Monthly Archives: July 2013


After sitting down to what could have possibly been my fourth (or maybe fifth I lost count) piece of Dad’s chocolate birthday cake, I decided a scan of my Instagram news feed was in order, and immediately regretted that last piece- or last two pieces, of cake. I was greeted by images of green smoothies, reminiscent of Shrek’s swamp, and of tanned (who has a tan in Winter anyway) blonde girls’ abs after a workout, some of them uncomfortably sweaty..

Fitspiration has taken over. My Instagram feed is forever full of photos of meals with recipes that I do not understand unless I Google every ingredient. What is Maca? My brother’s nickname? No! Apparently it is some herby thing found in Peru. LSA? Isn’t that a hard drug? No, don’t be silly it’s linseeds, sunflower seeds and almonds. Of course why didn’t I think of that! I also was unaware that people could eat bee pollen, in fact the concept of bee pollen itself doesn’t really make much sense to me..

What is worse about this current state of #thinspiration is that foods that I originally thought were good for me, are apparently evil! I was made aware of this upon cooking dinner with a friend when she informed me “I never eat pasta anymore because it’s so bad for you.” WHAT? My good friend pasta has betrayed me? He wouldn’t do that, would he? No it’s okay, she informs me, you can buy wholemeal gluten free tasteless pasta instead. Oh yay.

Sometimes I think that the outlook is fairly bleak for those who like that good wholesome comfort food like I do, are we all going to have to convert to a diet of quinoa and acai berries? Spend triple the amount of money buying organic gluten free vegan products?

Nah yolo, I’m going to have another piece of cake.


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Watch Out For Patrick

Last night I was lucky enough to get tickets to the world premiere of Australian film Patrick, Mark Hartley’s remake of the 1978 horror. Arriving at the Greater Union Cinema, I found the queue to get into the cinema to be out the door, round the corner and down an alleyway. At this point I knew I was in for something good.

Now I don’t know if I am being ignorant when saying this, but I don’t believe that Australia has a very deep horror movie pool and it seems to me that directors here tend to steer away from the genre. However, I was utterly impressed by the spooky atmosphere created in this film, and you could tell that the rest of the audience were too.

The film certainly could be considered a bit of an homage to the original, with the old fashioned, gothic style settings and costumes, but it has also been brought into the future with Mac laptops and IPhones making significant appearances throughout the film. This juxtaposition was cleverly done- the technology slid in alongside the old-style elements so seamlessly that I didn’t even question it until my observant boyfriend asked me how this could be so.

It was evident from the audience’s reactions throughout the film that it had achieved its goal of scaring people, while also encouraging them to have a bit of a laugh at the same time. People were jumping five feet in the air at certain heart racing moments, but also chuckling at the cleverly cut and juxtaposed shots- a wink to the audience.

Being a bit of a horror movie buff, it is hard to find movies that I find scary.. There are so many bad attempts at horror out there that it means the genre lacks credibility. I will admit though that I was on edge throughout Patrick, and found that the film explained itself adequately with a twist which is something that I can’t look past in a horror film.

My final test to determine that I really did get creeped out by Patrick was walking out of the cinema past Jackson Gallagher, who played the title name character, and thanking God that I wasn’t sitting next to him while watching the film.. He was a very believable and frightening obsessive telekinetic coma patient.

Overall kudos to the actors, in particularly Rachel Griffiths and Charles Dance and of course to Mark Hartley for bringing the original back for a modern audience. Image

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Dignity V Baby’s Bottom Smooth Skin

Recently I was reading a post my friend (TheTwentySomethingSociety) wrote about whether or not to go nude when getting a massage at a day spa which prompted me to recall an awkwardly hilarious experience that I had with a body scrub in Vietnam..

When Mum offered up the scrub that she had meant to have been getting with her friend, I did as any rational person would do and said hell fucking yes! I was going to be covered in rice and yoghurt, wrapped up like a rice paper roll and come out looking as smooth as a baby’s bum, what’s to complain about?

So Mum’s friend and I rock up to the room, ready to be refreshed, when we are thrown a couple of towels and what look like shower caps and told to go into the bathroom and change. So we walk in there and I soon have that dreadful realization that I am going to have to take off all my clothes and wear this aforementioned “shower cap” as underwear. We proceeded to refer to them as our sexy paper panties.

At the end of the scrub we were then asked to hop into the shower, wash off the excess rice and yoghurt (possibly leftovers from breakfast) and get dressed, in the same shower. The whole time I was thinking to myself, oh thank god I didn’t decide to do this activity with my Dad or my brother.

It was an experience I’ll give them that, and I did walk out with skin as smooth as the new royal baby’s, however I most certainly left my dignity, alongside my clothing at the door.






Thoughts from an amateur Liverpool fan

For a couple of years now I have been dating a mad Liverpool supporter. He wants to play for Liverpool, coach Liverpool, be on the board of Liverpool and then probably die at Anfield. So when I heard that they were coming to town I thought I should probably go and check out what all the hoo ha was about.

Walking from Richmond station I got this eerie feeling, “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Melbourne anymore..” Everywhere I looked there were people dressed solely in red (a bit of a fashion faux pas if you ask me), people yelling Liverpool jargon and wanting to give me a high five. It is safe to say that at this point I was feeling like a bit of a pretender, wearing a borrowed Liverpool top.

Now I have always been more of an AFL girl than an English Premier League fan, probably because I am not a fan of getting up at 4am to watch a game of soccer (I am sorry, football) that I still don’t fully understand, but I can sure see why people jump on the bandwagon. The atmosphere was undeniably impressive, in particularly when the entire stadium joined in singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone”.

I am still not sure if I will be getting up in a hurry to watch any live matches, but I can safely say that my eyes have been opened, and that no matter how loud the Collingwood fans want to drone “Coooooolllinnnnggwoooooddd”, an AFL game will never match the spine tingling atmosphere of that one game.





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