Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Thinking thoughts...

I think I might detox. This seems wise. Other people do it. I might look like a celebrity. Do I want to look like a celebrity? I am not sure. I don't think I will detox. I mean what if I get stranded on a desert island and I have JUST detoxed? That would be a waste when I have been stockpiling pizza in my ass for years.
I am no scout but I do like being prepared.
I wonder why people ask what you would take on a desert island? Has it happened many times before apart from on Survivor? Are there even that many desert islands left that Richard Branson hasn't bought?
I wonder what I would take on a desert island.
I think I should seriously consider this in case it happens and I am given one thing to take. It is like knowing how to answer if a Genie asked you what you wished for with only one wish (and no you can't pick more wishes and you just wasted your wish. Dumbhead.) Pays to be prepared.
So first of all never detox. Stockpile for not only winter, but also desert islands. Joy to my ass already having a years worth of storage.
Doesn't even count as your one thing to take because it is part of you. Nice one.
Obvious choice to take with me is Adrien Brody but I honestly don't think he has been saving his pizza for a rainy day or a tsunami and if we have to start eating appendages it may get ugly because my ass would be the obvious choice (and yes my ass is an appendage in my case).
I would take Tom Hanks. He started working on his raft craft in Joe versus the Volcano and then advanced that in Castaway. He knows stuff already and as long as I can find an island that is sponsored by FedEx we should be okay.
Happy for Tom to call me Wilson but wonder if that would be weird because his wife's name is Rita Wilson and he may call me Rita and start thinking I am her and that may get funky. If he went back in age and was as cute as he was in Big then maybe it could be okay.
So that sorts that then. I know what I am taking to a desert island and not only will we survive without it turning into Lords of the Flies but I may even get to find Adrien Brody after all when Tom Hanks saves me. I reckon Tom may even know Adrien and so he may be able to give me tips on the raft of how to make him my boyfriend.
Wow the benefits of Tom are limitless.
Good choice for sure.
Now I just have to think about what to tell the Genie. This one is a toughy.
Obvious choice again would be Adrien Brody but...

This post was bought to you by the thinking munchkins who take over Paula's brain. The above is an indication of what goes on in said brain on such occasions as weddings, meetings, talk of children or dogs, Rom-Coms, dinner parties and in five second intervals. 

Monday, April 16, 2012

Flirting Twitter style

So last night I tweeted about my ass. A fairly stock standard tweet for me. Talking about my ass having a life of its' own is like me talking about pyjamas and pizza and Adrien Brody: obsessive.
So little did I know that my ass would attract not just one but many new followers and then an unexpected request. It's there on public display for all the world to see.
One no longer needs to fill out forms on eHarmony and have a match and flirt in private. Oh no. All you need to do is read my Twitter intro and it must be love. That and we can openly talk about my ass. Not that you can see my ass on Twitter mind you.
(And yes my ass is slightly chuffed about all the attention, so much so I had a request for a trailer today.)
So my tweet last night was:
If I had to do "the twirl" for best dressed at the Logies my dress would go one way and my ass would go the other. 
To which I had the reply:
 I think you ass is quite nice, I'd love to see you do a "twirl" ;)
So I politely replied:
Cheers! My ass will be stoked! :)
And then came the tweet that my ass had been waiting for:
 My pleasure, perhaps I could take you & your nice ass out for a beer, and a pizza sometime ?
So while my ass is busy flirting and looking for Vera Wang dresses online, I am busy wondering what the hell do you do next?
I mean can you really take someone seriously when part of their Twitter handle is Shagger?
Although he did offer me beer AND pizza.
Should I maybe check if he likes horror movies? Pyjamas? Adrien Brody?
Too much?
And the big question is how does he know what my ass looks like? Do I know him?
Or maybe my ass is posting those pictures again.
Damn thought I'd removed all of them.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Taking Over

Given that Paula has been MIA from her blog for so long I figured it was time to take over and be her guest blogger. It is not the first time I have taken over her life and there is no question it won't be my last.
No doubt Paula will be mad I have "appeared" again. She always has her cranky panties on when I come to visit.
You see what Paula doesn't realise is that I am always watching. Yet I have a problem of not being able to see properly. So when something super exciting (or even mildly interesting - I am not actually fussy) happens I make an appearance to get a front row seat to all the action.
Personally I think there could be more action. Paula has a decent set of jugs yet she has no idea how to use them. She needs to watch The Bachelor more, then she would realise that taking your bra off actually gets you the rose. I mean seriously do I have to teach her everything.
Now Paula and I have not always had a good relationship. I first met her when she was around 13 years old. Honestly she had no idea (still doesn't). Her favourite thing was horses and she wanted to be an actress. I don't think she had a crush on a guy until she was 15 and I am pretty sure that crush was Michael J Fox and not even a real guy. I mean not that things have changed given all she talks about is Adrien Brody. Honestly she needs to get her jugs out and maybe she could talk about someone other than a celebrity.
When we first met we had a fight. It was in the bathroom at high school. It was her first day of school. She saw me. She screamed. I saw her. I screamed. I didn't at that stage understand why we were screaming but it seemed like the right thing to do.
She never seemed happy to see me. Yet she never understood, I couldn't see properly so only appeared when something cool was going on.
First day of school. First kiss (boy did that take a long time to happen). First audition. When she meets Adrien Brody I will be there. When she gets married I will be there. Hell, if she just meets someone and likes him I will make an appearance (like I said I am not fussy).
She will do what she normally does when I come to visit and have a bloody crisis (is it just me or is she always having some crisis or another?)
Unlike Paula I have dated and am now married and have many children. This has driven her to further craziness because my family seems to be multiplying while she stays the poster child for the song "All By Myself."
I know she thought I would disappear when she was an adult but she is so far off base she doesn't even get to first base. You see I am still hanging around until she meets someone - I know she would say it will be Adrien Brody but at least I am a true friend and know differently - so until then I will be here.
Crap I can hear her cranky panties being put on. She is mad I am back. She is looking at me in the mirror and starting to squeeze.
Given that she is not getting any tonight little does she know I am blind and will haunt her all week. I don't need to appear right now.
Had she got her jugs out I might have made a more pus like appearance and be gone before she knew it...although the kids would have wanted a look-see and may have stayed and played a while.
Anyway, now that we are friends next time you see me and the family say hi. I will be on Paula's chin and she will be trying to cover me up with concealer - she is such a bitch sometimes.
I may or may not try and flirt with what is on your chin. If you have nothing on your chin you are boring just remember that. Not zits, no life.
If you do see me and the family it probably means Paula likes you and wants to pash you.
Just saying.
Pimple out.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Fake it 'til you make it

I love trying new things. Skydiving. Check. Filming in war zones. Check. Kissing Adrien Brody. Check. (That dream sure felt real.)
So when I got offered a free spray tan, I was like hellz yeah. Always wanted to look like Paris Hilton and now was my chance. Plus everyone else seems to be doing it and I hate being left out.
I was a fake tan virgin and it was time to pop my white skin cherry.
So I thought today was the perfect time because I had someone special I was meeting and so I would be bronzed and fabulous for when this happened.
Now like an episode of How I Met Your Mother I have to take you back a few years.
In my early twenties I worked at a cafe. Fun place and my first full time job. Next door to us was a sports shop where many a spunky boy worked and there was one guy in particular who I often spilt my milkshake over (metaphor? Totes). We crushed hard over each other but nothing ever happened.
So when I ran into him this morning totally out of the blue it was a bloody great surprise and then when he asked me out for an early dinner I pulled out the hellz yeah all over again.
I had the perfect dress but needed the perfect tan to go with it. So dashed off, got my naked on with funny little panties and twirled with joy as I was sprayed with my secret weapon for my hot date.
I have to say by the time I left my house I was looking bloody great. Already my tan was starting to show and I barely had to put any make-up on because my face was bronzed. I was an instant fan of this spray tan thing and could understand why Paris made sure she still had hers done even when she was in jail (never know who you may meet in the shower).
So me and Crush Boy met at a cocktail bar, had a few drinks and caught up. Yes he was single. Divorced actually. Yes he was still cute as and all I could think of was that this time there was no way we were not going to follow up on our crush.
Now you all know where this is going because you have all had a spray tan before (slight exaggeration of course but there are many of you screaming at me as you read). Because apparently in my virginal spray tan state I did not know that you do not go out on your first day of getting your tan. I vaguely remember reading that somewhere, maybe in Paris's memoirs but I didn't know why.
So we are sitting there and Crush Boy is starting to look at me weird. He asks if I am feeling okay. I say I feel faaabbbullloooouuuus (because I did). So we continue to chat and I wonder what our kids will look like when he asks again if I am okay.
So now I am confused. Why does he keep asking me that? So I excuse myself and go to the bathroom.
As I sit on the toilet I ask myself if maybe he is the one? After all these years could it be this guy that I have been waiting for?
Then I look in the mirror.
I look like Vegemite. BUT ONLY ON MY FACE.
I am sure I am blushing with sheer mortification but I am so dark I can't even see it. Given I am normally as white as Nicole Kidman I am one freaky looking chick.
I realise if I go back out there with my skin brewing like coffee and spend any more time with Crush Boy I may actually turn into the ace of spades.
So I do what any reverse Michael Jackson skin girl would do and sneak out the back door. And before you ask no I don't have his number, no I don't know his last name and yes I am a dickhead.
Guess Crush Boy isn't the one.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

What's your sign?

Once upon a time in a land called Friday Night at a Bar a princess called Paula (me, henceforth called I) was getting drunk by sipping (skolling) cocktails and then later beer. Yes I am one classy dame.
It was at this Bar that I discovered that all of my friend's mates came from a strange far away land where all the men were most hotly, most kindly and most...well...single. A very coveted prize indeed for the Princess or me or I, well all of my personalities really.
I was most intrigued from whence these men came from and why they had not found their maidens fair.
So being the nosey bitch (couldn't translate that to princess speak) that I am I had to find out why and so on my quest I went.
It was upon this quest that I discovered that we princesses can be most foul indeed. You see no longer do we stand by and let the men dictate what they want but instead we do a little demanding of our own. Cinderella is out and the Ugly Sisters are in my friends.
So what do we demand? Well many things.
A big grand castle.
A big grand horse (car).
A big grand job (to pay for horse and castle).
And a big grand horoscope.
Yes you read right. Now on the checklist of every maiden fair is the horoscope that will match your own.
But can this be right?
On my quest I met a lovely man from the strange far away land and he told me the story of the horoscope and how it has become a deal breaker (again princess speak is tough). I was shocked, amazed and horrified at my fellow princesses. Would Snow White have ever been that cruel to reject a Cancer if she was a Leo? (Because there is no question she was a Leo.)
So I asked, "Well what star sign are you?"
"I am an Aquarian."
Now at this point of the fairytale I would love to tell you that I didn't have a clue what he was talking about but I would be a lying princess.
You see I love all things star signs. I am a Scorpio after all and it is part of my sign to love all things mystical.
I also knew that as a Scorpio I was not compatible with an Aquarian.
I tried my best to seemed shocked at the brutality of these woman who had broken his heart because of the time of year when his mother had burst him from her loins (is loins where we come from? Seems to fit so will leave it).
I realised that maybe I too was guilty of such an act but maybe on my princess checklist it would have been:
Do you like big grand pizzas
Do you like big grand horror movies
Do you love wearing big grand pyjamas
And what star sign are you
Although I have to say that had he answered yes to number one I would have made him my prince there and then (I also would have accepted "Hello my name is Adrien Brody")
So is it okay to reject someone because of when they were born? Well of course the answer is no but if he doesn't like pizza then it is a deal breaker.
The End.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Speed Dating for Dummies

A friend recently enquired if she should go speed dating, to which I replied why don't I tell you about my speed dating experience and then you can make up your own mind.
So here is a little story of how Paula went a speed dating one day (night).
Probably my first mistake of the night had not to do with drinking too much champagne (although I would get there eventually) but rather with my choice in speed dating friend. You see she was more like a Greek Goddess than a real life girl and so what hope did I have walking in the room with that? Well none really. I was just grateful someone wanted to come with me.
The bar we went into was small and dark (awesome, although I was hoping my newly formed blind pimple wouldn't glow in the dark).
Nearly everyone had arrived and we all mingled at the bar holding our free glass of champagne like it was a life buoy and we were in the middle of the ocean. No one was saying anything. It was awkward. I looked around and tried to see if my future husband was in the room and there were some potentials. I wondered why no one was talking, so I asked the girl next to me - who looked like she had stage makeup on and was about to sing "Sweet Transvestite" from Rocky Horror.
"Why isn't anyone talking?" I tried not to stare at her face and looked at her heaving cleavage instead (better).
"It's because everyone is saving their best conversation for when their date starts."
"But we only have seven minutes. Surely there is plenty of good conversation to be had?"
"You would be surprised."
Hmmm. I was uncomfortable by the silence and everyone was looking at me now because I had started a conversation.
So in my best public speaking voice I said, "As if we can't start talking now! Seven minutes is not enough time people. Let's get to know each other now!"
I was officially in a zoo and everyone slowly backed away (including my friend) because no one wanted to be with the talking girl.
I nodded to myself, then my champagne so I didn't look stupid (good move) and said under my breath "sorry" as I backed away too so I was now part of the circle that moments before I was in the middle of.
Never fear because suddenly there was a very loud gong and the speed dating had begun.
Us chicks got to pick a table and the guys had to move around. For this I was grateful as I planned to drink as much champagne that the bar had and sitting down would allow for graceful drunkenness.
A gentleman sat in front of me, there was another loud gong and we were off like greyhounds in the wind.
Let me just say that seven minutes can be a very long time in the scheme of your life when you are stuck in the cone of speed dating.
I suddenly learnt that even I, the girl who talks too much, too often, too loudly and without consent was at a loss for words.
It was like pulling teeth but without the string attached to the door. There was nothing quick about it. I can't even remember the conversations. All I thought was...don't these people do things or if not can't they just make it up?
There was one guy though. He was cute. He was in publicity and loved films. He liked pizza (well every guy loves pizza so that doesn't really count) he liked to travel and...well really he could have said anything. He was the best out of a bad bunch.
He told me he wanted to see me again and when we filled out our forms (which you do at the table with the guy right there...talk about covering your test sheet) we both openly ticked "yes" we would like to see each other again and the dating agency would pass over our details.
I left the night feeling fabulous and not caring that I was not a Greek Goddess.
My friend called the next day to ask how many matches I got and I said I hadn't got a call yet. My friend had gotten eight matches. Wow! My dream boy included.
I rang the agency and asked for my results. "What is your name?" "Paula." "Paula did you fill out a form with the guy's names on in?" "Umm...hello I didn't go through that pain for nothin'!" "Okay well Paula we don't have a sheet for you. Did you write your name at the top because if you didn't we would have thrown it away."
"OF COURSE I PUT MY...hang on...actually I didn't put my name on the top."
Oh crap.
Speed Dating = Write Name On Top Of Your Sheet.
Now you are all experts.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Date 2 - Armageddon

Okay so before you get settled into the saga that is my life, I would like to draw your attention to the fact that this post is in fact a sequel to the post below. So be a dear and read that first (unless you are awesome and have done so already, which means you actually read my blog and for that I am very sorry or I am in love with you. You decide.)
So here we are.
(Look if you skipped the first paragraph because you are lazy then bloody well read it would you!)
Before you accuse me of being insane for going through this again I would like to say that it was all peer pressure and yes Mum I would jump off a cliff because I am part lemming on Dad's side.
So let me catch you up. Wait I have already done that. Twice.
So I agreed to meet Gary* again and not to be fooled, like last time, I was ready for this date. I got a facial, waxed appropriate areas, considered a fake tan and then unconsidered and even washed my hair. I was ready! I also put on some clothes, which is always handy in public.
This date was to be in daylight and whilst you might think that just coffee would be more appropriate, I happened to think that straight vodka may work better. So back to the same pub we went.
I walked in and the whole place looked at me. Yes I was looking sharp.
At this stage I should let you in on a little secret. You see all that waxing and almost tanning was quite frankly because it needed doing and had nothing to do with this date.
Prep that did go into this date was pulling out all of my make-up from high school and choosing my best shade of blue eyeliner and pink eyeshadow and laying it on. Heavily. My lipstick that started out green and turned blue when applied finished the look and I noticed complimented my left elbow quite nicely.
I then crimped my hair, did a side pony tail and put on...well just jeans and a t-shirt (nothing from high school fit).
So what did Gary do when I sat down? He smiled and then a small bit of drool came out of the corner of his mouth.
"Oh Paula! You look amazing! How did you know I love Tiffany? Honestly how good was her song "I Saw Him Standing There?!"
Once again this guy, now formally Gary, had floored me.
"Yes, I love Tiffany too." Truth is that I do and was just a little bit chuffed that I now resembled her. (Google if need be for reference. Done? We progress.)
"So Paula after our last meeting I have to say I have not been able to stop thinking about you. You are definitely one of a kind and now...this..." He touched my crimped hair and I wondered if maybe I should have told someone about our second meeting time and location.
"Yes well, I too have been thinking about you quite a lot but I have a feeling that it may not be for the same reasons."
"Oh Paula, there you go again with your witty repartee. You really are something special."
I could feel my pink eyeshadow moving over into my frown lines as I looked at Gary with worry.
"Well Gary given that this is now our second date and I feel like things are moving really well for us, I think the time has come for me to ask you some questions to see if you are my perfect match. So hope you are up for it."
"Paula I think that anything less would be a crime." (Umm...okay.)
Did I mention when I walked in I bought six straight vodkas and was now up to my fifth? No. Well now you know, so stop feeling so neglected.
I needed them for what was to come. You see I was prepared this time!
I opened up my list and began.
"So Gary you are in a snow storm..."
"Paula I am going to stop you right there. Are you sure there is a storm already? I mean don't I mention the storm if that is what I feel?"
"Gary I am going to stop you right there. These are questions that I am pulling out of my ass and means absolutely nothing whatsoever to anything. So should I continue?"
There was a momentary flash of confusion and then it was gone. "You must go on Paula. It is our destiny that you go on."
I was not to be deterred by this hiccup to my plan so I continued.
"So you are in a SNOW STORM and you see Yoda and Luke and they are cutting open one of those creatures from the Empire Strikes Back to live in and maybe start a family and then you see a slip 'n slide and must decide if A. You are allergic to belly buttons or B. Choose bachelor #2."
"So I must choose between A or B, is that the test?"
"No there is also a C but the only way to know C is to never speak to me again."
He thinks. He ponders. A few people take photos of me and I smile to be polite.
"So what happens if I pick the wrong one?"
"Then we can't see each other anymore."
"Oh, then I pick none of them. I don't like this test. I don't even know if it is a real test."
"Then you lose Gary."
"Wait! Let me hear the options again. I can get this right."
"I am sorry Gary but the correct answer was D."
"Yes D is for drunk and that is me. If I stay any longer I may just find you attractive and no doubt when I blog about you all my friends will cheer and want me to see you again and bloody hell there may even be an E, which is we are perfect for each other and I don't wanna!"
No really. I don't wanna. So don't make me.

(*I thought Gary would be a good name because his name is actually Gary)

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Just like Ted Bundy

So because I am a producer I often get people sending me scripts or pitching me projects. Everyone has a good idea but just needs someone to do all the hard work and make it happen (producer).
So when a friend of a friend wanted me to meet their mate to discuss a potential project I didn't say no because my friend is a good one and it involved free beer, so I was in.
So I arrive at the pub and the guy I am meeting was already there. As he stands to say hello I notice he is shorter than me (which is fine by me as I love South American men and they are always short), he looks like he could be a cast member on The Big Bang Theory and looks through me like he can see my underwear (I am pretty sure there was no lace bras and there may or may not have been a sparkly inscription on my ass that said JUICY).
So after waiting for him to buy the beer, which he had promised, and none was forthcoming I decided to go and get us a jug to share. I then started my small talk before I planned to launch into what his project was about and then make a quick exit and go and make love to my pyjamas.
Only none of my "usual" forms of engagement were working. As the first thing he says is:
"So thanks for meeting me on this date. I am really surprised you were interested in meeting me, even after seeing my photo."
I took a huge gulp of beer, tried to get my thoughts together and before I could say, I think maybe I am in an alternate universe where this isn't happening, he is off again.
"So I managed to get who you are and what you are about from your friend ***** (I will not mention my friend's name as I now have a hit out on them and I do not want this blog to be put into evidence) and **** said that you are well and truly single and may even be a bit desperate. So this is where I come in as I am also a bit desperate."
By now I am nodding because I am in shock and have drunk not only my glass that was full of beer but the glass that I poured after that.
"I think maybe there is some confusion because yes I am desperate but usually that desperation is for pizza and not men. After all pizza is far more satisfying than men." I laugh, not just because I may be a tad drunk but because I am also quite funny.
He does not laugh but looks at me like I am in an Attenborough doco.
So I continue, "I thought we were meeting about a project you were developing, not for a date. I think there may be some confusion."
"I saw your photo on my friend's Facebook and thought we should connect. It was my idea to make it a business meeting as I thought maybe a date might freak you out."
"How kind of you and yes I am a tad freaked out."
"So Paula I only have a few questions for you and then I can ascertain if in fact we can move on in this relationship."
Yes I should have left but there was beer left and I love questions and hoped it would be like a trivia night and there would be more beer if I "won".
"So you are walking through a desert and you come across a cube. What does this cube look like and please be specific."
I must admit I thought of a Rubik Cube but I had a feeling this may have been the correct answer so I said, "I see a cube that is made of pizza. It is margarita pizza and there are holes everywhere from where I have been snacking due to me being in a desert and for sure I am hungry."
His face gives me nothing.
"So now there is a ladder. What does it look like and where is it?"
"Well when I think of ladder I think of Jack and the Beanstalk and how that must have been the coolest and biggest ladder ever. I think my ladder is going through my cube for extra support. Actually can I have two ladders as the Magic Faraway Tree was also like a ladder and there was magical lands when you climbed it and of course there was Moon Face. Gotta love Moon Face."
He ponders this and proceeds but not before I grab his beer that he is clearly not going to drink and I need more than him.
"So there is a horse..."
I cut him off. "I LOVE horses!"
"Yes okay Paula but please give a serious answer."
I am now officially drunk and can't quite see him properly but the idea of horses makes me happy and I don't want to stuff this answer up because it is about horses.
"There is a horse in the desert now, so please tell me what it looks like."
"Oh that is easy. If it is in the desert then it is the Black Stallion and I am the boy from the Black Stallion and I ride him bare back, the horse not the boy. The Black Stallion only loves me and won't let anyone else but me on him."
"Okay Paula, that is great. There is two more questions about storms and flowers but I don't think I need to ask you anymore."
"That's good because flowers are a tad boring and storms are only good if you are living in a house with a tin shed. So did I pass?" I say (slur).
"You don't pass this test Paula but it does tell me a lot about you. You see the cube represents you, the ladder represents your friends and the horse represents your ideal partner. You are a very intriguing person Paula and I am not quite clear what your answers mean or if in fact we are right for each other."
I have to say I feel a tad disappointed I have not won more beer.
"So now I have to leave you while I decide if we should meet again and maybe mate."
As he leaves I wonder if he did actually say "mate" or I have drunk too much beer.
So the next day I get a text message that reads:
Dear Paula. Thank u 4 our date. It was most interesting. Upon reflection and with professional council I have decided u r either a serial killer or my perfect match. I happen to think u r my perfect match and will meet u again at arranged time to follow.
For the first time in my life I decided that being a serial killer wouldn't be so bad and so I will now be killing kittens in my spare time.
The alternative is a lot more daunting.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

What not to do.

Currently on the TV is Sleepless in Seattle where it is New Years Eve which reminds me that I must tell you all about my New Years and how not to be me when you grow up.
No seriously give my blog to your daughters instead of Judy Blume and say to them: be any kind of girl, just not Paula.
Before I get to New Years though I want to ask the blogging cosmos why over the festive season there are so many commercials on internet dating? Is it to remind us that we are alone and if you just jump out of a locker or knock over some paint the man of your dreams will fall in love with you?
Look I tried the knocking over the paint thing today with a street artist (he was cute too) and the guy didn't ask me for my phone number only looked like he was going to punch me in the face. I hung around for a little bit hoping he was a fan of Jackson Pollock and would think I was his muse, instead he threw some green paint at me and asked me to f**k off. Some would say that meant he liked me, I would say that may be true; what is true is that the green paint in my hair brings out my eyes.
So New Years. A single frenzy to be sure. Get drunk, have a good pash - because you can! If any night was made for us single girls it is this one.
So let me tell you what this single girl did.
For starters, I could have gone to the party where the boy that I like (and no he doesn't like me so don't get your hopes up) was and so at the very least I could have used New Years to liquor up, be miraculously by his side and then BAM! we are pashing at midnight. I couldn't have planned it any better unless of course we are talking about reality and not just a fantasy in my head.
I had one of my old high school crushes in town and he was going to the party too. We drank lots of beer, it was hot, I suddenly felt very old and when I should have been getting frocked up and fabulous I made up my mind to pike (not puke people - pike).
My high school crush thought I was ridiculous (and he is right, I was) so to prove I wasn't ridiculous I did what any girl would do and all sweaty and in my trackies I caught the tram and then walked him to the party. That's right ALL the way to the door of the party and then left.
Yes it is true, I am a moron. Any self respecting girl would have looked like a slut, had their girls out and been ready for any word that night except for "no" (or even "na" or "I don't want to").
But no, being the Paula that you have all come to love and scream at I left without so much as a hello to the boy that I like.
So at midnight I was on the tram going home. The tram driver dung the bell for me a couple of times - when I say me it was because I was the only person on the tram - and said "It is New Years now."
"Cheers," I said.
I half pie thought about asking the tram driving for a pash but that came and went, along with my sanity (that may or may not have gone a long time ago).
So the next day I found out that not only was I not brave enough to even say hello to the man I like BUT the party was filled with horror movie filmmakers. I mean seriously...
So New Years Resolutions go like this:

  • Eat more pizza - it is my true friend.
  • Only love Adrien Brody. 
  • I need more self help books.
  • Never leave the house again.