An email I just sent to a friend..... (all true.....I'm not being melodramatic). Help me!!!
Heya,
sorry about the very delayed response. Everything has just been very hectic.....bad hectic, not good hectic though, haha. I got to tell you Queenslanders are freakin' weird man! (no offence), but seriously, I was warned that they were egotistical nutcases, but didn't believe it and after just a few weeks here I've discovered that, yep, they are crazy.
The area I'm in is like a little city without the big buildings or nightlife, everyone seems to be on drugs with dark pasts and the amount of dysfunctional characters that roam around that are 'friends' with the people I live with does your head in.
The street I live on has only about 6 houses with farmland stretching out in every direction, yet even out here, my street has a family of guys that throw raw shit on this other guy's house, a guy that trains his staffies to kill, a 50 year old mentally retarded man who walks up and down the street masturbating, a filthy old man that gropes young girls whose sleeping with his 30 year old nymphomaniac neighbour and don't even get me started on the wacko Kiwi guy I live with. Haha. {that was an extremely strained laugh..... my dry lips nearly cracked with the effort and after remaining in a frown for so long}.
Freakin' weird arse state. I'm already far behind in my school work and I'm due to go back and work at the boring paper in town on Monday when I really just want to join the damn rodeo circuit or pack up and move further West.
SO yehh......exhausting...... Haha.....anyhoo.......how are you? :D {Get me outta here!}
Is it cold and stormy in Brissy right now cos it's bloody horrible here! {Can I come live with you!!!??}
Anyhoo, speak later bud {help me! help me! help me! Ohhh please, please help me!}
{HELP!} Lana. {PLEASE HELP!}
Friday, February 29, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
What did you expect?
It's finally FINALLY the weekend!!!! Last week I was rouseabouting in a shearing shed everyday from 7.30am till 5.30pm and I thought my back was going to just completely splinster in half and the lice bites upon my arms would eventually just engulf my entire body, leaving me a walking-pussy-red-scabby-creature with no other option but to audition for Australian Idol (because that's what disgusting creatures with no other prospects do).
On Valentine's Day I admit, yes, that I did hopefully look at my phone rather too often to see if any secret admirers had finally given into their burning temptation of declaring their undying love for me (a love proposal through a text message is still a love proposal), but....sadly......nooo....another lonesome year is my fate yet again.
I'm starting to get rather shitty though. Because ever since embarking upon this 'fresh start' in my new home of stormy, windy and all-round yucky weather in South East Queensland, I have done nothing but work or do school work.
It's Sunday morning and right now I should be either hungover on the couch watching Family Guy or fast asleep in bed still in the full going out clothes from the night/early morning before, with makeup that has run all over my pillow like all normal 18 year olds, NOT sitting up wide awake without a drop of alcohol in my blood stream. Madness, absolute madness!
I think I'm going to get in contact with some Brisvegas peeps that peeps I know know in order to weasel my way into the closest crazy-nightlife-city-crowd on weekends.....once my school work is done anyway.
Here's an extract from last week's work, from an English task titled 'Who Are You?'. So, just in case you haven't yet worked out lil me yet this articulate word vomit should shed some light....presuming of course that you do actually care..... :D
This year I am studying my VCE while I continue to stall the decision of what I am doing and where I am going, using the title of ‘studying’ as my cover to keep my parents off my back, friends from thinking I’m a loser and most of the guilt at bay that has been eating at me. But, I’m also studying so I can continue to ‘nurture’ my writing, and am forced to work at it even when I feel unmotivated and uninspired. Then of course there’s the usual reason of more doors opening up once my VCE is done and I might even have some more options too then from the dreaded fate of a 9 to 5 job, weekends of house maintenance and being manipulated into thinking brats chewing at my ankles is the respectable predicament for a 30-something ‘black-horse’-come-another-face-in-the-crowd.
I have every intention to keep plans to the minimum, my feet far from the ground and no intention of having anything that is even possessed of normality.
Like all kids that existed through most of their schooling as ‘loners’ that had a dog as their best friend and dreamt the days away with books as aids out in the back paddock, I describe myself as different and think greatness must lay in store for me.
This idea hasn’t changed much over the course of the past ten years, even though I’m now aware of how many kids think that they are special, and I’ve done the math with my calculator and worked out that we can’t all be famous, but bah, I’ll give it a crack anyway.
My sense of identity has been given permission to leave its’ box in only the past year or two due to me discovering competency couldn’t come with confidence, so because of that I’ve discovered a different side to myself that doesn’t have to exclude a social life and crazy teenage behaviour just because I considered myself Jane Austen, The Crocodile-Hunter and Ned Kelly’s love child for so long.
My theory of how that works is rather messy and I left it out of the english task because I didn't think it was quite appropriate.....but....I think it's much more fun in leaving you dear kids to use your imaginations on how such an event would have transpired. So there's your homework for the week.
Feel free to comment on the visual images that popped into your head.
:D :D :D :D
On Valentine's Day I admit, yes, that I did hopefully look at my phone rather too often to see if any secret admirers had finally given into their burning temptation of declaring their undying love for me (a love proposal through a text message is still a love proposal), but....sadly......nooo....another lonesome year is my fate yet again.
I'm starting to get rather shitty though. Because ever since embarking upon this 'fresh start' in my new home of stormy, windy and all-round yucky weather in South East Queensland, I have done nothing but work or do school work.
It's Sunday morning and right now I should be either hungover on the couch watching Family Guy or fast asleep in bed still in the full going out clothes from the night/early morning before, with makeup that has run all over my pillow like all normal 18 year olds, NOT sitting up wide awake without a drop of alcohol in my blood stream. Madness, absolute madness!
I think I'm going to get in contact with some Brisvegas peeps that peeps I know know in order to weasel my way into the closest crazy-nightlife-city-crowd on weekends.....once my school work is done anyway.
Here's an extract from last week's work, from an English task titled 'Who Are You?'. So, just in case you haven't yet worked out lil me yet this articulate word vomit should shed some light....presuming of course that you do actually care..... :D
This year I am studying my VCE while I continue to stall the decision of what I am doing and where I am going, using the title of ‘studying’ as my cover to keep my parents off my back, friends from thinking I’m a loser and most of the guilt at bay that has been eating at me. But, I’m also studying so I can continue to ‘nurture’ my writing, and am forced to work at it even when I feel unmotivated and uninspired. Then of course there’s the usual reason of more doors opening up once my VCE is done and I might even have some more options too then from the dreaded fate of a 9 to 5 job, weekends of house maintenance and being manipulated into thinking brats chewing at my ankles is the respectable predicament for a 30-something ‘black-horse’-come-another-face-in-the-crowd.
I have every intention to keep plans to the minimum, my feet far from the ground and no intention of having anything that is even possessed of normality.
Like all kids that existed through most of their schooling as ‘loners’ that had a dog as their best friend and dreamt the days away with books as aids out in the back paddock, I describe myself as different and think greatness must lay in store for me.
This idea hasn’t changed much over the course of the past ten years, even though I’m now aware of how many kids think that they are special, and I’ve done the math with my calculator and worked out that we can’t all be famous, but bah, I’ll give it a crack anyway.
My sense of identity has been given permission to leave its’ box in only the past year or two due to me discovering competency couldn’t come with confidence, so because of that I’ve discovered a different side to myself that doesn’t have to exclude a social life and crazy teenage behaviour just because I considered myself Jane Austen, The Crocodile-Hunter and Ned Kelly’s love child for so long.
My theory of how that works is rather messy and I left it out of the english task because I didn't think it was quite appropriate.....but....I think it's much more fun in leaving you dear kids to use your imaginations on how such an event would have transpired. So there's your homework for the week.
Feel free to comment on the visual images that popped into your head.
:D :D :D :D
Friday, February 8, 2008
Cheap wine and not feelin' fine
Ahhh *burps* it's been a bloody long week and now I'm just a little bit drunk. Marc and I have been on the cheap wine since 5.30pm when I got home from work and it *burp*, yeh has made me not so good. Haha and it's only 8pm. Noice lana, noice.
Well if you can't do this on a Friday than when can you fucking do it?
I've been as busy as a lone rooster in a pen full of horny chickens this week writing stories for the newspaper with little fucking social life. Which is hard when you've just spent the previous year partying and rocking out with ya cock out. Now it's living the sober life of the 8 til 5 worker and studying the rest of the time. Fuck that for a joke.
All my bundy is gone and I didn't buy any more (*pats back*) cause I'm trying to save. What the fuck for I don't know. And back in this depressive little drunk state with sad music playing on the stereo I'm missing my mates back in Melbourne.....not to mention him.
Who apparently asked my mate how I was going in Queensland last Tuesday night *cries*.
He still knows I exist! I love it when people know you exist. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside *smiles and falls off chair*
I'm due to start the rouseabout job on Monday and I'm expecting to be working with the usual Rednecked "ohh I like that cunt" farm hands. I'll either be like a quiet little self-hating mouse or defensive and witty as buggery, I dunno. Better drink plenty of berocca.... make that [V]......... no actually make that VB. Good thinking kiddo.
Ohh I usually go out on the town on a Friday night and now I'm just sitting here drunk playing with my computer with only my dog, the bottle of wine and the stars for company. And, well, yeh, I guess there is Marc.
Ohh boo hoo.
I'm tired.
Gotta get my history work done.
Fuck it for now.
Well if you can't do this on a Friday than when can you fucking do it?
I've been as busy as a lone rooster in a pen full of horny chickens this week writing stories for the newspaper with little fucking social life. Which is hard when you've just spent the previous year partying and rocking out with ya cock out. Now it's living the sober life of the 8 til 5 worker and studying the rest of the time. Fuck that for a joke.
All my bundy is gone and I didn't buy any more (*pats back*) cause I'm trying to save. What the fuck for I don't know. And back in this depressive little drunk state with sad music playing on the stereo I'm missing my mates back in Melbourne.....not to mention him.
Who apparently asked my mate how I was going in Queensland last Tuesday night *cries*.
He still knows I exist! I love it when people know you exist. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside *smiles and falls off chair*
I'm due to start the rouseabout job on Monday and I'm expecting to be working with the usual Rednecked "ohh I like that cunt" farm hands. I'll either be like a quiet little self-hating mouse or defensive and witty as buggery, I dunno. Better drink plenty of berocca.... make that [V]......... no actually make that VB. Good thinking kiddo.
Ohh I usually go out on the town on a Friday night and now I'm just sitting here drunk playing with my computer with only my dog, the bottle of wine and the stars for company. And, well, yeh, I guess there is Marc.
Ohh boo hoo.
I'm tired.
Gotta get my history work done.
Fuck it for now.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Queensland's finest
Well we went through four dust storms, 3 lightning storms and a bloody heap of rain that pissed down like the drunk at closing time, but we made it to Queensland!
The beautiful sunshine state has done nothing but rain and storm though since we got here and today I had to type up a news article at work about there being fucking flood warnings issued across the so-called 'sunshine state' and northern NSW (good, drown you bastards in Wee Waa!!! Mwahaha). So cheers to you Queensland for the welcome.
I came up here to getaway from the freakin' Melbourne weather!
But, enough whinging, the settling in has been good. Mum was driven out to Brissy on Saturday where she caught the plane back to Melbourne and left me and Maggie here to deal with the banana fuckers by ourselves (kidding, kidding, kidding- the area I'm in grows apples).
Monday morning I found myself back in the 'cadet journalist/office-Jill-of-all-trades' chair where I spent the day trying to just stay awake after spending the previous two months going to bed at 4am and waking up at 1pm. Noice.
And, (to just whinge...or rather.....comment... yes, let's call it 'comment from recent observations and occurrences') I had to try my hardest to avoid......let's call him 'The Rash'; an annoying lil shit who I met last time I was up here working at the newspaper and we became sort of work amigos (the key word being 'amigos'- completely platonic ones too!). Before I'd even left town to head home once the two weeks was up I was getting frequent, pointless text messages that at first harmlessly began as 'Whatcha up to' (never any question mark too- which really really shitted me), which is fine unless you are sending that same thing every fucking day.
Then the messages became, 'Send me a picture of yourself. Pretty plz' I chose to ignore that one; I'm quite tolerant of weird people unless they get personal.
Soon the messages ran like 'You always been so cute' (note well- No question mark! Wtf!? Rahhh!) Then 'What ya doing beautiful' (no question mark! That nearly shitted me more than the creepy message itself).
I replied to none of these and was dreading seeing 'The Rash', but Monday arvo he waltzes in to speak to Deb while I keep my back to him (my skin crawling with the thought of him just looking at the back of me) furiously typing so we won't talk to me. Well he didn't, but like a bad smell he kept hanging around my work station crapping on like chicken diarrhoea to others while I imagined throwing my desk top computer across the room to crack his thick skull in half.
You see, the difference between Redneck guys 'wooing skills' (if you will) and normal guys flirting is Rednecks see anything without a dick as their birthright and nothing is out of their lead and if they can't fuck it they'll just tell their mates what they'd like to do to the unlucky victim of their attention until blue in the face and they can no longer differentiate between the fantasies in their small brains and reality, before moving onto the next creature that's technically classified as the opposite sex.
So there's a strong likelihood he could walk into work tomorrow leering at me through his dopey eyes and thick lids and mouth like the back end of a staffy and blubber out (in that fucking horrible bogan lilt- not a country lilt- that's attractive- a bogan-'what's a book?' lilt) that he'll buy me a beer at the pub that night, to which I shall respond in kind with a cricket bat across his low-gorilla-like-brow.
I want to kung-fu his Red neck arse.
*Deep Breath........count to ten*
Sorry, I'm a little wound up tonight cause I miss my Local.....it's Tuesday night and the jukebox and pool tables will be in full swing by now. Along with the bundy on tap flowing for $3 a pot. Ohh heaven in a night. The price you pay to be adventerous.
Oh woe woe woe ya whinging bitch. haha
The beautiful sunshine state has done nothing but rain and storm though since we got here and today I had to type up a news article at work about there being fucking flood warnings issued across the so-called 'sunshine state' and northern NSW (good, drown you bastards in Wee Waa!!! Mwahaha). So cheers to you Queensland for the welcome.
I came up here to getaway from the freakin' Melbourne weather!
But, enough whinging, the settling in has been good. Mum was driven out to Brissy on Saturday where she caught the plane back to Melbourne and left me and Maggie here to deal with the banana fuckers by ourselves (kidding, kidding, kidding- the area I'm in grows apples).
Monday morning I found myself back in the 'cadet journalist/office-Jill-of-all-trades' chair where I spent the day trying to just stay awake after spending the previous two months going to bed at 4am and waking up at 1pm. Noice.
And, (to just whinge...or rather.....comment... yes, let's call it 'comment from recent observations and occurrences') I had to try my hardest to avoid......let's call him 'The Rash'; an annoying lil shit who I met last time I was up here working at the newspaper and we became sort of work amigos (the key word being 'amigos'- completely platonic ones too!). Before I'd even left town to head home once the two weeks was up I was getting frequent, pointless text messages that at first harmlessly began as 'Whatcha up to' (never any question mark too- which really really shitted me), which is fine unless you are sending that same thing every fucking day.
Then the messages became, 'Send me a picture of yourself. Pretty plz' I chose to ignore that one; I'm quite tolerant of weird people unless they get personal.
Soon the messages ran like 'You always been so cute' (note well- No question mark! Wtf!? Rahhh!) Then 'What ya doing beautiful' (no question mark! That nearly shitted me more than the creepy message itself).
I replied to none of these and was dreading seeing 'The Rash', but Monday arvo he waltzes in to speak to Deb while I keep my back to him (my skin crawling with the thought of him just looking at the back of me) furiously typing so we won't talk to me. Well he didn't, but like a bad smell he kept hanging around my work station crapping on like chicken diarrhoea to others while I imagined throwing my desk top computer across the room to crack his thick skull in half.
You see, the difference between Redneck guys 'wooing skills' (if you will) and normal guys flirting is Rednecks see anything without a dick as their birthright and nothing is out of their lead and if they can't fuck it they'll just tell their mates what they'd like to do to the unlucky victim of their attention until blue in the face and they can no longer differentiate between the fantasies in their small brains and reality, before moving onto the next creature that's technically classified as the opposite sex.
So there's a strong likelihood he could walk into work tomorrow leering at me through his dopey eyes and thick lids and mouth like the back end of a staffy and blubber out (in that fucking horrible bogan lilt- not a country lilt- that's attractive- a bogan-'what's a book?' lilt) that he'll buy me a beer at the pub that night, to which I shall respond in kind with a cricket bat across his low-gorilla-like-brow.
I want to kung-fu his Red neck arse.
*Deep Breath........count to ten*
Sorry, I'm a little wound up tonight cause I miss my Local.....it's Tuesday night and the jukebox and pool tables will be in full swing by now. Along with the bundy on tap flowing for $3 a pot. Ohh heaven in a night. The price you pay to be adventerous.
Oh woe woe woe ya whinging bitch. haha
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