The First Cut Is Always The Deepest

I promised myself I’d try and post every day.

But what can you honestly write about every day without sounding like a prized moan?

I mean I had a weird ass dream last night that one of the girls in my hockey team (and not the one I actually think it is) is dating my ex (the coach – and yes cue the “don’t shit where you eat” remark all you like) and it made me livid. There was nasty comments (mainly me pointing out that she’s to stupid to achieve anything and he’s stuck in a dead end job that makes him look like someone who couldn’t succeed as a police officer due to their lack of an IQ and decided to do security instead), skimpy bathers and creepy ass hotels that let you into a movie theatre wearing bikinis and no shoes. I MEAN WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I’m never ever ever having hot chocolate before bed EVER again.

But when I woke up it also gave me that sinking realisation that I was far from over that over-confident-chimney-smoking-snap-back-wearing boy and that I really hadn’t let go in any way what so ever. It was crushing. I was lying in bed freezing cold and struggling to breathe. It was like I was suddenly drowning in all the emotions I’d felt the day I realised I was in love with him but that there was no way in hell we’d ever make the distance. He wasn’t ready, hell he’ll probably never be ready. But here I am stuck with all these feelings and no boxes left in my mind to store them.

Can I buy more boxes? More brain boxes that is. For storing all of the things I don’t know how to deal with. Seriously. I don’t even. I need something to clean out my brain. Like a brain vacuum? Suck up all the crap all the boys and when I say all I mean all I mean the ones that don’t call and the ones that call too much, the ones that buy me flowers for weeks then stop without a note, the ones that want to see me more than I can even comprehend and the ones that are completely oblivious to the feelings they stir.

And what sucks even more is that YOU ALL read this.

And then get all offended and hurt and blah about it and make me deal with your tantrums and your pain and your issues with the realisation you’re not perfect and not every girl is going to want to be your damsel in distress.


The Morals Of “Don’t Shit Where You Eat”

It’s been a long ass few weeks. I’ve learnt a lot. About myself. But more about people and their incessant need to screw me over at least once every two days or twice every day. I can’t remember.

But the biggest thing I’ve learnt is that the proverb “don’t shit where you eat” is something I am incapable of heeding. What. So. Ever. I mean seriously who even came up with that cheesy line relating to sleeping with people you work or train or have close constant contact with? SERIOUSLY SCREWING ME OVER.

Cue the photo summery of my last month or two.

There has been Queensland, Pugcakes, More Queensland (with that guy that’s in love with another girl and completely oblivious to the people around him and the fact that there might actually be a girl sitting there feeling those feelings for him but is having to lock them in a safe and tie them to an anchor and be his bestie with he cries into a kilo of strawberries) Movie World, 360 Utopia Tour, and last but certainly not least The Cat Empire. And there has been that don’t shit where you eat rule being broken more times than I really want to think about.

Either I have a problem.

Or Karma has it in for me this year.

But how far does this “rule” apply? Is it just your workplace or workplaces surrounding your workplace? And why oh why does it always end so badly? It’s always more awkward and painful than any other awkward and painful situation but why?


And why does it come with such crippling emotions? At what point was it decided that you had to fall so much harder for the people you spend too much time with in the first place? It’s not fair. The feels are wrong!

Because I owe Bella This

So I promised a friend at work I’d write a post about events that have passed in the last week (and yes I know I’ve skipped over the events of the last few months) but as I sat thinking about what to write it changed from outrageous indignation to a weird realisation that without these people I’d be very very lost.

And no, to the little squirt who decided to call me out on my chosen way of writing my blog, I haven’t forgotten about you, but I do know who you are. 

So to B and E and M you three might not realise it but you are the weird glue that pulled me back together when I was spiralling down into a dark dark place. You reminded me that life goes on, that you can laugh even when your life literally could not suck any more than it already did. There were days that I didn’t want to get out of bed, that getting up and going to work was the last thing I wanted to do, and then I’d fall into work and there you’d all be laughing about someones fat pants and how the twins share a boyfriend, the names people have and the frustration of people acting like the only reason we work in a juice bar is because we clearly are brain dead zombies that need ever freaking detail of the drink explained down to the weight and size of the strawberries, and you’d remind me why living is so worth it. It’s not the big things, it’s not grades, or money, or even being successful that matters. What really counts is the people around you, making you hiccup with laughter almost every day, friends that create a weird and sometimes awkward family that you’d rather be embarrassed with while the drink home made goon punch out of old water bottles and dance to bonkers in the back of your car than live without. And to S (who also is the loudest speculator of what is actually going on behind closed doors I’ve ever met especially considering how innocent you are it really does scare me that you were wondering out loud if T and M were still fully clothed and if not what was happening)  you are more than just the adorable blonde that we can’t imagine life without even when you’re drunk because lets be honest using a twister mat as a blanket was actually pretty attractive. You help us all get along, you are forever happy and endlessly kind and you stop all the negativity we bring to work from over flowing and help us forget just for the hours we spend in that silly little booth. And to all my other work friends to C (the baker extraordinary) and R (who threw up everywhere) and E (cuteness) and S (clearly evil) and J (the richest guy we know) and J (for making us love goon punch a little more and for the face you gave me when I walked in on you on top of B which was completely G rated incase anyone wants to know) and M (the tallest person I know) and and and, I wanna tell you how much you mean to me. You may not realise it now. But you help a very unhappy person smile again, and I will never be able to thank you all enough.

And finally to you, my best friend, you know who you are, you gluten free, dairy free vego you. I know you’re not talking to me, I know I’ve upset you, I know I’ve done something that has hurt you enough to make you want to push me away. But you have no idea how much I miss talking to you. You get all my shit *drama* and you tell me when I’m being dumb *all the freaking time I’d say by the amount of sensibility you seem to speak to me on a daily basis* and you know when to kick my ass *all the time* and tell me to grow up *more than all the time*

You’re my best friend. So I’ll not give up without a fight.

I love you guys like a fat kid loves cake.

Because there’s no better therapy than 2am drunk couch convos while the boys get lost buying chinese and passion pop.

See I can be emotional.

But I’ll keep it on the DL and return to having a solid sarcastic rant by lunch tomorrow.

After all.

There is so much to catch up on.