, retail from about £120 – £250 which is completely fucking ridiculous. Their sheer existence is merely a product of what happens when bogan’s have too much money but if you’re paying that kind of cash for what are essentially slippers, why wouldn’t you wear them in public?! Being one who often succumbs to peer pressure (friend: ‘wanna get drunk?’ me: ‘k’) it was hard not to get caught up in it all but I’m pleased to say that I stayed true to my beliefs.

ugg boots in public

I do not miss their KFC. Australian KFC and I’m sure most other countries KFC’s shit all over the ones in the UK. I understand that some might find that statement to be outlandish but to those sceptics; I urge you to simply step into a KFC in the UK, order a meal deal of your choice, take out a chip and carefully examine it. You will immediately notice – before even tasting it, that something is not right. That subtle golden glisten created by the specks of chicken salt is absent and that’s because chicken salt doesn’t exist there! I KNOW?! I was as shocked as you are! In lieu of this, they allow you to take as many salt and pepper sachets as your heart desires, so you can season the chips yourself – like some kind of fucking moron. I’m sorry KFC but what my heart desires, is chicken salt. Standard salt and pepper just does not cut it – I want to speak to the Colonel.


It’s been a rough day but the shock of the lack of chicken salt is subsiding and you find comfort in the fact that you can drown your chip sorrows in the potato and gravy. After the trauma you have just been through, that little, white, pot resembles that of an angel’s halo. And that is where you real kick in the crotch is….potato and gravy doesn’t exist there either. What they’ve given you instead and without warning is a hot, little pot of baked beans. Pardon? I don’t know what sick bastard decided that this was okay but where I come from; it is bordering on criminal. To simply replace the perfect chip accompaniment and side dish combination with legumes in a tomato based sauce, and not breathe a word about it is unjust. They do have stand-alone gravy but you have to ask for it. I’m not completely clueless, I know baked beans have their place, but it is not as a side with fried chicken and chips.

Every time I was drunk and in a KFC I was a fairly vocal advocate of abolishing the baked beans and introducing the potato and gravy. If the last two paragraphs have moved you in the same way as they did to me and you are in the UK at some point, I ask that you take 5 minutes of your drunken night to go into the nearest KFC and protest about this too. If we can get enough people to rally this, we CAN make a change. The potato and gravy doesn’t have a voice, but we do.

I do not miss the crowds. London has a population in excess of 8.1 million so there are people around EVERYWHERE and at all times. I do, however, miss what the crowds bring; a steady but regular flow of tail. I personally, have never gotten so much action in my life and I hold grave fear in thinking that I’ll never get that much again. And let’s face it – Aussies in London don’t have the best rep; they are plentiful, always drunk and giant menaces – they’re practically vermin and I was still somewhat of a pulling machine. I actually went speed dating once there and I cleaned the fuck up. How it worked was after your 3 minute date with that person you select ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘friends’. If you say ‘yes’ to someone and they say ‘yes’, you’re a match. If you say ‘yes’, they say ‘no’ you’re not a match. Two no’s is obviously no match. And if you say ‘yes’ and they say ‘friends’ then you’re friends. I can’t remember the exact amount of men at this event but it was something like 18-20. I was too busy being charismatic to bother taking it seriously so I just selected ‘yes’ for everyone to see what they had said for me. The next morning I got my scores as follows:

One guy said ‘no’. I won’t get into it, but there was a hair smelling incident which one party did not consent to.

One said ’friends’. Dude was old, I was like the youngest age allowed in this group, and he was the oldest.

The rest of them said yes. Turns out; I’m pretty fucking charming. It also confirms my point that with so many people living there, one of them is bound to want to get freaky with you.

I do miss the Brits. They’re well-dressed, sarcastic and believe that a pub every 20 metres is completely necessary. Their appealing accents teamed with their generally articulate vocabularies make even normal sentences sound engaging. For example, I remember hearing a conversation between two colleagues of mine once where one stated: “I actually quite enjoy lavatorial humour” which translates to ‘I like shit jokes’. See, you’ve either got it or you don’t – class can’t be taught.

I do miss Kiwis. Statistics show that there is actually more Kiwis’ in London then there are in New Zealand (I just made that up) and the NZ High Commission in London is actually bigger than New Zealand the whole country itself (made that up too). For most of the 2 years I was over there, a vast majority of my friends were Kiwi’s because I love them and they love me. I have this strange theory that Kiwi’s think I am way cooler than I actually am and that I am far more attractive than I actually am – I look a bit Kiwi so whether it’s a case of mistaken identity or not who knows/cares but it is something I will not complain about which also means it is likely I will one day marry a New Zealander. This is beneficial to me in that I get what I always wanted: the Haka at my wedding.

I do miss really awesome nightclubs like Fabric, Koko and Ministry of Sound. Canberra has Mooseheads and Academy….I rest my case.

I do miss being able to drink in public. Having the power to pre-drink in the street is cost effective, time efficient and a big ball of fun. I’m not saying I don’t do it now; it’s just really hard to conceal a bottle of Passion Pop or wine in your dress without being caught or judged.

drunk bitch

So there you go. Shitty blog post aside, London really was my first love. I met so many wonderful people there from all different countries and walks of life that I’m sure will be lifelong friends. Not only did I learn so much from my experience there, but I grew up a lot too. Please don’t think of this post as me complaining but rather an extremely unhelpful insight of London that you will not find in any of the Lonely Planet Guide books (and with good reason). I bid you adieu.

Job Interviews

After the moderately successful launch a few weeks ago, I must apologise to my avid blog fans (all three of you) for being a little slack as I have found myself rather busy of late. Since I last wrote, I have safely and successfully made the move to Melbourne and am engrossed in trying to set myself up here. I was lucky that my friend, Sarah, whom I have known for many years, had a spare room in her flat which we realised (after bonding over blogs on Facebook chat one night) was the perfect fit for me. It is a lovely flat in a nice area and I am thoroughly enjoying it so far. That’s enough on that though; let’s proceed with the subject…

Job interviews. Super confident freaks love them, normal people dislike them and I fall into the category of socially awkward folk who simply dread and detest them.

You’re probably thinking ‘detest is a pretty strong verb, don’t you think?’ Well, you clearly haven’t dropped a ‘c bomb’ during a job interview before then, have you? (No seriously, have you? Because if you have I would love to hear from you about it, it would make me feel so much better.) I guess I will need to elaborate but please remember that this story is something I am not proud of. The year was 2006 and I was a fresh-faced 16 year old who was innocently looking to make some cash to fund my underage binge drinking habits. The job was ideal for a female year 11 student like me: retail assistant at Priceline Pharmacy- what could be better than cheap makeup and the morning after pill in a one stop shop?!

Two guys who were probably in their mid-twenties sat down at the interview table and I was thinking ‘sweet, this is going to be super casual’ and it was casual – in hindsight, a little too casual. Before I continue, I should point out that at this particular point in time, my best friend and I knew this guy who constantly called people he thought fondly of ‘mad c*nts’. We thought this was so lame it was hilarious so we took to doing the same (excessively) just to mock him. I had been acing the interview when towards the end of it; they asked me to describe my personality. We were all laughing and joking around and that’s when disaster struck. Due do the interview’s casual nature, I had let my guard down and it just slipped out…I believe my exact words were “…I’m a bit of a mad c*nt”. The laughter was immediately interrupted by the most uncomfortable of silences and to this day I have never seen anyone with such confused looks on their faces. They made sure that the interview ended promptly and said they would be in touch – which we all knew was a lie. I walked away from that interview well aware that I had reached a new low and that I would have to find other means to finance the blue vodka cruisers that I had such big plans for (stuffing them into my Billabong backpack wrapped in jumpers as to mask the clinking sounds from my parents, then trekking to a house party).

I don’t do too well when I’m nervous, and by ‘don’t do too well’ I mean I turn into a fucking jerk. My neck gets itchy, I start to sweat and my speech is incomprehensible. I have to try really hard not to blurt out the first thing that pops into my head just to fill the growing silence. By that I mean, I would never lie about my skills in an interview, but there is a first for everything and for me that was yesterday. I was in an interview and was doing okay until I was asked what my hobbies were and I mentioned ‘NRL’. The guy who was interviewing me responded with ‘oh really, that surprises me, you don’t look like a league player! I’m impressed!’ So, instead of correcting him like a normal person and saying ‘no, I just follow rugby league’, I rolled with it – he said he was impressed, so I saw an opportunity to shine and ran with it. After bullshitting about my amateur rugby league career for a few minutes (started in high school then as my skills grew, so did my passion), he then went on to say ‘we regularly hold office sporting days – it’s good to know you will be a valuable asset to the team!’ The lady who was taking notes of the interview then started scrawling profusely about this obviously employable skill of mine. Oh fuck! What had I done?! I’m definitely not sporty and I think that will become apparent on sports day when I have to get stretchered off the field in the first few minutes of a league game. So yeah, not crossing my fingers for this one.

Now you’re sitting there and judging me thinking ‘that explains your hatred for job interviews, you’re an idiot’ but I have also had awful interviews which were not my fault. I now recount the time I was in a job interview and doing pretty well, being interviewed by a youngish guy and a girl. After some time, they called their big boss in who was this slightly older, seemingly normal woman. She asked a few standard questions then began with the crazy:

“If you could put last Christmas anywhere in the room, where would you put it?”

“If you could put this Christmas anywhere in the room, where would you put it?”

“If you could put next Christmas anywhere in the room, where would you put it?”

“If you could put yourself anywhere in the room, where would you put yourself?”

Ummmmmm…bitch on crack?! The guy and girl who were interviewing me initially did not laugh or even acknowledge that she was asking weird as fuck questions, they just sat there as if it was the norm. I still don’t know if she was completely mad or just taking the piss. I answered all her questions though – and without hesitation, by simply pointing at different spots in the room. I walked out feeling a little violated, and a lot confused. I didn’t know what had just happened, but I thought I needed to be alone for a few hours just to process it all, maybe take a cold shower.

As you can see, it’s pretty safe to say that my job interview history is not great.

I look back at the jobs I have gotten and I have been pretty lucky with the interviews. If the interview is for a smaller place it is usually less clinical and the content more personal. I find that after answering a few questions I can usually find some sort of common ground that the interviewer had mentioned at some point during the interview. I can bond with the interviewer over our common interest and then when I’m comfortable enough, can use my natural magnetism to charm their fucking pants off.

It has been said that the internet is practically the CV of the 21st century (said by me, just now).  To any prospective employers that may be reading this right now, let’s just cut the crap and skip the interview process all together – here is why you should hire me. It might be a good idea to disregard all of the above text though, and probably the below too.

I’m adaptable. “Sorry, that’s not part of my job description” said a dumb fuck to their boss once – not me, I would never utter such nonsense. I know what’s up and I’m not into technicalities, the hierarchy goes: 1. Boss. 2. Sarah. You want me to do it; I’m going to do it even if it’s the worst job ever. Just know that as soon as I get home – I’m adding that shit to my resume for future reference. So what if it’s just a one off request – COUNTS.

I will always make you look good. Look at me, you don’t want to be in my shoes – my shoes are cute and fun but they lack direction and don’t really know what they want in life yet.

I will be at every work function. Due to my lack of hobbies, my calendar is pretty flexible. I am able and willing to attend any and all required work functions and will do my best at representing the company. I promise I won’t get too drunk unless the surroundings are appropriate and even if the surroundings aren’t appropriate, we can get drunk after.

You can swear at me all you want. Because I swear so much myself, you can have your much needed vent from the stresses of the day in a fairly tasteless way and I won’t get offended, I literally won’t even notice. Don’t bottle it up inside, it’s bad for you – just let it all out in my general direction, and after, we can get drunk.

Need to blame someone for a fuck up? Just blame me, you may as well, you’re my boss after all, I will cop it on the chin. And after, we can get drunk (your shout though – for blaming me on shit I didn’t do).

Need someone to stay back late with you to help finish all your work? I will! Sure, I might complain about it, but it’s the most justifiable way for me to get out of going to the gym and I WILL get it done. And after, we can get drunk.

I will NEVER fake a sickie. It’s just not in my character. I had like 6 years of high school/college to get that shit out of my system and I took full advantage of it then to miss various athletic carnivals, drama performances and maths tests, so it’s really not needed now. Besides, if I’m not at work, how are we going to get drunk after?

If this has impressed you I should let you know now that my current salary expectations are anything more than the dole and I am available to start immediately.

That’s all for now – thanks for reading 🙂

It’s wedding season, kid!

You sandbaggin’ son of a bitch!

I love me a wedding and quite frankly, who doesn’t?! It is one of the very few occasions as an adult that you get to get all prettied up, wear a nice outfit and be with your nearest and dearest all day. Sure they all end up in the same way: drunken and disorderly, but there were a few hours (much earlier on in the day) where you looked and felt respectable. And that is rare, and that is special.

Of course there are many fun events that go down before a wedding in the engagement, various parties, hens/bucks nights etc. When I find out a friend has gotten engaged, I go through the same stages every time:

1. Euphoric happiness. Oh my goodness my friend’s getting married! How exciting! That’s fantastic! I’m so happy for them!

2. Reflection and loneliness. This stage is not dissimilar to the fourth stage of the seven stages of grief. The come-down if you will. Hmmm. Ahh fuck. So I’m going to die alone. That is definitely happening. Fuuuuuuck! That’s the worst!

3. Acceptance and hope. Also unintentionally derived from the seven stages of grief. My friend’s getting married and that is awesome, they are a beautiful couple. I’m still young and maybe I too, will find that special someone one day who also wants to spend the rest of their life with me, or at least is decent enough to propose when he knocks me up. And if that happens to be Andy Allen (last year’s winner of Australian Masterchef) then so be it.

4. Euphoric happiness again. Oh my goodness my friend’s getting married!

So let’s switch focus back to the topic of weddings. Here are some things you might need to consider when attending a wedding. Of course everything is a given, it just might be overwhelming for some to acknowledge all the imperative factors at once.

Be respectful. Wherever the ceremony is (obviously), but especially when in a church. You may not be religious, but others there might be. Something I really have to watch when I’m in a church is my swearing. I swear a lot, it is who I am and not even Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour can change that. So if you’re like me, watch your filthy, atheist mouth. Also, don’t wear some wildly inappropriate dress that shows too much boob (especially if you’re stacked). It is a wedding, not downstairs Mooseheads* on a Saturday night. (*infamous Canberra nightclub)

Mingling. Be friendly to everyone there and try and introduce yourself to as many people as you can. Don’t be antisocial and mope in the corner if your ex is there and you still love him but he doesn’t love you (this is probably why he doesn’t love you in the first place you gay bitch – take your emotional, wine reeking self, the fuck home).

Food. Eat all the food you are served. It was expensive. Wedding food is always going to be of a very high calibre and the meal you are eating has been carefully picked out by the bride and groom. Don’t be complaining because you don’t like salmon because that statement is both ungrateful and offensive (everyone knows that salmon is the prime rib of the ocean).

Pulling. It is common knowledge that weddings are a great place to pick up if you’re single (not that I would know from experience lol) but there is even a whole movie about it – Wedding Crashers (which I took the title of this blog from). Not only is everyone more merry than normal from the flowing champers, singles might be feeling particularly vulnerable and therefore more willing to let go of their inhibitions. Some might call this “drunk and slutty”. Be wary though, everyone is dressed up and looking particularly fine and it might raise some pretty high and false standards of that person’s general appearance, meaning; you might end up bonking a minger.


You also have to really know who you are cracking onto, imagine the horror in realising you have been grooming the bride’s inappropriate uncle or the groom’s married sister all afternoon? I was sitting in the church at my friend’s wedding ceremony a few weeks ago, waiting for the arrival of the bride. I kept accidentally locking eyes with a guy on the groom’s side when turning around to check if the bride was coming. The extremely sharp angle of which I was turning my head at somehow managed to move my contact lens around and my vision would become blurry. I had to blink my eye to get the lens back into the correct spot which of course looked like I was winking at him. He was sitting with a girl too so it actually looked like I was a dirty little home wrecker, batting my lids at a taken man all in the house of God (again, I am an atheist, but that couple might not have been). I definitely wasn’t hitting on him, but I did feel the story was relevant to the topic in question.

Dancing. Do dance as much as you can – it is fun and adds a delightful touch to the ambience of the room. Do not, however, show off. If you have seen me on the d-floor before, you know that I take pride in my flawless dance moves which are married together by my impeccable timing, sharp, clean movements, never ending creativity and undeniable flexibility. I always dance at a 10. Except for weddings when I dance at about a 6. If you are also gifted with the art of dance, I suggest you do so as well. It is hard at first, but don’t be selfish – it is not YOUR day.

Then there’s the alcohol. Ohh free alcohol, you are as beautiful as you are enticing and rare. Make sure you take advantage of the free booze because like the food, it cost the bride and groom a lot of money. Whilst it is very easy to get carried away when there is an open bar, you have to remember: it is not just a party it is also a wedding and you are lucky that you mean enough to the bride and groom to be there. There are going to be young and old people at this wedding so you have to remain relatively appropriate. You don’t want to be forever known as the drunk bitch from the singles table who spewed on the d-floor when “Love Shack” was playing (you know, the one who went home alone). Also this might be the first time you have met the families of the bride and groom, so don’t be a shithead.

That’s about it for now. Maybe I’ve helped you with your wedding etiquette in some way but probably not lol. Until next time.

A shout out to my beautiful friend Sarah and her lovely partner Tim who were the inspiration of this blog entry and are tying the knot this Friday. Also to my newlywed friends, Peter and Jaycel, and even newer newlyweds, Hayley and Tavis.



I decided to start this blog because I am unemployed. And because I wanted to…but mainly because I am unemployed and the novelty of not waking up to an alarm, or even before 10:30am has long worn off. I literally have no hobbies so a blog just made sense.

I was working in conveyancing at a boutique law firm here in Canberra since I got back from London. Everyone in the office was awesome and I’ve never had better bosses, but I learnt the hard way that if you are susceptible to stress and anxiety, conveyancing probably is not for you. That was at the commencement of the Christmas holidays and this is pretty much the longest I have ever been unemployed for. I’m actually so poor that I have recently signed up for job seekers allowance – more affectionately referred to as “the dole”. This requires me to make frequent trips to the Centrelink office – a blog entry in itself I feel as the things you see and hear in there are pretty hilarious, so watch this space.

Unemployment is a funny thing. I realised the other day that I turn the most quick and simple tasks into a whole day by dragging out the events, just so I have something to do. For example: doing your nails. 20 minute task – tops, right? That would be incorrect, please see below:

Trim my cuticles whilst watching telly – 30 minutes

The most intricate filing and buffing job you’ve ever seen – 1 hour

Shower (so you have a clean canvas to work with, obviously) plus the full pre and post shower regime including cleansing, exfoliating, moisturising etc – 2 hours

1 coat of nail polish – 20 minutes plus 30 minutes drying time.

Second coat of nail polish – 20 minutes plus 30 minutes drying time.

Top coat of nail polish – 20 minutes plus 30 minutes drying time.

According to my calculations that is 6 hours, the sun is now setting and the day is over (also my nails are looking fresh).

I wouldn’t even have time to  prepare such a tedious schedule if I had a job. When I don’t have tasks that fill up my day like doing my nails, you can pretty much guarantee I’m watching a cooking show. I watch cooking shows every weekday from 9:30am to 4:30pm. It is my full time job. I now have an extensive knowledge of many different recipes, cooking techniques and kitchenware. I know what the fuck a plancha is – do you? No! Because you’ve got shit to do.

How much do you know about your postie or mailman? Nothing, he just leaves letters in your letterbox when you’re at work? Well, mine was born in the Czech Republic bitches. I would have no idea who was delivering my mail if I was not at home during the day to sign for packages.

Weekends are no longer a treat and I have lost all concept of time. “Enjoy your long weekend!” beamed the girl at the laser hair removal place as I left this morning. Oh right, it’s a weekend…and it’s a long one. The only difference between a weekday and a weekend is that weekend daytime free to air television is utter shit. There is also more people to hang out with on the weekends. Your friends are more willing to get drunk with you too. They often don’t want to get drunk during the week so they don’t have hangovers at work…losers (said the unemployed girl who drinks her dole money away on weekdays, often alone).

I have also become incredibly lazy. I have all this spare time and still can’t be arsed to clean my room – the place where I spend 95% of my time at the moment. And my room is MESSY. Have a look for yourself, but a quick warning that what you are about to see may shock and disturb you:


Yeah, I’m a pig, it’s a problem. But see, I wasn’t joking, I had to stand on the end of my bed to take that picture because that is pretty much the only place clear enough to stand. I actually still have boxes in my room from when I shipped my stuff back from London almost a year ago. In fairness, I didn’t get it back for 3 months after I got back, so those boxes have only been sitting there for 9 months haha. When I had a job I could use the very poor excuse that I didn’t have time to clean my room, but now it just can’t be justified.

The longevity of my unemployment has been defined by the fact that I am moving to Melbourne at the beginning of April. It would have been pointless to get a job in Canberra when I would have to leave it soon anyway. I have had a few things on in Canberra and Sydney the last few months, so it just made sense to stay in Canberra until then. As you can probably tell I am very much looking forward to the move and going back to work. I can’t wait to have money and a reason to live again (lol). Hopefully the job market in Melbourne is kind to me and I find something quite quickly.