Driving - It's Really Just Swearing On Wheels

I have had the honour and privilege to teach 3 ppl close to my heart how to drive.
Why? I hear you ask. Several reasons:

1. I can teach them how to swear without taking their hands off the wheel, and thus killing us (a integral part of the enjoyment of road rage is living thru it to tell the story at a later, drunk-dinner-party date)
2. I really like extreme sports, and
3. After many years of playing the designated driver, it's now some other pr*ck's turn. When that person was unforthcoming (why? Because most ppl are bastards, who'll happily take advantage of you and your Corolla), I created a few more suckers in my own image. SHOTGUN FRONT SEAT!

But, let me tell you, it's not easy. I spent most of my time as a supervisor with my left foot jabbing uselessly at the floor while I tried to come up with caring and supportive ways to say, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU IDIOT, SLOW THE F*CK DOWN. STOOOP! Massively good times were had by all. But, apparently, I'm not the worst out there. This recount of a driving experience shared by the Gorgeous Fwossy (all round awesome babe, and silly enough to let me be her friend), and her mother, proves that there's always someone who makes it a little more painful to complete your necessary hours. Next Learner who complains to me about my 'help' gets a cattle prod fair up the bum.

"........................................"
"........................................"

"Fwossy, I told you not to leave bags in the car."
"Oh. Sorry."

"........................................"
"........................................"

"Turn right."
"Okay."

"........................................"
"........................................"

"Where do I turn?"
"Next left."

"........................................"
"........................................"

"FWOSSY! YOU DIDN'T LOOK! STAY IN YOUR LANE"
"I am... Kind of. Sorry."

"........................................"
"........................................"

(Repeat until a Provisional Licence has been obtained)

You've got to get to the stage in life where going for it is more important than winning or losing - Arthur Ashe

Dear Senator McCain,
I was extremely impressed by your speech following the announcement of Barack Obama as President-Elect. You spoke with graciousness, dignity, and made it clear that you had fought a fair fight. I understand that, right now, you're probably feeling a little bummed. While failure may be character building, most times you just want the success!

However, I just wanted to mention a few things:

• you didn't inherit a war in Iraq (remember how well the last one went?)
• you didn't inherit a war in Afghanistan (remember how well every Western campaign in history went?)
• you didn't inherit a Depression (remember how well the last one went?)
• you will not have to engineer a World War in order to revitalise the American economy (remember how well the last one went?)
• you will not have to spend 4 years with Sarah 'You betcha!' Palin, her assault weapons and all those stuffed moose heads she would have INSISTED on decorating the White House with
• that stress-related heart failure? Probably just been put off by a couple of years
• you now have an automatic claim to the moral highground - whatever the Democrats do that is received as unpopular, you simply need to shake you head, smile sadly, and murmur, If I had have been running the show...
  

Suddenly, losing seems a lot like winning, doesn't it?

Regards,
Mel Wuv

Hello, My Name is Mel

David Duchovny, star of Californication, has apparently been told by his wife, the lovely Tea Leoni, that he must receive treatment for his sex addiction, or she's packing her heels and lipstick and hittin' the road. The film Choke, to be realsed in Australia soon, features a sexaholic protagonist who, during his 12-Step meetings designed to treat this addiction, can often be found 'shtupping' other similarly addicted members in the bathroom. In Will Ferrell's Blades of Glory, he plays a sex addict who uses such meetings as a bragging forum of what he's done to various nymphettes, given his druthers, and some of theirs.

Why is sexaholism so damn funny?

When ppl identify as alcohlics, or drug addicts, this is rarely met with gales of laughter. Indeed, the ppl living with and around these very ill ppl usually don't find anything funny about it at all. Both these conditions are recognised as serious, very dangerous, and very likely to shorten your life expectancy. Very rarely are they percieved as 'glamourous' conditions.

Sexaholism, on the other hand, seems to generally evoke a gritty, noirish fascination - can a disease really be so bad if all it consists of is bedding beautiful women, and living life at the edge? I would argue a bloody big YES. An addiction by definition is a relationship with a substance or process that is all consuming. Sure, sex is fun, but how much could you really enjoy its pursuit and practice if that was what constituted your entire life? What if that was what it was all about? It sure doesn't leave much room for establishing healthy relationship, functioning at a high lvl in other aspects of life, such as work or study, and probably alienates a fair few ppl - generally, friends don't stick around if you continually make sexual advances towards their partners.

This is the side rarely shown - it seems that public depictions of this addiction prefer stories that involve a blonde masseuse, a 40-gallon drum of baby oil, mood lighting, and a parrot. But sexaholism is real, just like alcholism and drug addiction. Yet no one seems overly prepared to make jokes about heroin addicts, or ppl so drunk they forget to check for traffic step out into the road, only to be knocked down and killed.

What's the answer, ppl? Do we need to recognise sexaholism as a serious illness, and then treat it, and its sufferers, with a little more respect? Or does someone need to come up with some awesome funnies about the one time, this heroin addict walked into a public bathroom, and...

Or is sexaholism just intrinsically funny?

Please, Please, Tell Me Know - WTF?!

Who the fuck are the Jonas Brothers? And why do I care?

Please, Please, Tell Me Now - A/S/L?

Ladies and Gentlemen, let it be known here and now: I have a ring on the third finger of my left hand. The kind with diamonds. That's right, folks - she's getting married!
I'm very excited by this - my fiance is a lovely man who's my favourite, and my choice for the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

However, just 'cause I'm engaged, doesn't mean I'm blind. There are still many attractive ppl out there, some of whom I've been known to /gasp! shock!/ flirt with. However, there are some ppl who don't know I'm getting married.

Which brings me to Mel's Lunchtime Ethics Poll: at what point do you have to come clean? I drink coffee with these ppl - we try not to talk about our secret pain, instead opting for some light character assassination of anyone foolish enough not to join us - have the occasional veen-ho, and e-mail them about uni coursework. I've worn the ring around them, but neither I nor them have commented on its sparkly symbolism.

When does it stop being simply a fact that we don't really talk about our relationships, and start moving towards blatant misrepresentation? Is this a new and interesting form of cheating? And, has it been left so long that to say anything would just be creepy?

When is it time to make clear you're taken???

We Need To Talk*

Gosh, I think I've started something here - it seems that EVERYONE has a phrase that makes them believe that it'd be more pleasurable to cut their ears off with blunt spoons that actually have to listen and respond to.

However, if we're talking about the phrase that seems to kick your knees out from under you so your stomach seems to go all floaty with fear, I must, MUST include:

• I'm going to stop you there...

It appears that it is humanly impossible to finish that sentence with, I've heard all I need to hear - you obviously deserve this million dollars/large amount of chocolate/a cuddle.



* title courtesy of TLD

I'm Surprised

People who behave in a way that is rude and unpleasant, and then have this behaviour explained away by someone who likes them (i.e. not me) as being the result of them feeling shy in the situation, do not come across as charming and vulnerable, so much as complete fuckchops. Just pointing this out.