50 SHADES OF WAMBI

Rochelle had been drinking at her friend's house since 4pm downing Midori and pineapple juice like it was going out of fashion at Supre and she was a tiny bit anxious about whether or not she would be allowed into Sirens tonight (she had punched a guy in the mouth last weekend because he told her she looked intelligent).

As the final sips of her green drink slipped down her throat she realised that the time had come to slip into her gold body con dress and kitten heels and stumble down to the beer garden. Her friends and herself slowly walked down the Esplanade screaming at cars and telling passers by to fuck off. This was the life.

She arrived at the beer garden and struggled to get her ID out of her wallet. The bouncer looked at her with a glance that read something between arousal and suspicion. She was used to that though.

She stood in the bar line, eyeing up the competition and confirming to her friends that indeed she was the hottest slut in the place. She sat down outside and lit up a Menthol. Looking around, she could barely focus due to the glare of the lights and the pumping Pitbull tune that blasted from the speakers. She made a mental note to give the DJ a BJ one day for playing "her song".

Looking back down into her watered down drink, she glanced up and noticed him. He was kind of short but had muscles for days and she knew right away that they shared an unrivalled chemistry. But she didn't listen to her teacher while taking Chemistry in high school, but she heard that show "Breaking Bad" was heaps good so she decided to saunter on over to him anyway.

"Hey", she said.
"Hey, he replied.

It was undeniable. It was gonna fucken happen tonight.

They made their way to the bar together and then soon followed him into the pokies room to smoke and sit there while he jostled about with his mates. She knew all she had to do was sit there and pout. This was the ultimate move when it came to pulling this calibre of man. A high calibre indeed, she thought.

As the bouncers spat in her face that "EVERYONE MUST GO INSIDE" they decided to make their way to Pizza Inn. She ordered the family meatlovers and waited for 45 minutes until it came. They stared into each others eyes as they chowed down on the oily goodness and she secretly dreamt of rubbing it all over his ample pectorials.

Sirens was the next stop, and thank fuck she got in. The guy didn't remember her as she was wearing a neon pink body con last weekend she was cloaked in gold, so he didnt remember, ay.

They boogied on down until the wee hours, slipping and sliding to buggery on the dancefloor and trying tirelessly to avoid the advances of the eldery manager of the establishment.

As the night drew to a close, there was no way she would wait in line for the taxis.

He asked, "Oi... do you wanna walk back to mine, I live just off Ocean View."
She replied, "Oh my god I walk that road every Saturday morning in nothing but a crop sports bra. I would love it, ay."

They began walking home, with his hand planted firmly on her ass, showing that he really cared. This guy was different. This guy was a find.

By the time they reached the roundabout near the pub, the tension became too much. They walked down into that little hideaway just off the road near the lake and proceeded to get to it. They heard a rustling in the bushes and for a moment they thought it could be someone she knew. Na, it was just a bush turkey scrounging around for her dignity. Neither the bush turkey or Rochelle found it that fateful night.

He ripped off her g banger and pulled down his drawers. He told her, "Wait babe, let me put my oakleys on. They make me dick look bigger and browner ha yeah man."
She couldn't believe that she had found someone so daring to take her down the lake track AND someone who had oakleys. They would suit her ute to a tee. She could see him throwing his dart stubs out the window on the F3 already.
"Oi babe, can I give ya a prawn cutlet?", he asked tenderly.
"Fuck off cunt! Me mate did that and didnt get sand out of er for weeks."

After an impressive 3 minutes he scrambled to put his dacks back on and congratulate himself on giving this girl the best night of her life. Puffing and out of breath (due to all the menthols she smoked) she looked up at the stars and softly whispered,
"fucken oath mate."

They trotted along for a little while longer along Ocean View Drive and found themselves outside Rajdhani's.
"Fuck i love the garlic and cheese naan", he said.
She already knew, she could taste it on his breath earlier in the night when she was pissing just near the pine trees and he lent down for a kiss.

She had found her Shane Warne to her Liz Hurley. This was it. And just as they stopped once again outside Godfather's Pizza, she knew she was in love. And he knew he was knuckle deep in Rochelle.

SPLENDOUR IN THE GRASS: 2012 EDITION.

So it took me over a week to scramble together enough brain cells to even begin to think about writing this post. but here it is, the recap of Splendour In The Grass 2012 (also known as: THE BEST SPLENDOUR YET!)

THURSDAY:

We awoke before the crack of dawn (who knew that even existed?) and set off on our way to the land known as Byron Bay. The road trip was filled with screeching tires, excited screams and sticking it to the big banana.

Before we knew it we were slowly trudging into the campsite to the soundtrack of sniffer dogs screaming their lungs out (no doubt to the medley of illicit substances that littered the air like truck smog). We all  nestled into our obnoxiously large campsite to the dismay of the surrounding campers who shot us hairy eyeballs as we took over the majority of our section with mouldy tents and espresso machines.

What followed was a overly excited display of sausage sizzles, laughter, FUN and an empty bottle of Captain Morgans drunk solely by one David Bellato. He was lucky it was his birthday in two days.

FRIDAY (DAY ONE):

We awoke to a crisp air and some stolen deck chairs courtesy of Adam Pascoe and Tom Halpin who took it too far on the first night and went looking for a party. While they didnt find a party, they sure as fuck found us some comfortable seating and we couldn't be more grateful for their wild efforts.

The time had come after the boys took to the beach for their first official Splendour shower ( IT JUST WONT SUD!- Richard Johnston) and the girls braved the portaloo showers after a quick de-brief in the line. Goon bags, vodka and assorted pov soft drinks were flying around like mosquitoes and bacon and egg baps became the theme of the weekend. We all got our party shoes on and headed into the festival at around midday.

Chet Faker was the first act we didn't get to see, due to an over zealous ticket scanner and a lack of direction. However, the brief taste of 'No Diggity' set the standard for the rest of the weekend.

FLUME followed, and it was easy to see why this youngin was stealing the hearts of Deep HAUS lords everywhere. Notorious BIG featured as well as his hit 'Sleepless' and we all revelled in the pure DJ decadence that this powerhouse was putting forward. It was the perfect beginning to our Splendour experience.

After FLUME, we skipped over to the GW MCELLEN tent to see BEN HOWARD and find out what all the hype was about. He lived up to it and I had never seen that many dudes froth on another dude since that time I went to ARQ at 6 O'clock in the morning. However, due to extremely hot weather temps earlier in the day- a mini monsoon came upon us and it bucketed down peppered with hail for around 45 minutes. All the boys saw this as the perfect opportunity to get wet, while the girls all stared on in bewilderment wondering how the fuck they were meant to keep their hair dry. Because of this short lived storm, it set the rest of the weekend in with puddles and mud up to our ankles. While it wasn't appreciated at the time, we slowly became used to it and used it as an excuse to get dirty and/or buy gumboots.


YACHT CLUB DJs slayed their set dressed in Ghostbusters gear and also a green ghost that came out on stage dancing and throwing T shirts into the crowd. I had never laughed so hard in my life. Needless to say, the crowd was WAYYYYYY too fucked up for that time of day (3:30pm) and we took this time to mosey on back to the campsite and recuperate.


After a short lived campsite stint (the last one for the weekend as it was a BITCH to get back and forth), we made it in time to catch GYPSY AND THE CAT. It was filled with a golden light show and perfect acoustics in which we all took a moment to stop and realise exactly where we were even if we couldn't dance due to constantly being bogged in the mud.

Following this we headed to the NOFF tent and saw some DJ play some song and I dont really remember because we had just had a ROJO margarita and I was sucking down a MOJITO as well. However, before this I do remember that Bellato dared himself to get a spray on tattoo. I was begging him to get a dolphin as I thought that was the worst thing you could possibly get, but no. He outdid the dolphin and insisted on getting a dog in a dreamcatcher.

 Then Ellen went to see JACK WHITE and we stood outside of PINKYS TAKE AWAY while Bellato ate a Pluto pup and then we all went home because as usual we all went a bit too hard on the first day and needed a spoon.


SATURDAY (DAY TWO):

We woke up and definitely had a little bit more dust on us than the previous morning. Mitch Faulkner fired up the coffee maker and the BBQ was back on with some more eggs and bacon for our baps. We took our time this morning and all came together to eat cookies, drink copious amounts of alcohol and bask in the sun. This was what we had all needed- a little time out to get drunker and have more fun.

When we all decided to go in, it was about 4pm and apparently JINJA SAFARI was playing. I mean, I was there  but I didn't see any of the set. This would happen a few times throughout the weekend. Following this, we made our way to BAND OF SKULLS who Ryan Locklee had been waiting to see all weekend. They were amazing especially while knee deep in mud.

Some of us then made our way to the JAGER cube. This would be the stand out party spot and we lost ourselves in liquorice tasting drinks and DEEP HAUS. From there, we made our way to TAME IMPALA. These guys always know how to hold the crowd in the palm of their hand, and their set at Splendour was no different. Whirling guitar mixed with psychedelic vocals made for a killer set and alot of hoarse vocal chords.

I kind of forget what happened in this middle bit, but I went looking for Bellato and Ellen who were off seeing LANA DEL REY. I got completely lost, squinted at the TEE PEE FOREST for a bit and caught a few songs from the baben songstress. She did a cover of 'Heart Shaped Box' by NIRVANA that was beautiful and I caught a bit of VIDEO GAMES before I gave up and dove into the crowd for MIIKE SNOW. Im not a big fan of the band so Rach and I went and chootzed out in the STRONGBOW boat for a long long time. Sorry, I am kind of realising this recount is the ramblings of a mad man who lost his memory at sea years before, but I am trying my best to remember everything. I feel like I have amnesia.


OH YEAH.....so then we had the pleasure of once again seeing BLOC PARTY in all their glory on the Splendour stage. KELE was a fucking lord as always and coupled with that dude who climbed the tent pole and had to stay there the whole set- this part was a highlight. FLUX came and went too soon and the crowd fell in love with what B.P had to offer.

We all found our way back to the tent eventually, Brendan and Ryan were talking to some Adelaide guys who refused to play anything but THE CAT EMPIRE and MUSCLES and we sat around the fire talking about the days events. Bellato came strolling back after being lost for about two hours looking like the happiest man on earth. He had found a kebab stall and was cheering at the deliciousness of his Birthday Bab.

SUNDAY (DAY THREE AKA THE DRUNKEST DAY ON EARTH):

As we woke up and slowly birthed ourselves out of our tents, we had no idea how sinister Sundays can actually be. SUNDAYS ARE SATURDAYS- Brendan Turner.

Ryan, Brendan, Ellen and I began our day by sipping Vodka out of cups with Mitch's face all over them and enjoying every minute of it. Before we knew it we were standing sloppily in the shower line and scoffing down another bacon and egg bap. Brendan and Ryan then decided to go find Brendan's clothes for the day at his place in town and cue four hours without them.

While they were gone everyone else proceeded to get pretty fucked up and some of the boys went in early to send off Horton. Turns out when you are left at the campsite for an extended period of time, weird shit happens. Finally, Brendan and Ryan came back with sheepish looks on their faces and a bit of a stumble in their walk. WELCOME BACK THE DRUNKEST GUYS AT SPLENDOUR!

They provided the boost we all needed to get even drunker and have even more fun (who knew that could ever be possible? Thanks to these two- we found it was). There was and exchange of spiced rum and freehand pouring that turned this picnic into an all out pissed mothers 50th.

Before we all left, it came to a pleasant head and we chucked on 'Im Every Woman' by Whitney Houston for Bellato. What followed was chairs being upturned, loss of precious illicits found by a human sniffer dog (RACHEL PERRY!) and using a log as a microphone, guitar and stripper pole all at the same time.

We somehow made it into the festival and branded ourselves the most obnoxious people in there. I was hurling slurring insults at Bellato, kicking mud and consistently singing
"AH DO DO DO DO DO DO!"
Tom told a couple to not get married as, "You'd be that devo man, don't do it."
We were all like "you know what, METRIC is on soon- we should probably go!". So we did and we saw the amazing METRIC in all her glory which was made especially special by Ellen and Jess who sang "Help! Im Alive" with pizzas in hand.
We just fucked off all the legitimate music, got a margarita, met a guy posing as a security guard and stumbled to the JAGER cube.

There was a dance circle occurring and Tom took it upon himself to be the slowest breakdancer known to man. Seriously, I am calling the Guinness Book of Records for that shit. It was like watching a back up dancer for Joel Turner with the moving pause on. I then also decided it would be a good idea to get involved and did a knee slide into the circle with that much force that I still have the bruises to show for it to this day. Then Tom turned to me and said, "Im going to do a handstand, catch me Hog." and I had every intention to.

However, when he flung himself into said handstand, I completely missed and he body slammed into the hard wooden floor. I regained our composure by dry humping him which I just know would have saved the day (HAHA!) Tom then got us kicked out by throwing hay at people.

Somehow this took us to the time we had all been waiting for. AZEALIA BANKS. Yes, yes she only played for 26 minutes or some shit, but it was, dare I say, the best 26 minutes of our lives. We were all lost in a washing machine of a crowd who remained on spin cycle for the entire time. It was a sea of swaying bodies that gave in to the mystique of the Queen of Splendour- Ms. Banks. Needless to say, when 212 came on- the crowd went wild. But no wilder than thinking I had the capacity at the time to put Ellen on my shoulders. We all lost it and crumped like it was 1991 all over again. "WHATS YOUR DICK LIKE HOMIE WHAT ARE YOU INTO?" We all left breathless and on a high.

In this time Ellen and I found ourselves at the chapel and we can now say that by the power of Christ, we are husband and wife.

THE SMASHING PUMPKINS were the last act on the menu and we all felt that this was a fitting end to an amazing weekend. Die hard fans such as Brendan Turner and Jared Wharton were enjoying every moment, however, I was in such a state that I left halfway through and took it upon myself to get "OFF ME DICK" in the Jager Cube. A decision that will probably haunt my sane mind in the future.

We all somehow came together at the end to realise that actually yes it was freezing so we all linked arms and spoon-walked ourselves back to campsite to crash on what had been one of the best weekends that any of us had had in such a very long time.

I would like to thank Jessica Moss, Ellen Giebels, Tom Halpin, Rachel Perry, Mitch Faulkner, Adam Pascoe, Dave Horton, Rick Johnston, Ryan Locklee, Brendan Turner, Jared Wharton and David Bellato for being the absolute ripper crew that you were. It would never have been the same without you, oh and this......



* "Im off me dick!....He's off his dick too!"
* Mitch's face coffee cups.
* Chronicles of Never gumboots.
*Dave's outfits
* Horton hears a who, thats right isnt it?
* Bald Knob Road.
* Sticking it to the Nan.
*Ah Do DO DO
* CHOOTZ
* It just wont sud.
* Baps.
*This sounds christian!
*Have you met my mate Dave?
*Dog in a dreamcatcher.
*LARGO!
*"Fuck off Tom!"
*Surfers Paradise.
*Chili sauce.
*Birthday Bab
*Bellato's wrist band.
*The sink hole.
* James.
* Are you guys from Adelaide?....NO.....
*"Need a franger?"
*I FINK U FREEKY AND I LIKE U ALOT.
*BEST CAMPSITE SET UP EVER!
*"There is nothing good about Boy London"...."Yeah Cheers mate!"
*Stop being such a homo!
* 7 pairs of tits.....campsite tits dont count!
* Splendour theme song: Send me on my way- Rusted Root.


I LOVE YOU ALL, Here's to next year!

BOX GAP

So I think everyone is privy to the phenomenon that is 'BOX GAP'.

For anyone who doesn't know what the fuck I am talking about and can only think of some empty cardboard cubes placed together in a spaced out fashion- I am talking about that gap between a girl's inner thigh just below their delicates.

It is something that is now known the world over as being coveted by males and females. Whether or not you have one ladies, it is something that every girl now wants more than the latest Furby or a slice of cheesecake.

I know me and a few of the females I know bring this piece of air through the legs up more than we should lately. It is something that every girls notices on other girls while they are out, at the beach or just perusing some social networking photographs.

Here are some reasons why I think the Box Gap has become a huge deal:

1. Boys can see it as easier access for their massive cocks.

2. It signifies that said girl with BG has legs like a model and an ass like a model, and if you put a cut out of Miranda Kerr's face on the girl then you pretty much are fucking a model. Which makes you a lord.

3. Every girl wants to be thinner than the last.

4. Inner thigh is now the underground version of sweet tits or a nice ass. It is something that isnt so mainstream anymore. Dom and Adrian would be so proud.

5. It comes down to genetics, so if a girl just has no fucking shot of ever having a BG, it makes dudes feel a bit more equal as the gym can not help you if you genetically are destined to have a tiny tiny weiner.

6. Facebook and fapping.

Now dont get me wrong, I am not having a go at the Box Gap or any male/female who admires said gap. I just prefer a different kind of gap, the one that features in ya mouth.

I also want to know the opinion of some male people out there. Does a box gap still count if you can achieve it by standing a certain way? & I dont mean with your legs spread like Clint Eastwood. Please enlighten me.

Someone once said nothing will ever taste as good as box gap feels, you know.

I think I kind of get it, but at the same time I dont. Is it because a sweet BG usually leads to an epic tush? Because then technically it wouldn't be about the gap at all.

You can see I am confused.

All I want to say girls, is that if you do have a killer rack or a sweet ass or even a pretty vagina- don't feel less of a woman that you can't achieve BG. & PLEASE don't start standing like Clint Eastwood.

Until then, rejoice amongst the box gap and take note of how many runners on Ocean View Drive are doing squats. The Box Gap is the new black, and my tits are pretty pissed off.

OLDER & WISER #11.

1. The game 'Never Ever' can possibly be the biggest cock block when played in the wrong atmosphere. You will find out shit about people that you never knew before like who has taken the red freeway, or who has engaged in a two dudes, one girl threesome. Hilarious, yet dangerous. Kind of like Bill Murray.

2. If you are copping second base off a dude and it feels like he has taken on the mentality of Mike Tyson with your unmentionables. Just tell him what to do, he wants to know and he will be forever grateful for the life lesson.

3. Girls, dont be offended if a boy directs you in the proper way of producing a wristy. How do you think DJ Wristy became so famous down at White Revolver? Because he was giving all those Bondi chicks tips on how to flick it the right way.

4. Sometimes the art of being a gentleman isn't right in the wrong circumstances. Sometimes a girl wants you to be like a big ol comanchero with her in the sack, rather than Luther Vandross. The same rule of thumb applies to men that it does to women- all men want a lady in the parlour and a whore in the bedroom.

5. Start saying 'Big Ol' Dick'. It is hilarious and must be said with a slight drawl.

6. When out in a social setting, no one should bring up anything to do with that room that holds the toilet. Especially in front of chicks, ESPECIALLY in front of chicks you want to bang. Because chances are when you are heaving on top of her, that image will flash into her mind and she will begin to produce a Charlize Theron in 'Monster' performance.

7. There is always at least one heavy breather in Pilates class. It is weird, and sounds like you are in hour 15 of labor.

8. FBi Social is actually one of the best venues I have been to this year. Its free, has epic tunes and no drink lines. Get down there.

9. I sometimes wonder if one day, all the offspring from the Central Coast in 10 years time will all be slightly related.

10. I buy dark red apples so I feel like Snow White.

11. Someone once told me the cutest thing when it comes to girls is how they put on their little make up and dresses and heels to go out. This has stuck with me for many years and always tickles me as Im getting ready to go out.

12. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES wear ripped wedgie denim shorts and a black bikini bra while strolling through Terrigal in July. This did my absolute head in today as I pulled the neck of my jumper and looked forward to a warm mug of milo.

13. Winter is a time for people to go out. There is this stereotype that no one goes out in winter. However, if you are a single male it would be the PRIME time to go out and pull tail. Why you may ask? Well for one its fucking freezing, and lets not pussyfoot about the issue- there's heaps of strange walking around in inappropriate outfits. Use this to your advantage. Take a second coat out to wrap around her cruiser stained shoulders. Suggest how good a spoon would be in this weather. Offer to buy her a pinga to warm her up. The opportunities for scoring some puss are endless. RIGHT NOW is the perfect time to use the brisk breeze to manipulate yourself into some Cotton On panties.

14. Here is a musing from JESSICA MOSS: "Write a post on people who are assholes." Where do I begin. Maybe the old man who screamed at me for being insane at work the other day. & it wasn't insane in a good way.

15. LARA BINGLE IS A DISGRACE TO OUR NATION.

16. The Titmouse is a bird. Not a mouse. Nor a tit.

17. PATTI BOYD & GEORGE HARRISON.

BOY MENTAL PUSSY POWER.

I dont know what has gotten into the water lately, but me and my friends are boy crazy.

Its becoming an epidemic like swine flu. A Current Affair will surely be doing some shitty story on it soon enough with giant red stamps labelling us all as HUSSIES or DICK CHASERS. But I swear we aren't.

MEN: No matter who you are, there is probably a point in the past few weeks where I have looked at you and thought, "he's a bit of alright."

I need to stop. I need to get ahold of my self and settle down, realise that there are things wrong with the male species and focus on them so as to not spontaneously combust. I just can't help but stand back and admire the male form like some sort of dero old bastard standing in the smokers section of an RSL watching the chicks pass by. I am about a week away from chucking on a fake beard, fluros and those things that cover your ankles that look like elephant feet and whistle out to passers by.

There is always a point when you have been single for a while when you start turning into a sleazy fuck. I have reached that point and I apologise.

One minute you are perfectly fine, the next minute you are throwing some innocent bystander into the wall and making out ferociously. But is it alright if a girl does it to a boy? Probably not, I mean if Schapelle Corby did that shit upon her first few minutes out of the prison cell you would probably be pretty off it.

While discussing this boy mania that has been sweeping the nation, I have come across an interesting theory brought upon by some of my male friends.

PUSSY POWER.

Now, there is some sort of thing about how vaginas are actually Superman in human form, and not only can vaginas fly faster than a speeding bullet, but they can also hold tremendous power over the male sex.

I, personally have never been privy to this fact and was shocked when hearing that no matter what the situation, chicks pretty much have one over dudes 60% of the time.

This is the theory anyway:

If you have a glory box and a boy wants to pick your lock then you therefore have his balls in a vice.

Use this information wisely girls, because no one likes to see a chick string a dude along for ages, it makes him look pathetic and you look like a Westinghouse.
But then again boys, don't let the pussy overpower you. Don't bow down to the pussy just because its all nice and warm and inviting. You can't curl up in there and read a book, this isn't the cafe section of Borders. Remain a man and you will surely find yourself nestled deep within the crevice of your choosing.

Sometimes I get sad about the chick who don't have any pussy power. But I had an interesting conversation with a taxi driver on the weekend which made me realise that there truly is someone out there for everyone.

This was how it went:

TAXI MAN: Oh, you are white girls. I am not into white girls, your nipples are way too small.

ME & RACH: WHAT?

T M: I love a woman with really big nipples, the ones where they take up most of the boob. You white girls don't have that, I like black girls they have huge nipples.

R: Im sorry we are white chicks with small nipples. I thought all dudes liked small nipples.

T M: No, not me. It is my fantasy. My wife has HUGE nipples and I love them.

M: I have huge nipples.

T M: (getting excited) REALLY? But you are a white girl!

M: Na just kidding I have tiny tiny nipples.

T M: oh....


So there you have it, seems everyone has pussy power. Or nipple power. It just depends which cab you get into.

HOW TO PICK UP CHICKS BY A CHICK.

Here is a misguided guide on how to pick up chicks by a chick, please indulge yourself and then disregard the following (or don't and let me know how you go):

BE A FUCKWIT.
Now this may be a pretty obvious one. But I feel I may need to explain it in further detail. Being a fuckwit to the fairer sex is an art. Not just everyone can go out there and be a fuckwit. The girl MUST be attracted to you in some way, shape or form before you can execute your fuckwittedness. If you want this woman, you should acknowledge her presence, perhaps compliment her and then proceed to talk to as many chicks around you as possible. This should not be the plan for the whole night, may I add. I know I have, and so have many of my girlfriends, been in the situation where they are undecided on a boy. Should I or should I not put it down? Is the question bouncing around in their pretty little heads. The most sure fire way of showing that you are hot property is by employing the above technique. At the end of the night (if she has stuck around, if she hasn't then she just wasn't that into you) make sure she is the last person you speak to and have that cheeky look on your face. Guaranteed her competitive streak has come out by now, and you will be in, son. PS telling her she looks like shit doesn't count. "I simply want him more because he looks the other way"- no truer words have been spoken. Thank you Flight Facilities.


DONT JUST TALK ABOUT YOURSELF.
This has become a common mistake amongst the male crew. I know I have heard many a complaint about the dude rattling off all the shit he likes to do. I knew a guy once who proceeded to list every single kind of accompaniment that could ever possibly go into a cockatil. Blueberries, cinnamon, strawberries, pineapple, lychees, sugar, salt, pepper, chillies, your mum, heroin, car seat covers, the sleeve of a mohair jumper from General Pants. Fucking everything. It was inane and made me zone out to tolerate the bullshit that was coming from this dude's mouth. I began thinking about what I would do to combat a zombie apocalypse. Seriously. I think about that all the time. I would pretend to be one of them using my Halloween costume from last year then get a huge truck with massive wheels and run them all over and probably head down Wilfred Barrett Drive to Maitland because there sure as shit wouldn't be any zombies out there, theres barely any humans out there. Anyway, so don't talk about yourself all the time, its boring and we as chicks are vain creatures who love to tell you all about what we can put in cocktails and how we would kick some zombie ass.


DONT SAY WEIRD SHIT.
Last night someone told me that I should have slashed the faces of the girls who came before me in the Pedestrian Bachelorette of the Year Awards. I did not even know what to say back, let alone make eye contact with the dude. It was weird. & I have read too much shit about people eating each other in America at the moment to not be scared by that. Saying weird shit may be fun while you are whispering it into your X Box headset while playing COD or whatever it is (is COD right? yeah should be, Call Of Duty-yep.) but saying it in public in front of women makes you look like Patrick Bateman, but no one is a bigger babe than Christian Bale- so its pointless. "I work in murders and executions", "What?", "I work in mergers and acquisitions."


BUY A CHICK A DRINK.
This makes us sound like whores. But I swear we aren't. Its a gesture that holds more currency than your $6.50 vodka pineapple. Its the most gentlemanly thing we have come to expect besides offering a coat when its cold. Even better if she is at the bar with you, because those Beery lines sure do get crowded and will allow you to get extra close to the one you covet. If you think that buying a chick a drink means that all they want is money, then you have bigger problems anyway and need to reorganise your girl-hate metre.


TELL HER YOU LOVE BIGGIE SMALLS.
Maybe this will only impress me? But I dont want to hear about all the heaps cool indie bands you have just discovered lately. I want to make some love to Juicy, so sue me! But dont tell me you love hip hop and then refuse to engage in a rap battle with me. Its disrespectful, haha. I just love a man who loves a bit of Big. One day he may be "putting 25 carats in my baby girl's ear"- and that could mean anything from earrings to a gold plated, diamond encrusted condom. Your choice. I think I know which one you would choose.


BE MYSTERIOUS.
There is nothing like a bit of mystique. I mean being the funniest person in the room also helps, I am sure Jason Segel could attest to that. But there is something sexy about a brooding babe in the background who doesn't seem to give a fuck what is going to happen that night. You know the one. The one who isn't out to just get some puss, he doesn't mind if it happens or not. You can spot the dudes whose life mission that night is to see some tits. When all they need to do is look in the mirror. They are always slightly sweaty, have dry corners of the mouth, their chest is puffed out and they can't make eye contact with anyone for more than 2 seconds as they are continually scanning the room for some ass.




Good luck boys.

XXX.

As someone who has been involuntarily abstinent for a while now, I feel I am a fitting mouthpiece to guide you through some things that dont necessarily need to be spoken about, so if sex makes you queasy turn back now.

Thanks for everyone who stayed on (Im going to guess 100% of you did because who doesn't love to talk about sex?) & get aroused for some home truths about one of the most basic human instincts.

There has only been a handful of experiences in my life that still make me weak in the knees to this day.

From an encounter (of the third kind- na I wish...man I have been watching WAY too much X Files for my own personal wellbeing at the moment) nearly four years ago, I would like to draw on to gain inspiration to write this post.

I am still not quite sure if the reason why it was so intergalactically (here I go again, fuck) incredibly amazing because it was kind of forbidden, but I think it later came to play that it was down to outrageous chemistry- anyway here is a true story it happened to a friend of a friend of mine:

For legal reasons, X is the girl and Y is the boy. sweet.

[After a long night of partying, X and Y found themselves alone finally. They parked outside X's old high school and decided to listen to some music and have a chat about the previous night's events. Somewhere along the way, a kiss was exchanged prompting a hand to be slid along Y's chest as Y climbed over to X. X's hands tugged at Y's crisp white shirt breaking the buttons and causing lips to be bitten and pupils to dilate. What followed could only be remembered by X in a kaleidoscopic memory of colours, splices of songs and the heat of Y's breath on the cold winters night.]

That sounded like an indie romance novel. My apologies.

Its always the best when it isnt planned I think. When you just think, hey what are we doing here outside St Josephs Catholic College half naked and "listening" to music really loudly?

What happened that I have broken your buttons and you have lipstick smeared all over your face?
Why dont we care? Shoudnt we take a look in the mirror and realise that we look like fuckwits?

For some reason, when you have that chemistry with someone, all sense of reason goes out the window.

Now I know, most of the people who read this are people who know me pretty well and wouldnt like to imagine the thought of me getting pumped, but fuck sometimes these things need to be spoken about because I look around sometimes and dont see any kind of "rip your clothes off" chemistry, and thats a fucking shame.

Its not like I am judging you and your boyfriends (dont get in a huff), its just something that I haven't experienced for a while and I dont know if that is because everyone is too busy tagging themselves as:
"So & so checked in at fucking behind the public toilets at Kincumber Oval"
or, if we all aren't that compatible as we think we are.
I DONT KNOW, AND I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT YOU (if thats what you are thinking).

Its when kissing and fucking dont occur one at a time you know?
Does anyone understand what I am talking about, or am I just talking shit?

I am trying to articulate how it is when you feel that sense of wild abandon with another person.
I want to understand why that is different with different people?

Why is that do you think? Is it because some people like talking about it in your ear (which I find a complete turn off might I add. I think if its that good, you dont need reassurance)
Its the kind of thing people do in really long term relationships. You know those relationships that need to meet each other at the bus stop in rain spattered trench coats and act like they have different names (perhaps Candy or Britney etc) and pretend they are just picking each other up off the street.

I think when you have that complete succinct compatibility with someone else in the bedroom (or the car-whatever) then you don't need to try so hard to....trying to find a word for this without sounding crude.....get off? (great Prince song by the way)

I dont know if I am fucked up, but sometimes the fondest memories I have of past conquests aren't the ones spent holding hands underneath some shitty fireworks display or a fucking smooch on the forehead...but rather the memories of the ones who I had that compatibility with.

I have a firm belief that it doesn't matter what you are packing in your trunks- you and her could be like two soggy pieces of bread (limp bizkit anyone?) between the sheets unless you have the right chemistry.

The best part about this chemistry by the way, is the fact that it is hard to see with the naked eye. It is always a surprise. I dont think its all in his kiss, if you know what I mean, I am talking to you Cher.

Sex is something that is a throw away action nowadays. I remember when it was such a big deal when me or one of my friends lost their virginity. It was like announcing when you passed your L's test. But chances were, it was awkward as fuck and you would rather not remember it right? SAME AS YOUR L'S TEST. I think I am onto something here!

Not saying you should get chastity rings and start listening to the Jonas Brothers for inspiration, just that I think you should hold on to the ones you have chemistry with. That is something I have learnt along the way, whether or not that is a good or bad thing I dont know.

Hold on to the ones who can take you to outer space, rather than the ones who take you to Maccas.