I want to be Shiney.

I drink too much. I smoke too much. I don’t get enough sleep. My diet is questionable.

Than today I got a letter in the mail that confirmed I am a slob! My gym sent me a lovely note saying "We Miss You". Since I quit with my personal trainer I’ve been to the gym 0 times.

Why is that some people find living a healthy life so easy where as people like me struggle?

Is it just because I’m lazy? Or do I lack a certain gene?

I think because I’m lazy I’d like to think it was because I lacked a gene.

I just look at healthy, fit, buff people (like Christian) and wonder “Where do you find the time?”. Especially all those incredibly toned and shiney gay-boys who must spend hours a day in the gym. I just figure they work part-time or live off an inheritance otherwise there just aren’t enough hours in the day.

For me to get to the gym I need to be up before 6. Which means I’d need to be in bed by 10. So I am at a loss as to how I fit everything else in in-between. Walking Little Sammy, eating, phoning, blogging, tweeting, socialising, Law & Ordering… to say nothing of working. I love all the ‘ings’ so I don’t ever not want to be doing them.

So then a healthier lifestyle comes down to prioritising. So what from my list of ‘ings’ am I willing to give up so that I can make a small step towards being one of those buff, fit, shiney people? Mmmmmm…..

Well I love my job and I kinda need the money so no change to be made there. I spend very little time preparing or eating food so absolutely no time to be saved there. Blogging is my favourite thing in the world, it takes the time that it does and that is that. Tweeting is like breathing so unless you want me to suffocate I won’t be cutting back.

Really the only way I can save myself some time in all of this is my television viewing. This is painful. As you know I have two TV’s at Man Pit now and they both go from morning to night. Granted, I am usually doing something else as well but I can watch up to four Law & Orders a night. If I cut back my TV watching and got myself off to bed by 10 each night than there is a chance.

A small chance that I too can be one of those healthy people. That would be very cool.

Weirdly, just writing this seems to have sorted this out in my brain. I love rambling here so I can make sense of my life. Writing about being too lazy will hopefully make me less lazy.

Maybe I should start writing about hot boys (like the one on the mag cover) lavishing me with love, attention and gifts and then that will start happening too.

A boy can hope.

The post you have when you don't really post...

I feel dumb when I don't have anything to say. It's weird that I never shut up - at all - but it's a very different thing turning verbal diarrhea into anything that resembles a post. This is what I am learning about blogging.





So today I am protecting you from what would have only been a bad rehashing of some dumb, half-assed story and not really posting. Well, you certainly couldn't call this a post could you?





But I'm in full-blogging mode at the moment, really loving and enjoying it, so felt dumb that I wouldn't have anything here today. These words are too ease my own conscious, plain and simple.





So in the grand scheme of things please ignore today, but tomorrow I've got something I think is pretty darn cool. It's a post about diverting everyone's attention from the crazy people and introducing you to some very cool ones.





See you tomorrow, xoxoxo





St. Murphy

Tough love for a 17yo St. Murphy

Melbourne hottie Simieboy said to me ages ago that I should do a post as a letter to my 17 year old self. I thought it was a brilliant idea but it’s taken me some time to get to it. I’ve often thought it could be a lovely, inspiring, insightful piece of writing but now that I’ve actually come to tap away on the keyboard I’ve done a backflip.

I was a little self-centred bitch at 17. No way would I have listened to a thoughtful, meaningful letter from a dirty old man like me. What I needed at 17 was some tough love, a bit of a reality-slap across the face. So that’s what I’ve decided to go with instead…

Thats me on the left, at 17yo.

Dear 17yo St. Murphy,

Now listen here you little shit, chances are you will not listen to a word I say, but trust me that I know what is best for you! The past 22 years have taught me A LOT and if you listen to me now you can save yourself monumental grief down the track. Yes, yes I understand that at 17 some of these subjects will be disturbing and completely foreign but I really don’t care. This is stuff you need to know.

First off, and I think most importantly… YOU ARE GAY!!! That's why naked men keep popping into your mind. I know you don’t really know what gay is at the moment or what it means but save yourself 7 years of turmoil and COME OUT NOW!! The reality is that everyone already thinks that you are, you are as camp as Xmas for godsake, and no one will be surprised when you do eventually come out. I do not want you to have any regrets, if you came out now you could probably make a difference for others who come after you. You will be a very proud gay man, and a very very happy gay man. Embrace it now!

While you may have a 6-pack now with the lungs of a marathon runner DO NOT TAKE THESE FOR GRANTED. If you don’t keep working on them one day you’ll wake up in your mid-30’s with a gut and a smokers cough. Which reminds me, and this is critical, you should never ever put a cigerette in your mouth. You will soon find that you become addicted to anything and everything very quickly so lets nip that one in the bud now. You could have travelled the world twice by 40 on the money you waste on cigerettes.

Yes, you are gay!

Look around your classroom, your 3 best friends now will be friends for life. Go give Cass, Sonia and Alana a big hug and be nice to them every day. They will be with you for life. They will be the ones wiping the dribble from your mouth when you are in the old-mans home.

Already you have too much fun. Now this isn’t always a bad thing but one of the toughest lessons you can learn is that fun should not come at the cost of everything else in your life. Be particularly careful in your late-20's and early 30's, we call 2004 'the Dark Year' for a very good reason. Thank god you fall into a career that is fun otherwise I would have grave fears for you.  On that front, just forget right now that you are destined for a life in business or finance and start looking up courses in Communications. That’s where your skills are, and that’s a job that will get you out of bed each day and out of bars each night.

Ok, brace yourself 17yo St. Murphy, this is a tough one. You will lose your father far too young. Not what you want to hear I know. Sorry. But I think its really crucial that you know this as it will change how you behave in the lead-up. The loss is bad enough without also having regrets. You will go crazy for a while after, and that’s ok, its to be expected. Also, I beg of you, please recognize that you are not coping and give yourself time to heal. No one bounces back quickly from the loss of a parent! Thank god you have your mum with you for a very long time cause still at 40 you will be a complete and utter mummy’s boy.

On the upside… you do not die young! I know this is already something you are thinking and feeling, you weirdo. Get over it, put it to the back of your mind. And stop using it as an excuse to do whatever and whenever you want. Start planning for a long life and treat yourself better. That body is gonna have to last you a LONG time.

try and maintain those lungs love!

Stop being so superficial now! Cliched I know, but stop judging a book by its cover. This will shoot you in the foot over and over and means you miss out on a lot of good stuff and a lot of good people. Whenever you come across someone who is happy in themselves and treats others with respect just grab hold of them. They are the ones you need to keep. Not the pretty ones. Not the ones with the nice clothes or ‘cool’ friends. You eventually learn this but only after some frightful experiences, especially in Sydney.

Stay away from straight boys. Just be warned, thinking you are best friends with a straight guy means you have actually fallen in love with him and it will be torment and heartbreak for years. Stick with the gayers and all the fabulous women in your life as your closest friends. Much less risk of embarrassing yourself.

Just be nicer to people. I know you think your funny but you are actually cruel and offensive, especially when you are drunk. Nice people go further in life, and good things happen to nice people. So stop being a little bitch, you can be funny without having to make fun of others. There’s more than enough material in just making fun of yourself.

Finally, you are one lucky little fucker! You have many flaws and make so many mistakes its almost comedic but still you manage to have an incredibly lucky life. Do not ever take this for granted. Your friends, your partners, your workmates; all have incredible patience with you but you need to pay them back ten-fold with respect and appreciation. You will have some of the most phenomenal life-experiences that introduce you to people and places that will continually change your life and make you a better person. Always remember that is it the people around you who make your life so exciting and fulfilling. Nothing is more important than the people you share your life with.

Brace yourself 17yo St. Murphy, you are in for one helluva ride! Your life is going to be an incredibly exciting adventure of both great highs and a few lows. Enjoy every second as much as you can.

Lots of love, xoxoxo

39yo St. Murphy

At 39, very happy.

P.S: Now that I've started this I realise there is a shitload I still want to tell you young St. Murphy. Might have another letter coming your way again soon. x

My Top 5 Favourites!

Just having a bit of a reflective moment with this blog today. Been bashing away here for just on six months; some of it cool, some of it sad, some of it just plain boring and stupid.  Got me thinking about what my five favourite posts have been. Here’s what I think they are! How I’ve judged it is a mix of what I’ve loved writing, what has meant the most to me to post and also what have been the most shared.

In no particular order…

Favourite ‘No purpose at all’ Post

Three Little Nuggets

I find that this blog ends up like a bit of journal for me. This is one of those diary entries, and it has a little bit of everything.

Favourite ‘Listen to me, I’ve got something to say’ Post

A proud salute to the 78’ers!

This is the one I’m most proud of wirting cause it’s a subject that means a hell of a lot to me. Took me ages to pull this one together. Some posts can be knocked out in no time, this one required a lot of work. I hope the mes

Favourite Guest Post

It Gets Better: a very special guest post

A beautiful, heartfelt story from a very strong man, Arrjaydub. One of the most read and one that I am so proud to have on this page.

Favourite Story

The Baby-Sitters Club: The Woogettes

This was just heaps of fun and I loved that people liked the story. Need to do more stuff like this me thinks.

Favourite Post

Some news from Boyfriend and I.

This one was amazingly easy to write but the absolute hardest to share. By far the most read thing ever on this page. This one taught me a lot about blogging, most importantly that genuine, authentic words are what people want to read.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Once upon a time there was a little boy...

Once upon a time there was a little boy who felt he had a lot to say. He talked a lot, he tweeted a lot, he was an opinionated little son-of-a-bitch and forced his stories on anyone who would listen.

But still he felt there was more he could say.

He knew of two magnificent princesses (or two ugly step-sisters depending on the day of the week) who called themselves Bloggers. They typed and typed and said even more than you could in a Tweet. The little boy thought they were amazing and that they were really cool. He decided that when he grew up he wanted to be just like his princesses Woogsworld and JoThornely.

“How do I become a Blogger? How do I become a Blogger?” squeaked the little boy at the princesses.

“Easy you dumb little shit, you just write it you fool! Now never interrupt us again when we are drinking!” said the now ugly step-sisters.

Woogsworld and JoThornely

Off the little boy went and started a blog. He decided to call it St. Murphy. This was kind of like his name but what he really liked about it was that it suggestested he was a Saint. Just like Mary McKillop. The irony is that nothing could be further from the truth. He’s a dirty, naughty, horny little boy who gets himself into trouble all the time, he just pretends he’s a Saint.

So type the little boy did. He typed some dumb stuff, some funny stuff, lots of gay-boy stuff, and he told the never-ending story of when he broke-up with his little-boy-boyfriend. The little boy found that he had more stories to tell then even he thought. He could write about anything he wanted it, anything at all, and he loved it! Before he knew it was hooked liked a gremlin-drug-addict and spending most of his nights on his couch in his little home, Man Pit, bashing out some stories for St. Murphy.

Then something strange started to happen to the little boy. And no, we are not talking about how his bush grew. He started to meet some other Bloggers. Bloggers are like these weird wonderful creatures who live deep in the forest in a magical online world. It turns out Bloggers are incredibly funny, warm, generous, giving, authentic, genuine people (and not at all like the two princess/ugly step-sisters) who the little boy loved, loved, loved to meet.

Suddenly there was exciting news! All the Bloggers were getting together for a giant, fabulous, exciting Ball where everyone could play together all weekend; it was called Blogopolis. The little boy got so excited that he bought his ticket and booked his fairy-flight straight away. He even had some business cards made cause thats what the cool-kid Bloggers all do. He counted down the days with his new Blogger friends and before he knew it the big weekend had arrived.

But right at the last minute the little boy had a panic attack!

“I’m not a blogger? Why do I think I’m a Blogger? I’ve been doing this for a minute, I’m not going to fit in at all!” See, the little boy was not used to having a crisis-of-confidence, he was normally a very arrogant little fucker. But this was a whole new, exciting world filled with gorgeous, smart people.

“Damn it,” the little boy said, “I’m going to have to fake it! Just like I do with the two princess/ugly step-sisters!”

So faking it he is. Today the little boy is off to the fabulous Blogger Ball called Blogopolis and he will be faking it every step of the way. All the little boy hopes for is that at the end of the night the beautiful Queen Fairies, StylingYou and Edenland, pop him in a fairy-cab before he turns into a cucumber.

And that he finally learns what it means to be a Blogger!

Now read their blogs, you will love them like I do...

Woogsworld

JoThornely

SylingYou

Edenland

Stay tuned for next installment of this Fairytale on Monday…

May I present... Lord St. Murphy

Drop to your knees and praise the Lord. And by ‘the Lord’ I mean…

Lord St. Murphy

Yes, that is correct. I am now a Lord and I have the paperwork to prove it.

Oh the power! Oh the prestige! I am now officially an Aristocrat and I expect to be treated accordingly.

I will not be answering to any commoner who does not use my correct title, Lord.

I will not be dressing myself anymore as I will have a Valet.

I now change into a dinner suit for my evening meal.

I have a driver.

These are all things that automatically come with being a Lord.

It feels like only yesterday that I was a commoner-bogan like you, but now I live amongst the dizzying heights of the social elite – and it feels GOOOOOOOOD!!

How did this happen I hear you ask, how did you jump so many social classes in one giant leap St. Murphy? Cause I am clever and I have a clever friend. His name is Lord Sleemol.

Even has a big red wax stamp so it must be official!

See, I too dreamt of being a Lord while watching the divine series Downton Abbey. In a previous life I 100% guarantee you that I was the Lord of Downton (or some other equally grand estate). I feel it in my bones that this was ‘my time’, my spiritual home! But I needed more than this feeling to validate my existence as a Lord – I needed a piece of paper.

Lord Sleemol understood exactly how I felt, and he was on exactly the same page. If you ever meet Lord Sleemol you would immediately understand that he too was born to be a Lord. Lord Sleemol, being the clever little fella he is, found a website where for the bargain price of $50 you can buy yourself the title!

Voila!

A quick swipe of our credit cards and now we are Lord St. Murphy and Lord Sleemol.

Our Lord packs arrived in the mail this week, and look, here is the plot of land that I now own in Scotland that makes me a Lord. Who can argue with that? I have it on a piece of paper for god’s sake!

Now Lord Sleemol and I often travel interstate so that we can hang out together and be ‘Lordy’; his empire is in Queensland, mine is in NSW. Be sure to stay tuned for ‘The Adventures of the Lords’ as they will be tales you will want to tell your grandchildren. We are the stuff of legends! And so Aristocratic!

Now be sure to address us correctly and drop to your knees, its Lord St. Murphy and Lord Sleemol.

See, it even came from Glasgow!

Boring and exhausting...

Do you ever get bored with yourself? I do.

I also find myself exhausting sometimes. Boring and exhausting.

That’s how I find myself today. I’m having one of those days where if I was friends with someone like me I would have left the room. Sadly I can’t do that while my mind is in this body. Unless of course I could meditate but I did a course on that once and I wasn’t very good. Kept falling asleep.

And do you find that when you start to find yourself boring and exhausting that you become even more boring and exhausting. I think this is because once you are self-absorbed enough to find yourself boring and exhausting than you are self absorbed beyond repair.

I also think, and I have been thinking a lot, that this is also a by-product of living alone. Little Sammy is adorable but he really doesn’t talk back much. I can also be very lazy – I blame middle age – so I’m not terribly pro-active in organising weeknight activities. In fact, I tend to avoid them. I love to potter around my little Man Pit; fluff the pillows, do a load of washing with 3 items, iron my clothes for work the next day, these things give me great pleasure. I’m a pfaffer!

So I can get kinda stuck in my own head a lot. No wonder I’m bored and exhausted with myself. That would be enough to send anyone all Charlie Sheen.

The other reason I think I’m feeling like this today is that I am not one of those steady-as-he-goes, even-keeled, solid-as-a-rock sorta people. Just ask my ex Aschapelle? The highs are high and the lows are mute and boring. I had a weekend of highs highs highs, and I think after a period like that my mind and body needs lows lows lows to rebalance itself.

When I get around other people I get excited. Probably too excited. Often embarrassingly excited. And I’ve been this way since I was 4. I have an instinctual desire to be central to everything. Try and stop me, and if there is alcohol involved than it is uncontrollable. It can be scary. Just ask my party-pals on Friday night! Best of times brings about the worst of times. Such a high-spirited dedication to good times always brings about the most shocking of hangovers for me. Goodbye Saturday.

Saturday night was very mentally draining. Through my employer, some colleagues and I manned the food van for the homeless and disadvantaged. It’s so clichéd, but this really knocked me around. I’d done it once before but this time it was really intense. The experience was this weird mix of fear, sadness, anger, warmth, happiness, then sadness and fear all over again. I recommend everyone do it. To be completely honest, its for two polar opposite reasons… to make a small difference in some peoples lives who really need it, and to selfishly make you feel better about yourself and less guilty about your own luxury.

Sunday was about catching up with two of my oldest and dearest friends. Just lovely. And I love some good storytelling. That’s the best part about catching up with old friends. Goddamn the stories that the 3 of us have shared with each over the last 15 years would curdle milk, make your hairs stand on end and corrupt the devil. A little less risqué these days, but only a little. Ahhh… I just got all warm and fuzzy thinking about them.

I’m very aware of my own faults, of which I have many. Doesn’t mean I can control them unfortunately. This high/low routine has never been something I could manage well.

But I tell you, just even writing this shit down makes it all seem so less boring and exhausting. I feel much better. This blogging thing is very good for my mental health.

A cathartic post today.

Papa Don't Preach

Startling news....





25 years ago this week Madonna's Papa Don't Preach hit No. 1.





25 YEARS!!!!!! I so clearly remember this coming out. WHat the hell happened to the last 25 years????





Oh dear, now I feel old. But if I feel old then jeez my Madonna must feel ancient.





Love you Mads for the immense joy you have bought me for nearly 30 years. xoxoxoxoxo

I'm a very bad communicator!

Such a question of the modern times, but is there such a thing as social media overload? This is a very strange question coming from me who is quite obviously obsessed with every form of social media possible. The reason I ask it is that I think I may have reached my threshold. I’ve spread myself too thin.

Recently I started getting messages via my LinkedIn account and it completely freaked me. I’m already appallingly bad at getting back to people without yet another place I need to be checking messages. So when I say ‘overload’ I do not mean the amount of time spent on social media, god forbid there aren’t enough hours in the day, but rather the amount of different places I now need to check messages. I am officially at capacity.

I guess if I was a better communicator this wouldn’t be a problem. Quite frankly I am too self-absorbed and lazy. What is frightening is that my day job is as a communications professional, so its rather disturbing that I am so bad at it. I feel horrible about this all the time. I wish I could be better. In my fantasy world all communication avenues are funneled into one giant receptacle that gives me everything I need to know via the one channel.

Work is all about the email and voicemail, both mobile and landline. That is pretty clear. I say to people all the time if you want to be sure that I will pay attention than the work email is the best way. Cause once you factor in social media the lines all become very blurry, adhoc and messy for me when it comes to communication. The LinkedIn messages started me thinking, and conducting a little social media inventory. Here are my findings and a scorecard for myself! Let me reiterate, very few people are as self-absorbed as I am…

Twitter: I don’t care who you are, what you are or where you’re from; if you tweet me I will tweet you back. Why? Because I love Twitter nearly as much as I love talking. Having said that, I am really bad at following my Timeline as I spend all my waking hours on Mentions – see, self-absorbed. But overall I’m quite good in this space.

FaceBook: Hit me up on my wall and I’ll see it no probs. Messages on FB are so full of crap from different groups, causes, fan-sites, etc that I follow that I have to scroll through too much to get to my friends. I gave up months ago. Subsequently I’m losing friends all over the place. I keep promising myself I’ll spend some time replying but somehow never get around to it. Bad St. Murphy, bad. See this is why my funnel idea would work brilliantly! (As a result of this post I’ve just been through my FB and deleted/’Unlike’d so much stuff)

Blog: Still not sure of what the protocol is with this one. I read everyone’s comments for sure, I love them, but it feels really self-indulgent (even for me) to be commenting on your own blog. Can anyone offer advice on that? What is the expectation?

LinkedIn: I’m ignoring this one. As I am not looking for a job ,and not particularly good or interested in networking , do I really need to partake in this one? Me thinks not. But of course I accept all friend requests regardless.

FourSquare: This one has died a slow death for me. Was fun when I was the mayor of everything, not so much anymore now I’ve been ousted. Still not really sure what the point of FourSquare ever was so lets let this one go through to the keeper moving forward.

Grindr: Being a newly single gay man Grindr was very exciting/satisfactory for approx. 3 weeks. Then something weird happened. I became old fashioned. Whatever happened to being sleazy in a bar or flirting with strangers in the hope of more. Grindr ruined all of that. One day I was frantic on Grindr, the next I was non-existent. Cie la vie. Was originally an A+ but now I’m a…

Yammer: The lovely digital boys at work got us all excited about this one, we all jumped on board. Now I don’t even think I have it bookmarked, let alone know my password.

Text Messages: Now I know this is not social media but the lines are so blurred when it comes to smart phones that anything that beeps I class as social media. I’m pretty good on this one. I tend to respond within 24-48 hours. Although my responses tend to be brief and grammatically correct.

So all up I’m faring pretty poorly on social media communication. See, I’ve spread myself too thin in my eagerness to be a part of everything. Jack of all trades, master of none. Lesson learned. The sad truth is I’m not about to dump any of my beloved social media, instead I’m going to fine-tune. Gone is Yammer, gone is messaging on LinkedIn. Culled are all the ‘Likes’ on my FB page and Grindr is disconnected. Phew, I feel better already. Possibly I may even become more social because of it.

Just please please please do not introduce anymore social media! Google+, heed the warning, I must ignore you!





Does anyone else have this problem????

A judgemental bitch.

I am trying not be a judgemental bitch in 2011.

Or as self-absorbed.

Or as self-indulgent.

Truth be known, I’m doing much better on the first one then the other two (as this blog clearly demonstrates).

I had two posts to write today but I realised they were actually quite similar so I’ve decided to combine them and give them a theme… don’t be a judgemental bitch St. Murphy!

Tale No. 1…

So through my lovely employer we work with some fantastic charities that do the most phenomenal work with the disadvantaged and those less fortunate than judgemental bitches like me. Got the chance to spend some time with some high school students yesterday who had all been dealt some rough blows in life. I don’t know the details and I don’t need to. The reason why we went to spend time with them was just so we could tell stories about how we came to do what we do and, hopefully, provide some motivation and knowledge.

Ok, so my school was hardly the place of angels. And lessons learnt in your teens can haunt you forever. I have to admit, and you can judge me, when I first met these kids I had flashbacks to awful incidents at school, and was suddenly nervous. But for fucks sake I’m an adult now! Sat down with these kids and the floodgates opened and the conversation rolled. Some couldn’t have cared less, as you would expect, others were completely intrigued and were loaded with smart, insightful questions. 

So clichéd but I’m not sure who got the most out of it, us or the students. I’m pretty sure it was us. Surely at my age I should know to not judge a book by its cover. It was an absolute pleasure today spending time with these students. And the circumstances they are overcoming to make a better life for themselves would cripple most, including me!

Tale No. 2…

Probably going to talk in wide-sweeping generalized statements here that have the potential to offend. That is certainly not my intention, rather to show my own ignorance.

I have always been quick to judge couples that are an older man with a younger Asian man or woman. I’ve felt that there are elements of power and subservience there that make me really uncomfortable. Wide-sweeping judgement is the worst and I am as guilty as anyone. A couple of things happened the last few weeks that makes me think these are much more complex relationships than my shallowness allowed me to understand.

I kinda get that after years of loneliness that you would seek out company and intimacy. Being the self-indulgent, self-obsessed person I am I’d never really come to consider this could be a motivation. Also having spent time in a poverty-riddled city, I can comprehend how you would consider all options to escape that life. Who doesn’t want greater comfort and a better standard of living? God knows I still want for more when I have pretty much everything. If two people can come together and meet the required needs of each other than who the hell am I to judge?

At breakfast one day while on holidays, there was a gay couple beside me who had an obvious age and cultural difference. Their banter and plan-making clearly showed they were in a relationship of complete equality, just as any of mine have been.  Felt like a bit of an idiot that I could have thought they were anything else. Now I’m not completely stupid to suggest that all such relationships are equal like these guys, but I am saying that I won’t be so quick to judge them like I have the rest of my adult years. What ever the motivation for your relationship, as long as it’s a level playing field, I wish you every happiness.

*********

And after the last few days I would completely understand if you started thinking I’m reading too many self-help books. Trust me, I’m reading none. Lets blame middle-age. I don’t know what’s come over me but be assured I’ll be back to my self-obsessed, self-indulgent self as soon as possible.

What I am reading is Julian Fellowes, thanks to Arrjaydub, that will be a post next week. I’m desperate to live amongst London’s aristocracy and I need to tell you why…

I used to push gherkins in a gherkin factory.

I’ve had some weird jobs in my time! No idea why I started thinking about this yesterday, normally this topic is reserved for drunken story-telling. Everyone has weird job stories to tell after a few voddies. I need to come clean and share some of mine. This may come as a surprise but I didn’t start out as the uber-glamorous PR type I am today.

McDonalds Gherkin Factory.

You may not know this but all McDonalds gherkin’s used to come from my home-town, Griffith. I had a job there one summer where I stood at the end of this massive pit filled with dirty gherkins. I had a 6 foot pole and with that pole I had to push the gherkins down a shoot and into the factory. As the pit emptied the next truck would pull in and unload. It was dirty gherkins for days. And the stink! Awful. Gherkins in brine is truly revolting. I was practically paid as slave labour. I still can not bare to eat a McDonalds gherkin, I’ve seen what goes in that pit!

...revolting...

Brick Stacker.

This was hard, heavy work. While wearing thick leather gloves I had to stack the bricks after they’d come out of the kiln on to the pallets. Can you imagine anything more mind-numbing or exhausting? I learnt the stacking technique from an old-timer who I’d bludge a sneaky Horizon off at afternoon tea. No one spoke to anyone. And it was winter and freezing. I shudder still thinking about it. It was during that winter of brick-stacking that I resolutely decided I was not built for manual labour.

They looked EXACTLY like this, haunted!

Safety Bus Driver.

Who the hell gave me the keys to the safety bus? Now that’s just negligent! I had a licence to drive a 32 seater cause I was a Residential Tutor and to earn extra money I’d drive the safetly bus. The worst night to be rostered on would be a Thursday which was bar night. You’d end up with a bus full of pissed idiots singing Zombie at the top their lungs. What made it more infuriating was that the Thursday nights I wasn’t rostered on I’d be the one leading the pissed-idiot singing.

Country Music Festival.

Now this is one of the best fortnights of my professional life. The Divine Ms M got me a job as a journo at the “Foster’s Australasian Country Music Festival” – I remember that cause I had to say it at the start and the end of each voice report that I’d send through to metro radio stations. Why this job was weird was because I knew absolutely nothing about country music. Took a mad crash course over that fortnight so by the time we got to the big finale – the Golden Guitars – I was besties with all the big stars. I still so clearly remember doing a story on learning how to line-dance. I reckon I could still bust out those moves if the tune was right.

Tamworth Rocks, my mate Lee

Cocktail Waitress.

I had a one-night-only gig serving cocktails at a Mens Only event at the Botanical Gardens. Hold up, that story can’t be told here.

Pool Cleaner.

Let go of all those stereotypical ‘pool boy’ fantasies. It was an indoor pool and they had me in to clean it when it was shut. The irony of me having any sort of cleaning job is not lost on me. I’m a filthy bitch. The only reason I took the job was cause it was a stepping stone to earning a highly-prized lifeguard position. The best part about the job was that they would leave the pool kiosk open while I’d be cleaning and I used to gorge myself on Freckles and Red Frogs. I stunk of bleach all that summer.

I could go on for days on this topic. In fact there is a whole post on my days as a Bank Teller! Now that was a very special two years. Weird they let near the money of the safe, but ahhh, such good times at the State Bank Griffith. Will post that one soon.

Over and out, 10-4 Big Daddy, keep on truckin’!

Fuck you Smoking!

Goddamn I feel like I have spent most of my adult life trying to quit smoking.

***WARNING! A verbally violent (self-directed) post

Death vomit!

I am so sick of filthy smoking! I have pretty much been a smoker since the day I first had one at the grand old age of 20.5 years old. The dark years where up until about 34 when I ‘successfully’ quit for the first time – but that’s not to say I hadn’t tried heaps of times before. Since 34 I have gone long periods without one, and also very short periods before I’ve had my next.

I have literally tried every trick in the book to quit. Let me list them for you just so you get the full picture…

Hypnotherapy

Patches

Lozenges

Allen Carr Easy Way to Quite Smoking

Allen Carr If you Can’t Quit This Time You’re An Idiot

Champix

Zyban

Cold Turkey

I’ve seen doctors, therapists, self-help guru’s…

The most successful I’ve ever been was 6 months late last year on the lozenges then NYE fucked me up. Just did 3 weeks and then fucked up again last weekend. It just drives my insane and leaves me furious! Why are cigarette companies left to make millions off the sale of these little bitches of things.

Should be coloured black!

Smoking is this unbelievably weird combination of emotional, physical and psychological addiction. Somehow you are meant to conquer all three addictions at once and still come out of it like life is normal. For me, and I know how tragic this sounds, smoking is a ‘normal life’ for me.

My chest hurts, I stink, stairs are my worst nightmare and given the history of cancer in my family I just know it will be the cause of my death – and chances are that will be premature.

And at the risk of grossing you out… I’ve lost 7, I repeat 7, teeth from gum disease. So not only is it causing death in almost every part of my body it will also mean I can eat nothing but soup for the rest of my life.

SMOKING MAKES ME SO ANGRY! Battling this demon is EXHAUSTING!

I 100% believe that smoking should be made illegal. It is a fool government that doesn’t try to push this through. As addicted as I have been over the years I know as fact that if it wasn’t so easy for me to buy them then I wouldn’t be able to smoke the way I have. The savings in healthcare for all involved would be astronomical! Just ban the fuckers and be done with it, PLEASE!

B&H - You have SOOOO much to answer for!

It is the single greatest regret of my life that I didn’t stop back when I was a carefree Uni student, back when I thought that my life was indestructible. I can not even fathom how different, how much better, my life would/will have been if I never started smoking. Fucking ridiculous that something that can so dramatically damage a life like that is available from Coles and Woolworths supermarkets, and your local newsagent.

Not making any promises here today. I’m sick of telling people I’ve quit only to have to try and explain why I’m holding a cigerette two weeks later. It’s the running joke with my workmates, I think my friends lost interest years ago. I goddamn bore myself with it.

Ban the shit-sticks and be done with it!

And I promise that I’ll try and extend my life by as much as possible and smoke as little as my stupid fucked-up addiction allows.