If you do see anything out of whack, feel free to leave a comment.

Thanks.

[photo courtesy of Philips Corporate Communications @ Flickr]

Four days sans coffee has been hell. A tolerable hell. Kind of like Robot Hell without the palpitations, moodswings and mania.

Four days off junk food has been painful. Nando’s chooken. I WANT IT! I CRAVE IT! However I have to lose my pot belly and that means no deliciously wicked tasting overpriced artery clogging culinary love. It’s salads, lentils and fat free EVERYTHING for noms.

It’s nothing but routine, discipline and exercise to iron out my screwed up head, whale of a body and extremely fiery temper.

Am I “happy” at the moment? I’m not quite there yet. I’m mildly pissed off with what I’ve thrown myself into and the thought of guzzling down Low Carb beer when I go out is making my stomach turn but them’s the breaks.

This what happens when people threaten yours truly and scare the shit out of her. The fast forward button gets pushed one too many times and the mega detox begins.

Twenty six days to go. This better be worth it.

This is Newvember and Knowvember. Newvember being a time to get rid of all the mental and physical clutter in one’s life, set some short term goals and free yourself of all that has weighed you down.

Knowvember is acquiring the skills and wisdom to make Newvember work.

Over the next thirty days, I’ll be writing about my goals, dreams and aspirations for the month ahead. There’ll also be the odd link or three to some great reading material that’s giving me that little nudge along the way.

Come join me on my quest to get my life back on track this November with Newvember/Knowvember.

Something pretty alright is coming soon.

- @melbournegirl

I needed a mini break from the intertube/meatspace drama. If that’s selfish then I’m sorry about that. I despise people who make empty promises. I call them “Gunnas” because they’re always “gunna do this, gunna visit, gunna email” but they’re about reliable as a broken condom during birthday sex. In other words, not very fucking reliable at all.

So I’m back blogging with only one scar and that’ll heal with a shiteload of Mecurochrome and a Wiggles Band-Aid or eight. It’s not called a Stanley knife for nothing, you know.

My fear turned from depression to rage to happiness to bravery because I don’t need “Gunnas” in my life and I’m the only tubby wench who can rebuild her self esteem out of Lego.

This blog post isn’t dissing anyone out. I’m just over feeling like absolute garbage because I didn’t pander to Mr “if I was anymore overanalytical, I’d be a walking talking advertisement for Anusol” whims or caused someone else a slight bit of discomfort.

I mean, I’ve got enough brain cells in the old cranium to take a hint. Pushy ain’t my style even if I’m a chubby Leo chick.

To the people who stuck by me (you know who you are), I love you. We must indulge in Peroni and conversation. You rock my world.

I’m not sure if this bravery will last but damn it, I’m not going to let people bring me down again.

Lo and behold, I had a total of twenty three, yus, 23 moderated requests from random people across the intertubes asking me for a Google Wave invitation.

PLEASE READ THIS NEXT SENTENCE CAREFULLY BEFORE LEAVING A COMMENT.

I don’t have any Google Wave invitations to give away. Please don’t ask. If I do acquire one, I will happily help people out.

Please don’t make me feel sadder or even more left out than I do at the moment. I have no bananas or Google Wave love to give.

Thanks.

“Mixtape Bloke” has been on my mind. I imagine myself singing The Faint’s “The Geeks Were Right” to him whilist pretending to play the song with an old Guitar Hero controller which I cleverly modified to make lovely sounds when hooked up to my Macbook.

Real girls wield soldering irons, chew strawberry bubble gum and aren’t afraid to use the word “blowjob” in everyday conversation.

So to add to my last post about mixtapes, I’m finding myself in such a dilemma. I’ll post the tracklisting and once he reads it, it’s “let’s unfollow @melbournegirl NAO”

Whattamigonnado?

She trawls through old emails from back when people wrote to her. The days before the ex boyfriends, spam monsters and “respected” friends frightened the few online penpals she had away.

She wants to light up a cigar but it’s a school night and she knows that if she did this, she’d buzz off to the bottle-o for an eff off bottle of gin.

She’s had enough of looking at old photos that she took of stencil art that’s long been painted over. Hosier Lane ain’t what it used to be five years ago.

Life on other planets must be awesome compared to this.

Instead the one hundred and forty characters get stretched to over one thousand. Every Web 2.0 entrepreneurial type, podcaster, former postman and social media coke snorter is waiting for a paragraph about how AWESOME Google Wave is.

Well, uhhh, sorry to disappoint you but I HAVEN’T GOT A BLOODY GOOGLE WAVE INVITE YET. So nyerr. (that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love one)

I spent time trying to make a mixtape last night. You remember mixtapes, right? TDK D90 audio cassette in a twenty year old double deck cassette recorder hooked up to an equally ancient amp fed into the Macbook.

Real girls use cassettes to make crazy mixtapes for blokes they reckon are “pretty bloody alright, yaknowhattumsayin’”.

Trying to figure out whether the bloke has a cassette player himself is a different kettle of barramundi altogether.

There’s something quite special about making mixtapes and then listening to the final product. I was brought up on wow and flutter, jumpy vinyl, half chewed cassettes recovered from a feral National Panasonic ghetto blaster from 1985.

Sadly mixtape making has been a bit of a cursed affair as well. I’ve had blokes throw my cassettes on the ground and step on them. Crushed the magnetic ribbon, crushed the creativity and crushed my heart to pieces. TDK didn’t get the chance to do amazing things to any of their systems.

Is this why all the cool kids now make mp3 mixtapes instead? Uncrushable just deletable.

So, fellas, tell me, if some chick made a mixtape for you as a way of saying “you’re an alright sort of guy, let’s hang out sometime”, would you dig that or find it to be childish?

Hit me up with a comment. I’m curious to know what you think.