Sunday, March 21, 2010

Dear Prince Charming

Okay, so here's the deal. You show up soon or I'm gone and you miss out on the score of the century.

I've been waiting since I was a little girl for some dashing prince to ride up on his white horse and save my ass. Hell, I even grew my hair just in case you may need to climb through my window Rapunzel style. Yet here I am, almost 25 and looking at sperm donation so I can have children before my eggs shrivel up...and you are nowhere to be seen. If I end up pregnant to my gay best friend via a turkey baster and then you show up,I'm going to kick your scrawny butt to Kingdom come.

You've got 5 years !

You'd better look like Colin Firth too...none of this blue blooded big eared inbred B.S or else I'm going to send you back to your magical kingdom in a galaxy far far away and ask for a refund.
You haven't shown up at any major crisis or turning point in my life either like the books when I had that awful boyfriend with the awful er, personality,when I decided to go brunette, or even the time I ate 6 Darrell Lea Nougat Christmas puddings in a week.
I'm foxy, Prince Charming and I've been putting all of the energy I would have been putting into a boyfriend into my hair and learning to be a better baker.
I make wicked pods. They might not have those where you come from...hell all the more reason for you to rock up here.

Get on your horse and hurry the hell on and save me.
You should get an iphone- my friend Matt has one and he found his way to my house one day no worries at all- and on foot ! If you've got a horse it should be a breeze!

Yours truly,
Your damsel not entirely in distress at the moment but if I continue to be celibate much longer I'll be in more than a little distress if you know what I mean xo

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

The no sex....yeah, about that...

I just read that my blog was like 'the Aussie version of Sex and the city but with less sex'.
I'm not sure whether to hang myself or eat nutella directly from the jar with a spoon.

Um...actually looks like my housemate might have beaten me to that already....

Sooooo...I'm a born again virgin. Woo.

In my defence, I am having a break from men because they only cause me much frustration and heartache. I tried the internet thing again...but had another fail in that department. Turns out I'm emotionally retarded much like my ex boyfriends were and I can't even meet up with somebody for a coffee.

I've been a footloose and fancy free single person for 15 months now, and for a long time I couldn't imagine being any other way but truth be told, I do get a little bit lonely sometimes in the middle of the night, and my bitch face doesn't keep me company then. Yeh, I'm one of those bitter single people who hate everybody.
I think it might have something to do with the fact that the last time I got jiggy with it I was wearing a tracksuit...which means it was cold, which means it was a looooooooooooooooooooooooong time ago. For the first few months I thought I would rip somebody's face off, but now I really can't remember fully what all the fuss is about...okay, that's a lie. I know what I'm missing. Unfortunately foodgasms aren't the's true, you can't replace sex with food, but peanut butter chocolate baskins icecream comes pretty close. I'd hate to have to choose between the two...
( hahah LIES !)
Ahhh sexy time is but a fuzzy memory....but one day we will meet again.
Hopefully I have shaved my legs.

Until we meet again,
Ezz x

Note to self: Shave legs.

The man of my dreams

Let's face it, my Darcy Syndrome has given me a rather whacked out idea of what I want in a man...considering Mr Darcy is just a fictional character and there are no men out there like Mr Darcy... Whatever, I can still have a list, right ?!
Here we go with all the things I want in a partner and a relationship.

*Loyalty- cheating, lying, scum sucking arse faces are so 2008
*Somebody who makes me laugh
*Somebody who loves even my bad bits
*Somebody tolerant
*Somebody who treats their mother well
*Somebody who can build/ fix stuff and not laugh at me when I ask stupid questions about things
* Respect
* Somebody who will do nice little things without needing to be prompted or rewarded
*somebody who understands the importance of the morning shag (and the afternoon shag and the 'instead of watching the football shag' (I realise the last one is merely a myth and has never occured)
*Somebody who never says 'baaaaaaaaabe I'm tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired' UGH
*Somebody who doesn't call me 'babe' Double UGH
*I want somebody to give me THAT look. You know the look I'm talking about. I can't remember the last time somebody gave me that look...
*Somebody who I can tell anything and everything and never feel like I'll be judged.
*Somebody who doesn't make me feel stupid all the time even without meaning to
*Somebody who knows what they want in life
* Somebody with drive and ambition but not so much that they're never home
*somebody who respects my opinion and doesn't just tell me its wrong because it isn't theirs
and the physical stuff
*Darcy sideburns
*nice hands- the sort of hands that could build me a bookshelf or change a nappy
*nice thighs (I have this thigh's unexplainable)

New Years Resolutions

1. Learn to drive...I don't want to be one of those Mum's who catches the bus with a pisses me off enough having to cart my groceries on the bus. Imagine if my groceries puked and cried ?! Gah! Fair enough, walking and getting the bus has not bothered me terribly until now, but I'm not too scared to drive anymore, so here we go ! :)

2. Get into uni... I'll find out in 2 weeks if I got in or not...if I don't I'll reapply at mid year intake. I'd much rather be stabbing the sick people with needles than dealing with them on the front counter.

3. Exercise ! I'd like to be able to go for a jog along the beach instead of just a brisk walk..and to run without being chased....and I love playing tennis,even though I'm not much good at it, it's a sport and I can still wear a skirt. Perfect.

4. Lose the ice queen thing- it worked perfectly for a year. Now, to attract some more douchebags ! Kidding, kidding. If there are nice men out there, who are nice to their mothers and have exceptional personal hygeine,do have them forward me their resumes.

5. Master the art of baking a cake from scratch. None of this Betty Crocker cake mix bullshit, I want to BE Betty Crocker ! I will not stop until I can bake a normal looking cake.

Easy peasy.

Much love,
the soon to be fitter, thinner, a better baker and possibly loved up Ezz xox

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Just a few things you should know about me

I am the most indecisive person you will ever meet. I can't make decisions from simple things like what I'm going to cook for dinner, or what colour I'm going to have my hair let alone anything of importance. I often find myself regretting certain decisions I have made because after they have happened( or while they are happening) I realise I should have made the other decision. It's so annoying...but I continue to do it. If life handed me less options I think I'd be stuck standing at that stupid fork in the road less. It's like a choose-your-own-adventure book but I always choose the option that ends in a fiery death instead of the one that leads me to the hidden treasure. Every time the option I choose ends in a sodden tissue tear fest that involves me binge eating and becoming a big fat heffer.

I now know that when I chose which man to love, I chose the wrong one. They were both the wrong one. Now I'm a bitter whore faced bitch. I really like that about myself. I wish I had balls of steel like this a year and a half ago. They would have served me very well.

I don't do things in halves. Ever. (Except washing up)
If I love you I'll give you my last $20 or my kidney. I'll do anything for you, until you do the wrong thing.
There are just some things you have to put everything you have into. Even though I find this screws me over sometimes, I feel I have always given 100% to everything and everyone.

There is only room in my life to despise any one person at any one time. If I find a new person I want to despise, I have to forgive the old one. Otherwise it's too much hard work. Haha. Anybody who knows me really well will know who the top 3 hated/forgiven people have been in the past few years.

When I'm excited or nervous or scared I become irritatingly pitchy... guys, and dogs hate it.

The number one thing that people say about me is that I am 'cute'.

The number one thing I hate people saying about me is that I am 'cute'.

If I need to fight, I fight. If I know theres no point I have no problem walking away. Very few people outside of work have actually seen me angry, and those who have were scared ! Don't MAKE me get my big voice out! Being angry makes me go bright red and aint pretty.

If I don't say anything you can pretty much guarantee that you're being a spectacular asshole and I'm just trying not to make a big display in public or keeping the peace for the sake of keeping a friendship. This isn't me being gutless, even though you seem to think it is.

I think farts are funny. They always have been and always will be. End of discussion

One of the biggest things I have had to overcome is my fear of failure...unfortunately I do fail at most things, which prevented me from applying to uni...until I did apply and I have failed at that. Once I've failed at it, I have no problem trying it again, which is how I managed to have three boyfriends and how I'll get into nursing. Haha.

My number one fear is being buried in a coffin. My number two fear is Megan Gale- that bitch is scary. Have you seen the godzilla sized posters of her in David Jones? Shudder.

My favourite place in the world is Santorini. I WILL get married there. I don't care who to at this point.

The first boy I ever loved was Nathan Darby and I fell in love with him in the sandpit at preschool. I never said anything. In year 12 I got placed in a class with him at Grafton high and I told him. He said it was a bit late. Haha

I have never said 'I love you' first , but I have always said 'I love you' last.

I am so uncoordinated I scare myself sometimes (and others haha). It's not uncommon for me to punch myself in the head or walk into walls.

When my dad had a heart attack a few years ago my perspective on everything changed.

I believe you never know when you're telling somebody that you love them for the last time. You never know which kiss is going to be the last one. Things turn to shit so quickly, you never really stop to enjoy things when they're happening and then they're gone. Enjoy every minute with the people you love.
Never go to bed on an argument- wise words from my mum.

I'm a big believer in 'everything happens for a reason' and I'm excited to find out the reason... If my mum hadn't moved to Tamworth, she would never have gotten a job at the ANZ bank, and she would never have become best friends with my dad...and they would never have had ME!!! I have met all of the beautiful people in my life because of the decisions that we have all made.

My favourite alchoholic beverage is a long island iced tea, but you can't go past the old scotchy scotch...with diet a long glass. Get it for me in a short glass and you're just asking for trouble.

I like botox, I've had botox.I'm a massive fan and always will be. Suck it up. Just because I can't move my forehead doesn't mean I can't convey how I'm feeling. I can always reach out and punch you in the face.

I am jealous of my friends who have babies and husbands for the same reasons they are jealous of me for being single.

My favourite colour is aqua or turquoise or whatever they are calling it these days.

If and only if I am seriously intoxicated or seriously upset will I light up a fag.

I have accepted that I am never anybody's first option but one day I hope to be...and at this point in time I'm not willing to settle for anybody less than Mr Perfect with the sun shining out his ass.

I'm not perfect, nor do I aim to be. I aim to be a good person, and I think I do a very good job at it.

I cry a lot. When I'm happy, when I'm sad, when Morgan tried on a wedding dress, the last time I said goodbye to my parents, while watching Home and Away, that time I wanted a pluto pup so desperately and when I bit into it it was a battered sausage(they are NOT the same thing!) sometimes when babies cry at get the picture.

I'm an old fashioned causes me a lot of disappointment. Mr Darcy pretty much has ruined my dating life as we know it because nobody is actually Mr Darcy...

I am my funniest when I'm seriously SERIOUSLY pissed off. Somehow anger fuels my best material.

Don't ever, ever wake me up. Unless the house is on fire, I don't want to know about it.

I might whinge and rant about my family sometimes but I will love them until the day I die. They shit me but they're supposed to. I'm no angel- I give them all the shits too.
I don't appreciate people thinking they can randomly diss my family. They are MINE and only I can rant. They do some fantastic things for me as well, but I'm often so busy being a little bitch that I dont go on about the great things. That's just how I am. I love my parents, I talk to them everyday. If you think that's weird, maybe you should make more of an effort with your own family.

I am the manners Nazi. My children are going to be born saying please and thankyou. I think manners should be a subject at school and are equally important as learning your times tables. People without manners at work constantly irritate me. I have no problem correcting people on their manners- obviously their mothers didn't teach them. Too bad if they're 55.

In the last few years I have become the sort of person who calls back to apologise. I was NEVER that person. But now, I will walk away and realise what a shithead I was and call back. I think I'm really growing in that department.

I believe Tofu is evil. It's just trying to be something it's not. You can't be a meat substitute. It's sneaky too, it rocks up in all sorts of places you don't expect it to be, sometimes camoflauging itself in a chicken dish. Never trust sneaky foods like tofu.

I hate it when people think I'm shallow. I'm not. Maybe when it comes to thinking about myself...but never when it comes to others. I like to look nice for me, not for other people. I don't give a shit about what you're wearing. I just care that you shower sufficiently.

I like pretty things. I'm a girl. I don't like it when people judge me because I bought myself a big arse diamond ring. Why not ?! Why not have a shitload of diamonds if that's what I like ?! Better that I spend it on something worthwhile and not on crack isnt it ? I don't expect people to buy them for me, I would never expect that. So before you judge me and pity the poor bastard who has to buy me a diamond engagement ring consider that maybe the man that I fall in love with might not be able to buy me one. Who the hell cares ?! Maybe he'll buy me a massive one. My life isn't going to be determined by how many carats I get on my third finger. If you think that I think that, then maybe you should reconsider being my friend.

I am fiercely protective of the cds that I love that people pick on me about. Keith Urban didn't do anything to you so quit paying him out. He's a good man, and he has done more for me in a heartbreak crisis than any of you.

I binge eat. There is nothing better to take your mind off feeling like you're going to die than eating twice your body weight in junk food and knowing that you might actually die and that it would make you feel better. Nothing helps you put things into perspective like acid reflux.

I plan to have children. If I don't have a husband, I'll have them anyway. I'm naming my first son Atticus, even though the general consensus is that it's a shitty shitty horrible name. Too bad, so sad.

Oh, and I say what I'm thinking. I generally don't have a brain to mouth filter. Some people find it refreshing, some people don't like to hear the truth.

My dream is to be a midwife, or some sort of nurse. I'm good with people, and I'm compassionate. If you don't think I can do this, how about you keep your opinions to yourself. Hearing I'm going to be a shit nurse doesn't exactly boost my confidence when I've spent a year doing preparation exams and stressing my guts out about getting in to uni. I will do it. And I'll be a great nurse. I'd want me to be my nurse and that's saying something.

You might think I'm boring and lame and that I should go out and shag lots of people and get drunk and 'have a life' but there is nothing wrong with the life I have thanks. I enjoy cooking, reading and baking. It's my outlet. Cooking won't get me pregnant to some douchebag with a low IQ and an imported car with big wheels with a southern cross tattoo, nor will it give me herpes. Cooking does actually keep me company, and if I continue to eat the way I have been, it will keep me warm at night also, especially during the winter.

I am 100% behind body pillows. Body pillows aren't sad. They are pure genius.

I'm a softy. I'll sneak you on the list at work if I think you have a good enough reason, I'll pay for somebody's bus ticket if they don't have anything smaller than a $50, I will walk an old lady to show her where her accountant's office is even if it's out of the way, whatever. But I'm not a pushover. I have had my weak moments and some of my friends have witnessed weak years, lots of tears and more than a few low moments. But let's not remind me of this every time I cry about something. I'm not necessarily losing my shit just because I'm crying over home and away. If I haven't thrown myself off a building by now, I'm not going to. I'm pretty tough you know, but I'm only human.

If you don't like me, or you think I'm a pretentious fake little so and so, or that I'm stupid and I have no idea about things because my opinions on things don't match your opinions then you don't know me at all.

I would do anything for you, but would you do the same for me ?

Dear Valentines Day

Dear Valentines Day,

This time last year you messed with my mind & my emotions & mocked me by not letting me into the cinema by offering freebies for hand holdy couples, dashing my hopes to see a movie by myself & eat my weight in self pity popcorn.
You also jammed my video player so I couldn't watch Pride & Prejudice which was very bad for my Darcy Syndrome.
You also helped me to discover than my ex boyfriend had not only deleted all of my old photos, but also the DVD player programs off my laptop when he helpfully cleared off my laptop causing me to send him a cringeworthy message asking for help, which he did not reply to because he was no doubt too busy shagging the girl he left me for...this made it very hard to watch the Sex and the City dvd that I bought at the shops after I couldn't get into the movies....and then all that was left was to have a bath and drink a bottle of wine and not drown...I did hope for the drowning bit, in case you didn't notice.

Unfortunately I do remember the last couply Valentines day, and I spent that one alone too....and my boyfriend didn't buy me flowers because you're a shitty holiday and you jacked up the price of flowers by three times and he was a terry tight arse. Thanks for the oriental lillies....NOT !

This year, I am older & wiser & have pre-booked my movie tickets.
Also, I don't need a man as you suggest, as I will be travelling on Brisbane transport this weekend and will be screwed sufficiently by them.

You wont be making me cry this year, but thanks anyway for trying...

Love Erin x

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

The Letterbox Lover

I'm still not entirely sure if I've gotten over the trauma of this, but I will do my best to explain how it went down.

Okay, so when I moved to the GC at the beginning of the year, my 'best friend'
(I use the term loosely when talking about this guy, because she actually dated him herself and shows absolutely no remorse for hooking the two of us up. I think it's because she hates me, but that's another story entirely) offered to set me up with a guy friend of hers because she thought we'd get along really well. I was in the market for some new guy friends and apparently he was keen to show me around.
So we exchanged email addresses etc and got to chatting on msn.
After about 2 months of some really great chatty chats online, we decided to meet up and
have coffee. He kept saying 'next weekend, babe' blah blah. Whatever, totally not into me, but that's fine. I was a bit miffed really, because we got along really well and I thought we'd be mates. Anyway, one night, while riding home from the pub on his pushie, he decides it's definitely the time to meet. 100%. Can't change his mind, is on the way to my house right now ('where do you live, exactly?!').
It was midnight, I just got home from a night shift and I really couldn't be arsed, but I figured, why the hell not ?! Because I didn't care too much, I just rolled out of bed, put on a singlet and some ripped of levis that my arse hangs out of and went out the front to meet him. That is me not caring, and I thought that was the best way to meet somebody who obviously wasn't into me and who I obviously wasn't into (If I was interested there is no way in hell that I would have worn pants that make my thighs look like that).
I said we had to sit on my letterbox because my housemate was asleep and he said ooooooookay. Anyway, I'm just chitty chatting as I do, asking him about work and discussing with him the upcoming Krudd stimulus payments and how I planned on stimulating the economy. I was in the middle of talking about how I should pay off my credit cards, but in all reality was going to end up buying new shoes when he started rubbing my shoulders. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeird. I was like, okay, and kept talking because when I'm uncomfortable I chat....and getting a massage from a person who I only met like 5 minutes ago totally makes me uncomfortable. Anyway, I'm still talking about shoes when he turns my head around and attempts to pash me in a Mills and Boon like fashion. My body was facing one way and my head the other, so it wasn't exactly the most passionate position. The next part prompted me to invent the term 'face rape'. It's a bit hard to object to something when somebody has their entire tongue down your throat and is somehow managing to cover the rest of your head, neck and torso with saliva. As quickly as the pash attack began, it stopped. And normal conversation continued....for another 30 seconds at least anyway. Then it was on for young and old, and everybody, apparently, except me. It wasn't doing anything for me, but I couldn't SAY anything, or even back away (because I was perched on my letterbox!). I started compiling a shopping list in my head. I started wondering where that coral headscarf I once had got to. I wondered what time I could get in to the nail lady the next day. This was possibly the worst pash of my life. I didn't think it got much worse than the first and last kiss I had with a boyfriend in year 11 who slobbered into my mouth in such a horrid fashion that I backed away from him and fell into a bin in front of the entire junior school. Bad. Very bad. The worst part was that he left me there with my arse in the bin and didn't help me up. Ha ! Worse than that. IMAGINE ?!
I was pretty stunned for most of this entire ordeal....and when he came up for air I managed to say 'What the HELL was that ?! Was I not just talking about stimulating the economy?!' which he answered with another full on pashola which was a scary mix of intense sucking, licking, slobbering, and normal kissing.
Anyway, the kissing continued for quite some time, and I must say I wasn't so much kissing back as trying to remove his tongue from my mouth with my own tongue.... Then it started getting a little more than PG 13. On my letterbox ! At midnight ! Directly under the street light. Now is NOT the time to try and get the girls out, buddy !! The neighbours ! OH GOD, THE NEIGHBOURS! When I thought it couldn't get any worse, he started to dry hump, I repeat: dry hump my leg. MY LEG ! On my letterbox! At midnight !!! Under the street light !
Oh well this was all a bit too much for me. After he panted 'can I come in, babe' I thought it best to take his pashing as a sign that baby making was out of the question, and thanked myself for being a lazy hoe and not cleaning my room for months. I made my excuses....and off he rode on his pushbike. Random. Never to be repeated. Ever.