Friday, October 3, 2014


LIFE IS FUCKING HARD, YOU GUYS. Some days you wake up, boil an egg, call a mate, have a wank, go to sleep. Other days, people shit all over your heart/mind/body (depending on how much you pay them). These days can be particularly hard to get through and can leave you wishing that you indeed did live on Sesame Street, although I don't really agree with your logic because it would be about half a minute before I shoved Elmo's cookie up his own ass (YES I KNOW ITS THE COOKIE MONSTER I AM JUST TRYING TO APPEAR COOL AND GROWN UP BY PRETENDING I DON'T KNOW THE INTRICATE DETAILS OF SESAME STREET WHEN IN FACT I FEEL AS THOUGH I COULD DRAW A TO SCALE DIAGRAM OF THE FUCKING PLACE).

Whatever, I am totally into beards, whiskey and sucking some fuckwit's dick to prove how much I am into Foals.

Anywho, I digress as usual. Here is a compilation of some of the most necessary tunes to switch on when you obviously go through these really common life situations. You are welcome, in advance.


You walk out of there. Usually with your fucked up heels in hand and your mascara dripping down your noseholes. You stretch your cankles in victory at the conquest you managed to accomplish with such aplomb that the entire cast of Made In Chelsea would be appalled at your elegance. The build up of this song reflects the way you shimmy on out of his screen door with ciggie burn holes in it, and as it slams behind you, tapping you softly on the ass as a secret "YOU DID IT!", if an object could congratulate that is, you fly off into the hot summer wind as the percussion increases. Suddenly you are guitar solo'ing into your hungover future as you wait for Wayne your taxi driver to roll up hopped up on No Doze and wanting to chat about his missus the whole way home. You stare out the window and pat yourself on the back as the soft choral vocals of Night Ranger drift into the remnants of your crusty pantaloons (that you have stashed in your wallet).


Oh yeah? You think your life fucking sucks? Try being Ja Rule circa now. Ok, so Ja Rule circa 2003 was fucking incredible. I am 98% sure he bedded some Ashanti ass. Now that is saying something. But dude, your relationship is like 2003. A shining moment when you had everything you wanted, even a faux fight with Eminem to boost your profile. You had pussy coming out yo ears, pussy that even R Kelly couldn't get. But then you may have evaded your relationship much like Ja did with his taxes and you have ended up in heartbreak hotel aka the worst kind of prison imaginable. Throw this ditty on and remember the good times. Those times when the reign wasn't calling murder, but rather Toto was singing 'Africa' without some cryptic rapping in between that leaves you wondering how reign can rain, let alone how the reign can manifest an actual voice in which to call "murder". 


Okay, so I am going to have to get gender specific right now, or more woman specific and pretty much what I think men choke the chicken to. HAHA, I have always wanted to use that in a sentence. Life goals, ay. 

Would 100% masturbate to this track. No, its not the fucking beard you kooks. The fucking beard is like the fucking wind, I know it is there but I can't see it. Ridiculous. I mean, Chet certainly has something going for him, personally I believe it is because he embodies some weird American Indian vibe that means he can be a conduit for babes everywhere for ladies to wet their panties to. He should be called Chet Running Tree or some shit if you ask me. Chicks would totally light their coconut and lime scented Glasshouse candle, crack open the double A b8rez they bought in woolies with their kale and muesli bites acting all innocent like they need them to replace a remote (HA bullshit), then they would run home, make a kale bullshit bullshit, pour themselves a glass of organic red wine and let loose. And god bless em for it.

I dunno. It just makes sense to me. All guys seem to love this song and most guys I know have a penchant for a stir fry, so this shit makes sense to me. You aren't writing this, I am and there is something so aggressive about this track that eventually makes you hate yourself and lie in your own sweat and shame, that it just fit. There is just something so 'Metal' about male masturbation.


There really is nothing demure or coy about this song. In fact, it holds some handy tips for your disgusting one night stand. Not only is the chorus super catchy but the lyrics are sombre and hold a deeper meaning, literally. You guys aren't there to fuck around (or maybe you are?). Put your hands on the balls ladies, and figure out why Eazy E was such a playa back in the day. On a truly honest note this song is one of my guilty pleasures and truly one of the most heinous songs in history. Give it a listen, just make sure your parents are out of the room (advice I also give to you planning one night stands).


Nothing screams happiness like Band Of Horses. The country twangs. The swelling percussion. The flowing guitar riffs. There is something so beautiful about their music and the general feeling they can give even the most devo of people. Just listen to this track, you can almost feel the wind going through your hair as you open the window of your Mazda 2 and you pass by Grafton Hungry Jacks on your way up north. There is really nothing like letting music take you on a journey to the holy grail of happiness that resides deep in the recesses of your working, living, crying, laughing soul. Fuck everything else, this is something that no matter where you may end up in your life (or if you are grappling with where you may ever end up), at least you know that when you get home your old pal music is there to guide you through any fucked up situation you may find yourself in.


Thursday, June 12, 2014


If you are like me and have graduated with a degree after slogging it out at your respective University campuses amongst sipping goon and deriving nicknames with meanings that would make the dirtiest sailor blush, you may find yourself completely qualified yet still aching to find someone to employ you.

You are completely capable of any sort of employment (if it doesn't involve Quantum Physics) but still NO, you can't seem to find any sort of work in the field of the degree that you studied for. Chances are, you studied Communications.


I've been a good little intern for the better part of four years, so with that much experience, surely I would have scored a well paying job by now, or at least an entry level position? WRONG.

Here are some helpful tips to aid the tedious, lonely days of unemployment.

1. Tell yourself you are going to learn a new language. Hey, even if you don't ever look up any sort of Thai phrasing, you can still hold that within yourself and it will be great to tell your roommates when they eventually arrive home from work. Keep your iphone at the ready, if they ask you to spout the phrases that you have learned that day and hope to christ they don't know the actual pronunciation of the word. You will look as though you aren't just slumming it and that you still have brain capability despite the 50 bongs you smoked just to get through the day.

2. Practice your best Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band knee slide. Chuck on your socks and make this a common practice from around 10:30am-12 (the hours between breakfast and lunch). You will work up an appetite while keeping those ass cheeks in tact babe. You know what unemployment can do to a girl, it can make cunts that you don't care about tell you how you should look to be sexually desirable. Because that's all us girls want, to be sexually desirable. Thanks so much for saying so babe. Here is your inspiration for those knee slides [WATCH IT, SERIOUSLY] (pop 'Dancing In The Dark' on while doing so):

3. Maybe you should look into starting your own business. I know many times a Terrigal Car Boot Market has been enough to tide me over but think bigger than that. But for the love of GOD don't start another fucking fashion blog. I honestly don't understand those things, or who buys into those things- but hey, I also don't understand how people don't like Rage Against The Machine. I tell you what we need more of? We need more people going out to clubs, pubs, and raves and critiquing the dance moves of the punters inside. That shit would be hilarious.

4. Make a weekly bucket list. It can be anything from learning how to make a delicious schnitzel to finally egging your ex-boyfriend's car. Perhaps it may include shaving your head while watching American History X or touching yourself while watching Dr.Phil. Whatever tickles your fancy, no one is home because they are out making a living so no judgement.

5. Learn the entire lyrical component to Shaggy's back catalogue and make it your business to slip it casually into conversation without anyone noticing.

6. Write shit reviews on Trip Advisor for all the places who knocked you back after the interview process under  the name 'Ken Done', then go paint a fucking picture of your feelings.

7. Ask yourself why you aren't as successful as Rihanna even though you are the same age as her, then go buy 16 sausage rolls and eat them all without taking a breath while crying over a framed picture of your University Degree and listening to 'Pon De Replay'. Still not sure what that even means.

8. Learn to play the bongos, grow your hair really long, and take up fire breathing. Keep yourself this way for a few months then rock up to a social event cleanly shaved and in a three piece suit and introduce yourself under another name. Keep this going until someone realises then socially ostracise them from the group.

9. Start jotting down all the great points about how right now are the glory days, then put them in a time capsule and plan to open it when you are 85 and sitting on a porch somewhere drinking peach iced tea.

10. Dress up in traditional colonial garb, go down to The Rocks and pretend to the tourists that you are from the past and you are looking for the time portal back to 1789.

11. Tattoo a picture of your ex boyfriend/girlfriend's face on your back, take a photo of it, upload it to Facebook and friend request them. Then sit back, sip on your Yakult and wait.

12. Write a convicted criminal a letter. Way funner than Tinder.

13. Create your own conspiracy theory website about any topic. Literally any topic or moment from history and watch The Daily Mail cover it.

14. Think about joining the Australian Federal Police and then realise that you must have a manual license to join, forget about it, and secretly practice chicken winging perpetrators on your teddy bears while screaming, "GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!"

15. Don't bother following any of this advice at all, just spend your days refreshing your e mail, smoking cigarettes, and listening to 'Night Moves' on repeat. 

Sometimes you just have to take solace in the fact that tramps like us, baby we were born to run.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014


With the excessive exposure that we as humans have to social media, we have become a little bit cynical to our fellow man, especially when doused in ‘X PRO II’. My Instagram feed ranges from those who only post pictures of themselves or others out on the turps or I have the pleasure of eyeballing some huge titties in bralettes at JUST the right angle.

It seems my friends are following the same types of people. Over many a cheap wine we have discussed the types of people who come under certain categories defined by how they are received by the opposite or same sex. It is here I will delve into those categories and explain them each, leaving you to wonder what type of food are you?

DISCLAIMER: Now I realise this is all very shallow, but welcome to this site. Fuck it.


A dude or a chick defined as a schnitzel is one who appeals to all types of people. She/ he is a regulation hottie. They will catch the eye of your fixie riding, tattoo laden, akubra toting hipster and will also have the buff stereosonic types gagging for a go. The reason behind the schnitzel name is that everyone loves a fucking schnitzel. When there is a schnitzel special going on down at your local, there is no way you will opt for the $30 steak, am I right? A piece of delicious schnitzel is an all rounder, one that satiates all kinds of people, and looks great doused in gravy. Don’t be shy in admitting you are a schnitzel, sometimes you are just such a raging babe that all men/women run to you like you are shelter on a stormy day. There is no shame in this, these people exist and they are walking among you every day. Although sometimes I feel sorry for a schnitzel as all forms of people usually bother them, many of who do not appeal to them. Having to bat away suitors with a timber log must be tiring for them and I really think we should have some sort of half marathon to combat the ever-rising perils of a schnitty.


Mushrooms aren’t just a delicious option while slathering up your schnitty. Mushrooms are people too, you know. They are the gentle medium between a schnitzel and a sushi. They appeal to the general public but then again there are some people who are just like, “Ta, but seeya”. This is explained by the fact that mushrooms are generally well liked. Vegetarians and people who like to shell out for a big breakfast especially enjoy them. While a mushroom may not exactly catch the attention of every man and his dog, they definitely produce some serious neck cricks from perving and the like. When checking out a mushroom, you will know that you are attracted to them, but may not realise why. Until later on when you wake up from your weird sex dream about them, and then you realise that this is the reason that mushrooms produce wild hallucinations. People will still tag their mates on their instagram photos, although perhaps instead of needing a timber log, the mushies can get away with beating off the babes with some kindling.


Now sushi is certainly a lovely choice for lunch. It’s light, refreshing and comes with wasabi. However, if you are a sushi then you may not be getting all of the attention you want from every person you meet. While discussing these categories, I would like to add, the original discussion only consisted of schnitzels and snails. However, we quickly discovered that this assessment wasn’t fair and we had to create some sort of middle ground to cover all bases. A sushi is the tender little middle ground between what everyone deems as babe’n and those people who have a particular sense of taste. A sushi is a type of girl/boy who may fit a particular style. For example, your Sarah Blasko types or your dudes who are running a look similar to those in Blur. Seems like every guy is at the moment, but that’s beside the point. The point being that if you are a sushi, you do pretty well and you aren’t particularly bothered by the masses. This will probably lead you to kissing/boning those who you are also attracted to. A fellow sushi perhaps? We all have our PBs.


So what category do you fit under Jess? Well, here it is. I know I am a snail, I have said this for years, and the reason has always stayed the same when people ask why, I simply reply, “Because I am an acquired taste”. Surprisingly it doesn’t mean that I slay it with French men. Although, I’m sure Manu might eye fuck me if he has had one too many pinots. Snails are those people who definitely do not appeal to the masses; in fact the majority may even find them a little confusing. But the people, who froth on a snail, REALLY froth on a snail. They make it their mission to try a snail. If you are a snail, you may be a woman who has been called “sir” a couple of times, or you may be a guy who gets called some sort of homophobic slur on a regular basis. Jokes on those dicks because meanwhile you are slaying it with the minority. Everyone loves an underdog, don’t they? If you are a snail, then you will know because you have been asked multiple times to give out your friends numbers/told to move seats so the courter may be closer to a non-snail/pashed some serious babes in your time/been the one who chases.

So I hope I have given you some sort of fucked up insight into my head. But I suppose if you are reading this, you would have already known that I love a metaphor- especially when it comes to babes. Plus, lets be honest all food is delicious….except onions. If you are an onion I will swipe to the right on Tinder.

Thursday, March 6, 2014


If you have been hiding under a rock, then I will have to explain to you that Mountain Sounds Festival takes place NEXT WEEKEND on March 15 and Mt. Penang Parklands!

This is like the ultimate outdoor house party that you could have ever dreamed while sipping your cruisers planning a big night out on the town. This will be the party to end all parties and if you haven't already bought your ticket yet- then what are you waiting for?



1. There is a stage called 'CLUB MOD'. Fuck off mate. This will be where you can check your spines at the door as you slowly morph into Alex Mack and slip and slide around the wet and wild conditions of this stage. Prepare to get weird.

2. Its only $89. Thats not even a pair of Lee Jeans which end up fraying on you anyway. That is literally 4.25 packs of ciggies if you buy them from the petrol station. $89 is like a meal at the cowrie. An entree, probably- I don't know, Ive never eaten there as I have been to poor. BUT GUESS WHAT! I am unemployed and I am still not poor enough to miss out on Mountain Sounds Festival.


3. It is located in our home town. THE CENNY COAST M8! When do we ever have anything happening here ever? Let alone something as fucking amazing as this festival. YOU CAN EVEN BRING YOUR OWN COUCH. What? Get your pointer fingers off their lazy chip snacking asses and make them click their way onto Ticketbooth to nail down one of those tix.

4. Chances are, some of your mates are actually playing. Be a mate. Grab a ticket and show some support for the guy who has most likely spotted you a scooie at one time or another. The festival boasts some of the freshest acts out there at the moment, and they are all home grown.

5. What a way to spend a weekend. The silly season is well and truly over, admit it. I know we are all clutching at "the cheapest bottle of plonk on your menu please", so why not have one last hurrah before getting stuck into 2014? Mountain Sounds Festival is the ultimate post summer cure. Did I mention it is meant to be 29 degrees and sunny that day? I just don't think sitting at home watching season after season of Grey Anatomy is going to cut it on the 15th. I just dont.

So go on.
Stop putting this shit off.
Get yourself a ticket to Mountain Sounds Festival RIGHT NOW.
Because according to my sources, tickets are almost sold out.




Monday, March 3, 2014


I remember the first time I heard Washington's voice. It was at the tail end of a Spicks and Specks episode that I just happened to flick onto on my nightly remote surf.

What I heard was enough to stop anyone in their tracks. It was like the first time I heard The Beatles.

She has the voice of an angel who is making giant cupcakes on a fairy floss cloud of emotions. She is a stunning vocalist and talented performer, and here is her new track 'Who Are You'.

It is filled with strumming acoustics and choral vocals, set to whisk you away into the heavens with its innocence, charm, and gentle vibes.

Find more about Megan Washington HERE

Thursday, February 13, 2014



You need to get your friends together and get fucking DRUNK. As luck has it, V Day is on a Friday this year! HOORAY! See, mid week revellers of Valentines usually have the market sewn up with their candlelit dinners, and Sarah McLachlan playlists- but NOT THIS YEAR!
While the lovers are out eating overpriced Thai food, gifting each other with Ped Eggs (to make the spooning smoother), and inevitably passive aggressively fighting about how they both hate each other's friends. Meanwhile....YOU ARE SINGLE ON A FRIDAY! Go out, take a pack of ribbed doms with you, and hopefully a crisp 50 dollar note. This will be all you need to get presumably wasted.
If you prefer to wallow in your own misery/hilarity, watch the latest season of The Bachelor online illegally and slowly pluck away those brain cells much as you would reserve for plucking away the talons of a daisy, scream crying, "HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT!"


Whether you have recently shacked up, or you are well and truly on your way to bickering over which avocado is ripest in the fruit section of Coles. You are lovers. Pity Valentines Day is in February for us Australians who have to deal with pretty scorching summers, while those Northies get to use this time to snuggle up and take contrived black and white selfies of each other, with just a HINT of nipple showing. Down UNDA we have to sweat on each other as we lovers rip the sheets from one another and bargain about who should turn the fan velocity up a notch. Set yourself a picnic, but for Christ's sakes use it as an excuse to get rip roaring drunk in public with your significant other. That is what I'll be doing while hi-fiving that we made it to another Valentines Day without selling each other's kidneys on the black market.


I feel like these guys are going to be the ones clogging the Instagram feeds tomorrow, with the lonely hearts following a close second with all of their ironic banter and SORRY NOT SORRY, LONG HAIR DONT CARE bullshit. Fucking spare me. However, the long term-ers are usually the most annoying and high pitched on days like V Day. The old "just made a bouquet of flowers out of my tears and our ripped up bedspread that we bought together from Ikea" post. Or you will have the "Here is a bowl of blueberry encrusted muesli I made for my love with a non-alcoholic Mimosa". FUCK ME. No hate to all the people in long term relationships, GOOD ON YOU dude. You have made it past the honeymoon period and you have stuck around for ages, and shit seems to be working. If it aint broke, why fix it? You guys will probably enjoy Valentines more than any other, or at least the prettiest one under 'X-PRO II'. Im kidding...


Are we? Aren't we? There is no better way to ruin/define a relationship than Valentines Day. I remember once I relied on V Day to define a relationship by the merit of whether or not I would indeed get the kitten toy that said "I think you're PUUURRRfect" from Hot Dollar. Needless to say, my Valentines Day was devoid of pussy, but did feature some dick. LUCKY ME! I say you young loves enjoy yourselves and don't count on getting a hot dollar pussy. Or maybe do? Go out for drinks (WHY THE FUCK ARE ALL OF MY TIPS RELATED TO GETTING PISSED?) and then go home to one of your parent's houses and discover some nooks and unexplored crannies you never knew you had. V Day may be a great time to introduce some sex toys, you know, to take the pressure off?


Call me! Lets hang!

Thursday, January 30, 2014


There is truth to the statement that it is hard to be friends with an ex. Its not impossible, out of the 6 billion I have, I think I can truly say I am friends with one. It was a long road, but well worth walking in order to salvage a phenomenal friendship.

As someone who is and knows a majority of chicks who have to see their ex-whatevers out and about roaming around in the harsh daylight of failed relationships, I can tell you that it is hard. Toxic, even.

You feign smiles, shake hands, and pretend that you haven't tried to remember what it was like to kiss them.

In the deep dark recesses of unemployment, I have taken to illegally watching The Real World which just so happens to be about a bunch of extremely immature American people, put together in a house with complete strangers, only to be crashed by all of their exes. (When I re-read this, I truly understood how tragic this sounds)

The reaction is much like a possum when it realises a predator is around. Stunned, and with a complete stop to all physical motion. This reaction has much to be said about when you see an ex out and about.

How do you act? What do you say? Why is it still so fucking awkward after so many years? You used to be inside of me and now we act like we both speak separate languages that can only be translated with shifty looks and sipping of vodka pineapples.

I understand that when a relationship eventually ends that the aftermath is usually raw and eye contact is something that can produce dry retching. But years down the line, why is it still so hard to see an ex?

I dont know about anyone else, but when I am talking to someone I have been intimate with, I always have a little voice in the back of my mind that says "He has seen your boobs", then I giggle.

Is it a leftover symptom of the awkward teenage years that we carry on reluctantly into adulthood that we can't acknowledge the existence of an ex for the sheer fact that they might make their MSN name a coded diss towards you or your personal hygiene?

Unless you guys ended up in a brawl with a restraining order making it illegal for you to be in the same vicinity, then why does it have to be so hostile? Cant we all just get along?

& what about when people make your business, theirs? Then what, you have even more people you have to duck and dodge in the hope that you can just have your after beery kebab in peace.

As a perpetual ex-girlfriend, I try and accept the inevitable for what it is- a glorious experience where you got to know someone really intimately and pretty much didn't go for it, it ended. You had sex with each other. They picked you a flower. They told you that you danced like a fucking idiot. You told them they were a fucking idiot. You might have enjoyed the ride as well. But for some reason, things didn't mesh. The timing was off. You were boring. Or they were. Who really gives a fuck anymore.

They always say the hardest part about being an ex is seeing your ex with someone new. But honestly, it doesn't bother me like it used to. I want the best for my exes. I want them to have what I couldn't give them, whether that be some new babe or taking off into the sunset with nothing but themselves. It doesn't really make a difference.

Moral of the story is that it is fucking hard being an ex. So much so, that if you are in a new relationship now, the ex should not even be a worry to you. Unless she keeps buzzing around, acting hurt. Because the beautiful part about relationships is learning shit- and according to experience, that shit means he is still fucking her.