Guest Slutting

I was looking at TLD's blog, and got vaguely sad and moody. HE got a guest spot Novel Adventures. Just because he's written a stupid book. I could write a book. If I were talented. If I had the attention span of a adult, rather than a ferret on crack. If I had any ability with the English language... And then I became even sadder, because frankly, I'm never gonna add 'author' to my list of Special Skills (unless you count dirty e-mails, in which case HOLLA! Just ask The Lieutenant), which as noted, seems to be the first step to guest slutting.

HOWEVER.

I have decided to eschew negativity, and go Zen on this conundrum's arse. When the Tibetans want something, they give something away (perhaps explaining why Tibet's such a global powerhouse, but I digress...) Therefore, I'm offering y'all (or anyone who's interested)...

This blog. Rite here. For the month of November.

That's rite. I'll let YOU guest slut on MelWuv. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, feel free to drink the wine on the bench, and don't worry about doing the laundry - I'll change the linen when you go.

After all, y'all couldn't make a worse hash of this blog than I have.

I Wish I Was A Time Lord: I'd Have The Chance to Leave Earth Until the Music Got Better

My sparkles bring all the vampires to the yard, and I'm like, You're a fag

I'm Surprised

If Justin Bieber was to stand on the top of a tall building, preparing to jump, I reckon 99% of teenage girls around the world would sob, beat their breasts, and beg him not to do it.

Seriously, only 1%'d be sitting down below on deck chairs with popcorn, screaming 'Do a BACKFLIP!'

I'm disappointed in you, teenage girls. The backflips'd be AWESOME.

Dear Diary, Nobody Understands Me But You!

My goodness, when did it become so hard to be a teenager?! I remember that my teenage years, when coupled with the travails of high school, did occasionally move me to tears and fits of great stabbiness. However, the ways of the tortured artiste were unknown to me. I was never on medication. I was never admitted into psychiatric care. I got over it.

This ability to get over it, which I maintain is the base-level resilience needed to survive 80+ years of existence on the planet, seems harder and harder to find. Instead of realising that sometimes, life does indeed suck dogs' balls, and all any of us can do is keep breathing and wait for it to pass, such moments become an opportunity to tie oneself in knots of self-reflexive upset, demonstrated by a deep personal depression.

Excuse me? When the f*ck did it become The Done Thing to self-harm? Or up the anti-depressant dosage? Or, even more dangerously, sing songs about self-harming? Before y'all become shouty, I do believe medication has a place. I do believe that it is one option for treating psychiatric conditions which would otherwise be unbearable. But also, I wonder if you'd feel better if you simply stopped listening to songs about dead goldfish, and how nobody understands us, and why it's all for nought, and hardened the f*ck up. For God's sake, please stop pretending it's cool to be so unhappy. It's horrible for the rest of us to be around - mainly because we get bored of listening to your whinging - and I'm pretty sure ain't the best way to care for your own neurochemical balance.

Let's all try something new, shall we? The Bloggess has coined the Furiously Happy Movement, and motherf*cker, I'm ALL for it. Let's be 'FURIOUSLY HAPPY, OUT OF SHEER SPITE'. It certainly can't be more painful than dead goldfish.

P.S. It's NOT cool to be emo, depressed, and rock an air of ennui when a) you've never seen what the rest of the world has to offer (yeah, chick whose happiest years where in high school, I'm looking at you), and b) you don't know what 'ennui' means. It's self-indulgent, self conscious, too cool for school POSING. Kisschasy and I are on to you:

They both go to all of the same clubs
Where everyone takes all the same drugs
And talks about how they're 'so fucked up'

Note: This was not written in a nice way. We're laughing our guts up at you

A Hung Parliament

Bob Katter. Running the country.

It's so stupid it's awesome

Consumer Accesories, How I Love You!

(The long version of the story about How MelWuv Got Her Caffeine On)

Okay, so:

So you know how I like coffee?

Busy BUSY day at work today - there at 0730, finished at 1530, and in between we had 17 outs, 2 fulls, and a gagillion lights - and the penthouse was TRASHED, much to my dismay: I walked in, and was all, F*cking NO! How can people behave like this? This is NOT my job, and my boss - The Man, whom I'm Workin' For - was all, MelWuv, it kinda IS your job - you're a cleaner, and I was giving it the, F*ck that! I was not employed to clean up after animals, and The Man was looking at me going, I don't remember you being so shrill when I hired you... You sound kind of like Elmo... So I was puce with rage, and just standing there shaking and saying things like, F*cking idiots, party like douches, and leave it for someone else to clean, what's wrong with these people, and The Man's going, Do we have to talk about appropriate workplace language, so I've hissed, Come up and have a look yourself, and he did, and he's like, Motherf*ckers, and I was all, Whoa, jumped a coupla steps, and The Man is grumping on about how women can say f*ck, and be all, We're reclaiming the right! but when a man says it, Oh, how dreadful, and we kinda short-circuited there, and got down to it, and anyway, I spent 80 MINUTES scrubbing the kitchen, and there were FIVE of us working in there the whole time - that's 400 minutes spent cleaning the penthouse - (oh, and we were throwing their balloons off the balcony - hours of fun, till we were told to smarten the fuck up) and Mr Fix-It maintenance was there because SOMEONE HAD THROWN A CHAIR OFF THE 20TH STORY PENTHOUSE BALCONY IN TO THE POOL (which was kind of rock'n'roll, so I was almost enjoying that part), and he was all, You're awesome girl - you'll fix it, which was very kind, and so we dragged thru the day, and then at 1530, I was grabbing my bag to get the hell outta Dodge - I was worried if I stood still too long they'd find something else for me to do - when Mr Fix-It grabbed me and said, Hey, look what we've got! and it turned out someone had moved out - our building has residential apartments in it, as well as the hotel rooms, and when ppl move, the hotel lends them our maintenance guys because we're charming - and left behind the stuff they didn't want, or were replacing with whizz-bang new fabulous items in the new house, and guess what? I have an espresso machine that has extra height clearance so you can fill a mug from the machine.

I told you it was the long version

Study This

In high school, I studied Pride and Prejudice /lip quiver/ I wanna study Fight Club!

I've already discussed the fact that smokers are more likely to be punched in the wang than kiddie fiddlers here, but today, the debate went up a notch.

My friend is lovely. She's beautiful, clever, funny as hell, and a terrific mother. Her three children are mature, well-balanced, clever, amazing ppl. I like going 'round to her place to hang out with all of them. That's how lovely this family is.

And sometimes when I'm round at hers, we'll have a glass of wine, and a cigarette. I will point out that I don't share (I have issues), but that she has her packet, and I have mine. We smoke and drink and slander common enemies who aren't present, and wiggle our toes in delight. There goes a good time that was had by all!

However, today her children found out that she smokes. She decided that it wasn't worth lying about anymore - a decision that, I think, takes courage. And the bubbies went nuclear. Shouts about choosing cigarettes or her family, about the absolute ruination she was bringing to their lives, the fact that she'll die from this habit were heard ringing out (the nieghbours must have enjoyed it). And, as I sooo obviously wasn't going to be invited to speak, I started thinking.

While I can understand their point of view - yes, even we smokers understand it's not the smartest decision ever made - I wondered what's the best way to go about it. If you love someone, and you're trying to help them make a choice about good health, is it okay to shout, bully and manipulate? Can you blame the ppl around them? Is it always this unsettling to realise that your parent, who you've known as Mum since the day you first thought about, actually turns out to be an individual who'll make her own choices and decisions, as an individual?

I can understand their worry - the underlying fear being that of health repercussions, and the severity of them - but, and this is my opinion, the answer still doesn't become, And bully and abuse her into a new course action. For all that I concur smoking is a dreadful habit, she's a grown up who'll make her own choices. If she quits, I'll support that, and not smoke around her, and tell her how fab she is for doing something so f*cking awesome. If she keeps smoking, I'll support that, and love her anyway. None of us are perfect - we're just trying to get through.

What am I missing?

Tik Tok

Formspring.me - Do you have any scars on your body? If so, how'd you get them?

My heart is scarred deeply from unrequited passions I've shared with so many...

The scars on my arms are defence wounds I received when trying to convince Daniel Craig to requite said passion.

(Still on holidays, monkeyfluffers. Go write your own brilliant posts so I'll have something nice to read in airports.)

Formspring.me - If you could go on a road trip with any person, dead or alive, who would it be and where would you go?

Christ alive people, how often do I have to say it? The road trip with the dead guy was one time. Stop treating me like I want to turn it into a habit.

(I'm on holiday. This is all you get. PWNED!)

Formspring.me - Who's the sexiest woman alive?

I HAVE to be banned from the Interwebs - I keep finding inane little timewasters just to crack myself up. Question in point: Formspring.me. Questions are provided, answer them as you see fit.

Let's see what damage I can wreak here, children.

In answer to the question above: Do y'all mean apart from me? Cause, in my thermal underwear and ugg boots, I'm pretty sexy. Also, despite recent reports to the contrary, I AM alive

Oh, For God's Sake

This blog incorporates ads - click on them, don't click on them, do the Hokey-Pokey, and shake it all about - which have been especially selected to reflect the nature of the writing and, by extension, myself.

I have ads for the Australian Navy, and adult sex costumes.

I love the fact that Google sat down and said, This girl's gonna get her freak on with a boy in uniform. AND COME HELL OR HIGH WATER, WE CAN HELP MAKE THAT HAPPEN FOR HER!

Jesus H. Christ.

Me Talk Pretty One Day, pt. IX

This is so old it's the test pattern for the Interwebs. Still, it raises a giggle EVERY time.

46 Things You'd Love To Say Out Loud At Work

1. I can see your point, but I still think you're full of sh*t.

2. I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce!

3. How about never? Is never good for you?

4. I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.

5. I don't work here. I'm a consultant.

6. It sounds like English, but I can't understand a damn word you're saying.

7. Ahhhh, I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again...

8. I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young and stupid.

9. You are reinforcing my inherent mistrust of strangers.

10. I have PLENTY of talent and vision - I just don't give a damn.

11. I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.

12. Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.

13. The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist.

14. Any connections between your reality and mine are purely coincidental.

15. What am I? Flypaper for idiots?!

16. I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant.

17. It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off.

18. Yes, I AM an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.

19. And your cry-baby whiny-*ssed opinion would be?

20. Do I look like a f*cking people person to you?

21. This isn't an office, it's Hell with fluorescent lighting.

22. I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left.

23. Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.

24. If I throw a stick, will you leave?

25. Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.

26. Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.

27. Oh I get it. Like humour, but different.

28. A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door.

29. Can I trade this job for what's behind door number 1?

30. Too many freaks, not enough circuses.

31. Nice perfume. But really, must you marinate in it?

32. Chaos, panic, and disorder - my work here is done.

33. How do I set the laser printer to stun?

34. I thought I wanted a career; it turns out I just wanted a salary.

35. I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.

36. Wait a minute - I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.

37. Aren't you a black hole of need?

38. I'd like to help you out - which way did you come in?

39. Did you eat an extra bowl of stupid this morning?

40. Why don't you slip into something more comfortable? Like a coma.

41. If you have something to say raise your hand... And place it over your mouth.

42. I'm very busy, can I ignore you some other time?

43. Don't let your mind wander, it's too small to be let out on its own.

44. Have a nice day, somewhere else.

45. You're not yourself today - I noticed the improvement straight off.

46. Ssshh, listen - that's the sound of no one caring.

Safety First

I correspond regularly with a charming individual who uses their government e-mail address. As a result, we're bound by the rules of their server BlackList, which scans all missives before allowing them in or out. On several occasions, we have broken this server, and received strongly worded notes, suggesting we might like to pull our heads in, or face the possibility of having them kicked off our shoulders.

HOWEVER, in the last 24 hours, I have been doing a little research, and can tell you that references to 'crack' and 'smoking pot' are just fine.

Well sh*t, y'all. It's like these people WANT me to use drugs.

Lie Back And Think Of England

This is not safe for work. If you're allowed this kind of material in your workplace then holy HELL! I want your job. Immediately.

PWNED!

The Lieutenant and I have been dating for over a year now. This process is made a slightly more difficult by the fact that he is spending six months on deployment. As a result, our relationship works a little differently to when we were living in the same country. It's no good dressing up as a naughty nurse, ready to minx it up when he walks thru the door - 6 months is a long time to spend in high heels and stockings - if you want any action in the next 24 hours. We need to be creative, and attempt to break the blacklist filter of his server.

Dirty e-mail, thy name is MelWuv.

MelWuv

Sweetheart, I miss you. But, we're almost at the halfway mark - YAYS! As a mid-deployment present, I'm writing you a little story. Let's just say, this nurse is gonna give a whole other kind of physical...

The Lieutenant

Oh baby, I can't wait for the nurse!!!

MelWuv

THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!

The Lieutenant

I walked right into that

MelWuv

You did, but I still enjoyed it. It's the mid-deployment gift that keeps on giving

Reasons I Should Organise My Computer

Because it's REALLY hard to explain why this image is part of a screensaver slideshow.

P.S. No, it's NOT me. Do I strike you as someone who'd give any kind of f*ck about National Geographic, or atlases? (That's what I keep the Lieutenant on for). Mmmm, you're a dirty little continent, aren't you? A dirty, naughty continent...

In Soviet Russia, Car Drive You! Our Correspondent in the Field

There have been questions. Questions about jam. To shed light on the Eastern European way of doing (not to be confused with Lithuania's Eastern European Funk), zip over here.

Now, young paduan, you are ready.

In Soviet Russia, Car Drive You! Our Correspondent in the Field

Sofie, my beautiful friend and fellow adventurer when we headed South of the Border, is intrepid. She is a woman who takes no bullsh*t from anyone, and had fabulous hair. And she is going behind The Iron Curtain.

Sofie is spending five weeks in Russia, working as a counsellor at a summer camp.

Dear United Soviet Socialist Republic,

Yeah, we totally f*cking won. Ride that wave, b*tches.

Regards,

MelWuv the Capitalist

This material is too good pass up. Expect updates.

Yes, Yes - YouTube Slut. Any Other Questions?

The complete Lost. In three minutes. With Post-Its. He tells it so well I'm sort of sad I missed the phenomenon. Vaguely.

Amy G And Her Kazoo

This is not safe for work. If you're allowed this kind of material in your workplace then holy HELL! I want your job. Immediately.

Want! Need! Desire!

Oh God, who invented internet shopping? And why did they make it so easy?!

I demand that you all go here, and join me in my obsession. And trust me, it'll get pretty f*cking obsessive.

Lions And Tigers And Bears, Oh My!

Do you know what really used to scare me? I mean apart from Tony Abbott BEING ALLOWED TO BECOME THE LEADER OF ANYTHING (NB. Abbott, keep your roasaries off my ovaries, or I may fail to keep my fist off your face, you sanctimonious, big-earred tw*t), and those urban legend horror stories you used to tell at sleepovers...

Waitresses with attitude. I actually felt like I was in the wrong for asking them to faithfully copy my order to the kitchen, and then carry the plate out to me. When invited to do so, I became an apologetic patron. Excuse me, if you have a minute, if it's no trouble, please don't stress...

And then, with absolute horror, I realised that my piglet sister is that waitress. Mainly because she lives with me, and it seems that the attitude isn't left at work. Part of the attitude is the, I'll do it because I'm awesome air of weariness in the face of the petty demands of wider humanity. Demands such as, if you've finished in the kitchen, please tidy up after yourself. Such demands are met with an invitation for me to go f*ck myself for such brutality. And I find myself falling for it. Excuse me, if you have a minute, if it's no trouble, please don't stress...

And then I realised that I really shouldn't be scared. You. Are. A. Waitress. It. Is. Your. Job. It isn't rocket science, it's carrying plates so that my carbonara doesn't end up on the floor. And really, if you're so awesome, how come you're doing the fetching while I sit with friends, drinking NZ whites and having a fine time?

Waitresses, you're not scary. You're staff.

I'm Surprised

Lisa, the kick-ass female contestant on this year's series of The Biggest Loser, spent six hours on a spin bike.

She must have worn a wetsuit, which she peed in, before pulling the leg out, and wiggling it away. At this point, she was butt-f*cked by a seal.

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