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 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.