Friday, January 29, 2016


People always go on about heart break and all that jazz. How you can't get out of bed, and how it hurts to even begin to order your cronut at the local bakery. How you dream about that person over and over again until you buy yourself some dreamcatcher off Ebay and have it flown express from Nimbin straight to your door. But not many people chat about what its like to be just cut. 

You haven't had your heart broken, but you can definitely feel somewhat rattled by catching feelings like a fucking idiot. Being cut doesn't extend to those who had a dalliance with someone either. You could be cut because you got to Medicare a couple of minutes late, or maybe you stubbed your toe, or maybe you're cut because you texted someone at 3am and have never received a response back, or you could be at a cafe and all of your mates ordered something incredible and you got stuck with yoghurt and muesli because you read the health section of the Sunday paper and regretted it immediately. Everyone gets cut, i think at least each week of their lives, and there needs to be a definitive guide in how to deal with feeling like shit but not to the point where you'll care in a couple of days.

1. Start smoking. Hell, theres no better way than to have an existential moment and contemplate your life while listening to 'Regulate' than with a smooth rillo in your hand. You can assess your life while simultaneously ending it at the same time! Two birds, one stone and all that. Start asking strangers for a light as if you're some sort of 1986 video vixen and begin talking about how VHS will eventually make a comeback in an old timey accent until you are asked to the leave the premises by a security guard. Hit on said security guard and then go the fuck home.

2. Start exercising. But do all those stupid niche trendy classes that come and go like thunderstorms in Sydney. Tell anyone who will listen about your dancing in the dark class, or how you spent the last half an hour in gym tights balancing on bollards down The Rocks while some dude who actually looks like a human shit screamed at you to FEEL DA BURN. Or maybe you could start your own class where you gather all of the council pick up rubbish and run over it on a motorised scooter. I heard thats great for the core. Make sure you mention this to all of your friends who are stinging to get away from you as you smell like pilates mats and old hair.

3. Get drunk. Get drunk everywhere and make sure that at least one person sees your undies per evening on the tins. Whether it be a cheeky slip of the jeans while making eye contact with a 78 year old across the local RSL, or if you actually go A over T while trying to create good karma for yourself by picking up the 5 cents that someone dropped in the line for fuel at the local Caltex. You haven't driven to the Caltex as you will be drunk, you've just walked there to get a family sized packet of M and Ms which you can eat naked in your bed in around 15 minutes while spooning your laptop and wanking to old episodes you've downloaded of The Secret Life Of Us.

4. Take a Thai food cooking class because why not just make shit worse for yourself? If you are the self destructive type, then I suggest the following:
- Thai cooking class.
- Download Tinder
- Tell your nan to fuck off.
- Order a Nicoise Salad at the pub on schnitzel night.
- See a dog and don't pat it.
- Corner a stranger at the pub and lecture them on The Doors.
- Drink Sambucca.
- Listen to Jewel.
- Write slam poetry and actually perform it somewhere in Zetland on a Tuesday night in front of actual people.
- Start wearing your swimmers as underwear and tell people about it with a sad look on your face.
- Cook a cheesecake and bring it into work to share with everyone, and then when people give you a piece say "Nah, im watching my figure".
- Cough a bit for a day and then Web MD it.
- Talk to your friends about taking down and putting up your Christmas tree.
- Masturbate to Justin Bieber.
- Watch the new Point Break.
- Write Yelp reviews.
- Buy a packet of scotch fingers and then throw it to pigeons.

5. Once you've come out of the initial shock of stubbing your toe etc, you will realise that you're no longer cut, you're a bit of alright. Once this has set in, you my friend have begun the healing process and its time to rip that band aid off. Hit up a club night that you used to go to when you were 20, demand free entry to the 19 year old door bitch and then once you're in there take a pill like you used to, dance like no one is watching, and then begin the process all over again the following day as you have just cut your own self and you now know that life is just a giant spinning wheel of bullshit of your own making.

Sunday, January 24, 2016


Im known for misinformed judgements, and this will be no different. A little while ago I made some comments about the men who frequent the harbourside city of Sydney and now its the girls turn. What you may not know is that I am indeed a woman who resides in the luxurious city of Sydney and in my travels I have met many a man and woman who fall into certain categories. I do love me some categories, so here goes.


So you will definitely know at least one of these girls. They drink their kale juices, and buy their Lorna Jane, and run their Bondi to Bronte but what they also do is take pingaz from Friday-Sunday. Their insatiable appetite for house music and railing off of a toilet bowl at The Bucket List will always top their need for overpriced pilates and rating dudes on Tinder according to their radius to Chris Brown aka The Bondi Vet. They usually reside somewhere east, but would go to Frankie's after work on a Friday to keep up with what the kewl people do. Fuck you if you think they are going to order some pizza though. They are gluten and skateboard intolerant and will not speak to you if you don't have the latest Free Runs in your closet. They love fluro but only on their feet, and almost definitely have some sort of skin care idea in their pipeline. #cleaneating is their mantra, however if you need a dealer at 4am, this chick is your girl. Fuck they froth on acai.


The complete opposite of the Clean Chix. They have the beginning stages of emphysema but know the cousin of the dog's uncles bassist of the band who played at the Lansdowne last year. They can direct you to the best prosciutto in the city, while if you fucking think they are going to shuffle their Doc Martens anywhere past Waterloo then you my friend are sorely mistaken. They date absolute fuckwits who they think they can change, but really he just wants a bed spread from Urban Outfitters to cover his skinny legs before he has to get up and bump in the latest mini festival at a bowling club. They refuse to play by the rules, sneaking Beach Burrito into the Enmore for a Courtney Love show (true story) while finding it hard to leave the warm and sweaty embrace of Clem's chicken shop on King Street. Their air of mystery is always lost somewhere into the third hour at The Courthouse as they fall gracefully down the stairs into a full ashtray and think to themselves "I am home".


You know the type. They are breaking balls and cracking through that glass ceiling all day while at night will be tripping over their patent nude heels in a pencil skirt while ordering a mojito at Barrio Cellar. They trot through the city in the morning with hope in their hearts and John Mayer through their headphones, while hoping that their ass doesn't get pinched by some yuppie on their way through Wynyard station. They are immune to the beauty of Circular Quay as they have been coerced into attending WAY too many Vivid Festivals that they now have to wear glasses in order to not be colourblind. They know the bouncer at The Glenmore and can get you a free shot at Opera Bar with one flick of their security pass. They wear shimmer tights but don't let the glittery limbs of this chick fool you, she will fucking ruin you if you try and get in her the crossing on George Street. Each morning she should be holding the fucking Olympic torch for she can out run Cathy Freeman with the speediness in her trot and a spirit that can't be broken by the money on her Opal card stalling.


So this has turned into a bit of a blight on suburbs. Soz. Oh fuck me. They are always embroiled in some sort of Hens night situation. You will find them on Oxford Street complaining about how Shark Bar in Manly was a way better option and thats where they would be if their boyfriend of 12 years would finally propose. Nah, but its coming hey. Im sure of it, we spoke about it in 2009 and he said he was not really into it, but boys are just scared! On the aforementioned street, they will be yelling things such as "EW!" to humble passers by who just happen to be sick in the street. Its not that big of a deal. Their dad knows the police commissioner so don't even think you can upstream her in a cab line. She mourns the closing down of Hugo's everyday by lighting a salted caramel candle and rubbing Aesop products on her bikini line. You think you know her, but you never will. Just look up her fashion blog if you want to get a better idea though.


They are always the one at the bar buying the first round of VBs. She is ushering in the group of LADS who are stinging to get to Porkys so they can throw their wads of fives around while trying to think of an excuse to tell their mums the next day as Macca tagged them there when he was in the toilet. Fuck you Macca! She doesn't get along with other girls, she tells fucking everyone this. She knows the latest deals on at Lowes (so do I to be fair) she doesn't give a shit about calling you a cunt in front of your grandmother. She calls all her mates cunts, its a term of endearment, fucking Buzzfeed told me so!  She posts quotes on Instagram because she wants to reveal her true feelings, but hates feminists with a fiery passion as they are just man haters and she loves her bros because they will beat the shit out of anyone who orders a hot dog from the servo before her.

Lets be honest but, if you ever have the pleasure of having a vagina in your face count your fucking lucky stars as all women are beautiful, mystical creatures who will steal your heart and your wallet if you're not careful.