Party On Down, Dudes!

Wasn't there something on Sex and the City about bingo hosted by drag queens? I mean come on, Cremorne is hardly New York and Poncho is hardly Carrie Bradshaw.

Though a few locals have similar lifestyles to Samantha, I must say.

P.S. Could the Hotel Cremorne get any more pathetic if it tried?

Sitting In The Shallows Getting Drunk = New Black

I am so happy the warmer weather is slowly approaching.

Some of the best times Miss Contradiction and I had last summer were spent sitting in the shallows at Balmoral with beer and wine getting drunk.

All we need is a floating esky and the summer will be set!

Should I Spend $180 On A New Swimming Outfit Thingy?

Decisions, decisions...

Anything that covers up my unsightly stomach has to be a blessing for everyone else.

Jason, Nautica 'Get Their Stalk On'

Well once again the pick up artists formerly known as Jason and Nautica (okay they are still known by those names) managed to infiltrate the weekend.

Jason's stalking program kicked off on Friday night, or more specifically Saturday morning. At 5.30am. I woke up at around 6am with a terrible (physical) pain in my stomach and little was I to know that soon that physical pain in the gut was going to be joined by a metaphorical one. Yes, I checked my phone and Jason had called half an hour before and left a voice mail message. Nothing profound, just some loud music in the background and him droning my name down the phone line. Later that morning I discovered he had been stalking Miss Contradiction too. A few things:

1. Does he really think he is going to get a root out of someone at 5.30 in the morning, which clearly signals he is making the call because all other options have failed,
2. Why is he calling me at all because he will never, and I repeat never, get a root out of me (he was probably calling me in the hopes I was with Miss Contradiction and would encourage her to sleep with him. Yeah, whatever).

Saturday I got drunk and wandered up to the Oaks in the evening. When everyone else went home I was not ready to go as I was off my face so I ended up hanging around the hole for an hour or two staring at a wall. That is one of my favourite things to do when off my face. But I digress. On my way home at about 11.30pm, maybe midnight, I decided it would be a good time to start stalking random people with text messages. Now my phone doesn't store outgoing messages so I can't be sure of exactly what I wrote but from memory it was something about shoes and sex. Riveting stuff I'm sure.

One other thing my phone doesn't store anymore is people's names. Well it probably does but over the last six months I've become too lazy to do so. Basically I have a whole heap of numbers with no names attached. I rely on working out who the person is by the tone of their messages. So I was sending out random messages about shoes and sex to numbers and I have NFI who the owners of those numbers are. Probably not such a good idea in retrospect but... oh well.

Well actually I do know who owned one of the numbers. Nautica. I could tell because the next morning (I passed out about 30 seconds after writing the messages) I had seven - yes SEVEN - return text messages from Nautica. God he makes a fool of himself. He was writing all this pornographic shit to me about various body parts of mine and even some corny crap about me being a 'real woman'. Was there ever any doubt... I mean, did I ever try and pass myself off as a blow-up doll?? And isn't 'real woman' usually code for 'fat'??? Jesus Christ Nautica, way to make a gal feel special.

Thinking about Nautica actually makes me feel slightly ill. I wish he would accidentally set fire to his beard one night then be so distracted by the burning beard that he falls down a hole and gets stung by a bee.

I spent most of Sunday both vomiting and haemorrhaging and generally being sick and cranky. Probably wasn't such a good idea to binge drink on Saturday. Stupid Prednisone. Hope it starts working soon.

The end.

I Miss The Northpoint

I just realised how much I miss the ol' Northpoint (AKA 'No Point') in North Sydney. Really when you think about it the hole (although in the same vein as the Northpoint) doesn't really measure up, does it?

- $5 jugs Wednesday night
- $2.50 spirits Thursdays (every time I think of the Northpoint, I get the taste of OP rum and coke in my mouth)
- The neon blue pool table
- House of the Dead video game
- Free pool on Saturday afternoons
- You could sit at the tables outside in the arcade and smoke
- More random losers than you could poke a stick at
- The El Mustachio bouncer Ibby (or whatever his name was) who used to try and put it on me all the time and rang me at work once

I never thought I'd say this but I kind of miss the Northpoint.

WARNING!!

Warning to everyone who is planning on coming into contact with me over the next 3 weeks!!

I am back on that charming corticosteriod Prednisone for out-of-control Crohn's Colitis and am about to have a psychotic break thanks to the mood swings and insomnia!!

SOMETIMES I WISH THEY'D JUST TAKE MY BLOODY INTESTINE OUT (pun intended)!!

REEEAAARGHH

Perhaps I can use my mood for good instead of evil and beat someone up at the pub this week. Perhaps even Robbie if you're all lucky.

Pot, Meet Kettle. Kettle, This Is Pot

Once again I was hanging out with Bad Smell and his sister at The Oaks on Friday night as I am lonely and desperate and everyone else from the area is sick of me.

He said one thing that kept me laughing for the rest of the weekend, along the lines of ‘how many losers there are around the area (Cremorne/Neutral Bay)’. (What? As opposed to his lice-infested drug den in Kensington?)

Ummmm, hello?? This is coming from someone who:

• Is BFFs with Jason the substance addict, butt of all jokes and collector of AVOs (he's had more of those than most of us have had hot dinners);
• Befriends random weirdos off the street whose idea of a fun Friday night is to sit around a dump in Kensington taking pure speed then heading off to the local cathouse to pick up some sexual diseases,
• Rang me one day to tell me he’d spent the previous night sitting at home taking acid and that I should try it sometime because it’s fun (um excuse me, if I’m going to take hallucinogenic substances, I won’t be sitting at home, I’ll be sharing myself with the world), and
• Sells fridges for a living.

POT, KETTLE, BLACK, TO THE MAX!!

Only we may call people from the local area ‘losers’… because after all, they may be losers, but they’re OUR LOSERS!!!

The end.

Has Scottish Dave Moved To Lansvale? (Wherever The Hell That Is)

Man Dies After Club Brawl

A man has been charged with murder after a bar brawl in which another man was killed in Sydney's south-west.

The 43-year-old Lansvale man is due to appear at Liverpool Local Court this morning.

A 34-year-old man died in hospital today from critical head injuries he suffered during the brawl last night at a registered club on Fairview Road at Cabramatta.

Police said the man's family had his life support turned off at Liverpool Hospital about 6am (AEST) today.

A fight broke out between a number of patrons at the club around 9pm last night, police said.

During the fight, the man struck his head on a bar stool as he fell to the ground.

Police are continuing their inquiries.

http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/man-dies-after-club-brawl/2007/08/17/1186857714120.html

Can't We Find Someone More Worthwhile To Stalk?

Saturday night Miss Contradiction and myself decided we were thoroughly sick of Cremorne and its surrounds so we treated ourselves to a night on the town. What's that I hear you say? You crossed the bridge? Well yes, we did.

We ended up stumbling into the Soho bar in Kings X, largely tempted by the two-for-one cocktails (delicious, by the way). So far so good, but that's where the night started falling apart. For independent of each other, we both started to make off-chops phone calls: she to Jason and me to Bad Smell, both inviting them out. Finally we 'fessed up to each other about what we had done and berated ourselves for indulging such losers.

Well they turned up in about two seconds flat - just goes to show how desperate the pair of them must be - and my, wasn't Jason in fine form. Bad Smell and I left for a few minutes to relive one of our favourite pastimes from when we were a couple - cruising down Darlinghurst Road and chatting to hookers - and when we returned Jason was already attempting to stick his tongue down the throat of (a very inebriated) Miss Contradiction.

Bad Smell also made a comment to Jason about how 'well rested' he looks after his paternity leave. HELLO?? WTF?? WELL RESTED?? DO YOU MEAN FAT?? And come on, are you supposed to look well rested after having a child? Aren't you supposed to be frazzled, otherwise you're not doing it properly?? PARENTAL LEAVE IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A FRICKING DAY SPA, FFS!!!

Other highlights of the night:

* I was wearing my blue Shakuhachi balloon sash dress (see attached picture). The first thing Bad Smell said to me was some lascivious comment about my boobs. No hello, no nothing. Clown.

* I had forgotten how incredibly boring Jason is. I kept trying to escape his monotonous, droning conversation. Once when I got stuck with him he made some comment about how he 'wanted to drink more but couldn't'. I assumed he was asking me for money so I told him I couldn't lend him any. He then jangled his car keys in front of his face to explain that he meant he was driving, then wandered off to buy another beer.

* When I politely asked him how the baby he was, he answered dismissively 'it eats, shits and sleeps'. He then proceeded to tell me how much he hates the name Jennifer and how he was pushing for either my name or my sister's name. He has always had a morbid fascination with my family.

* Bad Smell proceeded to tell me at one stage how he has been trying to get some 20-year-old into bed. I went ballistic at him and told him not to tell me such things. After all, I spare him the gruesome details of my (non-existent) love life.

At about 1am we decided they were boring and annoying so we simply got up and left. We decided to drop into the hole on the way home for a quick drink. It was busy but there was no one we know there except for this weird guy who works at the Mosman RSL so we left.

Then when we were at home Jason rang Miss Contradiction looking for a root. He had 'somehow' ended up in Balmain, his old picking up ground. He asked her to text him the address so she told him the street name without a block number or apartment number. HA!

Then we sent out a couple of annoying text messages to people and passed out.

The end.

Dicko Battled Alcohol And Drug Dependency

Bwahahahahaha... tell us something we don't know



http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,22218191-5006002,00.html

Minsky's sucks.

Ok, I'm trying to boycott going to the Hole but it hasn't worked when I am drunk. I have ended up in Minsky's not once but 2 nights in a row because I was intoxicated.
You would have thought I would have learned my lesson after Friday night, but NO. I ended up there last night SMASHED and some stupid low life c*#t stole my mobile phone while I was arguing with the bouncer who was trying to kick my mate out.
I HATE that place and now that place has taken away one of the most important things in my life. I have no one's numbers now, I have no photo's, especially my favourite which was of Town Bike and Panda when they became BBF's. I have no alarm clock.
God damn the hole.

My Ultimate Fantasy

Everyone has one. Here's mine:

It's a Parramatta / Manly grand final (NRL). Everyone expects Manly to win because they have paid off so many refs to turn a blind eye to their blatant piss-weakedness. But Parra smashes them by about a zillion points and the whole city parties because everyone hates Manly and all their supporters are a bunch of poetry-reciting morons who would be better suited to life in some kind of hippie commune / cafe / mental institution / anywhere the hell away from me.

I hate Manly.

I love Parra.

PARRA

HINDMARSH IS MY BOYFRIEND

AFTER GERARD BUTLER

AND DANIEL CRAIG

The Curse Of Nautica Strikes Again!

Remember Nautica? (If you don’t: half your luck. But you can click on this sentence to recap.)

Well I have another story to tell about him and his lecherous ways.

Lately Miss Contradiction and I have taken to waking up still off our faces on a Friday or Saturday morning then sending half the people in our phone books messages saying “Panda told me he has a crush on you, you should call him”. We only send them to men and we often send them to Panda, just to confuse him. Perhaps you have been one of the lucky recipients of such a message, if so, you should realise how many hours of hilarity these messages provide us with.

Anyway we must have sent one to Nautica a few weeks ago (I can’t remember but I was probably drunk at the time) because last night I got a message from him saying “Sorry been away, what the hell does Panda has a crush on you mean? Would rather get it on with you than someone called Panda”.

A few points:

1. DREAM ON NAUTICA
2. I haven’t seen Nautica for years and years, why would he assume a message about Panda would be serious?? What an idiot. Why do so many losers have no sense of humour??

Maybe I will get Deputy Dog to get medieval on his ass.

FUCK YOU NAUTICA!! Why don't you go back to doing something you're good at... like, oh I don't know... shooting up pure speed and ripping off pool competitions!!!

To The Person Who Voted 'No' To Reading Our Book About Cremorne...

I'll bet it's because you're illiterate.