Light Entertainment

Some days when you are single you look at other couples and wish it was you.
Today though was not that day.
I was trying to work when I heard someone yelling. Then there was a loud crash. Of course I was curious and looked through my blinds out of the window. Down below was a crying girl, surrounded by her toiletries while a Wilmer Valderrama look-alike sat in his black sports car looking bored.
The gist of the story was this. He had gone to Stereosonic the night before and hadn't called her to "check in". Instead he had sent her a text saying Have a good night. This was not acceptable to her and she therefore concluded that he had gone home with someone else. From the look of him and his smug face I would say she was onto something there.
Wish I knew why she was surrounded by her toiletries but I had come into what would be a three hour epic too late.
After settling in for the long haul with popcorn and beer (work could wait) I went through the emotions with them. I willed her to walk away, then when he got out of the car and hugged her, I wanted them to make up, she resisted, he got back in the car, she cried, he didn't flinch, I willed her to walk away again.
This was better than anything that was on Sunday TV.
Did I feel bad for sitting on my kitchen bench and watching them? Well momentarily, yes of course but then I looked up and saw the two boys living across from me doing the same thing. They also had beer and we did cheers from our vantage points.
At times I got bored and wondered why they hadn't walked or driven away (what I would have done by now) or made up and had a nap instead of sex because what they were doing was exhausting.
In the end they agreed with me and sat on the ground, head in hands, with nothing left to say.
I figured I owed them one (for A: giving me good grounds for work procrastination and B: making me wonder if I did actually want that date that I have been coveting after all) and did what any good neighbour would do: I put the kettle on.
That's right, I went out and brought them each a nice cup of tea.

Too much information

There is one place I love to visit when I am in a bookstore (and that's if you can find a bookstore anymore).
There is a magical world called "Self Help." Yep, I am a fan. After all who wouldn't want to help themselves given the chance? I also love seeing the company I keep in this wonderful aisle - or more like aisles given the amount of "self" help we now need in the world.
I have my own floor to ceiling library in my house where I have a wide variety of books, all anal retentively categorised and you guessed it I have many shelves of self help goodness.
I bring this up because recently I have had to revisit this section and consult the bibles of any girl's life. He's Not That into You, Mars and Venus on a Date, The Five Love Languages and just for good measure The Secret.
I just need to remind myself that no matter what - wait for him to make the first move. No matter what - don't call. No matter what - be everything you can be just not yourself. I've decided these books are just here to confuse us, taunt us and remind us woman that unless a guy calls us then we may as well forget any hope of ever having a boyfriend. Honestly, I am concerned about breathing in case of scaring all those potential guys away.
I guess the real question here is why have I had to pull out all of my mind f**k books anyway? Yes good bloody question. Could it be that I acted ridiculously towards a boy then needed to reaffirm it via books written about girls just like me?
Here's the thing. Everything I could have done wrong in the world of boys, I did recently. Yep, I told him I liked him first, I called first and I am so busy worrying about what I can't do that I stuff it up and do it anyway.
Is it any wonder he hasn't asked me out on a date yet?
I have decided to write my own book entitled How to give 100% to being a Loser, without getting off the couch.
John Gray eat your Mars and Venus heart out.

Cruising for a Bruising Part Four

Well crisis averted. Ugly multiple went away (cocktails help) and in stepped congo line dancing personality. Only problem with congo dancing personality is when it tries to start its own congo line and there is no one else behind. No problem, couple of old crusty men happy to oblige. Sometimes you have to let them cop a feel, might be the last of their life.

So now that I am back and dancing, reality is cruise is drawing to an end. Last day at port and off in VIP helicopter ride. Called shotgun before anyone else and had best view of the dolphins and lighthouses, also lots of water –which was very pretty.

Brother got me a new necklace for my upcoming B’day to represent new beginnings and prosperity. Not sure which will come first but keep asking him if the new beginning has started yet and have a feeling I am driving him crazy.

I am persistent and can keep this up for as long as it takes, at least until I get the new beginning I am looking for. Hoping I may finally get to be Wonder Woman or even Snow White will work.

Only have two more days to consume as much pizza as I can. I have a feeling after all that congo line dancing I will do okay. Tonight is variety night so may get up and do some dancing for the passengers. I have been practising my jazz hands and step ball change and hopefully I can find a nice tutu to wear.  Cellulite is abundant on the cruise, so figure it is nothing anyone hasn’t seen before.

Failing that I can just pose and be the fat lady. 

Cruising for a Bruising Part Three

Only a few more days now and I will be back onshore permanently. Might be able to walk without swaying all over the place, which will be nice.
Went out shopping with the crew today. Leo left and went back to where Italian Gods are made. Some would say that I am melancholy because of that but I know that is not true, after all one does not spend their lives with Italian Gods and he was way too pretty for me.
No, the reality is that no matter where you are in the world you have no choice but to take yourself with you. Sure I would love to leave the yucky part of me at home, to have its own holiday and maybe brighten up but unfortunately that is not life and me and all my multiples come with me.
It is days like this that the pizza does not taste as good, that all films make you sad and seem to be made about your life and that even the brightest sun seems to have too much of a glare.
It is usually the action of one that can send you into the abyss and today is no different. It is my own stupid fault really. It is what happens when you try and be brave and say what you think and hope that maybe this time will be different. One day it will be but not today.
Bet you're glad you jumped onto my blog today huh?
How about I jump in the shower and go on another roller coaster ride? Maybe this time I will fall down the toilet and not only will that be a story for me to blog about but also will be sure to be added to the ship's list of entertainment for today.
May as well laugh at my own expense huh?

Cruising for a Bruising Part Two

So in case you didn't know, food is the most important part of any cruise. Nothing to do? Go eat. Not hungry? Go eat. Yep it is all about the eating. Getting a table is like fighting off a pack of wolves and don't underestimate the lady in the walker...she will beat you every time!
Went to a show the other night and my bro and I left to get popcorn and at the same time as we were about to sit back in our chairs so were another couple.
"Sorry Mate, they are our seats." I say politely and point to the two other chairs on the other side of my Mum.
"Too bad." Was the reply and even though my Mum was now sitting four seats away they were not moving for anyone. Hmmm...karma may be a bitch but so am I. May have to hatch a plan of sweet seat revenge.
Now if you have any kids or are a big kid at heart then best "ride" of the cruise is having a shower. Thought the hand rail was for the oldies but no, once you get in it is a ride of your life as you try and soap up, stay up and not fall into the toilet. Good times.
On the topic of bathrooms, even though our room is the size of a Rubik's cube my Mum still managed to walk in on me - claiming she didn't know where I was. Apart from climbing into the ceiling duct and trying an alternate route to get to Leo on the Bridge, I am not sure where she thought I could possibly be!
Did I mention the pizza is free? So now you know what I do on the ship for most of the day and night. Apparently you put on two pounds a day on a cruise. I plan to put on at least 8. Yes I am daring myself. I always have my sick bag to make room if the need arises. So far I am a pizza eating machine.
Latest news of trip is met the room service boy, Alexander from Serbia. It's all about who you know and not what and imagine the possibilities if I can eat pizza, wear my p.j's and not move from my Rubik's cube as Alexander (yes he is as cute as he sounds) knocks on my door on an hourly basis.
Might change my dare to 10 pounds.

Cruising for a Bruising Part One

Let me start by saying that going on a cruise is not everything it is cracked up to be.
From the moment I checked in with my family, waiting for our number to be called like we were waiting for our parmas to be ready, I realised that I was being stared at. Yes openly stared at. I wondered why. Yes sure I was loud and kept saying to anyone who would listen that when our number was called we would be sent into the mysteriously big room where people disappeared and never returned (and was that a scream?) that we were being sent to be eaten by dinosaurs or worse - sharks. Yes it may have been that but honestly I didn't tell the dinosaur story to everyone and even when our number was called and we went into the big room of terror (customs) and then onto the ship I was still being looked at like I was some sort of rare specimen.
Then I realised I was, in fact, a rare specimen. You see apart from some 7 year olds, I was the youngest person on the ship (and I would like to remind you that I am in fact old). Blue hair, walking frames, fanny packs and cardigans were in abundance. Singles nights on this cruise may not be everything I had hoped.
So we all  shuffled into the theatre to learn what to do in the event of hitting an iceberg (clearly panic because it only took us an hour to get everyone seated in the cinema due to difficulties getting down stairs, so I can only imagine trying to get us into lifeboats!) Not that I can talk I was the only one to put my life jacket on backwards and then proceed to be in hysterics about it for the next ten minutes. Okay maybe this is why everyone was looking at me.
So after realising that there was no hope of having any type of cruise like An Affair to Remember I resigned myself to getting to know the very young and very attractive staff. Goran from Serbia makes my popcorn every night when I watch my movies, Gerardo tops up my water and reminds me that my Spanish is terrible and then there is Leo, the Italian God who lives up on the Bridge and looks like he should be a model and not driving the ship. Will he show me the Bridge one night? No problem! Sigh. Cruise is suddenly looking up.
Problem is the cruise leaves Sydney Harbour and in no time I realise that my car sickness also crosses over into sea sickness and life with Leo on the Bridge is suddenly not looking so good, especially when I am seeing three of him and I need a permanent sick bag attached to my wrist.
Green apples help did you know? So does not being on a cruise.

Growing old

When was the first time you realised you were getting old? Like really old.
I thought it would be when I got married or had kids but given that none of things have happened to me I guess I still feel like I could be in a John Hughes film looking like I was 30 but playing a teenager.
Even with most of my friends now up to their second marriages or multiple kids I still didn't feel old.
I got to leave it all behind, come home and curl up watching Dawson's Creek with no one interrupting me as I pretended I was still going to be like Joey when I "grew up". (Well maybe not marry Tom Cruise but Pacey would have done just fine thank you).
Yet today was when all of that changed and I came to the startling realisation that I was getting old...when I looked down at my belly, then around at my ass and finally at my boobs and to my shock (and pure wonderment) I realised that everything on my body was packing up and moving down south.
Now I am not talking about moving down south for the winter but permanently. Imagine that. Sure maybe it had a lot to do with pizza and not being old but I knew it was coming.
Push up bras, SPANX and Yentl style wrappings might have to be on the shopping list as an incentive to certain parts of my body not running away forever.
I also went out and cut my fringe like Rory from Gilmore Girls (Series 6). She looks young...yes, maybe because she is young, very young in fact but a girl has to start somewhere.
I would like to announce that I look nothing like Rory and my body parts are having a garage sale next weekend if you need anything.

Double dare, kiss and promise

Sometimes life changes so quickly we can't keep up with it all - most times it is unwelcome and honestly a frustration. Can't things just stay the same?
So when you self create massive change you wonder if maybe it was better to just sit in front of the TV each night like most people are so happy to do. I am a big fan of the TV don't get me wrong but it just doesn't seem to be enough.
So my dear reader I am about to embark on a challenge. This challenge is purely self-dared and never one to back down from a good dare I have readily stepped up (and may even get out of my pyjamas to do so!)
So here is the plan.
First, I am going to move out to the country. Alone and in the bush all of my horror movie fantasies will thrive with unprovoked relish.
Then I will write my second book. Said second book will be incredibly successful and I will be asked to write a few more.
With success of second book I will release my first book which is all true and is about love at first sight and the adventure that follows.
First, second, third and so on books with be made into movies where I get to work with people I respect and admire and will still get to produce.
This is where I will meet Adrien Brody and he will want to come and pash me in the country.
Then I may be a tad tired and will need to watch some TV.

Hello again

I just realised my blog is like one of my old friends who I haven't seen for so long and have so much to catch up on that I don't bother to call. It is too exhausting after all to work out where to start and what is most relevant or in fact if anything is relevant at all.
Yet here I am attempting to reignite this relationship.
Usually a good start is a glass of red wine, so feel free to start there and a second trick is to divulge something private to create intimacy: years ago, I went to my boyfriend's wedding while we were still going out and watched him marry someone else. That should do the trick.
Now that we are besties again I welcome you with a hug, another glass of wine and the promise of many drunken moments, stories of woe and how to stay single without even trying.
Welcome back BFF.
I have many more private tales to share with you but for now I have a wine headache and need to roll over and go to sleep...hmmm...could officially be "Step One" of how to stay single without even trying.
I see a book coming on...

Jet Plane

I guess I am not the only one wants to see the world. Clearly the ash from Chile is on an adventure of its own and who can blame it? There are some bloody great sights out there.
Hopefully this ash won't be stalking me on the weekend as I head over to my constant stomping ground, New York.
I feel like I haven't travelled in ages. There was a while there when I was in multiple countries in matter of weeks - most of them war zones. While catching the subway in NY can be like a war zone I am aware this trip is a little more tame than usual. I will take my trusty camera and film my doco on the UN, I will write some articles for magazines but really my main goal is to eat as much NY pizza as I possibly can without vomiting it all up and wasting pure gold.
Oh how my ass will grow with such love. It is already in counselling for how to react when everyone will have no choice but to say yes to the question: Does my bum look big in this?
Then on my way home I plan to make a pit stop to a place where many fear to tread. Well maybe I am exaggerating but this is where they set Children of the Corn. That's right I am heading back to Nebraska. Yes I did say back to. 
Twenty years ago I spent a year in Nebraska and now I get to celebrate how old that makes me sound with all my fellow classmates. Did anyone say "High School Reunion?"

To be continued...

Peeping Paula

Do you ever look at your life and wonder if it is the one you are meant to be living? I do.
I can't help but feel like I am missing something - a bit like losing a matching sock and no matter how hard you look it is nowhere to be found. That one lone sock will forever be worn with one that doesn't quite match and yet it is still functional. Sometimes I feel like that is my life: a non-pair of socks.
I certainly have no regrets. I most definitely have made mistakes. I am proud of who I am and what I have and will achieve but...yes there is always a but.
A couple of years ago I think my life was supposed to turn out differently than it did. Sure you say, everything happens for a reason and I would nod along with you on any other occasion but on this one I beg to differ.
Like all good stories it involved a boy, love at first sight, a war and an ending that will one day be like The Bridges of Madison County. 
I can't change the way things have gone and nor would I want to but what if this was not the way it supposed to go?
Now I would be married. I would have had a child, maybe two. I would be speaking another language. I would be right where I was meant to be.
Yet I am not. I am not unhappy. I do not feel hatred and again, I do not regret. Yet when I look at my life from the outside in I know that something isn't right.
I am missing my sock.

The Boogeyman

Ever since I can remember I have loved getting scared.
As a teenager there was nothing better than slumber parties with the girls, with them shrieking in terror hidden inside their sleeping bags while I screamed at the TV telling the characters to stop being so stupid!
Freddy, Michael, Jason and Chucky were the men in my life and I couldn't get enough of them.
To get scared was such a thrill and so hard to come by that I would seek any way to feel it. Jumping out of planes, filming in war zones, picking up spiders and my idea of an ultimate good time is sitting all alone in a cinema with a horror movie playing.
So last night when I couldn't sleep, I tried to work out what my problem was. I began to realise that my lack of slumber was because I was... afraid. No there was no killers in the house or drip, drip, drip coming from the kitchen, this was far worse.
I was afraid of living.
The idea of traveling alone freaked me out, the idea of being successful make me feel sick and the idea of doing anything differently made me want to find some killers to help distract me from my own crap.
Normally I coveted being scared, I relished the feeling - yet here I was trying my best to make it go away.
I suddenly wanted to be one of the girls with their heads in their sleeping bags, willing all the decisions in my life to be simple and without change.
I put it down to getting old. Maybe the time had finally come where I was "settling" and this was my life. I watched other people live this kind of life every day, like they didn't have a choice about their destinies. Yes maybe this was my time to join the production line.
Then this thought scared the shit out of me more than seeing Michael Myers in the flesh (that may be a small lie as nothing is scarier than Michael Myers) and I realised that maybe I was just more practical in my old age. Rather than look for ways to freak myself out and dive into things I would slow down a little bit and think things through.
So instead of taking a day to think about whether I would go to my 20th year reunion in Nebraska I took two and rather than go walking by myself at night I now wear a miner's light to spot any nasties.
Yep, I may be getting old and therefore wise but I will hopefully always embrace getting scared and out of my comfort zone.
Oh and this weekend I am sleeping overnight at an old asylum.
Yep still got it!

Tolling Bells

So there I am at work on Friday night, working alone and watching customers come in and buy their items. It is hard to not think of what is happening on the other side of the world as two lives are coming together in spectacular fashion. I ponder my life and how simple it is in comparison. It is not that I want to be a princess but it is that I want more than what I have.
Do you ever wonder if there is meant to be more in your life than there is? Lately I have been thinking about that a lot and I think it is time to get things going, especially now that I am actually getting old. It is time to stop looking at other lives around me and coveting what they have achieved and start getting some things organised.
I will make a horror movie, I will write not one book but many, I will work with Drew Barrymore, I will pash Adrien Brody...actually speaking of pashing let me share a story from today:
At work (again) and in walks this very attractive man. As he walks past me at the counter we check each other out. I silently am grateful that I look semi-decent and actually brushed my hair that morning. Hell, I even put on a bit of Britney Spears perfume. So as he checked me out and I returned the favour, I actually felt like I deserved it.
I was chuffed when he went straight for the documentary section (given I make them myself folks) and knew we had a lot in common already. I was sequentially chuffed when he came to the counter and asked me a question. Then as usually happens at work some tosser comes to the counter and needs information on the latest Andre Rieu immediately. Hence my hot stuff cutie leaves. Time passes and then lo and behold  hot stuff is back! He goes back to doco land and comes back to the counter with a purchase. It is The Bush Tucker Man and he tells me how you can take a man out of the bush but can't take the bush out of the man. My manager suddenly look over at the two of us as we talk about the country and how he comes from where my Dad grew up...blah blah blah. I feel like I am speed dating but have only the length of the transaction to get to know this guy. Two minutes later he is gone and my manager is gushing that he "liked" me! There was definitely something I will grant her that.
Yet he doesn't return and that is a tad disappointing and I am not really sure how I went from pashing Adrien Brody to speed dating The Bush Tucker Man but no matter...a girl has to have options.
Kate eat your heart out.

Model Behaviour

I had an interesting question posed to me today and it got me to thinking. Let's say you like a guy and you think he likes you back and the courting phase is going along nicely and then bam you realise he has been hanging out with a model. Yes that's right not any ordinary girl but a model!
Every guy's dream it seems. They get to live the fantasy that graces all of our trashy mags. It is not just Leo or Johnny or The Edge that get to live the life of fabulousness with bikinis and beaches - suddenly this life now applies to the man you are having your own fantasies with (insert white dresses here).
So what do you tell your girlfriend who wants your "honest" opinion that the man she is making a 'how awesome do our babies look when I merge our faces in photoshop and I thought, How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days was how woman should act' scrapbook asks if she stands a chance a model?
Now I am figuring she has called me because I have some experience with this kind of conundrum, given my future most certainly lies with Adrien Brody and he has had a plethora of model girlfriends that I will no doubt be compared to when we are married and after extensive therapy I am now okay with that (well sort of).
Yet if I am to be honest with my friend I have to say I am not so sure if she can compete with a model (not all guys are as amazing as my future husband) as it is like comparing apples with oranges. Not that I am sure who is the apple or who is the orange...hmmm...I digress.
I wonder what it must be like to be the model. If it is like picking candy from a candy store and having an unlimited supply of money. You get the biggest and best piece of candy because you are also the best piece of candy in the shop. No worrying if he likes me or wants to see me because the answer is HELL YEAH give me your number!
Yet like any piece of candy sometimes the cheapest 1 cent caramel bud is all you crave and desire because you tried the biggest and best piece of candy and it was actually a bit of a let down. (Maybe I should have used caramel buds instead of apples and oranges, so this model analogy wasn't so damn confusing...apologies, I am clearly hungry).
So I say to my friend that if the man that she is dating wants to leave her for a model then there is nothing she can do about it and lets face it, she could be a model, apple, orange, caramel bud or pizza (actually sorry there is NO comparing pizza because pizza will always win) but all my friend can do is be herself - cellulite and all.
If he wants to try the top shelf candy then so be it, and when he comes crawling back holding his tummy and complaining of diarrhea then she can either help him to the toilet or let him crawl in his own shit.
Either way I think she is a little bit stuffed actually.

Jazz Hands

I often wonder if we have a "type". Tall, dark and handsome. Short, custardy and pimply.
Mine is definitely small, reliable and old. It has always worked for me and I have had no reason to deviate - that is until today.
After over ten years together I had to say goodbye to my perfect "type". He was everything I ever needed or desired but then the relationship seemed to spiral out of control.
Reliability became "will he or won't he?" I never seemed to know if he would make it on time, let alone at all. Sure he was still small and old but this suddenly wasn't going to cut it if he couldn't be there if I needed him.
So I did what any other girl would do in the same dilemma. That's right I traded him in for a better model.
Sure it was hard to let him go and I did cry (a little) as I said goodbye but I realised I had a new type.
Tall, dark and handsome came to mind as I walked (in slow-mo) to my new vision.  I gazed over all of his new features that I was going to play with and I inhaled his new scent with glee.
Then I realised that in fact I actually still did have my original type in tact. I realised even though he felt big, he actually was small and as we picked up speed and reached our destination, I knew he would be realiable.
I had to let one thing go though, and that was the age difference. In with the new and out with the old. But hey who doesn't want to be a cougar.

Searching for Hope

I noticed an old lady in a wheelchair come into work the other day. As her carer pushed her around the store I couldn't help but watch her. She wasn't interested in the product or what was around her. Shopping was just something to do to fill the time. As she left I got to thinking.
At her age does she still have any hope? Is there something she still dreams of or desires? Is it ever to late? Or does she just wait for her days to be over now that she knows that day is close?
I thought about myself and how at my age I have already given up hope when I thought that hope would never fade. Life can scar you. So much so that when you put up a force field to protect yourself you forget to bring it down.
I am not old and I do not have death sitting nearby breathing in my ear. Yet I realised looking at that old lady that I may as well have been her.
When I watch a movie where the girl gets the guy I no longer think that will be me. When I see the guy chase after the girl I am happy for them but I do not think that will ever be me being chased.
I now watch life from afar where other people get to have a life with someone and I smile in the corner no longer even thinking that will be me.
I watched The Bridges of Madison County again the other day and I wondered what was better, to have loved and lost or to have never have loved at all? Or worse still to settle or stay because change is too hard. I still don't know the answer.
There was one line that stuck with me when Clint Eastwood's character said, "This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime."
I have had that certainty but what's interesting is when you have had that certainty it is still not enough. We still let it go.
And with it the hope that you thought was on endless supply.

Dream a little Dream

Last night had a dream that Corey Feldman was my boyfriend. He was a good kisser.
He wasn't too happy that all I seemed to do was ask him about Corey Haim though, which was totally understandable given that Corey Haim really was my favourite. I can understand the jealousy.
He still looked exactly the same as he did in his films and hadn't aged at all. I realised that halfway through the dream I was only using him because he was famous (as was vaguely aware that it should have been Adrien Brody in the dream and this was distracting).
I was in such a dilemma as to how to continue the relationship under these conditions and then realised that I had something at my disposal anytime I needed to get in the mood.
I had shelves of 'Corey Porn'. 9 movies in all of everything "The Corey's" did together.
I didn't think it mattered which Corey got me excited and so Lost Boys was clearly a big winner. License to Drive was also up there.
Dream a little Dream was my favourite though and Corey F also seemed to approve, as he had bigger role and his whole Michael Jackson dance take off really seemed to get him going.
Seemed like it was all going to work really.
And that is the story of how I dreamed a little dream.

Lardass

So here we are at another year of new beginnings and only one resolution that makes any sense.
After watching a Beyonce concert I have decided her ass is incredible. So my only resolution this year is to have an ass the same size as Beyonce's. That way eating more pizza than last year doesn't even have to come onto my list of resolutions but will instead be a necessity in upkeep of said 2011 ass.
I am excited at my intelligence so early in the year.
After spending both Birthday and New Years by myself - intentional - I am resolved in knowledge that maybe life with Prince is not for me and quite happy to be alone* - as becoming professional at it. Should look into careers as professional hermit and how by doing so will get me my own show on Oprah's new TV network.
Suddenly carefree single life with massive ass is filled with many possibilities (alright maybe my ass will be slightly bigger than Beyonce's but I have to have some originality).
First stop is underwear department to get granny panties and then screen printers to get 'wideload' put on backside.

* Note for Adrien Brody: This does not include you.