f Here Comes Miss-IZ Haiiiiiiiry Legs <$BlogRSDURL$>

Sunday, May 11, 2003

He's out of my league
Just a fool to believe
I have anything he needs
He's like the wind

Help me. I am quoting Patrick Swayze.


Friday, May 09, 2003

I dreamt of him again.

He called me out of the blue and we met up in the city on a friday night. He was wearing this grey t-shirt with a red/pink design on it and jeans (the same outfit he wore in the law lifts one time, irl, when it was just me, him and these two random swots, and all I could think about was throwing him against the mirror and impaling myself on him, ahem). And I was wearing a red dress (cocktail, tasteful, not slutty), which seemed a bit inappropriate because I think we were just going to the movies. Anyway, he took my hand and we hugged and he felt really warm. I could feel his heart beating. And then I woke up and remembered that he's going back to his bogan girlfriend and felt wretched again.

I fucking hate these dreams because I can never get to sleep again afterwards and it totally fucks me up for work in the mornings. Hmmph. Stupid sexy Dan.


My friend Steve has finally come home. After spending the last 18 months trekking the world - the last three eaking a living out of teaching english to Argentinian midgets - he packed it in to come home. He has a shaggy beard and shoulder-length hair. He looks like the love child of Alby Mangels and Jesus. Welcome Home Stevie!


Reasons why my ex-fuck buddy, AMP is a Big Crazy Dickhead:

- He describes all his exes as "sweet" or "pretty" or a "sweet, pretty princess". In non-dickhead terms, his exes are all boring and high-maintenance and have long hair which they like to flick. Yours truly excepted. If anyone ever describes me as "sweet" or "pretty" or "a princess" I will fucking kill myself. Same goes for "bubbly" and "vivacious". Urgh. Shut up AMP.

- We went dancing once. He expressed contempt and pity for a mutual friend as his girlfriend was a "tart" - because she dressed in tight hipsters and a one-shouldered top TO GO CLUBBING. Shut up AMP.

- He said I was the most sexually-driven girl he'd ever met. HUH? Because I like it? Because I talk and joke about? I think this just means that all his previous sweet, pretty princesses were starfish in bed.

- On relating my SSD story he said, "You shouldn't sleep with guys so soon". What the? Shut up AMP. I'm young and I'm single and I'll sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want. Don't you be pullin' yo' copy of The Rules on ME.

- He said I shouldn't wear red to a semi-formal SPORTS Dinner at our uni because "red is too sexual".

- And lastly but especially, when I expressed my disconcertedness on being told that a married friend (to whom I am neither emotionally or sexually attracted) had "extra-marital thoughts" about me and "would be up for it if [I was]", he said, "well, you know how it is with men -- grass is greener etc. But don't worry, I'm not judging you". What. The FUCK? Damn staright you're not judging me. On what grounds would YOU be judging ME, asshole?

I truly loathe him.


One of the senior associates that filled out my performance evaluation form wrote: "Excellent potential - but needs to grow her hair." Heh.


Thursday, May 08, 2003

Blogging disaster.

Will fix html later.

Monday, May 05, 2003

I look like Fraulein Maria. Sigh. 82 days to go.
- M L, 5:04 AM

Sunday, May 04, 2003

Okay, back to my hair disaster. If hair grows at a rate of ~ 0.3 mm per day and if I need an inch of hair to vaguely ressemble a normal person who didn't have their hair cut by their blind grandmother assisted by a pudding bowl, then it will be approximiately 83 !!!!! more days before I can show my face in public!!! *Sits in the corner, rocking back and forth*.
Okay, 83 days. Let the count down begin.

- M L, 3:42 AM

Kate Hudson and MatthEW McConaughey have no business being in a rom-com -- especially together. I challenge you to name a couple more lacking in sex appeal and chemistry.
- M L, 3:37 AM

Saturday, May 03, 2003

From one source of misery to another. SSD, emailed me the friday night before I went to Nam to see if I was having going away drinks and we tried to arrange a meet up but it fell through. He was going back to his parents' place the next day so that was out too. I told him that I'd wanted to see him before I left and we agreed to leave it until after I came back. So now, I'm back from Nam (SARS-free, incidentally) and two short, non-comittal phone calls later, I still haven't seen him! (On a side note -- I'm STD and foetus-free -- boo-YAH!).

Realistically, I know nothing is going to happen between us and that the best approach is to just avoid him until the thought of his intelligence, gorgeousness and overall sexiness doesn't make my tummy feel funny. But I keep having awful unsettling dreams about him. And they're not even of the erotic variety that leaves you feeling all smiley and warm when you wake up. They're ones like, him turning away when I try to hug him and give him a kiss. Or where, I'm having lunch with a mutual friend who tells me that he's just met some girl with whom he is so smitten that he ditched his overseas girlfriend and is moving in with her. Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!! I guess it's because it still feels so unresolved. At least to me. I should just shut up about it, eh? Or seek revenge. I could go down to the court where he works, break into his chambers and when security drags me off, I'll yell out "BUT YOU HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN OUR CHIIIIILLLLLD!!!!!" Okaaayyyy. I think that's about enough lameness for today.
- M L, 10:43 PM

FUCKING FUCKED UP FUCKER! I told the stupid lady I just wanted the bottom most layer of my hair to be razered off so that it was the same length as the second bottom-most layer. I even showed her the bits I wanted taken off. It should have taken FIVE CUNTING MINUTES. She went and gave me this geometrical bob thing that's really short at the back and long at the front -- the hair at the back of my head is level with my occipital lobe and the top of my ears!!!. ooee, remember that HIDEOUS bob you got in year 7, around the time of the Fitzroy Falls excursion? Seriously, it was TRULY awful. Anyway, it's your turn to laugh now, because THAT is the kinda follicle action I have happening on my own head. My PRECIOUS LAYERS!!!! The length and the kick that I've carefully nurtured -- GONE! ALL! GONE! Apart from looking butt-ugly (I look like a man, baby!), this hair is just too short for winter. So while my bare neck gets exposed to Antarctic blasts of wind, sharp pointy hairs will stab me in the eyes.
As she took the first chunk of hair off my head, I was like, "WHAT are you doing?". Stupid woman, no know english. And assured me by repeated use of hand gestures and saying "Layers. Layers." Uh, okaaayyyy...and she kept cutting and cutting -- all the layers off my fucking head. So I told her to stop and called the head guy to come over and he made me wait and then 'fixed' my hair. Which is to say he just kept on cutting it as she had done. I refused to pay. I know it's terribly vain and shallow to be this overwrought over hair, but my hair provides a lot of comfort. I need a certain amount to hide behind. And cover up my protruding ears.
Someone lend me a beanie. With ear flaps.
- M L, 10:19 PM

Saturday, March 22, 2003

Well, I'm off to Nam tomorrow morning so tonight is all about packing and clearing the mountains of paper and books and smelly clothes that contribute to the varying topography of my room.

There's no time to address properly this particular request :

Write something new so I can comment afresh. It's no fair when I already know what happens after the events you have most recently described (Nemo)

But in a nutshell it went something like this --

Saturday morning spent waiting for a phone call. No phone call. Angry (well, okay, not really) shopping trip (two tops, one pair of heels). Sunday night phone call: will I come over and help him arrange his furniture? Um, no. Raincheck for thursday arranged. Tuesday morning, flirty email arrives. Flirty email exchange continues through the day. (My Panties? Are soaked.) Drinks at pub. Cards on table: He and his girlfriend, who is overseas and won't be back until June, will probably get back together when she returns. Currently he considers himself single, and is out for a fling. My heart and feelings? Are in a million bazillion pieces. His place: toasted cheese sandwiches, white wine, chocolates. All Saints. Hormones overpower brain cells and good sense: pashing...So much pashing... Oh, so much pashing... Meet my Folks...More pashing...Removal of clothing...Smiles all round for half an hour until the condom breaks. And everything goes downhill from there. In the last fifteen minutes: tensing up, drying up, biting of penis, possible bruising of penis, tearing of girly bits. Race home to inspect injuries. Great pain ensues. As does self-flagellation/embarrassment for lousy judgment AND idiotic, accidental penis biting. Now: fear of pregnancy, stds. And general confusion. And regret...Because I like him. I could even have loved him if the circumstances had been different. Because I'm an IDIOT. An idiot with a penchant for charming heartbreakers. Since then: we've emailed but haven't seen each other or sat down and talked about things. Have agreed to meet up when I get back but I'm not sure what will happen now. Just that I really want to kiss him again but know that I shouldn't.
- M L, 2:36 AM

Friday, March 07, 2003

Stupid Sexy D is moving into a new apartment. I have a 'date' with him tomorrow, to paint his bedroom.

He said, "The carpet is really dirty."

I said, "Okay, we just won't have sex on the floor then."

After all, what are walls for?

Thursday, February 27, 2003

I woke up last night at 2.30 in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep. Stupid Sexy D invading my dreams and thoughts in the dark. Stupid Sexy D and his stupid sexy smile. You asshole, I need sleep!

Thursday, February 27, 2003

SO. Fucking. TIRED. How do people make it through the working week? I'm so not cut out for this regular employment gig. There's so much work at the moment I haven't had time to do any of my Collaw readings/assignments. My tutor called me today. I'm going to switch to the part time course I think.
- M L, 11:20 PM

Friday, February 07, 2003

I had a dream about Joe Millionaire last night. I was waiting around for the ball with the rest of the gold diggers only we were all wearing rags (just how cheap are these FOX people? Where were the promised early nighties satin/taffeta/polyester monstrosities?) when it was announced that we would be getting paired off with males escorts. They were reading names off a list and I saw my friends from high school Fiona and Phil walk off with adolscents dressed in raggedy cabin boy clothing (notice the recurring theme of poorness) and my name wasn't called out so that meant that my partner was Evan!!! *vomits* Our date consisted of lying around on a double bed in a dingy motel room (aww, just like my first time!). I was so bored that I just sat there reciting backwards, all the phone numbers I knew. What does it all mean?!
- M L, 2:09 AM

Friday, January 24, 2003

Hurray for my new sparkley silver shoes!!!
And a big 'Fuck you' to the lady in the bra store who said "Here -- you probably won't fill the cup but try this one."
- M L, 8:56 PM

Tuesday, January 14, 2003

Dear women who bitch and whinge about men who leave the toilet seat up,

Who. Gives. a shit? I understand that it might be unpleasant to stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night and plonk your bare arse down on hard, icy porcelain but consider the alternative: the man in your life doesn't lift it up when he urinates and due to his lousy control over his member, then proceeds to pee all over the seat. Ask yourself, would I prefer the feeling of cold porcelain on my bum or the sensation of someone else's wet, cold wee? Not a hard decision is it?
In sum: shut your cakeholes, you stupid twats.


Ms Hairy Legs.
Dear men who have skid marks on their undies,

Please explain.
Newsflash: taking off a guy's underdaks and seeing the golden remains of yesterday's lunch is not a turn on for girls. Repeat -- it is NOT a turn on.
Forests of trees have been scarificed so that you might partake in the cherished traditions of personal hygiene. It's called toilet paper: use it, love it, live it.


Ms Hairy Legs.
- M L, 2:29 AM

Sunday, January 12, 2003

Am recovering from dinner at Ed's. Atlantic salmon, avocado & cheese melt and grilled tomatoes. I am so bloated. Helloooooo, Devastating Flatulence.
- M L, 4:38 AM

I watched one of the endless instalments of Horatio Hornblower tonight. He sucks and blows. What a brown-nosing gimp.
- M L, 3:55 AM

Saturday, January 11, 2003

Unwanted attention from male classmate: thirties, 5'1, air of creepy desperation. SO gross. Waiting at the light to cross and get home. From the BP across the intersection comes "[Ms Haiiiiiiiiiiiiry Legs!!!]" followed by a two armed wave and earnest jogging...towards me.

EW! Little green man, where ARE you? Wave back but avoid eye contact. Turn away. Look at the ground! Look at the ground!

"Hi! I just saw you from over there, I was wondering if I could drive you home". Um...no. But thanks! I'm fine, really. Home is about 50m away -- no! Don't say that! No, no I'm fine really... "Oh...so when are you coming in to do your research?" I'm not...I'm getting articles from Lexis...Green man! Green man! Bye! (Have a nice life!)

To my quickly retreating back, "So, I was wondering when will I see you again?" Ew, dude. Never. Embarrassed shrug. Keep walking, don't turn back. Hope he didn't see where I live.

- M L, 4:08 PM

I finished reading the Hours today. I give it five out of five 'what-EVAH's. It is a 225 page, relentless serving of DEPRESSING! and accompanied by a side-dish of BORING! All the characters are so dissatisfied, so pathetically self-pitying. We trail three women through one day in their lives and open with the day that Virginia Woolf drowns herself (after the one that is chronicled). The three woman are Virginia, Mrs Brown and Mrs Dalloway. Oh, how cleverly the author links his characters (and how cleverly he refers to Woolf's work and weaves it into his own)! Virginia is the author of Mrs Dalloway. Mrs Brown is a post-war housewife who is reading Mrs Dalloway. Mrs Dalloway (not her real name) is a modern, middle-aged woman who is the long time friend of a celebrated poet. All feel trapped by their existences and plagued by regret, harsh self-criticism and a sense of failure.

They have the support and love of their families, however each has some niggling thing that makes her restless and dissatisfied. Mrs Woolf has mental health issues and is plagued by depression. Her husband has made them settle in Richmond so that she might recuperate.

Ms Brown is suffering 50s house-wife cabin fever. Her husband is loving and lovely; her little boy Richie adores her but senses that things are about to go pear-shaped in their lives and clings to her. She's really ambivalent towards her son and husband and resents them for importuning her -- for trapping her in this life where xshe feels hemmed in and guilty about wanting time on her own. Not that they ever make any demands of her and this makes her feel more guilty and she resents them even more. Ultimately she abandons them and flees to Toronto to become a librarian. I'm not sure how we're suppose feel about Mrs Brown. Sympathy for her depression and her the ideas of suicide that she entertains? Empathy that she doesn't have the freedoms that women today enjoy - to love, work and live as they please (although, I think that that is to some degree still a myth)? Am I supposed to identify with her feelings of being trapped: the suffocating, hopeless desperation of no escape? Or intensely dislike her because she left her family, her young son and husband who both adored her and asked nothing but the same in return? Is it wrong to despise her? Because I do and I think she's weak. I realise it's a tough indictement because for a lot of people, the best way of coping (and perhaps they honestly feel that in the long-run it's the best outcome for their families also) is to walk away and never turn back. It's still a total cop-out and utterly selfish however you look at it
Clarissa Vaughn (Mrs Dalloway) is living in a kickass townhouse in NYC with her lesbian partner of many years. She is preparing a party for her feted poet friend and former lover, Richard who is nearing the final stages of HIV/AIDS and is slowly losing his mind (mental health issues is a major motif btw). She has a teenaged daughter with whom she has a difficult relationship but which is on the mend. She has been allowed the opportunites and choices that were never available to Mrs Dalloway and Mrs Brown. Still she's dissatisfied with her life. At times she feels completely detached from her own existence: does she really live in this house? Are these things really hers? Who is she, really? Richard dies by letting himself fall out his apartment window -- so many hors d'ouvres left! Oh, and guess what? His mum was Mrs Brown and his works were haunted and peppered with references to her and his admiration and resentment of her.

Mrs Dalloway's story seemed to involve a lot of precious navel-gazing and I think she's not sure why she's dissatisfied because she's a whinging twit and one of those people who always feels that no matter how good things are in their lives, the best is behind them and they'll never be able to recapture the halcyon days of yore. Pffft. Most people bitch and complain in the same manner and about the same things, but Mrs Dalloway really believes it. She actually has a pretty fucking good existence and the navel gazing is a luxury. Just ask anyone who's been in a Vietminh or Nazi prison camp, or the children living in some poverty stricken area of Bombay/Kabul/Gaza.
The author ties it all up by saying: like yeah, life really sucks yo! It's just a futile pursuit of happiness that never comes -- unless you count those fleeting moments where people ARE actually enjoying themselves, although they all know it won't last and unhappiness and dissatisfcation is only an hour away, so it's not REALLY happiness, you know? Oh, but few people actually top themselves cause they're hanging out for the quaint, beautiful things that the world can suddenly and unexpectedly deliver like a sunny, beautiful June morning. Or some such crap.

I really, really wanted to like this book. I want to be able to appreciate it's '...rich, patterned tapestry...' . I want to understand why it's 'Extremely moving, original and memorable' (See back cover for rave reviews and smug face of author who looks alarmingly like Dylan McDermott thus winning my contempt for all time). I realise that my appreciation of the book is hamstrung by my unfamiliarity with Woolf's work, especially Mrs Dalloway. I'd really appreciate an explanation about why this book is so lauded because it just seems like an exercise in pretentious self-importance on the author's part. Yawn.

- M L, 1:48 AM

Friday, January 10, 2003

My eyes!!! My FUCKING EYES!!! I just took out my contacts, forgetting that there was still chilli residue on my fingers. ARGH. Hurts... like... a MOTHERFUCKER!!!!

- M L, 4:41 AM

Wednesday, January 08, 2003

I am getting old. I think my metabolism has finally broken down and died on me. Farewell svelte, streamlined physique of my youth! Fuck OFF flabby, hippy, butt-y, rotund, lumpy, matronly Body of Impending Middle-Age and Doom.

The great thing about going to uni was that everyday I would have to walk there. So for the last several years I walked, on average six or more times, up and down the big mofo hill to get to classes. Often I would be half running as living so close to campus meant that I was nearly always late to everything. For the past few months I've been going to work by bus and sitting at my desk for seven hours a day. I have a one hour break for lunch which I spend sitting at a table in one of the CBD's many eateries. When I am at my desk, a cavalcade of Arnott's classics keep me company -- kingstons, iced vo-vos, tim tams, jam tarts...Oh, and cheese and bacon burgers and shake-a-fries from McDonalds, frequent cups of hot chocolate also make regular appearances.

I'm getting fat. I have to suck in when I wear skirts. I have a Dawei-esque bubblebutt which is completely out of proportion with the rest of me. My thighs rub together when I walk!!! This really is make or break time. Either I shut the hell up and start running again or I accept my body as the spare-tyre yard that it's threatening to become.

What it comes down to really, is a battle between sheer laziness and vanity. I have been endowed with both. If I just let myself go, I'll get to sleep in until 7.45 every weekday morning. I won't have to puff and pant through the streets of our neighbourhood with water bottle in one hand (and a baseball bat in the other to fend off the local hoodlums). It all sounds pretty sweet...until you consider the long term implications like heart disease, obesity, non-insulin dependant diabetes and general feelings of sloth, fatigue and lethargy. In the other corner, the option consists of dragging my sorry arse outside and exercising in full view of the public. Passers-by will wonder at the sweating figure with the flailing arms and the pale, feverish face. They will hear the gasping and wheezing and hesitate over whether to call an ambulance. But I know that after a couple of runs I'll be fine. My cardio fitness will improve quite quickly, I'll start to have more energy to do things, I'll get high on the post-workout endorphins. Best of all, my thighs will stop rubbing together. That, I think, is indicative of something that applies to a lot of people - vanity always wins out in the end..

- M L, 3:36 AM

Thursday, January 02, 2003

Uuurgh...I feel like crap. First friday night drinks of the New year and one of the property partners got me a champagne. I had two sips - TWO! SIPS! - and my head was spinning! Stupid asian metabolism and low alcohol tolerance. Luckily, I'm not one of those asians that goes red in the face just by walking past a pub...and in my own defence I'd had an early lunch so my stomach was empty!

- M L, 11:02 PM

Wednesday, January 01, 2003

My office smells like McDonald's shake-a-fries and cheese and bacon burgers. I must remember to invest in some Glade products.
My New Year's Eve was uneventful and terrorist-free. I stayed in and watched the BBC's adaptation of Pride & Prejudice in one sitting (-- not from fear of a violent bomb-induced death but from general antisocial, crowd-hating sentiments.)

I don't think there will be another period novel adaptation that will come close to rivalling this one for a long, long time. Most novels don't survive or can't survive a transition to film without major changes, adaptations or excisions but the producers were very faithful to the novel and while it is six hours long, the perfect casting from Jennifer Ehle (Elizabeth) and Colin Firth (Darcy) to Alison Steadman (Mrs Bennett) and the guy the plays Mr Collins, it was engaging throughout. And how adorable was Crispin Bonham Carter as Mr Bingley? I think he would have made a great Gilderoy Lockardt. And given the crazed screaming of middle-aged women across England c.1996, I don't think I need to mention how hot Darcy was when he was sweating around in his fencing gear or when he came out of the lake dripping with water, his shirt clinging to his manly chest -- mmmm, heaving bosoms and swooning all round!

Uh...where was I? Ah, New Year's Eve...ummm...

Ed spent NYE licking his wounds. He fell off his bike at the bottom of a hill scraping off all the skin on his palms, knees and legs. Apprently it hurts like a bitch and he lay on the bitumen praying for death whilst various cars drove by, slowed down and had a good chuckle. To be fair, he admits that he too once saw someone stack it in the exact same spot and drove on, laughing his arse off. His girlfriend is going overseas in a few weeks for a year and now he's out of commission just when they are supposed to be, ahem, making the most of their time together. Even funnier? He won't be able to use his hands either! BWAAAA!!!!

- M L, 11:27 PM

Sunday, December 29, 2002

The Two Towers: Great movie, just remember to take a bottle to pee in.

I've seen it twice in two days, and The Two Towers defiinitely grew on me in the second viewing (was supposed to see it again today but am all LOTR-ed out). I'm in the middle of reading the book version of TTT so my memories of that were still fresh and any departures from the book were really obvious although not necesssarily ill-received. Apart from the truncated role of the Ents and Merry and Pippin I really liked this instalment. I don't think the final cut did justice to the true nature of the Ents -- about how they lie low and take a lot of time, not so much to say things rather to ponder them but once roused were passionate and formidable fighters (and yeah, as IF Treebeard wouldn't have known that trees were being butchered all over Middle Earth by Saruman's hand). Merry and Pip just bobbed up and down for most of the movie and weren't quite as dynamic as in the Fellowship of the Ring.

The battle at Helm's Deep takes up much of the latter part of the film. My recollection of the book's description of this part isn't particularly clear, because typically JRRambling Tolkien's prose was too stultifying, turgid and leaden to endure. Peter Jackson's silver screen realisation was just fantastic. Curse my tv-addled imagination which could not muster anything as suspenseful, exciting or as detailed.

Some viewers have criticised some parts of the film that are considered to be violin playing: Haldir's death (which actually occurs at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears: Nirnaith Arnediad and not Helm's) was shown in slow motion with him keeling over and seeing, in his last moments, dead elven archers lying one on top of the other. Call me a sucker, but I found this scene really moving because it's sad to think that, at that point Haldir probably thought the Elves' involvement and their deaths were in vain. The expression on his face is also one of disbelief as the notion of death or mortality is one that elves rarely have to consider or grapple with. Obviously, you have to suspend disbelief when you see Aragorn and Gimli fend off the urukai attack at the gates by themselves and also the way Theodred and Aragorn et al are able to ride out to face the attacking hordes and miraculously manage to avoid getting their horses impaled but that is essentially the way Tolkien wrote it. I do think the characters ought to have revised typical medieval siege-battle techniques, though. Where were the pots of boiling oil?!! And that crappy assed fort didn't even have a moat! (BTW, when the Elves turned up to lend a hand, I was all "yay!" and bobbed up and down in my seat).

As for the Arwen/Elrond interlude in the middle, during which most people took their toilet breaks, I thought it was great placement and helped vary the pace of the film and fill the gaping plot holes/development regarding the nature of Arwen and Aragorn's relationship. Their relationship is only properly fleshed out in the Appendices at the end of The Return of the King and is hardly touched upon in the course of the books which makes for a lot of confusion when they hook up in the end. The scenes that touched on their final days were beautifully shot and directed: Aragorn's dead body laid out in kingly raiments clasping his sword, with Arwen in funeral robes grieving over him, morphing into Aragorn's sarcophagus watched over still, by Arwen despite the passage of the time. The following shot of Arwen's black clad figure walking through the deserted woods of Lothlorien as the dusk/dawn's light peeps through was just lovely, sad and haunting. I don't understand the hatred directed against Liv Tyler, I really don't. She does a great job, not just by looking the part but by portaying Arwen as this strong, constant woman who is independant yet really loyal. This Arwen was not exactly the one moulded by Tolkien who just didn't seem to take enough care in showing us why Aragorn would love her. It's also a credit to the writers and director.

And Faramir (David Wenham, Diver Dan!). Yes, his character is changed. In the books, he is the antithesis of Boromir in the sense that he doesn't need to battle within himself over the desire for glory (for himself or Gondor); Faramir is a soldier by nature but not a warmonger and loathes to kill even out of necessity. Despite the darkness of the times in which they live he is quite light-hearted and recognises ironies and absurdities and is still able to laugh, even at himself. Lastly, the pull of the ring doesn't seem to effect him and fairly early on he vowes never to touch it, even if it lay by the roadside (excuse the misquote).

Peter Jackson explains in this interview why movie version Faramir is not quite true to the novel because quite realistically, Faramir is only human. Great Kings have fallen to the power of the ring before him and even Gandalf and Galadriel didn't trust themselves with it, such is its power. So while, movie Faramir intended to use it to save the city as Boromir did, he never tried to take it or possess it himself and ultimately he shows his quality by letting the Hobbits go on their way. (Yes, they were taken a little off course but on the maps, Gondor seems like the closest kingdom next to Mordor -- it's not as if they were marched back to Buckland). Book Faramir was a touch too pure to be true and trusted two strange hobbits prowling about the dark lands too readily. Having said that, I really enjoyed Faramir and the hobbit's easy camraderie in the book and I hope that's illustrated in third movie.
Smeagol/Gollum was one of the best aspects about The Two Towers. I hope the CGI centaur in Harry Potter and the Philosopher 's Stone is TRULY EMBARRASSED AND HORRFIED at his own existance! The portrayal of Gollum and Smeagol reinforces one of the themes of the trilogy which isn't just the battle between good and evil as two easily separable 'sides' but the internal struggles of many of the characters between their noble intentions and the corrupting forces that tempt them to go astray. Andy Serkis did such a great job with Smeagol/Gollum's movements and his voice going from angry, bitter and resentful, to obsequious and fawning to cheeky, hopeful and amicable.

I love these movies so much. In every viewing of FOTR (3) and TTT (2 so far) I never looked at my watch, not once. And each time, I just wanted the story to keep going. I bought the 4 disc extended version on DVD last tuesday (and have since watched it five times). The commentary by the cast, director and crew is funny and so insightful but best of all, it just showed how much they loved making the film and how heavily their hearts were invested in making the films the absolute best they could be.
Disclaimer: No, I am not a LOTR afficionado and I'm a much bigger fan of the movies than the books so please forgive and correct me where I'm wrong. mwah.

- M L, 1:02 AM

Wednesday, December 11, 2002

Oh no! The other paralegals have gone away and I'm the only one available at work. More hours! Huzzah! Actual work that requires time and effort! Waaaah!
In other news, I just caught an episode of Young Lions featuring Rhys Muldoon. He's undergoing that change where a young man becomes a a middle-aged one and his face is getting all pudgy and bloated. It's not too late baby!! Do some face exercises, suck your cheeks in, get buccal pad surgery -- something, anything! Le sigh. At least we'll always have weekday afternoons at Playschool...and I would definitely still bone you, chipmunks cheeks and all.
- M L, 3:35 AM

Friday, November 29, 2002

Josie Maran has the sort of face that I could stare at for hours and not get bored. She has the ability to look innocent, angelic and be all hot and sexy at the same time. I have quite a crush on her which is why I was some what frightened by these quotes:

Josie on acting: “I also appeared in an old Backstreet Boys video where Howie is a vampire sucking blood from my neck. It was really sexy, kind of an orgasm scene. There was controversy because Backstreet Boys fans thought that I must be his girlfriend. He had to go out onstage and say, ‘That wasn’t my girlfriend in the video.’ He did ask me for my number, though. I said no. They’re nice guys, but butt ugly. And they weren’t all that famous yet, either. I really hate their music, especially when you have to hear it all the time."

Okay, so that one's kinda funny, but THIS?:

"My dream role is the serial killer Juliette Lewis played in Natural Born Killers."

or how about this:

Josie on her temper: "I’m usually a mellow, go-with-the-flow person, except when someone tells me I should do something. Then I get stubborn. If they don’t back off, I get this horrible rage and want to kill them. When I was four and my mom would send me to my room, I’d get so mad I’d go outside and bang my head on the sidewalk.�

Josie, I think Miss Alli said it best in an old TAR recap -- I admit that you're hot, but you're not too bright, so smile pretty and don't talk a lot.


Meanwhile, I've finished my last ever exam as undergrad!!! Now, someone entertain me.
- M L, 4:16 PM

Tuesday, November 26, 2002

Well, it was good while it lasted. And according to the theories put up by chocolate monster regarding recovery time, I will have fully bounced back in about a week's time.

This was the first relationship or pseudorelationship where I felt completely relaxed and happy and secure despite the fact that everywhere we went skanky, studded-white-belt wearing girls would make eyes at him. We got/get along really well and the sex was fantastic -- for the first time, I didn't go "urrgh, get away from me, i really don't like you" after it was all over.

I hadn't been in a relationship in nigh five years which is a long time by most people's standards. It's not because I'm scared of being in relationships, I'm scared of being in bad relationships. The ones that are punctuated by obssessive infatuation, co-dependency, irrational insecurities, the need for constant reassurance, petty jealousy, casual cruelties and projected, unrealistic expectations. I've avoided potential involvements because after I'd gotten to know someone better (in that zone just prior to deciding to be "just good friends") the attraction would be gone or there was no romantic chemistry or I could just detect potential bad-relationship vibes. Good ones are all about companionship: enjoying each other's company, talking and laughing together without needing to look too far ahead and worrying about where the relationship is going or asking if this person is "the one".

I thought Anonymous Male Person (AMP) and I had that. Our lives are heading in different directions, at least in the short term, and so the time we had to be togther was obviously limited. I was happy to just continue as friends and lovers who cared about each other but who knew that the involvement had a definite expiry date. We acknowleged this a couple of weeks ago and he mentioned that for him, it would feel totally wrong to be with me and then to go off and try the same thing with other girls and I agreed that I would feel pretty disloyal doing the same thing. So, it was decided that we'd see each other exclusively - we weren't quite boyfriend/girlfriend (I'm not very comfortable using those terms in anycase) but our involvement was more than casual and occupied an in-between position on the relationship spectrum. I was honestly pretty surprised at this concession on his part. I had always assumed that he was seeing other people. We also explicitly agreed that there would be a moratorium on falling in love.

The following week he was away in the country visiting his parents and studying for the exams. He bumped into an old friend with whom there had always been a mutual attraction and after a night out they went back to her place, talked and ended up kissing. He said he pulled away and told her he was seeing someone...or something like that. He told me all this the next time we saw each other after he'd got back to Sydney -- for which I'm grateful because even though it was the proper thing to do, a lot of people DON'T DO IT.

I'm rather embarrassed to admit that I was more than just a little upset. Prior to our agreement I would have brushed this news aside with a casual "whatever" and meant it. After deciding the issue of exlcusivity, I began to trust him a bit more I think, and to open up a bit more. I know, I know -- a kiss is pretty low on the scale of dogdy things to do, but I'd already made myself vulnerable to feeling the salt, lemon juice and razorblades of casual betrayal and so it stung accordingly. He said he didn't know why it happened, that he cared about me and hadn't meant to hurt me -- the standard things you say when you hurt someone.

I spent the next few days just thinking about what I wanted, trying to understand what it was the he wanted. I swung from wanting to bar him completely, to just being friends to wanting to start all over again. The fact that I felt hurt, confused and a little betrayed - had I expected too much? Had I reneged on our no falling in love policy by at least caring about him? No and no. I don't think it's too much to expect your partner-in-crime to refrain from exchanging bodily fluids with another in the first week after you decide to see only each other. I don't think that trusting someone and caring about them means that you're liable to fall in love with them, either. I felt a lot of fondness and affection for AMP but I knew where I had drawn the boundaries and in terms of love there was a lot of time, distance and intimacy separating how I felt for AMP and "being in love". It was probable that would I have grown to love him as a cherished friend. The chances of me falling in love with him were slightly more remote.

We met up yesterday -- he leaves for north coast today for a week. I didn't want this thing hanging over either of us and when you avoid relationship issues for too long it just becomes increasingly difficult to talk about them . Not knowing what he was thinking or wanted meant that I hadn't decided what I wanted to do but as it turned out he'd made the decision for us without any consultation with me. We met for lunch and in between mouthfuls of soy sauce and noodles he casually said "I'm feeling really good right now. I've started training again and I'm in zone. I'm always in the zone when I'm single and haven't got any distractions". This was followed by "[Ms Hairy Legs], I've decided to give up on girls!". Here is two. Oh, and here's another two. Why don't you put them together? Nice.

We did thrash things out afterwards for about three hours, at his insistance. According to him, he doesn't want an in between involvement. Either we do it properly and enter a full-blown relationship or go casual. He felt (and I agree) that neither of us are ready for a serious relationship but he didn't want us to see each other just casually. He said that he didn't want to fall in love or lose his control over his feelings and that he was starting to feel about me the way he'd felt when he was with his last girlfriend (a relationship that had ended more than two years ago). * LIES(!) ? ALL LIES(!!) ? I don't know. Maybe he just wants to see other people. Maybe I've been played (DOH! Dammit -- it's supposed to be the other way around. Hmmph). Whatever, there's no point second guessing him so I'll just assume he wasn't just talking crap so that I wouldn't pull his tongue out his urethra or chase him down the street waving a machete.

I guess he and I weren't on the same page after all. For me it would have been easier to keep going on as we were and as the end grew close (he'd leave the country or I would), we'd just ween ourselves off each other and say our farewells knowing that we'd had a good time together and made the most of it. For him it's easier to pull the plug now -- as soon there was any chance of real feelings developing. I would have been okay I think -- in terms of keeping my feelings in check (or am I just kidding myself?); he thinks he would have just kept pushing back the boundaries and letting himself feel more and more which would have just been asking for trouble. Another issue is that the professional road he's chosen for himself is going to very emotionally draining. He's a pretty sensitive and emotional guy, from what I can tell and tends to feel things quite acutely -- I don't know how long he'll be able to last emotionally and psychological in this line of work, but I can understand why he'd want to stay guarded or just want these last months to experience a life where he needs only to consider his own needs. But I guess it's all moot now because it's all over red rover. The most important thing for me is to make sure it's as unawkward as possible for our mutual friends. According to him, the most important thing is maintaining our closeness and our friendship.

"Let's be friends". Can we really do it or is it just something you just say because it's considered harsh to end with "Have a good life (you cunt, who hurt my feelings)!" ? Only time will tell. What I do know is that I don't ever want him back. We had the best time togther but the fact that he kissed Anonymous Female Person from-the-country and ended it all so abruptly, slightly meanly for cowardly and selfish (and possibly untrue) reasons means that my regard for him has been in free fall.
*He also didn't want anyone to fall in love with him either. I said, "don't flatter yourself."
- M L, 4:12 PM

ooee made me a chocolate cake with whipped cream and raspberry coulis today to help fix my broken heart. I wuv wu, audge!
- M L, 3:22 AM

Monday, November 25, 2002

Awww, chocolate monster considers me a mon cheri! *SWOON*
- M L, 1:37 AM

Spare tyre action, chunky legs, uterine cramps. Ahhh, bless! It's that time of the month again.
- M L, 1:20 AM

Friday, November 22, 2002

Crazed rantings --

The following things really shit me:

- People who go to the movies and sit through the entire thing sms-ing their friends. Like, fuck off. Are you that pathetically addicted to your little tumour manufacturer that you can't turn it off for two hours and enjoy a movie? where r u? i miss u. i luv u. cant w8t 2 c u!! These are not life altering exchanges. Why does your phone have to be on at the movies anyway? Do you miss your boyfwend? You are lame. Do you need to make urgent plans to meet up wit' yo' posse? Tough SHIT, take it outside. Oh, you're awaiting the results of a loved one's emergency kidney transplant? Why are you even AT the movies you selfish oaf? If you aren't a doctor, turn. It. OFF.
Don't these people realise that the movies are a place of escape? A place for flights of fancy and suspension of disbelief? The constant click-click-clicking and the eerie blue glow of a neighbour's screen is incredibly distracting. Especially if the culprit is a so-called friend. Excuse me, you came here to spend time with ME dammit so either you pay attention to the movie or you pay attention to me. Persistent texting will lead to me grinding your precious motorola into a fine metallic powder with my boots. ARGH.

- Tactless friends. You know the sort.

Oh, you look so tired. You should really use concealer to hide those bags. And your skin, it's so dull -- do you want to use some of my blush? Are you sure you want to buy that skirt? Well...if you're sure.

Um, hello. The fact that I don't carry the entire Clinique counter around in a carpet bag like you would indicate that I have precious little time for such trivialities. Furthermore, I am certainly aware if I'm looking like shit/a bogan from Mullet Town/suffering hormonal acne and have no need for you to point it out to me. Especially loudly in a room of crowded people. Cunt.

- Becker. While little Philippino orphans are risking their lives and limbs weaving cane furniture for western country patios at two and a half cents a day, Ted Danson is making thousands -- I fear hundreds of thousands -- for his piece of crap "comedy". The stories are predictable and the characters are hateful (and I don't mean in the hateful George Costanza way, because hating him is actually fun). The shithaus writing outcraps even Everybody Loves Raymond for its grating crassness and shrill hysterics. And that is a BIG CALL. Please Channel 10, make this evil show go away. Becker makes Baby Ms Hairy Legs cry.

- M L, 10:17 PM

The story arcs on Neighbours have become increasingly disturbing of late. One particular "plot line" involves Susan and Karl falling in love again after Suze loses her memory from slipping on the kitchen tiles and banging her head. ( I refuse to comment directly on the Lou-Harold-'Hosie Luv Triangle, gag). But it's not just ANY amnesia story y'all, Susan could not remember anything after her sixteenth birthday and had, for intents and purposes the emotional and intellectual maturity of a 16 year old (as defined by the writers of Neighbours that is).
The first disturbing development was when she went in search of her former boyfriend, Craig. Craig is a now a much older man in his forties as evidenced by his craggy forehead wrinkles and salt & pepper hairpiece. They shack up for a couple weeks and then she decides she'd much prefer to stay with HIM than say, her husband who, admittedly might be scary to a naive 16 year old, but surely no more so that craggy Craig?
So she starts getting her memory back and she and Karl begin falling in love. FINE. What is not FINE is their middle aged sexcapades at a 6.30pm timeslot. Um, hello? Censors, that's a G rated time slot right there. And it's not the fact that it's on at 6.30pm but that it's on at all! Yo writers, parents having sex? Parental moans, groans, frantic groping on the couch followed by a dizzying stumble to the bedroom? NOT a ratings winner. While I hold the older members of society in high regard, I don't want to see that shit when I'm settling down for my evening meal.
This applies for old people in real life too, by the way. There is a longstanding rule of ettiquette that prohibits any forms of excessive PDAs between couples middle aged and beyond. I swear it's true -- ask Ita. Leave that stuff for the youngin's. While I'm prepared to grant a special dispensation for couples in their thirties, couples on the wrong side of the forty should keep their shameful shenanigans in their own homes. Preferably in their bedrooms with the doors locked, curtains drawn and lights turned OFF.

Le sigh. Remember when Neighbours was funny and not Melrose Place: The Geriatric Years? At least Mark Rafferty's good. "Oh HI, Chloe!!" *SLAP*. teeheehee. I love Darcy.
- M L, 5:06 PM

Am recovering from a THREE HOUR pass-fail exam. Yes that's right! Stupid LAWS2121 (Asian Legal systems and business law). A 100% essay accompanied by an end of session exam on all four countries even though the major essay already covered one of them extensively. And no extensions on the essay unless you have a documented illness lasting at least three days otherwise its a 5% deduction per day. Crazy bint. She takes this subject way too seriously.
As I sit here on the verge of graduation, I ask myself what have I learnt? What have I taken away from my five years of law? Bitterness. Resentment. Regret. The course itself is poorly structured and taught. There is such a shortage of qualified academics at UN$W that they contract practitioners to teach and keep the crappy professional lecturers they DO have year after year despite numerous complaints and petitions. Why do they even get us to do lecturer evaluations at all? Property and Equity was taught between three teachers this session. One took a month-long sabbatical in the middle of session and another has a prize-winninng bulldog and kept skipping classes to do the dog show circuit. I realise that lecturers have lives outside university as students do but it's not like our education is FREE so when they decide not to turn up or even get a substitute, we are not amused.
The increase of sudden death 100% exams for full load subjects is ridiculous and is indicative of the laziness of the teaching staff in that they can't be bothered to structure an assessment system that allows students to demonstrate what they have learned or structure a course that facilitates and encourages continuous, consistent learning. I like the idea of Universities being places of higher learning and intellectual challenge but the reality is that at places like the UN$W Law Faculty what you get is a pop-quiz law degree. Generally uninspired teaching leading to uninspired students who just end up teaching themselves during Stuvac.
This rant really makes no sense I'm sure. There are still really effective teachers around but I've just become increasingly cranky with the way the faculty is run and the students that form its client base. When I hear about people who want to do law so that they can "really learn about the law and how it effects society so that [they] can make a difference" I laugh and laugh. And laugh. Fools. Don't you know? You'll just end up in commercial law as a glorified paralegal, as some senior associate's bitch. Fridays nights will be spent at the Establishment unsuccessfully trying to find love but inevitably you'll go home alone. Alone with nothing but your electronic pass card. Some nights you might hook up with another lawyer but only because none of the other professional-types want you. Have fun feeding the neighbourhood's stray cats.
- M L, 4:29 PM

I'm so fickle. Isn't funny how you just go off people?
- M L, 3:55 PM

Monday, November 11, 2002

Anonymous Male Person went off to see his parents in the country today. How lame is it that I miss him already.
- M L, 8:46 PM

Wednesday, November 06, 2002

Three papers due on Friday afternoon, working two days this week, going out Thursday night so I really have no time or material for making insightful or witty posts like Dave.

Be satisfied with this:

[A mildly amusing picture was meant to go here but I can't work the hmtl code thing for it because I'm a loser -- try this link instead]

and to add a link to The Count's John Howard Weblog which is way more entertaining than this one.

I finish exams Nov 28, after which there will be posts and gossping galore!
- M L, 4:09 AM

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

Spotted in the level nine common Room: A Minter Ellison poster defaced!
We know what counts

was edited to

We know what cunts we are


Saturday, August 31, 2002

I was walking up the main walkway at uni today. This little kid (6 years old?) was slowly riding his little bike in the opposite direction and I'm not sure what happened but he ended up ramming himself in one of the 6ft high bushes that line either side on the mall. He cried. My reaction?


Maybe you had to be there but it was just so fucking hilarious. Even his mother thought he was a dufus: Brian -- how long have you been riding bicycles?!! The fact that I am still laughing as I type this probably makes me a prime candidate for forced sterilisation.

- M L, 9:02 PM

I just love the 21st Century warfare tactics adopted by the US. To hell with stealth and secrecy, why not just broadcast your intentions to the enemy, give them several months of repetitive chest-thumping rhetoric and time to dig up the nuclear warheads they have buried in the desert?
HEY IRAQ, THE US PLANS TO ATTACK YOU! GOT IT?? So put the final touches onto your weapons of mass destruction and gather s'more anthrax spores and obscure strains of small pox because they're gonna ATTACK!!! YOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!
- M L, 1:30 AM

Wednesday, August 28, 2002

I want a tattoo on my upper arm. Not right now of course -- gotta hit the gym and start get some Terminator II cyborg arms first -- cause there ain't nuttin' that says "tryhard wankbag" as a puny bicep with a tat.

Skye has suggested one in the "something that just looks kick ass and will make you come across as one hot bitch and will never date and always look totally cool" genre.
Any suggestions will be much appreciated.
- M L, 6:45 AM

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

For those who were worried, I survived my bout of flu like symptoms with all my limbs and digits intact. I'm still coughing like smoker with a 3 pack a day habit though. Tuberculosis perhaps?

Have spent this evening playing Scattegories with my little brother and sister; it was fun (and I won every round of course)! Gawd I love them. They are both so funny and evil yet really cute and sweet.
- M L, 5:52 AM

I must have been living under a rock or something because I had no idea that Ian Thorpe has his own range of pearl jewellery!
For all you girls swooning over his big feet, bear in mind this warning from Dave : "If you have a vagina you're out of the running!"
- M L, 5:38 AM

Sunday, August 11, 2002

Sick. Dying. Bored.
You are 18% geek
OK, so maybe you ain't a geek. You do, at least, show a bit of interest in the world around you. Either that, or you have enough of a sense of humor to pick some of the sillier answers on the test. Regardless, you're probably a pretty nifty, well-rounded person who gets along fine with people and can chat with just about anyone without fear of looking stupid or foolish or overly concerned with minutiae. God, I hate you.
Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com

Check out the flattering pic of Drew Barrymore circa Poison Ivy that they picked out for me.
- M L, 6:44 AM

Sunday, August 04, 2002

Virginie Ledoyen is a fox. SBS has been showing the 2000 version of Les Miserables with Gerard Depardieu as Valjean. It's pretty good entertainment compared to what the other commercial channels are trying to pass off as Sunday night entertainment -- The Craic, the Commonwealth Games, Fear. I've never read Hugo's novel or seen the musical or any of the other movie versions so I have no yardstick by which to measure this production, but I wonder if Valjean is supposed to be such a jealous, creepy, possessive father type? Because that's how GD plays him. His obsession with keeping Cosette all cloistered and dependant on him and his anger and jealousy when he finds that she's in love with Marius makes for some pretty uncomfortable viewing. Seriously -- EW.

Another problem I have is that the character of Gavroche never seems to age! We first meet him when Valjean and Cosette come to Paris to hide from Javert. Gavroche puts them up in his sleeping quarters and he is roughly the same age as Cosette, i.e. about ten or eleven. About six years later when Cosette emrges from her convent school, she is in the form of one beautiful, shapely Virginie Ledoyen but Gavroche is still played by the same kid and looks not a day older than 12. That's really starting to shit me. Well it was shitting me until last night's ep when Gavroche was killed by the state soldiers for looting the pockets of the dead. I also wonder why Valjean, after leaving the Parisienne convent where he has been hiding for several years choses to stay IN PARIS and not flee somewhere else where there would be less of a police presence?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The weather today is fantastic -- clear, blue skies, warm and sunny. Tony and I have what appears to be the flu though, and so are stuck in doors. We are checking ourselves intermittently for purples blotches just in case it's meningycoccal (sp?) disease instead. Better to be safe than a triple amputee is my motto.

- M L, 8:39 PM

Thursday, August 01, 2002

I got my first rejection today! Tress Cocks + Maddox barred me which is probably just as well because I really didn't want to have to tell people that the name of my firm contained the word Cocks.

How does it feel? Truth be be told, kinda crappy. They're a third tier firm so if THEY don't want me, WHO WILL? TELL ME!!!! Shit.
I met a guy at the Sports Association meeting yesterday who runs the Jujitsu Club on Campus. He has enticed me into joining with promises of two hour training sessions for only 5! FIVE! V! Dollars! Ka-ching -- BARGAIN! I so don't have the money to be taking up new hobbies right now. Any spare cash I have seems to trickle away in order to cover training fees. Must Stop Exercise. Must Buy Clothes. I need new clothes. Currently I am dressed like this man. Ergo, I NEED NEW CLOTHES.

Ed called on Saturday morning. I can honestly say that I almost didn't care. I haven't had any real yearning to talk to him, the way I used to -- the way you're always in earnest to talk to a really close friend and confidante, to disclose all your news and latest tidbits of gossip to which only highly esteemed friends are privy. Our closeness and dependence on each other has pretty much died out as quickly as it began.

Even though I didn't feel like talking with him, I was glad that he called. It meant that he hadn't abandoned or forgotten me completely, although I don't know why he did call. Obligation? Guilt? We chatted easily, sort of like old times; gossiped, made fun of other people and were generally obnoxious. Wasn't the same though. There were no plans made for lunch or to hang out; there were no secret disclosures.
He told me about the girl he met at ALSA a couple of weeks ago. He said that she was in third year at UTS and that she was by far the most compatible girl he'd ever come across. I said, "That's nice".

He seemed disappointed that I didn't ask him about her. Good. In the old days, we'd spend ages on the phone every day bitching out the lastest instalment of Neighbours, dissecting EVERY single aspect of our love and social lives: who we were spading, what we thought of our chances; we carried out date post-mortems and hatched evil plans to get people to sleep with us. I didn't even ask her name. But then, I don't think he really cared about what was happening in my life or what I had been doing and the feeling was mutual. Or maybe we didn't ask each other anything important because we just aren't close any more and to ask would seem like intruding.
Gee, what a downer.

In other news, Steve is in Morrocco. I asked him to bring me back a carpet. He said no.
- M L, 4:08 AM

Thursday, July 25, 2002

My eyes are dry and bloodshot. I have a tension headache that has been raging for a week. It's like having a dozen invisible hands shoving thumbtacks into my temples over and over.

Why? Because I've been at the computer non-stop doing my cunting clerkship applications is why!!!

But they are finished at last. Deadline closes tomorrow and I have to deliver three of them bitches personally to the city but the other 15 have been done. Let the soul crushing begin.

I actually feel rather sorry for the HR people who have to go through like 900 applications and try and cull them down to 150, then 50, then 5. But then again, they are employed whereas I am not, so whatever.

Results came out last thursday. The Apocalypse must be coming because Quirey gave me and HD for my final exam.
- M L, 7:35 AM

Friday, July 19, 2002

Keira Knightley. Puurrrdy!
JRM -- I love his soft irish accent. And he seems like such a swell guy. *Swoon*

- M L, 2:36 AM

Nina was down from Newcastle this week. We went and saw BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM, which is a movie about an Indian girl from a traditional family who likes to play soccer and is quite talented at it. She joins an all girls team but has to hide it from her disapproving parents. Hijinks ensue.

There's nothing ground breaking about this movie -- the usually clash of cultures with an interracial romance and amusing stereotypes thrown in for laughs. However, I can totally relate to how hemmed in she feels -- my parents used to be the same and still are to an extent, i.e. dating white boys can only end in heartbreak (look at the divorce rates for interracial marriages!), focussing on your studies takes precedence over all and sundry. In hindsight, I realise that they did it because they really love me and want to protect me from getting hurt but really, when you are 23 year old it's time to let go folks! They are doing this surely but ever SO SLOWLY.

I quite liked the movie; it was well acted by all the characters except for Jess, our heroine. I could totally identify with her sneaking out of the house to play soccer and picking up her soccer kit which she'd hidden in the bushes, but I thought the actress had no onscreen presence whatsoever. Actually I was going to say she had an onscreen presence comparable to that of driftwood but that would have been an insult to trees. Basically, her acting was pretty shit.

I absolutely adored all the other characters though -- her mother and father who are desperately trying to instill in her, pride in their indian culture, her friend from the soccer team, Juliette and her coach and predictable love interest Joe.

Juliette was played by Keira Knightley, who just lit up the screen in every scene she was in. She and Natalie Portman seem to have been separated at birth only Keira has, you know, personality and shit. Joe was played by the sexy!sexy!sexy! Jonathan Rhys-Meyers.

When we're first introduced to the character of Joe, it is so painfully obvious that he and Juliette have way more chemistry that Joe will ever have with Jess. The Joe-Jules banter is natural and easy but the interaction between Joe and Jess is really forced, even while they are getting to know each othe, falling in love and developping a rapport. I totally don't buy their relationship. Even worse -- Jules was in love with Joe and had been holding a flame for him for ages and then bloody Jess blows in and shake!shake!shakes! her long raven-coloured tresses and wins him over. And Jules? Is left to eat dirt! BOO!HISS! I mean I'm glad it has a happy/hopeful/uplifting ending etc, I just wish Jules could have gotten a better deal in the love department.

JRM is one sexy sexy boy. Ol-e! Ol-eeee! Ol-e! Ol-e! He is Hot! Hot! Hot! Ahem...

- M L, 2:20 AM

I got an email from Steve the other day. He's a friend of mine from law who spent his last session in Sweden ("Oh my gawd, [Ms Hairy Legs]! You have to come here -- the women have to be seen to be believed! Once I leave this place, I'll never consider a woman beautiful ever again. *sigh*". Awww...poor, poor Steve).

Anyway, he's backpacking around Europe at the moment and despite my warnings to stay away from livestock he's gone and gotten himself GORED BY A BULL. He ran with the bulls, or rather away from them in Pamplona and escaped the first time only to decide that he was up for a second run where he came off second best in a wall-bull sandwich. He managed to walk away relatively unscathed although the ordeal lasted for a good 40sec which is pretty, fucking scary. Apparently he's been getting lots of media attention and free stuff (and no doubt sympathy shags from the local chicks). Lucky bastard.

In other news, I went shopping with Mum today and she got me a lovely suit! The tag says that it's "dusty blue" i.e. it's a sort of blue-ish/gunmetal colour. I love it. Thanks Mum. She wanted to buy me another navy pant suit as well but I felt guilty enough over the first one so I said no. I love my Mum. And not just cause she buys me stuff. She's just the most sympathetic, understanding, nonjudgemental and supportive Mum a child can ask for. *sniff*. It's amazing how she can still be so generous and loving even though I can be a shit sometimes.
- M L, 1:41 AM

Tuesday, July 16, 2002

Okay, I seriously need to get my arse into gear and get these cunting clerkship applications done before first session marks come out on Thursday because knowing what a cunt Quirey is, he'll have given me the SHITTIEST mark possible without failing me because to do so means that my papers would have to be crossmarked and he'd have to justify his bias!


Have been procrastinating all day -- sleeping in, watching crappy TV and being a lazy arse. But, FUCKING HELL! Why is my life an endless series of deadlines? Deadlines for assignments, essays, for exam revision, for job applications! And then when I get out of uni, it'll be more and more deadlines only they'll be seventeen times worse because I'll be dealing with the livelihood and quality of life of other (albeit RICH) people. And what lies waiting for me at the end of these deadlines, the end of the line as it were? Death! Death with maggots eating my corpse from the inside and along the way, a socalled life peppered with stress, emotional turmoil, divorces and a drinking problem *Breathes hard into a brown paper bag*

In other news, I am currently nursing two swollen feet. The Eastern Conference Games were on over the weekend and U.N.$.W kicked arse. We won the over all competition and took home about seven golds (one of which I got -- wheeee!) and five silvers. Macquarie university came a distant second. Go US! This augurs well for the Australian Uni Games in September. We're hoping to beat Monash university which beat us last year as overall winners because the officials counted the entire medal tally to determine the winning uni rather than the number of golds. Dumbasses. Of course Monash had more medals -- they had a 45 member team and we had 25! Hmmmph.

Anyway, I'm really proud of my boys and and girls! They showed a lot of heart. We were a bit unlucky with the draw because some of the U.N.$.W people had to fight each other in the early rounds and they were generally good, close fights with some very good scoring shots. We mostly escaped injury free -- Charles's feet were pretty messed up and his right foot was swollen to the size of a cricket ball and he needed two stitches for a cut lip; unfortunately he and Rohan were up against each other in the first round, but he fought really well and never gave up. I'm so proud! Have sent an email to Mike who is currently in Japan competing at the World Cup. I wished he'd been there; he's worked so hard with us -- planning, strategising and encouraging everyone like a good coach/manager should.

I also have a bruised, ahem, flower. The girl from my first round fight kicked me in the hoo-hoo! It actually doesn't hurt that much for a girl -- but then maybe it's cause girls generally don't kick as hard as guys. It's happened twice (the first was at the 2001 AUGs), and I've decided there's no point wasting time bending over and pretending it hurts when it really doesn't, to try and draw a warning. Especially since my reaction to getting kicked in the nether regions is delayed:

Groin: Shit, I've been kicked!
Brain: Some one kicked us in the vagina? The VAGINA??!!
Groin: Yeah, we got kicked goolies! Does it hurt?
Brain: Hmmm, let me see if I can sense any pain...
Groin: ...
Brain: Well it doesn't hurt exactly -- I think I'm just a bit shocked.
Groin: What should we do? You could bend over, grab me and make a "pained" face.

And by the time that's occured to me, the fight has moved on and to react to it then, looks really fake. Even though the bitches deserve to PAY! PAY! PAY! On a side note, it hurts more for a girl to be kicked in the UTERUS rather than the groin. The sort of pain associated with that is similar to period pain, and us girls know what that's like, right? It's like having your endometrium scraped out with a rusty pitchfork or having someone tug on your uterus with a bunch of rusty wire hangers. It is very important to emphasise the rusty nature of these implements to properly illustrate that it hurts THAT MUCH!
- M L, 3:58 AM

Friday, July 12, 2002

I whored myself out to a lawfirm today. It is the first of what promises to be many, many examples of me selling out.

Why are resumes and job interviews such masturbatory exercises? Do prospective employers really believe the schtick I'm dishing out? Only time will tell, I s'pose. Having read the cover letters and resumes of other friends and having just written my first whitecollar job resume, it's so disheartening to realise that , damn, we are so full of shit -- all five-dollar words and no substance. But then maybe I should feeling encouraged because we are all going to be lawyers and surely it's a sign that this is our true vocation.

Okay, I'm coming towards the end of my first week of holidays. what have I done? sweet fuck all. Online monopoly with its sweet ambrosia and siren's song still beckons me. I stay up til all hours of the night playing with Dave and Audge developing Alex-from-BB-quality eyebags.

Have been chatting with Dicky on msn. I wish he'd stop bringing up cunting Nigel. He KNOWS i loathe him. He also mentioned that Ed said that once he gets back from Adelaide that "we should all get together". BWAHAHAHAHAHA. Yeah, and beat each other with broken beer bottles or something, such is the state of our so called friendship. What-EVAH dude, you are dead to me. DEAD!!!!
- M L, 5:55 AM

Tuesday, July 09, 2002

Oh and for some inexplicable reason l find Lleyton Hewitt's no.2 haircut really fetching on him. Eep!
- M L, 2:36 AM

I mustn't be very good at multitasking because being stuck in exam revision hell has meant that I haven't been arsed adding any entries. Has it really been FIVE! 5! V! weeks? Shit. But hurrah! -- I've finally finished with my cunting exams for this semester so reckless and irresponsible behaviour here I come! So far, examples of said behaviour include re-reading all of my Anne of Green Gables books, watching Chicago Hope re-runs and mocking the WB's Seventh Heaven , (no I don't hate Christians I just like to make fun of the ones on TV). Soon this will be followed by dancing in the dark to Kylie while my little sister flashes cellophane covered torches to simulate the strobe lighting at clubs. Actually, that's probably not a bad idea seeing as I came home the other night reeking -- REEKING -- of cigarette smoke after an evening of drinks, dancing and drag show watching.
- M L, 2:23 AM

Thursday, May 30, 2002

Oh DEAR. I just saw Keiren dancing around in his tighty whities on Big Brother Uncut.

I am now blind.
- M L, 4:34 AM


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