Thrills, dills, sadness and snot

This past week has thrilled, exhausted, and mostly saddened me. Suffice to say that I am hoping that this week will be less eventful. Even slightly less eventful would be an improvement and fine with me.

Work was quite busy and I had to put on my best ‘happy face’ and smile for the world at a work ‘do’. Definitely not my favourite way to make money. I felt as though I had sold my soul to Satan and my sentence was to keep a permanent grin pasted on my face as I obediently did my job. Ick.

Evan, one of my (idiotic) co-workers also pushed me too far last week. He is a giant dill to begin with. He lies, calls me names when he thinks I won’t find out and doesn’t do his job properly. So I went to one of the bosses at work to talk about it.
It. Went. Horribly.

I went in all prepared with a list and spoke about how it was particularly offensive that he had called me a ‘stupid faghag.’ What a giant jerk. And a fool for saying it where it was going to get back to me. My boss, Mr T (you may remember him from when the price of my flight to the States went up $400 dollars because he dilly-dallied around) told me that he’d deal with this situation properly. Hmph. Apparently ‘properly’ to him means to protect Evan and to bully me. Evan got a warning and I was reduced to tears.

Me: ‘So Evan is only getting a warning?’
I was so disappointed. And ready to cry. Things at home haven’t been the best and it’s really not a good week for any of this. Although I guess there never is a good time for this kind of thing.

Mr. T (A.K.A Satan): ‘He has been spoken to. He is going to be more responsible with his duties and he is never going to talk to you like that again.’
Me: ‘Oh, then what...’
Rudely interrupted.
Mr. T: ‘Let me finish.’ Said loudly with accompanying finger pointing.
Me: ‘I thought you were.’ I was as rude as I dared to be.
Mr. T: ‘And if he ever speaks to you like that again. He will be sent from this building immediately.’
That sentence was such a contradiction!
He won’t do it again...but if he does then we’ll punish him. He may as well have said when he does.
I waited for awhile lest I interrupt him again. I could feel the tears brewing behind my eyes. My eyes felt hot and I knew that tears were going to come bursting forth whether I allowed them or not.

Me: ‘Ok, so he’s not going to do it again. But if he does, will he get in trouble then? How many warnings do you get?’
Mr T: ‘That’s none of your business. Evan has been dealt with and given a warning Chelsea that is all you need to know.’ Ah his true colours have come out. Mr. T’s soul is the black of a char-grilled, crusty frying pan that’s never been washed.
The tears started to pour down my cheeks.

Me: ‘Did Evan seem remotely apologetic?’
Mr. T: ‘Of course he did.’
Me: ‘Really?’
‘Because the reason that I came to you is that when he apologised to me he didn’t seem to really care at all.’
Mr. T: ‘Yes he did. Chelsea. Stop crying.’ More finger pointing with a raised voice.
Me: ‘You can’t tell me to stop crying because I cry when I’m upset and you’ve upset me.’
He didn’t seem to know what to say here.
Good.

Me: ‘Well I want for you to know that I’m disappointed.’ I said as I stood up. I was over this. Over him and his bullying ways. Maybe I should quit this stupid company and get a job at a supermarket? Check out chick? Tuckshop lady?

I stood up and leant forward slightly...and when I did, the tears that had been dripping freely down my face and the snot that had liquefied while I had no tissue spilled down onto his desk. Yep, I snotted all over my bosses’ desk.

He looked at his now sullied desk, looked at me, looked back at the snot.
Shit.

Me: ‘Have you a tissue?’ I mustered with as much dignity as possible.
He handed me one and I wiped his desk off, then stormed out, still snotting my way along with every step. It was not one of my better days.

And then I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t stop crying so much that I went home. I barrelled through Brisbane CBD, a giant, sobbing mess and people moved out of my way as though I was contagious. A bit like Moses parting the Red Sea – but perhaps not quite so joyous. I cried for almost the entire train ride home.

Mr. T is an arsehole. But I feel that no matter what was said during our (bullying) session, I think that I won. Don’t actions speak louder than words?
Who snotted on who’s desk now Mr. T?
Hah!

Fingers crossed for a better week than last week guys.

Dirty-haired on the GC;)

This morning it was painful to wake up. I had that day-after day-after hungover feeling – as though I could never feel properly hydrated again and all I wanted to do was sleep. But my alarm went off at 5.25am as it does every morning (seriously, I need to get a job where I don’t have to wake up at dawn’s crack) and I had to make a choice - sleep in for an extra ten minutes or wash my hair.

I hadn’t washed my hair since Saturday and on Sunday nite I’d gone for a swim. If I didn’t wash my hair, it would probably smell like salt water and chlorine from the pool.
But then if I could sleep in for an extra ten minutes, it would make Monday a whole lot easier to deal with. Hmmmm

The choice was logical really. Lucky my hair styles well dirty;)
And who would notice my not so clean hair when I spent lunch time walking around the city with my fly open! I'm leading the way in being feminine and graceful as always.

I’m spent today though after a huge week that included a Britney concert, a dance class, a visit from a faraway friend, and finished up with Seb’s Circus Birthday Extravaganza where I dressed up in a purple corset with accompanying top hat and a riding crop. Any excuse really;)
More on that later.

So my aim for this week is to sleep more. Not a lot, because I don’t want to aim too high. But just to sleep more than 6 hours a nite on average.
And I may not wash my hair for the entire week. You’ve been warned.
Much love,
Dirty-haired on the GC;)

Happiness in a cup

In the movie ‘Original Sin’, Angelina Jolie’s character says that “If someone brought me my coffee every morning before I dressed......I would be very happy. It would change the day.” All said in a sulky, sexy voice with those trout pout lips of hers of course. I was obviously impressed enough by this to remember it years after I saw this movie. What with Antonio Banderas and that super spunky Thomas Jane – I’m surprised that I remembered anything apart from their half naked bodies. Ah……

Anyhow, when I was visiting Caitlin in Montreal, Jordan would bring me a cup of hot, freshly percolated creamy coffee with just the right amount of sweetener each morning. I fell a little bit in love with him when he did this (it nearly made up for him losing all my photos...nearly, mind you). I thought that was the end of it. I vainly tried to coerce members of my family and friends to do the same to no avail.

Until yesterday that is. Because yesterday Mick and Susie from my work brought me in a chai latte. Granted, it was because they’d both bought each other a morning latte, but it rocked. I was in a ‘Friday mood’ and it wasn’t even a Friday.

Take note guys, if you ever want to get into my good books – an early morning coffee/tea/treat is the way to my heart.
I also like packets of chips.
And books
And tall, intelligent, sexy men ;)

Amber and I are headed out on the GC in dresses before the Schoolies bedlam begins. Should make for some interesting blogging;)
Until then have a great weekend.

The grass is always greener, wanting what I can't have, the chase

I am fickle. Hell, you read my blog, you already know this. But isn’t it weird how we want what someone else has so desperately, so keenly...until we know what it’s like to have it ourselves that is.

It made me think about these proverbs:
“The grass is always greener on the other side.” and
“You always want what you can’t have.”

M has long, silky, luxurious hair that happens to be a sun-kissed blonde colour. Lana also has blonde tresses that shine even at night and I suppose that I wanted to try out the blonde lifestyle. Or at least, part-way. I didn’t want to go super blonde and turn into a vapid Gold Coast girl, but I wanted some lighter tones. I wanted them because I thought that having blonde hair like M or Lana would help me to find my way to the other side of the fence where the grass was greener. What I didn’t take into account was that my hair, being naturally curly, is naturally dry.
So naturally dry + plus new blonde streaks that dry out hair = straw-like hair for Chelsea.

The grass on the other side was not as green as I’d thought.

So on Tuesday nite, Spencer re-dyed my hair for me. And straightened it. It’s now back to chocolate brown, but with slightly lightened shimmery parts through it from where my hair was blonde. My hair has never felt softer or silkier than it does right now. Spencer, you are splendid. Goodbye dry blonde streaks, hello moisture! I’m even looking forward to wetting my hair tonite and getting my curls back so that I can feel like me again with dark, curly hair.

It’s funny that I spend so much time wanting straight hair that I forget that when my hair is straight, that I want my curls back.
I guess that I’ll always want what I can’t have.

I wonder though, if I do get that unattainable boy who I know is wrong for me, would I still want him? Or would it be like when my hair is straight perhaps? I want something until I have it and then once it's mine, I don't care anymore.

Maybe it's only like the chase that I like?

Little girl, maternity bras, M

When I was a little girl, I had this idea about what it was like to be a ‘grown up’. I would drive my very own car around, go shopping and buy beautiful things because I would be enough of a ‘grown up’ to afford them, I would meet girlfriends for lunch and wine before going home to my beautiful apartment that I shared with my tall, sexy, spunk of a boyfriend.
Ok, so maybe I was more of a teenager than a ‘little girl’ when I had this idea. But on Saturday, M and I had a ‘grown up’ day of fun that the ‘little girl’ inside of me only dreamed about.

M lives in Brisbane, so she came down to the GC (although M, being from Canberra, likes to say that she’s coming ‘up’ to the Gold Coast and ‘down’ to Brisbane..Go figure?) and we had the most random day of fun.

We had no plan and no specific direction, but instead let our hearts (and in my case, my nose) lead the way. M wanted to shop, so we went to TradeSecret. TradeSecret, for those not in the know, is like a giant warehouse type store that has a little bit of everything for really reasonable prices, from clothes, to bedsheets, to shoes. They even have quite a selection of bras.

M: ‘I adore bra shopping! But I have to be strong today because I have waay too many bras.’
Me: ‘Ok, then we can just browse. But oooh, this bra looks super comfortable.’ I said as I fingered the fabric.
M: ‘It’s a bit of a grandma bra Chels.’
Me: ‘It’s not grandma at all. It’s pink and cute.’ I protested.
‘Look, it even has little clips so you can make it a strapless bra as well.’
M made her way over for a closer inspection.

M: ‘That’s not a strapless bra. That’s a maternity bra! The clips are so that you can breastfeed!’
Me: ‘Oops. It’s still a pretty colour though right?’
M: ‘You are so clueless. Try this one from Pleasure State. It will change your life I promise you.’
Me: ‘Fine. I’ll try it on. Gee, look at that really bright reddish looking bra. That’s a colour that’s not even found in nature.’ I gestured.
M: ‘Actually, that would look great on you. Blood red on your white skin…’ I could see her processing me in it.
‘Grab one of those too.’

I’d given up by this point. Clearly M thought she was a bra guru and I was simply along for the ride. I tried on the Pleasure State bra first….And fell in love.

M: ‘How does it look?’ She called over the changing stall.
Me: ‘I think it looks pretty great.’
M: ‘Really? Show me.’ She came over into my change room and started looking at the straps and how it sat on me and did all the things that someone who fits your bra generally does.
Me: ‘What do you think?’
M: ‘I think it fits perfectly. It gives you great cleavage, supports you and isn’t too tight underneath the arms.’
Me: ‘Wow you could work here.’
M: “I think you should get it.’
Me: ‘I might have to. Especially because it’s only 40 dollars, down from 120 dollars.’
M: ‘Total bargain. Now show me the other bra.’

I dutifully put in on and showed her.
Me: ‘I think I like this one even more.’
M: ‘It’s lovely and it’s only 15 dollars. An Oroton bra for only 15 dollars is like a gift from God that you absolutely have to accept!’
Me: ‘It makes me want to try on even more bras cause they make my boobs look so perky.’ I said as I stared at my now marvellously perky cleavage.
M: ‘No Chels, I think it’s time to eat lunch. Aren’t you hungry?’
Me: ‘I guess now that you mention it, I kind of am.’
Who would have thought that I’d be so distracted by shopping that I’d forget about lunch?

M: ‘Ok then, now that we’ve got you out of the maternity bra section.’ She grinned.
‘Let’s go and get some food.’

And go and get food we did. We had a beautiful barramundi, garlic, potato salad with hot fries and aioli sauce and a bottle of white New Zealand wine that went down a treat. We sat and chatted for about an hour and then decided to finish off the day by getting a Shiatsu massage. I don’t think there’s anything quite as lovely as having someone get rid of all the stress in your back and neck when you’ve had just the right amount of booze for it not to hurt:)

So M and I had the perfect day. And apart from the part about going home to a sexy man, it seems that I have somehow become a grown up. Although, instead of heading home to a man, I instead headed out in Brisbane with Amber to cause some havoc. We saw the band ‘Hungry Kids in Hungary’ at the Zoo, who were great and we danced up a storm.

All in all, I think that even the ‘little girl’ version of me would have been pleased.
Oh and I’m wearing my new red bra today. And loving it. Might even be convinced to post a photo;)

A photo-free trip away part one

I haven’t really written all that much about my trip overseas apart from the wallet-stealing fiasco I know, but let me share with you some of the things I got up to...

When I got to the States, I had to wait at the airport for Jami. Jami is my friend from when I went to University in upstate New York 5 years ago and she’s wonderful. Except when you want to be picked up immediately after your flight gets in and you’ve been travelling for almost 24 hours…that’s about when she is not so wonderful.

I waited for maybe half an hour and was hit on pretty constantly by this rather large black man who told me that I should ‘spend some time with him’. Hmmm, thanks but no thanks.
It didn’t stop him trying for the entire half an hour though. I guess it’s nice to know that someone found me appealing despite being all jet-lagged and smelling like plane!

Jami and I hit up the Bodies exhibition which, while being kind of gory, was oddly compelling. They have actual cadavers on display and you can see the ligaments and sinews beneath the skin. Jami however, was particularly preoccupied with the scrotum. Actually, she’s usually preoccupied with the scrotum if I’m not mistaken;)
Anyhow, you can see that they actually start all the way up near the pubic bone. Kind of weird to see. Also found out that lungs naturally have black bits all through them and that smoker’s lungs are super black. For every pack of cigarettes you smoke, you lose 3 hours and forty minutes from your life. Take note smoker friends.

And I loved that the catch-phrase was ‘The Body never Lies.’ They even had it in Japanese as well ‘体はうそつかないです’ just in case you’re curious.

I went on a Sex and the City tour, where I shopped where the girls shopped, ate a cupcake from Magnolia, the famous bakery and more importantly, got to try their amazing banana pudding (seriously, I’m drooling now just thinking about it), saw the sex shop where Charlotte bought ‘the Rabbit’, the bar where Carrie and Big had their engagement party and Sophie (who I made friends with on the tour) knew where Carrie’s apartment was so she took me on my own private tour! It was great fun.

I went to school with a girl named Roxy from when I was 6 right through until I was 17 (bear with me, this will make sense soon). We had a rather tumultuous relationship as most teenagers do, but managed to stay friends throughout high school and after we graduated, we’ve gotten closer. Anyhow, Roxy conveniently planned a trip to NYC for her 25th Birthday (Happy Birthday by the way Roxy) that coincided with my overseas jaunt. I figured that she’d come all the way from Mexico to stalk me, so I should at least make the effort to meet up;)

Roxy is a dancer (no, not the kind you’re thinking of) in Mexico and she brought her Mexican dancer boyfriend B with her. Mostly to carry all of her shopping I secretly think;) and we did loads together. We hit up Central Park, walked down 5th Ave and ended up at Tiffanys where both Roxy and her friend Jessie treated themselves to new rings. Sensible Chelsea meanwhile decided to save her money and found a much cheaper and also bigger ring at Madison Garden. Eat your heart out Roxy;)
We went up to the top of Rockafeller Centre and the view was phenomenal. I’ve been up the Empire State Building a few times before, but this was so much more impressive. The view of Central Park was spectacular. Of course Roxy and I did lots of silly poses leaning on the Empire State Building. We did some especially for Amber who we knew would have loved to be getting up to mischief in NYC with us.

Because both Roxy and B are dancers, they decided to go to the Broadway Dance School for a dance class. I declined. Not that I don’t enjoy a good dance, but no way would I ever be able to keep up and move like they were doing! It was great to watch and even better to be sitting down and resting my poor old feet;) The day ended in booze – rather a lot in fact and half naked drag queens serenading us as we dined. Our day ended as all good days must end really;)

The following day I headed up to Montreal to meet up with my good friend C-dog from Japan. So named because she has this amazing affinity with dogs. Seriously, dogs come bounding up to her as though she has just rubbed doggie treats all over her body. No, she doesn’t smell like a doggy treat I hasten to add.
C-dog is Canadian (obviously), has Australian parents and we met in Japan when she decided to live over there for awhile with her Kenyan/Japanese boyfriend of the time. Random right?
Did I mention that C-dog is beautiful? Beautiful enough to have been on the cover of a national magazine. She’s all blonde hair, blue eyes and killer cheekbones, but is one of the smartest girls I know and she’s going places! Watch this space.

So to get up to Montreal I caught a train for 11 hours. Yes, you read correctly, 11 hours! But it was over $1300 dollars cheaper than a one-way flight would have been. So there.
And I made a friend. Sorry for those who read the email that I sent around for all the repetitions here, but I’m sure you’ll survive;)

I was lining up for Canadian check-in when I saw this pretty blonde-haired girl who had heaps of bags. Despite my exhaustion and crankiness, I smiled at her. Not a proper smile mind you, more of a no-teeth grin. She responded with the brightest mega-watt smile ever. And when she sat next to me on the train, Pixie the Kiwi and I sat beside each other for 11 hours and we bonded. I think it was more out of necessity on her part. I suppose you can’t sit beside me and watch me drooling for 11 hours without starting to feel something for me...pity perhaps?

C-dog met me at the train station. She jumped about joyously, gleefully ran up to me, wrapped me up in a hug that nearly knocked me off my feet and made me feel perhaps the most welcome that I’ve ever felt upon entering a new country. Yes C-dog, you win the first prize in the competition in my head. I may well send some Australian goodies your way;)

C-dog had a house party in my honour. Nothing like getting somewhere new, having a hot, steamy shower with awesome water pressure, then being handed a glass of vodka and having a party where people come specifically to meet you. Ah. I got to meet loads of C-dog’s friends and predictably, they were just as lovely as the C-dog herself. We drank, danced and chatted into the early hours of the morning. It was a perfect start to my stay in Montreal. Made even more perfect by the poutine (thick cut fries, beef gravy and cheese that melts over the top) that we ate at the end of the night. Or rather, the poutine that we fed to a drunken C-dog while she napped.

I loved Montreal. I loved that people effortlessly switched between French and English, I loved that while it was cold, inside there was sufficient heating (unlike Japan with the decided lack of insulation), I loved that the food was hearty and delicious, but mostly I loved the people. The people that I met were warm, sweet and friendly and didn’t seem to care overly that my French language skills were nonexistent. It felt so refreshing after the abruptness of New York.

When I think of Montreal I think of C-dog, of hot, fresh poutine when I was chilled and drunk, of three friends all wearing newly bought suspenders on a night out on the town, of C-dog and I having our tearful goodbye cut short by the stern ticket-collector who told us that ‘now is not the time’ (when is the time exactly?). Unfortunately I also think of my camera memory card being accidentally bent on my final night in Montreal. So for the first week and a half of my trip, I have no photos. It sucks, but what can you do really? Apart from complain, which doesn’t help anyone. But if anyone has any brilliant ideas for fixing it apart from a data recovery place, feel free to let me know. In fact, anyone practising witchcraft is welcome to have at my memory card. I will show no bias to anyone who can get my photos back from my days with Roxy and Montreal!

More on the rest of my trip later;)

Hope your weekend is as fun-filled as mine is right now:)

Chelsea the scaredy-cat

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’ I screamed as loudly as I could at 12.30 in the morning.
My brother (who’s staying with me at the moment), came stumbling into my room.

Danny: ‘What the fuck?’ He said as he rubbed his eyes.
‘What happened?’

Me: ‘There was a big bug.’
Danny: ‘Where?’ He turned on the light and started looking around for it.
Me: ‘I don’t really remember.’
Danny: ‘You don’t remember? Was it a dream?’
Me: ‘I think it was on this wall up here?’ I pointed. ‘I just remember that it was really big and it scared me.’
Danny: ‘Is that why you screamed bloody murder? God Chelsea, it must have just been a dream. There’s no bug in here.’
Me: ‘Are you sure?’
Danny: ‘Go back to sleep Chelsea.’ He said as he went back to bed.
Me: ‘Can you turn on the hall light please Danny?’
Danny: ‘Why?’
Me: ‘So that if the bug comes back it will go towards the light instead of towards sleeping me.’

Danny turned on the hall light.
Danny: ‘You’re lucky you’re not bad-looking Chelsea, cause you are nuts!’ He muttered as he went back to bed.

Maybe I am a little nuts? That bug was scary regardless of whether it was a real or a dream bug though I'd like to point out.

Happy Friday to you all nonetheless and watch out for the big bugs!