Me Talk Pretty One Day, pt. IV*

In a move towards expressing a greater positivity in my life, I'm attempting to move away fm the linear rigidity of 'no' as a negative response. I choose to engage with my creative self, and fm this point onwards will offer such refusals as, They will never find your body.

It has a certain je ne sais quoi.



* A nod to David Sedaris - he comes up with the genius, I merely steal and degrade it.

Grant Me The Serenity

Sometimes, changing things is really hard. Like, really REALLY hard. There have been moments (including some under duress) when I've looked at my life, and realised that the state of it is making me unhappy, unhealthy, and slightly mad (oh, who am I kidding? Completely mad. Completely). And despite the wisdom of the statement that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, this fails to add that that journey of change which any decent recovery entails can be a grade-A, lifelong sonofabitch.

But really, what are the options? Staying where you are can be awesome: comforting, familiar, a place of enduring sameness in an otherwise hostile and ever-changing world. However, it can also mean stagnation, a failure to adapt, and a complete underexposure to new and challenging ways of thinking, doing and being. Change, while offering us the chance to grow and create new ways of of expressing ourselves, can also push us too far away from being ourselves.

God, the New Age, hello trees, hello flowers, la la crap mood of this post is making me cringe - another couple of minutes of this and I'll be reading Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus (Actually, I do want to read this book - it's necessary research for my own future bestseller, Men Are From Earth, Women Are From Earth - F*cking Deal, but I digress).

What I'm attempting to say is this:

• no one can continue to use past hurts as an excuse for current and future bad behaviour. Bad shit goes down for everyone. This is kind of a defining fact of human existence. The trick is to deal, not dwell. Get some therapy, find a 12 Step group, write a novel with thinly-veiled references to those who have wronged you, but for God's sake, do not be that person who, at every party, gets drunk, cries, and wants sympathy for how bad their entire life is. My life is not all f*cking lollies and kittens, but I try to move on.
• remember, it's called Secret Pain because it should be secret. Not everyone needs to know about why your life is such a sh*t. Even more importantly, not everyone cares. Having said that, have at least one brilliant friend who will listen to you. Unloading is theraputic, providing it's not your only method of communicating with others.
• introspection can be f*cking frightning - very few ppl have the desire to honestly examine theirselves and their actions, and look for their own part in things, especially when that part may show them to be less than perfect. However, the most well-balanced ppl do. And we'd all like to be well-balanced, wouldn't we???

So, if you're that unhappy, change. It's scary, painful, and sometimes feels like you're sweating blood for no discernible outcome, but any decision you make to live in the way that makes you feel content and at peace with the world is a change worth making.

And let's face it, you're never gonna be able to change the world to suit yourself. Believe me, I've tried.

I Wanna Have Your Babies - Pick Up Lines that Shock and Amuse #3

Lads, lads, listen up. I'm prepared to share with you, with some considerable measure of personal risk, one of the Great Secrets of wooing women. I have been told by the Sisterhood that sharing such secrets is strictly verboten, but I'm prepared to go out on a limb.

I will state it simply. DO NOT SCREAM AT ME FROM YOUR CAR.

This sounds simple - My God! Yes! The mysteries of the Universe have coalesced! Perhaps women would be more open to my admiration and charming advances if I didn't broadcast my lewd fantasies down Northbourne Avenue - but apparently not. It still happens with a nauseating frequency, to me anyway (of course, I'm nauseated every time it happens, so it mightn't really happen al that often, if you catch my time-relative drift). But no one seems to have told you! You poor little things - I am not berating you, merely sharing with you my perspective. After all, you can't expect anyone to do (or not do) something which hasn't been communicated to them. Nobody here's a mindreader, rite? (Although I have my supicions about TLD - he seems to be pretty in step with my ramblings...)

But back to the matter at hand - it's offensive, it's threatening, and frankly, I'd rather shave my pubic hair off and smoke it than continue a conversation started in this manner. No woman I know thinks, Gosh, what an inventive ice breaker! Perhaps I should start discussing the possiblity of moving in with such a illustrious fellow. Rather, we think you're a tool for doing it. And usually, a tool in a stupid car.

P.S. You'll never win: below is an EXACT recount of a conversation had last weekend.

Him (a young man in a hotted-up Holden with 3 of his mates, sitting at a red light, waiting to cross Northbourne Ave): Hey baby! Looking good! I'll fuck ya tonite!

Her (a Uni student heading home fm a Saturday nite, wearing a modest, below-the-knee dress, crossing Northbourne Ave on foot): Get your hand off it!

Him (now with an even cockier air of posturing, if such a thing is possible): My hands are on the steering wheel! /much laughter from the car/

Her (realising a brilliant straight line when one's offered): Oh, so it's your mate's hand in your pocket, is it?

Him: /thick, 'the Apocalypse is coming!' silence/

Job done. If only he'd read this memo!

3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Merry Christmas, mes amies, and a very happy New Year. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, like I give a f*ck, let's move on.

While I realise I'm a little late with the countdown, I felt it necessary to ask: has anyone out there made any Resolutions worth breaking? If I hear 'I'm going to get fit! I'm going to spend more time with friends and family! I'm going to eat better!' one more time, I'm going to resolve to punch everyone mouthing these platitudes in the wang.

Why is it that we come over so serious on NYE? Hardly the time to be making earth-shattering pronouncements, considering how much Chardonnay has been taken internally during the celebrations, we nonetheless make sweeping statements that we'd be hard pressed to keep with the assistance from a nutritionist, time management assistant and a team of nannies to keep the kids from putting us off our stride.

Is it that we think big in order to achieve moderately? Do we say we'll eat better - nothing but fresh fruit and vegies! - and count cutting down on takeaways from 3 nites a week to 1 a success? Or do we all have this desire to build failure into any project that really could effect dramatic changes in out lives? (Oh God, there's my next rant: Is Change Really That Scary?). Or do we all realise that it's just pants, and simply feel the need to say something at midnite?

Leaving aside these weighty matters, let me share mine with y'all.
1) Finish every bottle of veen-ho I open
2) Shoot more bats

Simple but effective.

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?