For Strangers Only

Yeah it's been a while....

2006-07-02T18:27:00.000+10:00

A-CUP-GIRLY said...

hi there,"long time reader, first time poster"

Hi! Thanks for speaking up!

i just wanted to post because i like you and am really worried about your boobs.

Thanks! There really is no need to worry though, as I worry enough about my boobs all by myself.

i couldn't believe it when i read you were getting them 'done'. i understand you are not happy with having 'small boobs', but do you really want to move to new status of having 'fake boobs'?

Personally, I think I have plenty of other offerings (in every sense of the word) that I won't be known far and wide for my fake boobs alone. To those who know me I'll still be Ruby. To those who know of me, sure, I'll be the fake boob girl - and that doesn't worry me one bit. If such people believe that's all there is to me then I'm happy not having them around.

i just can't believe how many people are saying 'if it feels right, then do it' to you... because honestly i think it's a disfigurement.

Here is where I remind myself that I promised to be totally honest on this blog. Not only are my breasts sensationally small, but they have a genetic deformity. It's nothing a good bra and some padding can't hide, but see me naked and I guarantee you'll run the other way. If this surgery fucks up and leaves me scarred and disfigured, I'll be no worse off than I am now.

i do empathise with where you are coming from (ie, i’m a 25 year old uni student from Melbourne with small boobs) but i just can’t understand where you are going...

I understand you weren't aware of my condition when you worte that, but considering the above, you have no idea where I am coming from.

basically, fake boobs are fake. have you seen the documentary ‘the day my boobs went bust’? the complication issues are bad enough, but the thing about that doco that surprised me the most were the long-term problems. these things need constant updating! like every ten years or so it was recommended, otherwise they become too fragile. and the operation for doing this is really complicated and expensive.

I am an intelligent, well informed, and rational woman. I understand all the risks, the complications, and the long term maintenance.

but this is just physical issues.i suppose the worst thing about fake boobs is the kind of place they put you in society. right up there with Tara Reid and Krystal from Big Brother. of course those girls are dumb enough to see their boobs as a career move, but you can’t deny they change the way society (men!) see you. you do it for yourself (sure), but it doesn’t stop everyone else have a crack.

In all seriousness, I couldn't care less if people pigeon-hole me after the operation. I know for sure the people who know me well won't and that's all I'm worried about. As for having a crack, I'll be the first one to take the piss!

anyway, i know i’m out of line and you probably won’t publish this. but i hope you read it. i’ve read your stories about the plastic slip-in boobs and i find them endearing and funny. and they sound like a person who isn’t completely happy with her figure but at least can laugh and use what she sees are her flaws to define her. and they do! and it makes people like you! sincerely, A-CUP-GIRLY

Thanks A-cup girly! Your honesty is certainly appreciated! Keep it coming!

You shallow crunts

2006-05-24T23:21:00.000+10:00

Last Thursday I shared with you all a very deep and personal moment I had with my mother.

I also mentioned I'm getting a boob job.

No one commented on the former.

Have some soul people!

Ruby Booby

2006-05-18T23:15:00.000+10:00

The more observant of you may have realised I've started another blog...the name explains it all....any thoughts people?

2006-05-18T22:52:00.000+10:00

Dear Mum

Happy Mothers Day. I hope you like your present. I bought it years ago but never gave it to you because of the Peter thing. I suppose I hung on to it because I was so angry at you. Every birthday, Christmas, and Mothers Day I've thought about giving it to you but the anger and hurt stopped me.

I've been thinking a lot about our relationship lately and I've come to realise that you were only ever doing the best you knew how. Even though you hurt me so much I've decided to let the negativity go.

I'm so sorry I was so horrible to live with for all those years, but I couldn't find another way to express how hurt I was.

I've been so terribly scared that something will happen to one of us and I'll never get the opportunity to tell you how I really feel.

What I really want you to know is, you are the most important woman in my life and I love you tremendously.

Love Ruby xxxx

Bad Hair Year

2006-05-12T11:14:00.000+10:00

Remember I told you I had my hair cut? Well, it looked great but last night I washed it and now I look like an eagle died on my head.

As is often the case at FSO, there's a lesson to be learnt here: don't ever say to a new hairdresser 'oh, I'm looking for a change, do whatever you want.'

Whilst it's true I didn't have a preference for any particular colour or style, there were several cuts I would have rather avoided. Silly me thought it 'went without saying' that....

I didn't want to look like something that's a mix Warrick Capper and a mushroom:

I didn't want to look like a cross between Milly from Australian Idol and an adverstiment for electrical safety:

And I certainly didn't want to amaze people with my uncanny resemblance to both a novelty 80s wig and Steve Irwin.

Not only did I think it not physically possible to combine both the box fringe and the femme-mullet, but I certainly didn't want to be the one who pioneered this feat.

Does anyone know any magic formula that makes hair grow fast?

Um....remember me?

2006-05-07T22:11:00.000+10:00

Ahoy there!

Rubes is back. PHEW! I know it's been hard, but fret not, I'm back for good this time.

The last few weeks have been a mix of hell, dread, anxiety, and procrastination. Especially procrastination. Which lead to the hell, dread, and anxiety.

I feel it's important to mention now, if anyone is ever thinking of doing an honours year:

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T DO IT!

I mean really, it's not as if you get to be called Dr or anything. My friends are already tiring of calling me The Honourable Ruby, and apparently it's 'wanky' to sign your name with (hons) following it. Pfft.

I must admit though, I only had myself to blame. As much as I'd like to pretend it was 9 months of intense intellectual development, I pretty much cruised my way through the first 8 months and 3 weeks.

Yes kids, I truly believed my 10,000 word thesis would 'write itself.' In a week. And make sense.

Hahahahahahaha. Oh, how foolish I was!

It's over now thankfully, and normal life has resumed. Here's a run-down of what I've been up to:

I moved in with a hot man. He's just a friend, but fuck me if it isn't the sweetest thing watching him walk around our house in his boxers.

I cut all my hair off and dyed it red red red.

I added another boy to The List.

I got dumped by another fireman. Although it was only after one date and a pash - that doesn't count does it?

I returned to full time work.

Oh lordy, what a boring list. Is that all I've done???

.......

.......

.......

(ten minutes later)

.......

(hmmm what a lovely cup of tea)

.......

.......

(I'm just popping off to have a bath, back in a bit)

.......

.......

.......

Admittedly the last few days since I 'handed in' have been spent sleeping. Hopefully the coming months will be spent doing exciting things which I promise I'll post about here!

xxoo

Rubes (hons)

Thesis due

2006-04-18T16:08:00.000+10:00

As much as I'd like to think that I'm a time efficient multi tasker, I'm really fucking hopeless.

Back soon.

Best Comment Ever

2006-03-21T00:50:00.000+11:00

Unbelievable. She's real. We've emailed. She's amazing too.

I am so thankful and happy.

Stuff and things

2006-03-14T22:52:00.000+11:00

Indulge me* and I promise my next post will reveal the best $2 shop purchase EVER. You know you want it.

In other news I had a fucking ace weekend, totally surprising given my man situation at the mo. Thanks are due to Ms Anonymous Commenter, aka Jules - the bestest buddy a girl could hope for. She encouraged me to spend the weekend with her and her boyfriend, plus three other couples in Gippsland. Who would have thought a recently single lass could enjoy herself so much amongst 8 people in lurve. I was not bitter or jealous or sad or angry and hardly spent any time thinking about the boy - all largely thanks to Jules. I love you JC! One thing I know we'd all love to see is a blog by this fabulous female - show your support for her in the comments!

*thanks to LC for yet another gem

And all the King's Men: Part 4

2006-03-07T22:31:00.000+11:00

I was going to dedicate a post to him, but fuck that. I do however, need to get something off my chest. Last night we went out with mutual friends and got a bit tipsy. Everyone else left but we kicked on for several more hours and had a wonderful time - it was like things were back to the way they were before he left. We caught a taxi back to his place (which is about five minutes from mine) where I asked if he wanted to have another drink, or if it was better that I go home. He asked me in, and as we were standing in the kitchen having a drink, he grabbed me and kissed me. This inevitably led to us sleeping together and me staying the night. This morning I asked him what it all meant - he said he honestly didn't know. Then I gave him an 'out' - I asked if it was just a drunken sex thing and replied in the affirmative. He still needs space. I just don't understand. Why would someone who was falling in love with you two months ago need space? Double ouchy heart.

Anyway...

Out of my head boy! And on with my 'trashy list:'

17 - aged 22 - January 2004: During a university field camp Mr 17 and I became well acquainted in his tent. It must be noted that tents give a rather false sense of privacy - take note people, when camping in close proximity with 30 fellow university students it is unwise to....err....vocalise your lurve. Especially when there is only two pieces of fabric and a metre separating his tent and his ex-girlfriend’s. Still living that one down.

18 - aged 22 - July 2004: Sexy, sexy Chad. Yup, I've dated a Chad. I also dated a Rudolf too. Bizarre. Anyway, The Chad and I dated for a few weeks during which time we had some great sex. One conversation was to put an abrupt end to our relationship. Lying in bed one night he casually mentioned that he'd seen some transvestite porn at his gay mate's place. Nothing too unusual about that I thought. Next, he casually mentioned that he kind of enjoyed it. I got a little worried, but reasoned that most men will get excited about any type of porn, right? However, my worry soon turned into a mild hysteria when he told me he had purchased not only 'Chicks with Dicks Volume 1,' but 'Chicks with Dicks' volumes 2, 3, and 4. I asked if he was gay - not an unreasonable question I thought - and he strongly denied any homosexual tendencies. He explained that seeing two 'women' actually having penetrative sex was the big turn on. I explained that the only difference between tranny porn and girl/girl porn was penises, and that therefore, he likes penis. He then admitted he'd met an Asian tranny (his favourite kind) on the internet and they'd 'fooled around.' He suggested an 'open' relationship was the best way to go, as I, not being Asian and not having a penis, clearly couldn't provide all his sexual needs. I was disappointed as I actually quite liked him, but agreed. We never saw each other again.

19 - aged 23 - September 2004: A truly lovely 'older man' (well, 31) complete with grey hair. Coincidently, he lived in the same apartment block as #18. We dated for 3 months but his obsessiveness, neediness, and extreme lack of self worth quickly led to his demise. His heart was in the right place, and I've never been treated better (emotionally, not just financially as you shall see), but he truly thought the way to 'keep me' was to lavish expensive gifts upon me every time we saw each other. During our 3 month relationship, I became the proud owner of the following:

Oroton sunglasses ($300)
Dolce & Gabanna lingerie ($200)
Leather Harley Davidson motorbike jacket so I could join in the fun on his Harley ($600)
George Jensen necklace ($800)
George Jensen ring ($700)
Digital camera ($800)
Underwater housing for camera ($700)
5 day Whitsunday cruise including airfares and SCUBA diving ($3000)
Three course meals at some of Melbourne's most exclusive and expensive restaurants at least twice a week ($1000s)
Burberry scarf ($300)
Antique silver Burmese water cup ($100s)
Computer upgrade ($300)
Add another $1000 under 'miscellany' and 'things I've forgotten.'

Now one might get the impression that he was a bit of a Sugar Daddy. Let me explain that I rejected every gift I received until he sooked and tore up the receipt. It was literally easier to accept the gifts and see him happy, than go through the whole 'oh no no no I can't accept this' which always led to an argument. Also, I planned on repaying him for the Whitsunday cruise, but once he'd put down his credit card to secure our tickets, he would not allow me to give him a single cent. He would also do sneaky things like call and say 'I'm in DJs...do you want a Burberry scarf or some Chanel No. 5?' I'd reply 'neither' to which he'd say 'well if you don't choose one I'm getting you both!' When I broke it off I offered to give absolutely everything back but again, he wouldn't accept a thing - I must admit by then I'd become quite attached to most of my new accessories so I was very relieved!

20 - aged 23 - December 2004: I had a crush on #19, but made the fatal mistake of going home with him after a night of drinking. I was after a relationship, but we all know the likelihood of that is nil after sex on the first date (or drinks with mates as it were!). I knew #19 was a good Catholic boy, but didn't give it much thought. Sometime during 'the deed' I straddled him and as I looked up a Crucifix hanging over the bed caught my eye. It kind of disturbed me, but I quickly forgot all about it. Afterwards we 'talked.' He was terribly kind in telling me he was not looking for a relationship. I immediately blamed myself, but after allowing him to continue his reasons for remaining single I realised I'd got it all wrong. You see, he was in love with God, and until that night, he'd remained celibate for several years. Suddenly - and uncontrollably - I started grinning from ear to ear as I thought to myself 'Ruby, you are better than Jesus!' Jokingly I suggested this to him, and he explained that whilst he did indeed pick me over the Good Lord, it was only a momentary lapse of commitment, and we shall now be returning to normal programming thank you very much. I of course disregarded this comment, and promptly told all my friends that I was in fact superior to Mary, Jesus, God, and the whole gang. Obviously this was all tongue-in-cheek, and not for the first time in my life my desire for humour coupled with my strict religious schooling left me fearing an express ticket to hell.

*drops to the floor and gives Him 100 Hail Marys*

21 - aged 24 - January 2005: Ok, so this was pretty much just a one nighter despite me trying to avoid such encounters. I knew it was all it would be, but the girly girl in me hoped that somehow it would be more. It was New Years Eve and, as a group of girls often does on such an occasion, we'd collected some German tourists to play with on the beach. One of them visited me the following day and we had sex. Shameful yes, fun...yesser! He flew out of Melbourne the next day and of course, we never spoke again.

So much sex, but nowhere near as much passion as The Boy and I have shared.

Oh for fucks sake Ruby, get over it.

Ahem.

Next time: Emergency Service Men galore!

Stupid boys and their stupid brains

2006-03-03T09:26:00.000+11:00

He is back in town. He needs 'space.'

Ouchy heart.

Ruby Reviews: Church of Euthanasia

2006-02-25T07:46:00.000+11:00

Perhaps it's time for a change of profession when after a particularly eventful nightshift, I come home and think, "Oooh let's google 'suicide.'"

Regardless, stumbling across this website was both informative and disturbing, and we all know how I love to be simultaneously informed and disturbed.

Here's some highlights from my favourite part of the Church of Euthanasia website:

Butchering the Human Carcass for Human Consumption by Bob Arson

"A certain amount of fat is desirable as "marbling" to add a juicy, flavorful quality to the meat. We personally prefer firm Caucasian females in their early twenties. These are "ripe". But tastes vary, and it is a very large herd."

"The merits of keeping the skull as a trophy are debatable...The brain is not good to eat. Removing the tongue and eyes, skinning the head, and placing it outside in a wire cage may be effective. The cage allows small scavengers such as ants and maggots to cleanse the flesh from the bones, while preventing it being carried off by larger scavengers, such as dogs and children."

"You need not bother skinning the hands and feet, these portions not being worth the effort unless you plan to pickle them or use them in soup."

"Depending upon the development of the breast, you may decide it qualifies as a "brisket" and remove it before cutting the ribs. In the female the breast is composed largely of glands and fatty tissue, and despite its appetizing appearance is rather inedible. "

"Offal and other waste trimmings can be disposed of in a number of ways, burial, animal feed, and puree and flush being just a few. Bones will dry and become brittle after being baked an oven, and can be pulverized."

Don't say this blog isn't educational.

Oh, and if you are ever stranded and starving on an island with a ripe female, blood barrels, a butcher's block, a hatchet, a hacksaw, and a meathook, then you'll have me to thank for your survival!

Badness

2006-02-19T17:25:00.000+11:00

Because I'm still too hungover to form a coherent post, let me present you with a list:

3 REASONS WHY RUBY SHOULD NEVER DRINK AGAIN. EVER.

1. Whilst singing the praises of the silicone-nude bra, I declared that it had the power to 'give even a man an attractive cleavage.' Not satisfied that my message was adequately understood, I peeled off my bra and stuck it on a male friend of mine. The next ten minutes were spent parading him - and his new cleavage - around a room full of 100 people.

2. I cried hysterically for NO APPARENT REASON. And it was not a subtle sobby-girl-cry, it was the full blown lip-quivering-shoulder-shaking-hyperventilating-snotty-nosed howl.

3. Once home, I fell out of bed and wedged myself between the bed and the wall. The worst part however, was that I'd grabbed a pot plant on the way down, and woke up covered in dirt.

Why, why, am I cursed with remembering these things?

Miniature Ruby: Part 2

2006-02-14T22:14:00.000+11:00

In 1993 I was twelve years old and obsessed with becoming a marine biologist*. One of my 'inspirations' at the time was a dolphin conservationist called Dexter Cate, and after learning that he'd single-handedly released 250 dolphins that were about to be slaughtered, I declared him to be my all-time hero. I spent hours tracking down his address, and finally found that he lived in Hawaii with his wife Susy and teenage son Banyon. Since my parents outrighted refused to fly me to Hawaii and surprise him I decided to write him a letter explaining how much he meant to me. I was so keen to remember this monumental 'first contact' that I copied out the letter I sent to him so I'd always have a memory of how our beautiful relationship began.

(scroll down to see the text)

Dear Dexter Cate

My name is Ruby. I am 12 years old and I want to be a Marine Biologist when I grow up. I am very interested in whales and dolphins. My favourite whale is the Sperm whale and my favourite dolphin is the Spinner dolphin. I am very pleased that you released 250 dolphins that were in a net in 1980. It was worth it, even if you got arrested for it. I think the law should be with you, rather than against you. I read what you said in Save the Dolphins (my favourite book) about the fishermen who tortured those dolphins and how one of them threw a heart away which landed near your feet when it was still beating. I think that's sick. I can't see how anyone can do that to a dolphin. After this I was in a bad mood for a week. I think you have a wife and a son (I'm not sure), if you do I hope there going O.K. I also want to suggest that you write a book (if you haven't already) about animals and your experiences with them. I think you would be a great writer and I would buy your book even if it was $100.00. I am doing a project on whales and dolphins at the moment. It is going well. I hope I get an A++. My teachers name is Mr Price and I go to Glenelg Primary school in Adelaide, South Australia. Because I am in year 7 this year I will be going to a high school next year. I am going to Woodlands girls school. I am writing this letter at school, so I have to finish now and go on with my project. Please write back or I'll be very disappointed.

Yours Sincerely

Ruby

P.S. You can probably see that I am a hopeless drawer!

Dexter Cate never wrote back. I refused to believe he would just ignore me, so I assumed the letter didn't reach its destination. I decided I'd call him. I called international directories and cried until they gave me his private number. I sat by the phone for twenty minutes before I gained the courage to call. I was so nervous I nearly threw up. Finally, I picked up the phone and rang his Hawaii home. A man answered:

Ruby: Um, is this Dexter Cate?
Man: No, it's his son, Banyon.
Ruby: Oh. Can I please speak to Dexter Cate?
Banyon: Um, no, Dad's dead. He died a couple of years ago.
Ruby: Oh. Um. (tearing up). Well I'm sorry about that. I was just calling to say I really like him because he saved lots of dolphins.
Banyon: Yeah, he was good like that.
Ruby: Um, well, I better go. Bye.
Banyon: Bye.

I was totally crushed. As were his family, I'd assume, who had some bratty little kid sending their dead relative letters and calling their home. Oops!

*incidentally, now that I am all grown up I nearly am a marine biologist - and after years of study I've just realised...um, I don't think I want to be one anymore!! Go figure.

And all the King's Men: Part 3

2006-02-09T22:11:00.001+11:00

Part one and Part two can be found here and here, oh sorry, I meant here.

Righty-o, let's get on with it then.

11 - aged 21 - January 2003: A somewhat neurotic boring guy from work. We dated for three months, then I got over it. He lost it, bitched about it to my boss, and consequently, I got demoted. The boss was his brother-in-law, so big mistake on my part. Spent the next year re-building work relationships with the all-male staff. Fucking boy-loyalty.

12 - aged 21 - March 2003: My first man in uniform. Arrogant policeman, but the best sex I'd had up until that point. We dated for ten months, then realised we were only together for the shagging, so we broke up and maintained a 'casual' relationship until he went overseas last year.

13 - aged 22 - November 2003: A geek from high school. More of a casual arrangement than anything else, but we were fond of each other. Ended when he moved to Sydney.

14 - aged 22 - December 2003: One of the few times I've ever given my number to a complete stranger - while sober - and it paid off. He was a doorman at a hotel in town. Very cute but a bit immature. We saw each other for a few weeks before losing interest in each other.

15 AND 16 - aged 22 - December 2003: This is the 'sex story' I won't tell anyone. Except for a few close friends, and all of you in cyber-land, this is an unknown Ruby fact! The reason for my secrecy is because this tale is seedy and cheap, and not at all something I'm proud of*. I was at a bar in St Kilda with a uni mate. He'd bought along a friend who'd bought along his brother. They were Belgian. They had accents. They were buff. After a few drinks, I plucked up the courage to ask my friend if his Belgian mate was single. He was. And apparently, he'd been enquiring about me too. However, just as we started talking, I thought to myself 'gee, his brother is cute too.' Cue another conversation with my friend. Apparently the brother had been making his own enquiries about me also! So there I was, tipsy and single, with two gorgeous brothers who were BOTH interested in me. I conversed with both of them, yet after an hour I could not come to a decision - which one did I like more? One was aloof and mysterious, the other friendly and outgoing. An idea popped into my head: why can't I have both of them? Dumbest. Idea. Ever. I suggested this to my friend, but pretended I was joking, of course. He however, seeing a hint of seriousness in my face, had a chat to them while I was in the ladies and came up with 'an arrangement.' He reported back to me that they had both agreed to sleep with me, but not at the same time. When I met them back at the bar, it was awkward - we all knew what was going to happen, yet no one said a word about it. Eventually my friend left, and the two Belgian brothers and I left the pub and walked to the beach. We sat on the sand for a while and chatted, until the older brother suggested that he and I go for a 'swim.' We paddled out to about knee deep, then removed our clothes and tied them around our necks so they didn't get wet - it wasn't a sexy look. We shagged in the water, and promptly returned to his brother. Again, we sat and made small talk, until the younger brother suggested that I go for 'walk' with him. We wandered off into some shrubbery near a park (pure class) and shagged. The rest of the night is a bit of a blur as I was quite drunk. I did however, decide that I like the older brother best, and asked if I could visit him in Sydney (where he was travelling to the next day). He agreed, so I spent New Years with him (and his brother), during which time I realised it was in fact the little brother I fancied more. I didn't let on, as evidently I'd been a total tart already and wasn't prepared for a repeat performance. Incidently, the older brother and I lost contact shortly after, however about a year ago the little brother stayed with me for a night while he was visiting Melbourne. We shagged. Oops.

Next time: Nothing nearly as dirty, but read it anyway!

*yet if a man had this experience, he would brag about it and get all the more respect from his mates!

Miniature Ruby: Part 1

2006-02-05T15:43:00.000+11:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you (complete with spelling and grammatical errors)*:

THE FAT QUIET KOALA by Ruby (age unknown but hopefully very young)

Once upon a time there was a very VERY VERY fat koala Some people think they are bears But they are NOT bears We just call them that. Well come on lets get on with our story. the story begins with a very fat koala his name was ken he ait and he ait HE AIT One morning he ait so many thing he got very VERY VERY fat. he got woreed he dinted no what to do. Some sorgested going to Jenny Graghe Some sogested not eatting for 2 howl weeks Some sorgested going on a diit. So that what he did YUM YUM YUM and thats that

Ah, the fresh beginnings of a literary mastermind.

*going through old school work is a great procrastination tool, especially when you're trying to write a thesis!

The Epic

2006-01-31T22:40:00.000+11:00

Courtesy of the stalk-worthy and all round great gal Rigo, here's my take on the world's longest mememe:

What were you doing 10 years ago? I was stuck in the worlds worst high school that has since been closed done. Enough said.

What were you doing 1 year ago? I'd just learnt that I was to begin honours in July, and had started full time work to earn some cash beforehand. I'm still there, only casually until in I finish honours in May. Here's what I do.

Snacks you enjoy: Avocado, Pink Lady apples, passionfruit, watermelon, peaches, nectarines, apricots, corn chips, chocolate, ice cream, guacamole, lychees, rambutans, cheese, twisties.

Songs to which you know all the lyrics: I am the first to admit that my music taste is hideous. You can count on me knowing all the lyrics to anything sung by Robbie, Kylie or Mads (the three core artists in my collection - ugh I know). I sing a lot of Aretha and Scissor Sisters in the car, and will know the lyrics to most well-known 80s or 90s hits. My taste in literature makes up for it, damnit!

Things you would do if you were a millionaire: Knowing me, I'd probably spend it all in a day. But if I could restrain myself, I'd probably employ a kick ass financial advisor to tell me how to make more millions. Then I'd spend it on myself, my friends and family (particularly my nana, as she's the only relative I like if I'm honest!), my pets, and various community projects (one for the karma bank).

Bad habits: Procrastinating. Being lazy. Being sleepy.

Things you like doing: Sleeping, being lazy, procrastinating, daydreaming, singing in the car, swimming, dancing alone, laughing.

Things you would never wear, buy or get new again: Culottes and happy pants. Chunky shoes. Cheap porn. The last two may or may not be related.

Parts of your heritage: English. I'm a pure-bred from the Mother Country.

Things that scare you: Dying alone. I'm not sure if this is a fear or not, but the thought of bungy-jumping and sky-diving terrifies me. Just typing this is making me feel nauseas. I don't think it's a fear as such, more just an intense dislike of the feeling of falling.

Fears you overcame: Heights, the dark, blood, spiders, creepy-crawlies, the ocean. I overcame the last four so much so that I now love all of them, and they all feature in my life daily (because of my pets, work, study)! I am actually really proud of this: I was a very anxious little girl growing up, but now I struggle to find things that genuinely scare me. I boast about it too often, but fuck you, I deserve it (i.e. walk into a London pet shop, demand to be held down while a dinner plate sized tarantula is placed on your arm until you 'get over it,' then tell me not to be proud, dagnabbit!).

Your everyday essentials: Laughter, my pets, water (swimming in, seeing it, or drinking it), controversy.

Things you are wearing right now: My ugly field gear: pants and a crappy t-shirt.

Things you wore too much last year: Jeans, black heels.

This year's favourite bands or musical artists: Umm, see above. I'm not the type to go out and see a live band. In fact, I find the whole scene a little wanky (oh, am I ever gonna piss off a couple of regulars with that comment - you guys transcend the wankiness of course).

Things you want most in a relationship: Love, passion, laughter, intense sex.

Your favourite movies of the year: Shop Girl (go see it - the only 'romantic' film I've ever liked).

Best movies of all time: Fight Club, The Green Mile, Beaches (shut up), Moulin Rouge, Kill Bill 1 & 2, Reservoir Dogs, umm there's too many, however NOT Amelie. I mean, for fucks sake, can we all move on now?

Best TV shows of all time: The Office, Ab Fab, Black Books, Are You Being Served, Knowing Me Knowing You with Alan Partridge, and I am Alan Partridge. Pretty much any British comedy! Ones I'd rather not admit to: Dr Phil, Judge Judy, and The Bold and the Beautiful.

Things you hate: insincerity, people who don't know themselves.

Your favourite hobbies: Reading, fucking around on the interweb, swimming, tending to my beautiful pets, and looking after my beautiful carnivorous plant collection.

Things you learned last year: Fake tan is never a good idea, and I am smarter than I give myself credit for.

Accomplishments you are proud of (from last year): I got a high distinction for my literature review (ok, so that was last week, but I wrote it last year so it still counts), giving a kick-ass presentation at uni, being able to cope with some of the phone calls I get at work (see strengths I am proud of), and overcoming my fear of heights.

Things you want really badly: To do well in honours, and to have a happy relationship.

Things that many people do and you don't: Drink beer, think before I speak.

Interesting places that you've been to: Malta, and all over Australia.

Places you want to go on vacation: Everywhere, but at the top of the list: South America, Antarctica, Madagascar, The Maldives, TheGalapagoss Islands.

Things you want to do before you die: Have children, and be totally and utterly happy with my life.

Ways that you are a stereotypical example of your gender: I love shoes and boys, and I fake orgasms with unashamed glee.

Things that make you stand out from your gender: I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty, and I love blood, creepy-crawlies, snakes, and spiders.

Strengths you're particularly proud of: Being able to stay calm and focused no matter how dire an emergency situation seems (at work), and getting through tough times without imploding (personal life).

Strengths that are also weaknesses: Sometimes I become so committed to a task that others will suffer because of it.

Things you normally wouldn't admit: I often think I'm more shit-hot than I let on, and I often think I'm less shit-hot than I let on.

Goals for the New Year: To be happy, to remain focused for the rest of honours and write a kick-ass thesis, and to return to work full-time and save some serious cash.

Tagged: Hamswah because he needs to update, and Tanswah (although in her case it will be a 'moimoimoi y'all!!!1!!).

Well, there's a fuckload more honesty than I'd have liked, but what the hell, eh?

Carn Kimmy!!

2006-01-25T23:07:00.000+11:00

I've found it difficult to get into the Australian Open this year. Perhaps it's the distinct lack of obsession-worthy men (and women) in the top ten these days.

Where have you gone Goran? Where??

i wanna be the trophy i wanna be the trophy i wanna be the trophy

Phew. Ladeez, feel free to take a moment.

....

....

Um, I think I had a point. Oh yes, what's with all the ugly people at this years open? And by all the ugly people I mean Kim Clijsters. Behold:

I don't think anyone will disagree when I say that she took an almighty dive from the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. In fact, I think several of the branches caused some serious facial traumas, and rumour has it that she may indeed reside in said tree in a delightfully renovated tudor-style cubby house.

If I could be bothered finding the link, I'd show you all some research that has demonstrated that ugly people rarely reach the top of their profession. 'somewhat' attractive women seem to do well, as they are both a) pretty enough to be promoted by men, and b) not intimidating enough to be demoted by women. I'm not really sure how that fits in with sport, but I'm sure there are some similarities. And it is for this reason I think we should be very proud of 'Aussie Kim' (yup, I'm claiming her). I can't imagine how difficult it would have been for her trying to find a juniors coach that was willing to receive oral sex from such a hideous creature. But, by golly, she did it.

So, fellow bloggers, join me in supporting Kim in this years Australian Open. At the very least it will show Lleyton what he's missed out on - someone with talent.

And all the king's men: Part 2

2006-01-24T00:01:00.000+11:00

If you're new, or just want to relive the adventure that was part one, you can find it here.

Before I get started on 6-10, there is a story I forgot to tell in part one, perhaps because I've done my best to repress all memory of this occurrence, and I think you'll understand why: at least once a week, for the duration of our relationship, # 2 would stand naked in front of me and furiously thrust his hips back and forth. Suddenly there'd be an almight 'smack!' as his balls got up enough momentum to swing back and high-five him in the ass. It was both frightening and educational, and I'm still trying to forget it.

But I digress. On with The List:

6 - aged 17 - February 1999: I had just moved to Melbourne and was starting year twelve again (I couldn't transfer my Adelaide results so it was back to the classroom for me). I wasn't leaving to visit # 4 until the first term holidays, so I used those first few weeks to have some fun in a big new city. Dad was running the D&D ball and gave me some tickets to hand out at my new school so I could make some friends (bless him!). There was no shortage of volunteers, one of which immediately caught my eye. He was friendly and funny, and we got along terribly well. We kissed at the ball, and a couple of weeks later we did the deed. It was my first experience of bad sex - bang! bang! bang! bang! bang!!! and it was all over. Lying in the wake of his orgasm he uttered seven little words that still disgust me to this day: 'you don't have any STDs or anything?' I was horrified - stupid me didn't make him wear a condom, but I wasn't expecting that. Equally horrifying was the fact that he refused to be my boyfriend. I recall explaining to a friend that 'in Adelaide, if you kiss or have sex with a boy it means you're going out.' Ah, how I've learnt.

7 - aged 19 - March 2001: # 4 and I were slowly coming to an end as we realised just how difficult it would be to stay together whilst living so far apart. At a friend's birthday party I met a delightful young lad, whom I dated for about nine months. Although he treated me like a princess, he'd leave his socks on EVERY time we had sex, which disturbed me greatly (naked man + socks = gross).

8 - aged 20 - November 2001: I was working at a radio station during the summer before starting uni. I became enchanted with an arrogant wanker of a radio announcer who, at the time, I thought was the bee's knees. We had a three month summer romance before he dumped me and left me with a broken ego disguised as a boken heart. I eventually laughed it off, saying 'he'll never become anything.' He's now a major radio personality on one of Australia's biggest networks. Ooops (and no, it's not Kyle).

9 - aged 20 - August 2002: I thought I'd ruined my chances with # 9 after an unfortunate incident in the Anatomy Museum. Casually leaning on a display case, I innocently twirled my hair, smiled coyly, and flirted my little heart out. He was receptive but smirking the whole time. I couldn't quite work out why until he left and I noticed that we'd been standing in the reproduction section. It was then I knew something was awry, and as I lifted my arm off the display case it was resting upon, I immediately knew what: that's right kids, I'd been leaning on a pickled human penis the whole time. Subtle. A few weeks later we went out with mutual friends and it was obvious there was an attraction. After a few drinks and some dirty dancing he leant in for the kiss but changed his mind at the last second. My ego was dented once again, and in my drunken state I vowed that he would be mine. I aggresively pursued him the rest of the night, even after learning that the reason for his reluctance was because he had a girlfriend. I accomplished my mission, went back to his house, and had drunk sex with him. It was my first one night stand and the only time I've slept with another girl's boyfriend.

10 - aged 21 - November 2002: During a normal night out with friends, I made my way to the ladies at a bar in town. As I navigated my way through the couches and crowds I stopped dead in my tracks. I had just noticed the world's best looking man. He literally made me stop walking. I raced back to my friends and told them all about him. One of my friend's girlfriends took me by the arm and hauled me over to him, plonked me down and introduced me. I spent the next two hours stumbling over my words and falling in love (lust). We exchanged numbers and I called him later in the week. One thing lead to another and we had casual sex for the three months before he left for a new job in Queensland. To this day, in my opinion, he is the best looking man I've ever seen, and as such I still have no idea what the fuck he was doing with me.

11-15 next time, featuring some foreigners and a night at the beach! Woo!

Beachness

2006-01-22T19:36:00.000+11:00

I've just returned home from the beach and fuck me if it wasn't exactly what I needed. The water was so unbelievably refreshing that not even a shark gnawing on the bloodied carcass of a Queenslander Christian could get me out of there. Not even the fact that I left my booby-shaping-fat-tucker-inerer suit at uni and had to wear my tit-flattening sports swimsuit put me off. No siree bob, the beach rocks.

I think that studying marine biology has killed my love for the beach. I haven't just popped down the road for a swim in months (maybe years??). I'm 'at the beach' most weekdays, however I'm not really at the beach if you know what I mean: all I do is catch crappy fish in a crappy boat and run crappy experiments in a crappy laboratory. From now on I shall endeavor to go to the beach at least once a week and do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. No research, no nothing. At the very least I'll have beach hair more often, and that can only be a positive. However a thought occurred to me today: now that I have a 500 litre marine aquarium in my living room, perhaps the perfect hair styling tool would be to simply dunk my head in, say hi to the seahorses, and hit the town in all my salty-haired glory. I'll let y'all know how that goes.

PS. Die:

How'd they know??

2006-01-22T18:03:00.000+11:00

Courtesy of the divine Miss (soon to be Mrs??) Ladycracker:

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Ruby!

When provoked, ruby will swivel the tip of her abdomen and shoot a jet of boiling chemicals at her attacker!
The pupil of an octopus's eye is shaped like ruby.
If you kiss ruby for one minute you will burn six or seven calories.
Reindeer like to eat ruby!
A thimbleful of ruby would weigh over 100 million tons.
If every star in the Milky Way was a grain of salt they would fill ruby.
New Zealand was the first place to allow ruby to vote!
Medieval knights put the skin of ruby on their sword handles to improve the grip.
You can tell if ruby has been hard-boiled by spinning her. If she stands up, she is hard-boiled!
It's bad luck to put ruby on a bed!

Ta-da!!

2006-01-21T19:01:00.000+11:00

How do we like the brand new look? I did it all myself, except for almost everything, which was done by the brilliant Hambo. Thoughts, people?

And all the king's men: Part 1

2006-01-18T23:02:00.000+11:00

A few years ago, a girlfriend asked me how many men I had slept with. It took a good ten minutes for me to come up with an accurate number, but then of course, she reminded me of a couple I'd forgotten about. Somewhat ashamed of not knowing 'my number' off the top of my head, I started The List.

The List lives under my keyboard, and has been updated several times since that fateful conversation. A few days ago, that same friend and I had that same conversation - this time however, she was quite shocked as more than a few names have been added in the past few years.

I've never considered myself 'easy' (but I'm certainly no prude), however it does worry me to know that the number of men I've slept with is higher than most girls my age (I'm 24). So, I'll let you be the judge. Over the next few weeks I'll reveal The List, five at a time, and I want you, my gorgeous readers, to tell me: am I an opportunist or a tart?

Let's get this baby rolling. In chronological order, here's the first five:

1 - aged 14 - August 1996: I lost my virginity to an adorable boy of 16 who I'd been dating for almost a year. We were exclusive, and as in love as two teenagers could be. He was the perfect gentleman, and even though I was young, I have no regrets about my first time. We still keep in contact.

2 - aged 15 - January 1997: After losing my virginity, I gradually lost interest in #1. We broke up after I met a lovely bogan with a big red Commodore. He was 19, had a proper job, and a fast car. What else could a 15 year old girl want? My parents hated him though, because his V8 used to wake up the neighbourhood. We dated for about 8 months.

3 - aged 16 - September 1997: A waiter at my work, this boy was adorable. We dated for over a year, and my parents loved him. However on the eve of my year twelve graduation, I cheated on him on with who I believed was the man I was going to marry....

4 - aged 17 - November 1998: A group of friends and I stayed at the local backpackers the night before the final day of year twelve, for the sole purpose of getting very very drunk. It was here I met a handsome 23 year old Englishman who I fell head over heels in love with in a matter of hours. He was returning home in 48 hours, so I broke my 'only sleep with steady boyfriends' rule and bonked him the night before he left. Three months later, after only spending 48 hours with him, I flew to England to see him. We dated for three years, commuting between Melbourne and the UK.

5 - aged 17 - January 1999: Before I flew to England, and before myself and # 4 were exlusive, I dated a DILF. He was ten years my senior, and had a three year old son. It never occurred to me how wrong it was for a 27 year old to be dating a child, but when I think about it now, it's kind of creepy. We had only a brief, yet exclusive relationship, as I was soon to move to Melbourne, and then of course to England.

6 - 10 next time, and that's when it starts to get interesting.

Great conversations of our time

2006-01-17T18:08:00.000+11:00

For reasons unbeknowst to me, I have the uncanny ability to attract the mentally less fortunate. I also attract cats and men with hairy bottoms, but that's beside the point.

Too many times to recall I have been sitting on a train, keeping to myself, when a intellectually disabled fellow decides that I would love to spend the next 30 minutes talking about anything from frozen peas to the price of rocks.

My favourite encounter however, was with a young lad who shall be named Sammy (for those who read TSSH). Inbetween twitches and dribbles, he kept me amused on the Sandringham line with the following conversation:

Sammy: those are nice shoes.
Ruby: thanks.
S: do you wear dresses?
R: sometimes.
S: what colour are your dresses?
R: all sorts.
S: will you wear a dress this week?
R: maybe.
S: will you wear a dress tomorrow?
R: um, ok, why not.
S: will you be on the train tomorrow?
R: yes.
S: can you wear the dress tomorrow then, but with different shoes?
R: what's wrong with my shoes, I thought you liked them?
S: hmmm..well...do you drive a car?
R: yes.
S: does it break down?
R. it has a couple of times, yes.
S: were you wearing those shoes when it broke down?
R: no.
S: are you sure? Because I think it's the shoes.
R: huh?
S: I think your mechanic would be intersted in seeing those shoes.
R: I think my mechanic would rather see my ti...oh, never mind.

She's back

2006-01-13T23:58:00.000+11:00

Did I say I'd post on the 27th? Oops! I meant to say the 13th of Jan. My bad.

Apologies for my absenteeism, but I've been distracted....predictably, by a boy. A fabulous wonderful lovely boy who spent four magical weeks with me but has now gone for two months. Hopefully we'll pick up where we left off when he returns, but no promises have been made and no expectations, er, expected. That is all I shall say on the matter for I am so terribly scared I'll jinx it!

Said boy arrived, admittedly inappropriately soon, after my brief fling with M!key. I had wished to keep our blog romance secret, however when I ended things he decided to post a link to FSO. To be honest, I don't particularly mind if people know, it just irked me since we had decided not to post about each other. Going against my wishes he had a little bitch about me on his site (apparently I'm 'snivelling' - he's since removed that part) with a very clear and unapologetic link leading right here. In an another act of cyber-bitchiness he's also removed me from his link list. I won't be doing the same, as I actually do enjoy reading his blog, even if it is written by someone who shaves their legs more often than myself.

Anyway, enough of that. In other news I am totally over honours. I really don't know how I'm going to type 10,000 words on something that I now find totally boring and pretentious. The policeman has been messaging me again so perhaps he'll be able to provide some relief from the many hours of study ahead of me.

Speaking of hot sex with men in uniforms, I bumped into ex-fireman at work the other day. But I shall save that story for another day as I have to get my beauty sleep for uni tomorrow. Uni on a Saturday - fuck I hate honours.

Livin' it up

2005-12-24T22:34:00.000+11:00

This is going to be the most expensive post ever: I'm lying on a plush king sized bed, typing on a wireless keyboard, and viewing my blog on a ridiculously enormous plasma TV. Thanks to ma and pa, I've got my own 'suite' at the Canberra Hyatt. It's friggin' brilliant. However I'm not sure they'll be happy to pay for the $1/min internet bill, so I'm just popping in to say hi to y'all, and wish you all a merry christmas. Plus, I've got better things to do, like order room service, jump on my bed, watch porn, make prank phone calls, flirt with the doormen, and generally act like a mischevious little princess.

More (e.g. the M!key saga) when I return to Melbourne on the 27th.

xx

She's back

2005-12-21T00:07:00.000+11:00

Did I say a week? Ooops...

There's an update coming in the next couple of days, I promise.

xx

Back in a week

2005-12-03T13:33:00.000+11:00

Wipe those tears! I'll be back before you know it!

Happy blogging

R xx

Out with the old, in with the new

2005-11-29T15:57:00.000+11:00

A couple of weeks ago, the fireman unceremoniously dumped me for another woman. The Bastard. I suddenly found myself alone, depressed, hurt, and worst of all...single!

Thankfully that only lasted a couple of minutes, because with a...

and a...

and a big...

and a lot of...

and a lil bitta...

...I've found myself a brand new boy. Kudos to me for such a fast turnaround - I give speed dating a whole new meaning.

But seriously folks, he is lovely. Wish me luck with this one!

I only open my mouth to change feet

2005-11-24T21:58:00.000+11:00

You know when someone says something, and you misinterpret it, make a comment which you think is HILARIOUS, but in reality it is just grossly inappropriate and offensive? No? Ok, let me demonstrate:

Ruby: so do you take her scuba diving too?
Dive boy: nah, she just waits on the beach for me and I try to bring her back a lobster or some abalone.
Ruby: oh, that's nice of you.
Dive boy: yeah, well she's Phillipino so everything we see at the beach she wants to know if it's edible!
Ruby: oh, so if you see a dog running along the beach, she's like 'ooh can I eat that?' Bahahahahaha! Bahahahahahahahahaha! Hahahahahah! Hahaha! Hahaha. Ha. H. Uh?

---- silence ----

Welcome to my world.

One Word

2005-11-18T04:24:00.000+11:00

Play along kiddies. This one is courtesy of Huggies:

Please leave a one-word comment that you think best describes me.

It can only be one word. No more.*

Then copy & paste this in your journal so that I may leave a word about you.

In other news, the seahorsies shall be named Peggy (as in Pegasus, geddit?) and Biscuit (as in Sea Biscuit, geddit?). Suitably lame methinks. All your suggestions shall be considered for my next investment - some stick insects! Yay!

*Sorry guys, but sexy-intelligent-funny-adorable is not one word.

When two cats, a giant burrowing cockroach, two hermit crabs, two scorpions and a python just isn't enough

2005-11-15T20:12:00.000+11:00

You may remember me saying I was thinking of adding to my home-zoo. Well, today I purchased two new babies for my menagerie, and they are quite possibly the cutest animals I have ever seen. I am all jumpy-up-and-down-and-clap-my-hands excited, even though I'm now $500 in debt.

It wouldn't be any fun if I told you what they were straight away, so here are some hints...

they have a prehensile tail and a compressed body form

they belong to the family Sygnathidae

they are in danger of being hunted to extinction for their use in Chinese medicine

they live in this tank....

and if you look real close, you can see one of them....

and if you haven't got it by now, then you're a big dumb-dumb....

THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS, I GOT

MESELF SOME SEAHORSES!!!

Above is the girl, and this is the boy....

Cute, huh?

Now I just need to think of names - suggestions anyone?

Send help quickly! There's ice in my coke!

2005-11-14T17:09:00.000+11:00

I haven't blogged about work, mainly because I decided to keep where I work confidential. I've forgotten why I decided that, and quite frankly I'm running low on material, so I might as well spill. Let's just say I work at a call centre, a place you'd call by dialing three numbers if you needed some medical assistance urgently. And it's not Telstra.

Between calls we're permitted to amuse ourselves any way we wish, provided we remain dressed. I usually try to do something productive, like flick rubber bands or make paper hats, but every now and then I am drawn to the pile of magazines provided for our 'enjoyment.' I really don't mind the people I work with, however it seems that many of them may be closet bogans (actually, that can't be true, there must be a magazine fairy). Not only is there an alarming abundance of NW, Cleo, and Cosmo, but there is a plentiful supply of - wait for it - Take 5 magazine. Take 5 is the mag of choice for the Aussie bogan*, with helpful suggestions such as 'when ordering a soft drink at a restaurant, ask for no ice. You'll get much more drink for your money,' or 'to keep your ugg boots dry after wearing, try stuffing them with scrunched up newspaper'. Seriously. These 'helpful hints' are sent in by 'readers' (who knew people so stupid could read?), so they can almost be forgiven. However what gets me is the articles that real life 'journalists' write weekly for the mag. I'd rather stick pins in my eyes (or take a call from someone who has) than read the damn thing, but I must admit reading the article headlines is almost as much fun as hearing about an embarrassing sex injury.

Personal favourites include:

I've got nine children, I'm 47, and I'm pregnant
I traded the pope for my bloke
Five ways with a can of tuna
Widows outrage: my compo was cut because I was pretty
I wore my nightie to her wedding; and
My name badge was pounding

Any suggestions for story ideas that we can submit to Take 5?

*Ok, ok, so I spelt bogan wrong AGAIN. All fixed Jules! And if anyone can tell me the correct spelling of doofus (is that it?) it would be appreciated.

Studying, Ruby style.

2005-11-12T12:37:00.000+11:00

I really should be doing uni work but I've been too busy procrastinating. Current distractions include, but are not limited to:

Reading the bizarre thoughts of this scientist who believes we are all living in 'The Matrix' and has done the sums to prove it.
Spending way too long on this useless site. Show me another cat in a sink damnit! I don't know why, but it's so addictive.
Complaining about all the shit scuba diving I've been doing lately, and dreaming of going here to spend a week underwater. I've heard there's even a guy who'll scuba dive down and deliver pizza to your room if you don't fancy what the underwater chef has to offer. Brilliant.
Trying to convince my very 'traditional' family that it is perfectly normal to buy me a pair of Rhinoceros Beetles for Christmas.
Waiting for the Fireman to decide if he wants to be with me, or an ex love interest who has recently resurfaced. I'll know by the end of the weekend. And I refuse to dedicate an entire post to such fucked behaviour!
Laughing at those silly kids at Google: type in 'failure' and hit the I'm Feeling Lucky button.
Pondering various scientific mysteries - none of which have anything to do with my honours experiments mind you - such as if I travelled through a wormhole to last week, and burnt my house down, would the people in the future/present still have a house? Aaagh, it hurts my brain.
Chuckling at Hambo's new friend.
Sleeping, eating, drinking, working.

So you see, it's hard work being a student.

Meet my kids

2005-11-06T01:29:00.000+11:00

I think it's time you all met my family. I have eight children, except none of them are human, thank God.

Let's start with something easy - cats. I have two, and aren't they ADORABLE?! The black and white one is Lulu. The ginger one is Baci, who also doubles as my printer. Don't tell anyone, but Baci is a real human boy trapped in a cat's body.

This beautiful specimen is Precious Muffin. She is also ADORABLE so don't try telling me otherwise. She likes dead rodents and has been described as 'dainty'. She is extra special because she was a 21st present.

Next we have my bogon babies: my two scorpions Denise and Roger. Denise spends most of her time hanging out on a real prosthetic eyeball I bought off ebay, and Roger likes spitting his digestive juices over small invertebrates, liquifying them, and drinking them up. Yum!

Now we have the lovely Camilla. She was also a birthday gift (for the girl who has everything!). She's no ordinary cockroach, oh no, she is a Giant Burrowing Cockroach. She did have two mates: Charles and The Butler but Miss-I'm-Supposed-To-Be-A-Herbivore ate them. If you talk to her real softly, she'll eat out of your hand.

And finally, what mini menagerie would be complete without some Hermit Crabs ? I'm still trying to find names for them, so feel free to add any ideas to the comments. Only one of the two was nice enough to pose for me.

One day I'd like to get them all together for a family portrait, but I think they'd eat each other so this will have to do.

To explain: I have a background in zoology, hence my fascination with all things creepy-crawly. I'm thinking of adding to my collection....what should I get next guys?

Grab a coffee - this is a long post

2005-11-03T19:49:00.000+11:00

I've been a bad blogger. But I'm back. I've had a lot of shit to deal with the past couple of weeks, shit that I've refrained from posting here, but I think typing it out may prove therapeutic, so here goes.

Like all good stories, I'll start at the beginning. About a year ago I met an amazing man who we'll call Drama Boy because a) he's an actor (that should have sent off alarm bells alone!), and b) he has caused so many dramas.

On our first date we spent hours drinking and talking and before long I was sending my friend text messages saying how I'd met The One. This was the first date remember, and I was completely serious.

Over our next few dates he revealed to me that he was battling a severe addiction to weed, and was so depressed that he was on the brink of suicide. This, coupled with the fact that he was unemployed, and in his late twenties still living at home, made him an unattractive potential partner in theory, but I could not help the way I felt.

For weeks we would meet up, have coffee, kiss, talk about his problems etc. We hadn't slept together yet which I took as him not being attracted to me. But then he confessed he had 'problems' with his dick, in that he could not come during sex, and had a painful foreskin issue also. So the next few weeks were spent driving him to doctors appointments, both for his dick and his brain.

I couldn't cope not knowing how he felt so I asked him. He danced around the topic and finally admitted that he wasn't ready for a relationship, but that we could still be 'special friends'. I was heart broken. But I continued to be his friend. On two occasions I drove to him in the middle of the night when he was threatening suicide. I bought his anti-depressants for him more times than I care to remember. And I gave him $700 to help him get back on his feet, but I'm pretty sure he blew it all on drugs.

And it continued that way right up until two weeks ago. I was driving him home late one evening and decided to tell him about the fireman. I didn't think he'd care - we rarely slept together because of his 'problems' and as far as I was concerned, he had no feelings for me at all. But when I told him he went crazy, an insane kind of mad that scared me shitless. He jumped out my car, called me a whore, and said he never wanted to see me again. He then ran in front of the traffic, but thankfully no one hit him. I convinced him to at least let me drive him home - I was so baffled by his reaction I wanted to buy myself more time to find out why he was so angry.

He wouldn't speak to me during the trip back to his place. When I pulled up outside his house, he said to me 'don't you get it?' I had no idea what I'd done wrong. But then he opened the car door, got out, and said 'I was falling in love with you' and walked away.

I was blown away. It was the last thing I'd expected. Sure, we'd been great friends. We'd hardly go a day without talking to each other, and I was the only person in the world who knew all of his problems. For months I'd challenge his reasons for not being ready for a relationship, but he wouldn't budge. I'd slowly come to accept that we would never be more than friends.

After he confessed his feelings I got out of the car and ran after him. We talked and cried for an hour or more but couldn't resolve anything - he didn't want to be friends anymore if he couldn't have me, and I wasn't sure I could cope being an unemployed drug addicts girlfriend. Six months earlier I wanted nothing more than to be with him, but in all honesty I'd moved on and decided no matter how I felt about him, I deserved someone better.

So I drove home in shock. But before long I was back over there, as I received a text message implying that he was going to kill himself. He pulled a knife out earlier and threatened to slit his wrists, so I assumed the worst. Thankfully when I got there he was fine, but I woke up his parents trying to find him. He explained it away by saying I was crazy, and to this day they know nothing of any of his problems.

He gave me a week to think about my feelings. I knew I couldn't be with him. Last night I told him that no matter how strongly I feel, I need someone more stable. And he told me it is too painful to be my friend anymore. So now I've lost my best friend, and perhaps the love of my life?

The fireman is still on the scene. We've been seeing a lot of each other, and he's even met my friends. I don't have the same initial spark with him that I had with Drama Boy, but my feelings are certainly growing. However lately I've noticed him becoming less and less affectionate, and I begin to wonder if perhaps he's losing interest. Hopefully not, but as always, I'll keep you posted.

She's crrraaazy!

2005-10-22T13:26:00.000+10:00

I saw this test on Althea's site and thought I'd give it a whirl. Here are the disturbing results:

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Schizoid Personality Disorder:	Low
Schizotypal Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Antisocial Personality Disorder:	Low
Borderline Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Histrionic Personality Disorder:	High
Narcissistic Personality Disorder:	Low
Avoidant Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Dependent Personality Disorder:	High
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	High
-- Take the Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Info --

Must be off now guys, I need to wash my hands 10,000 times.

Analyse this

2005-10-17T18:34:00.000+10:00

I've reached a new level of mental instability. Check out the dreams I've been having:

I'm in a change room trying on some grey jeans (grey jeans...ugh!) and I spy I whole pile of my old clothes in the cubicle next to me. I have no idea how they got there so I pack them up and take them with me. As a result, the shop assistant presents me with a million dollar black pearl ring and matching pearl necklace (as in jewelry, you sickos).
I'm swimming through the ocean and my brain is transmitting the images I'm seeing to my cat who has suddenly become an ink-jet printer and is using it's saliva to spit out glorious pieces of art.

The fuck??

Too much of a good thing

2005-10-12T15:00:00.000+10:00

You asked for more boy posts now I deliver:

Sometimes I think the forces that control my life know I blog, and whenever a week goes by with nothing of substance to report (such as this last seven days), they decided to throw something interesting in the mix, so I can post about it here.

One such event would be the discovery that...

THE POLICEMAN AND THE FIREMAN KNOW EACH OTHER!

This knowledge came about when I was talking to The Fireman about speeding fines and he mentioned his cousin was a cop. Upon further inquiry, it seems that Cousin Policeman works in the same station as The Policeman, and that Cousin Policeman and The Policeman are great friends.

Could my life, or that last sentence, get any more complicated?

Reasons I am not freaking out are as follows:

I haven't seen The Policeman since I met The Fireman
I've had no desire to see The Policeman since I met The Fireman
I was never 'involved' with The Policeman - we only had four dates
Next time I see The Policeman I'm going to tell him I'm no longer interested in anything other than friendship, because...
...the Fireman is adorable and lovely and told me we were 'exclusive' today. Ok, ok I may have prompted this conversation but that's what us girly girls do, right? Plus I really needed to know since we're not using condoms so it would be ick if we were sleeping with other people, to which he said he had no desire to do! Yay! I'm rambling, aren't I?

Anywho, in other news, apparently I'm a big bogon. Let me explain: the other day I had to give a presentation to 'the department' as part of my honours year. We received feedback from three scientists in the audience. My feedback was great, so I was wrapped. However, today I ran into one of the feedback-giver-ers who stopped me in the corridor and said 'by the way, you've got that Aussie accent down pat, real Kath 'n' Kim like.' The fuck? Seriously, I so don't have a bogon accent! In fact, I often get asked if I'm a pom or a kiwi...my South Aussie accent seems to sound like those. Maybe it's just my giving-a-really-important-honours-presentation voice? She's made me paranoid.

Anyway, after she said this I stared at her in horror which prompted her to say 'oh, it's not a bad thing' to which I replied 'Noooiiceee!!!'

The Date

2005-10-05T09:54:00.000+10:00

The fireman, who shall now be referred to as Sam (cos Hambo says it's LOL funny), and I had our 'first date' yesterday. Here's the details:

11am - arrive at his place.
12pm - have lunch at gorgeous cafe in the hills.
12.15pm - have an embarrassing choking episode whilst eating my lunch.
2pm - hand feed wild birds in the hills
3pm - back to his.
3.15pm - sex.
5pm - dinner at lovely cafe.
7pm - movie.
10pm - back to his.
10.15pm - sex.
11pm - 7am - sleep.
7am. sex.
8.15am - drive home.

He said I give him butterflies, and that he's not interested in just sex.

Aww! I so hope this one turns out. He's asked me to stay over Saturday night. I really hope he means everything he says. Time will tell I suppose!

No more boy posts for a while, I promise!

More on men...

2005-10-02T17:47:00.000+10:00

Because my love life just isn't complicated enough, last night I PICKED UP A FIREMAN.

Now all I need is to shag a paramedic, then I'll have the men-in-uniform trifecta.

But in all seriousness, this new bloke is fabulous...we've arranged to see each other in a couple of days.

As always, I'll keep you posted.

P.S. You know I'm a fan of the silicon nude bra...not so much anymore. There's nothing as un-sexy as having a man literally peel your bra off.
P.P.S. Just to clarify, no sex was had...just some general nakedness. I was being a 'good girl' (yes, good girls get naked) and didn't want it to turn into a one night thing only.

Lonliness and stupidity

2005-09-30T03:59:00.000+10:00

It's 4 am, I'm drunk, and I'm sad. Forgive me for my self-indulgent whinging.

Tonight I went out with the nine of so other honour students in my department. We had a fabulous time, we drank lots, and we danced lots. And I finally admitted to myself how much I like one of my fellow students, even though he is three years younger than me, and a bit of a dork.

We were getting along so well. He opened up to me about his girlfriend moving to Adelaide at the start of November, and how unsure he was about their future. He told me he thougt they'd probably break up. I told him I thought he needed to play the field, and unfortunately my motives for doing so are now painfully clear to him.

As the night came to an end, he arranged with a mate to share a taxi home, and get dropped off at his girlfriend's house. I stupidly said to him 'oh, but before you go, I need to tell you a secret.'

RUBY YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

So I took him aside and said 'I think you're fabulous.' He eventually replied, 'I think you're fabulous too but it's a really bad time right now, and this relationship I'm in is pretty serious.'

And you'd think that maybe I could leave with a touch of dignity? Oh no...

FUCKING IDIOT RUBY says 'oh well, remember me when you break up with your girlfriend.' If that wasn't bad enough, I lingered, saying things like 'oh shit, sorry, I'm just really drunk,' and 'are you sure it's because you have a girlfriend, and not just because you don't like me?' Then I repeated everything again, and made sure it was devastingly awkward, just as the barman kicked us out.

Did I mention I'm a FUCKING IDIOT??

He gave me a hug, and thanked me for my honesty. I asked him to forget everything I said and to make sure it was never awkward between us at uni. Yeah right....

Now I don't know what to do. Do I text him to say I'm sorry? Do I apologise in person? Do I just ignore it?

So now I'm at home, with tears in my eyes, realising that I've probably fucked up any chance I had with this wonderful boy. So then my mind turns to Blind Date Boy #2 and the more I think about that, the more I realise that he probably isn't after anything other than sex. And I have to wonder, what is it that is different about me this last couple of years? I've always been that girl with the boyfriend, or that girl with men chasing her. Why am I suddenly so un-dateable?

Sex Was Had

2005-09-28T21:44:00.000+10:00

As promised, here's a blow by blow (har har) account of my date last night. It's detailed**, so forgive me if I get a little Desci-esque.

I arrive at his house armed with plenty of drinks. His place is an hours drive from mine, and since it was obvious I'd be drinking, it was pretty clear from the start that I'd be staying.

His flatmate wasn't home, so I thought we'd sit in the living room. However he says 'oh we might as well just go in here' and leads me to his room. This was a tad strange and presumptuous I thought, but what the hell. We sat on his bed for an hour or so, watching telly and talking. I polished off almost an entire bottle of white all by myself and he had only had two beers. Ooops. I was very drunk, and he was very sober.

Anywho, he starts touching my leg, we kiss, we get naked. He goes down on me, and did a stellar job. Then I return the favour, however being as drunk as I was, I don't feel as though I did my best work. Then we shag, him on top, then me on top. I fake an orgasm* and he has a real one at the same time. Then we sleep. But not after he says 'so your staying yeah?' I said 'only if that's ok' and he quite genuinely says 'oh shit yeah, of course it is' so I don't think he meant anything bad by it.

A couple of hours later I am woken by wandering hands. I fake another orgasm* (follow the asterisk people) then go down on him, until he comes. Sleep again.

Then he wakes up at some ungodly hour to go to work. He gets ready, kisses me goodbye, and says I can sleep in as long as I like. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I got up, made the bed, resisted the temptation to look for his porn collection, cleaned up the drinks from the night before, and went home. I was back in my bed by 8.30 am.

I was worried he wouldn't call, but I got a text message mid afternoon and half way through replying to it he calls. Very lovely of him. He had just gotten home from work and was sleepy and going to have a nap, so the conversation was brief. We didn't arrange to see each other again, but he ended the call with 'I'll speak to you again very soon.' I hate this. I always like to have another date set up for some reason. He's said this before, and sure enough we do speak again soon and meet up, but since I don't know how he feels I am so paranoid he won't see me again. Time will tell.

Overall verdict - he was a great shag, with loads of promise. Great body too. If he sees me again, I want to have sober sex so I can put in a top notch effort. Now I need to work out when I'll call him, and how I'll ask to see him again without sounding desperate. I really like this one, guys.

*yes I know faking orgasms is bad, but no man has ever made me come. They tend to find it really discouraging, and it's not that they're doing a bad job. Me faking is like giving them a gold star - you're going well, keep up the good work!
**OK it's not really that detailed afterall is it? I can't remember anything else....stupid wine.

2005-09-27T19:49:00.000+10:00

I'm about to go over to Blind Date Boy #2's house, I am armed with beer and a brazilian, and I am going to do my darndest to get laid tonight.

Keep your fingers crossed for me kiddies, I'll update you on the morrow.

Do you like to watch?

2005-09-27T00:38:00.000+10:00

M!key blogged about his neighbours tonight and it reminded me of an interesting couple that live in the apartment below me.

They are a well-to-do married couple in their early forties. They're quite friendly, but mostly keep to themselves. They are normal, un-offensive, typical inner-city professionals.

But for one thing.

Their apartment faces onto the street, so any passerby can peer right into their living room. For this reason, their blinds are always shut. But, every now and then (i.e. once a month perhaps), the blinds will be open and the lights will be on.

And there will be two naked ladies dancing on the couch.

One of the women is the wife, the other I've never met. They will be dancing to bad 80s rock, giggling like school girls, and jumping around in a middle-aged titty flying, muff flashing frenzy. The husband will be fully clothed with a camera in his hand, and if you catch a glimpse of his face, he's looking mighty pleased with himself.

The first time I thought it a simple error on their part. Perhaps they thought no one could see?

The second time I realised they must know people can see, otherwise why do they keep their blinds shut to prevent prying eyes at all other times?

The third time my nana was with me and was suitably offended, but endearingly amused.

The fourth time I ran and told all the neighbours I'm friendly with and we snuck out to take a peak.

The other times I've just shook my head and moved on.

Having thought about it, there is no other explanation....they want people to see them. Their window is about a metre from the pavement, and the couch on which they dance is only a metre back from the window. Even more alarming is that they always do it just after dark, when people will still be walking home or driving past.

I've often thought of leaving them an anonymous note that reads 'we can see you', but that will no doubt turn them on. Much funnier I think would be to bring it up spontaneously at the next body corporate meeting. Mwahaha.

Just a little bitching...

2005-09-25T21:36:00.000+10:00

This has really been pissing me off since they started doing them a couple of years ago....

Encore presentations (channel 10 fucking loves them).

Do they not realise that a) if I had wanted to watch it I would have done so in the first place, and b) if I was unable to see it for some reason I would have taped it.....that's what a VCR is for, for fucks sake.

And why must they insist on repeating only crap shows, and only in prime time slots?

Fuck of channel 10. Seriously.

2005-09-25T21:30:00.000+10:00

Sshhhh.

It's quiet time now, Kyle.

Nature stuff

2005-09-22T23:51:00.000+10:00

Some uni mates and I went to Queenscliff yesterday to go for a dive. Here's some of the gorgeous things we saw...

Pipefish are designed to look just like a blade of sea grass. Good on my friend who took this pic, as they're so hard to spot!

A beautifully coloured seastar showing it's tube feet as it moves an arm

I took this one of a friendly crab. There would have been at least three of these on each pylon.

And finally, as we arrived at Pt Lonsdale to do out field work, we were greeted by this big mamma, a gorgeous Elephant Seal*

And that concludes our marine biology lesson for today.

*there was a rather stupid crowd of people around the elephant seal worried it was beached....IT CAN WALK PEOPLE!

Boys, tits, cars.

2005-09-19T23:46:00.000+10:00

Brief update:

Blind date boy #2 is still on the scene, should be seeing him later on in the week. So far 3 dates, 3 snogs, nothing else. He started off really keen but has now eased off a bit, despite me staying the same the whole time. Men are weird.

Handed in my literature review last week - yayness.

Took my new used car for a service. Turns out it's not even in roadworthy condition, despite having an RACV mechanical check, and a roadworthy certificate. Looks like it needs $3000 worth of work done. Legally the RACV and the car yard I bought it from have to pay for the repairs, but it's still really annoying as getting money from either of them will be like drawing blood from a stone, and it is going to take forever. I fucking hate car dealers. Bez, if you're reading this, can you consider them for a glassing?

Have been thinking about this for some time, but haven't blogged about it yet...despite the brilliance of the silicone nude bra, I'm getting a boob job. Will be getting a loan after the shit with my car is sorted, and hopefully have it done over Christmas. To anticipate potential comments - no, it's not for men....yes, I know I should be happy with my body the way it is...yes, I am well aware of what can go wrong....and no, I am not going to change my mind. Lord, how I've had these discussions with my friends, and to be quite honest I'm over people trying to talk me out of it. Can't someone just say 'yup, they're pretty small, go for it!'

Going SCUBA diving Wednesday. Cannot wait.

Everything else is good....something substantially more interesting next time i promise.

Much love kiddies xx

Rattlesnake rug, anyone?

2005-09-11T00:54:00.000+10:00

Just like Ben, I find it interesting to see who links to me and what keywords people use to arrive at this site.

It's been rather depressing to discover google searches with the keywords 'stood up on date' have faithfully returned my site several times.

However, I have no reason to be sad, now that I know that FSO is considered to be a 'How to Make a Rattlesnake Rug Site.'

You see, that's the theme I was going for, but I was worried I was being a little subtle.

Obviously that's not the case. Phew!

My new baby

2005-09-09T12:12:00.000+10:00

You may remember when my car was stolen. Well, I've finally bought another one!

And it's a convertible! Yay!

I used to think that people who drove convertibles in Melbourne were show pony wankers, but.....but they are soooo fun!

So from now on, I'm requesting that my weather forecast changes from the normal format:

To the 'can-I-be-a-show-pony-wanker-with-the-roof-off-today' forecast:

Now doesn't that make it easier for everyone?

A question for you....

2005-09-07T13:46:00.000+10:00

Despite my bitching, I really do try to be a decent and compassionate person. Yet these days I feel that political correctness is preventing me from being honest for fear of being considered a racist.

For example, if it is OK to make the observation that African Americans tend to make better basketball players than their white counterparts, then why can't I say a particular race makes a worse (insert activity here) than their white counterparts?

I have observed a particular race performing a particular activity very poorly, over and over again. I have friends who are this race. I have no ill feelings towards this race. Yet I suspect I would be considered racist if I was to 'say out loud' my observations on their poor performance.

Why is this so? And can anyone guess which race and what activity I am talking of?

Ruby perfoms a community service: the ins and out of hook turns (part 1)

2005-09-05T12:32:00.000+10:00

Following a rather harrowing experience I had today, I thought I'd post, quite literally, an 'idiots guide' to hook turns. Consider it my good deed for the day. Seriously, they're not that hard.But for all you labotomised fucks out there (yes, that's you Mr V8 from today), who have no place being alive let alone behind the wheel of a car, then you better pay close attention.

SCENARIO ONE

The entire reason hook turns exist is to allow trams access across the intersection during a green light. Regardless of how much you hate public transport, or how stupid you are, it is not advisable to turn from the right lane.

Or this might happen....

Since blogger can't seem to handle all my images, the next scenarios will be in the following 3 posts...

Ruby perfoms a community service: the ins and out of hook turns (part 2)

2005-09-05T12:30:00.000+10:00

SCENARIO TWO

You'll notice here that there are pedestrians crossing the street to your right. Even if there are absolutely no cars in the lane beside you, it is still not advisable to turn.

Or this might happen....

Part 3 below....

Ruby perfoms a community service: the ins and outs of hook turns (part 3)

2005-09-05T12:24:00.000+10:00

SCENARIO THREE

The light in front of you may be orange, but rest assured, there'll still be a dickhead speeding through it at the last minute. It is advisable to wait until the light in front of you turns red.

Or this might happen....

Last but not least, part 4 is below....

Ruby perfoms a community service: the ins and outs of hook turns (part 4)

2005-09-05T12:20:00.000+10:00

CORRECT LEAD UP....(this is for you Mr V8 who almost killed me today)

Pull up on the left and indicate. Just as the light in front of you turns red, make the turn. Be careful not to go too fast and smash into the other hook-turners on the other side (I'm talking to you Mr V8). But don't be too slow or it will shit the drivers who've just got their green light.

And now for the execution....

Magic!

If that's not simple enough then have a look at this nifty little animation.

Phew. These posts have taken way too much printer ink and blue-tac.

Try our new Opium Poppy Cobs: Endorsed by Michelle Leslie

2005-09-01T00:30:00.000+10:00

To be honest, I'm a little over the whole Indonesian drug scandals. I am Schapelle-d out, so to speak. So when I heard that another Aussie had been arrested on drugs charges, I didn't really take much notice. I haven't been home to watch the news, and have only had the briefest flip through the papers over the last few days - I couldn't even tell you what this Michelle chick looked like, especially with her covering up and all.

However, last night I was watching the news, and a photo of a model flashed up on the screen. I cheerfully said 'oh look, it's my old friend Michelle, doesn't she look pretty?'

And then the penny dropped.

This Michelle Leslie that has been all over the news, is the same Michelle that I was mates with growing up in Adelaide (yes, yes, I was originally from South Australia...which could explain the delay in dropping pennies). I could not believe it! Especially since I'd been making comments like 'that model chick who got caught with pills should be executed for being such a stupid fuckwit.'

Actually....I think I still feel that way, but it's a big shock none the less.

Michelle and I used to work at Bakers Delight together (she really was, the Baker's delight, har har). Here's a visual to help you out:

Note my shit-hot photoshopping skills.

Anywho, I was really surprised because when I knew her, she was absolutely adorable. She always went out of her way to be kind to people and to find out how you were. She was always delightful, not at all into drugs, and not at all Muslim as she now claims to be. And she was always breath-takingly beautiful, even in Bakers Delight culottes and covered in sesame seeds.

It seems something went astray...today she is just another pill popping tourist, who happened to get caught. She never came across as stupid, but now it is all too clear that she is.

Titties, anyone?

2005-08-25T23:26:00.000+10:00

Aren't women supposed to share beauty tips with each other? Like, a dab of nail polish to fix a ladder in your stockings...some powder on your lips to make your lipstick stay....a sexy man in your bed for sexy bed hair?

Well it seems someone has been keeping the 'silicon nude bra' a secret! Shame on you ladies!

I've always struggled to fill a B cup. And I've also always struggled to fill an A cup too, but the former sounds less tragic. So for me, dresses that require some no-bra action are not a possibility. However, whilst shopping in 'C-cup-only-Bras'n'Things' I stumbled across a pair of these...

...so I bought them, and picked up a pretty little low cut frock too.

And in two seconds I went from this....

...to this (but with a much prettier outfit and some gorgeous 'look at my titties' bead action).

And all the boys were like...

It's uncomfortable, messy, and will quite possibly ruin my chances of ever breast-feeding, but by golly folks, I had myself a cleavage line for the first time ever!

However now I'm faced with the Bridget Jones big pants dilemma - once I use these babies to lure a lad, how do I deal with the look of disappointment on his face when my cleavage does a disappearing act?

First date snog whore

2005-08-24T02:42:00.000+10:00

Here's a review of my blind date tonight...

He picked me up in his car, we went off to St Kilda for some drinks. First impressions - he is adorable. Really cute, well dressed, lovley etc. Every hour, he inched closer to me on the seat, and there was much 'accidental' touching and leg brushing going on. Five hours, and one too many drinks later, we were kicked out. He politely drove me home, and parked his car out the front of my friend's house where I'm staying.

And here is where I turn into a complete fucking wanker.

Thinking it would be funny I said 'oh so here's where it gets awkward as we discuss whether we see each other again, haha.'

Silence....

Then I managed to blurt out something else totally embarrassing to cover the silence, which I am too drunk to remember. We had a chat about doing something again, and decided that we would.

I leaned over for the kiss on the cheek goodnight, but...

STUPID STUPID STUPID LACK OF SELF CONTROL!!!!

I turned my head and went in for the pash. Aaarghh!!!

It was nice and all, but, HELLO - it's the first date. NO TONGUE!

Thinking I'd be all cute and funny I said 'oh no you made me break my rule about no tongue on the first date...'

Silence.....

So I got out the car and sheepishly made my way inside, feeling all lovey-gooey yet embarrassed and axious that he won't call.

Objectively it seems he is keen, and will probably get in touch, but as everyone knows, when you like someone you're always scared they won't call.

Cross your fingers for me kiddies

R xxxx

PS Next post.....something totally not boy-related at all, I promise!

Boys galore

2005-08-20T06:59:00.000+10:00

He called, we laughed about my dorky message. We're on for Tuesday. Yay!

In other news, it's 7am and I've just gotten home from spending the night with a married man.

Oh, you want more? Well, I was at work doing night shift and had a painfully wonderful married colleague of mine flirting with me all night. Damn my attraction to the unavailable. How pathetically cliched (spelling?) am I?! And damn him for being such an asshole to his new wife. And good on me for not flirting back. High fives for me!

Excluding updates on Tuesday, this will be the last post on men for a while. I do not want this to turn into a whinging single girl's blog. Ugh.

Um....yeah....hi...

2005-08-18T17:41:00.000+10:00

Time for an update on Blind Date Boy # 2.

The couple of times we've spoken on the phone we've got along like a house on fire. We're both interested in the same things, we've made each other laugh, blah blah blah, you get the idea. So at the end of the last call I confidently asked...'do you want to meet up later this week?' And he said yes of course, since I'd been all fun and witty during our conversations.

Enter the voicemail.

I called him last night to set up a time but he didn't answer. No biggie, I'll just leave him a message, I thought to myself. And then it all went horribly horribly wrong.

'Uh hi, it's Ruby here.....Um, yeah so it was your birthday the other day yeah? Was it yesterday? (long pause as if he's going to answer my question).....Um, well Happy Birthday for yesterday then!...... Or was it the day before yesterday? (long pause). Haha well Happy Birthday for the day before yesterday then! Um, oh hang on, is it today?.....Hehe I've got a memory like a siff, oh I mean siff, I mean sieve sorry. So in that case, Bappy Hirthday for today. I mean Happy hirthda..oh haha happy birthday ha ha h.....Er, yeah, ha, it's probably tomorrow now I think of it...so have a good day whenever it is. (Loooong pause). So um, yeah, I was just calling because (another loooong pause) um, (now I'm trying to set the world speed talking record and get off the phone...) well call me back and we'll catch up. Bye.

Aaagh grr agh! Cringe with me!

And do you think he's called me back? Nope!

And while I'm on the topic, I've worked out why I'm still single. It's not because I'm not supermodel beautiful......it's because I'm not ugly enough! Have you ever noticed how many mingers are hooked up? I was buying some stationery today (oops I broke my stationery fast!) and in front of me in the line were THREE women so ugly they almost made my eyes bleed. And what were they doing? They were picking up their wedding invitations!! Damn my pretty face and slender figure!!

Evil bat face man scares me

2005-08-16T21:07:00.000+10:00

Reason #287 why I should be studying and not watching Australian Idol:

THE EVIL BAT FACED MAN....

HE IS THE ANTICHRIST!

Someone hand me some rosary beads, stat!

I swear I haven't had a thing to cunt, drink-stable!

2005-08-14T21:43:00.000+10:00

You'd think that my last blind date experience would have put me off.

Think again, dear readers! I'm jumping back on the proverbial saddle and giving it another whirl.

Why? Because as a single woman in her mid-twenties I feel I owe it to all those other gals out there looking for a decent bloke. I'm going to show my fellow singletons that being single does not = desperate. I'm going to document my experiences here to be a source of inspiration for all those other lonely ladies. I'm gonna take one for the team.

Ok, that's a load of shit. The real reason is because.....he's a copper.

Bring. On. The. Uniform.

Yes, it's a cliche, but I just can't resist them. I dated one for a year and by golly was he an arrogant, self-important, cocky little bastard, but it was the best sex I've had to date.

If this one's a looker, which the photos I've seen suggest, and if he has ready access to handcuffs (which I'm sure he does), I'm gonna need a whole new class of safety panties.

My name is Ruby, and I have an addiction...

2005-08-10T23:57:00.000+10:00

Inspired by Rubydot, self-confessed procrastinator/muffin maker extraordinaire, and in a desperate attempt at self-motivation, allow me to outline my failure as an aspiring scientist thus far:

Before I get to the experimental stage of my honours year, I need to read up on all the previous literature on the topic. We're looking at around 40 or so 10 page long research papers, so really I should have been head-downed and bottom-uped (insert obvious sex joke here) for the past two weeks.

Instead, my insatiable stationary fetish has TAKEN OVER MY LIFE:

Good Ruby: 'Ruby, we really should get some reading done...'
Stationary Whore Ruby: 'But how can we focus when there is an alarming shortage of coloured staples and x-bands?'
Good Ruby: 'Hmm, good point. And that drawer tidy really needs re-organising too'
Stationary whore Ruby: 'If we speed we can get to Officeworks before it closes...'
And in a flurry of un-colour coded and un-highlighted research papers, Ruby races to her car like a woman possessed.

Today it got ridiculous. This afternoon I bought a filofax and with all the little accessories that I had to buy (God forbid I went without the ziplock pouch and mini ruler), it came to a grand total of $160.

I am hereby banning myself from all stationary related retail outlets - wish me luck!

Die you thieving asshole

2005-08-04T19:13:00.000+10:00

I have a little anger I need to get out, so forgive me dear readers if I forget my manners.

The (life and) violent, grisly, blood-spattered, ghastly, repulsive and horrific DEATH of a St Kilda smack addict: a short film by Ruby (catchy title, eh?)

The scene opens in a brightly lit, somewhat suspicious looking mechanics (RACV approved however) in Frankston. Here lay the remains of spunky, girl-about-town Ruby's fully sick vehicle. The front and rear windscreens are smashed, and there are holes where the speaker and stereo once was. The body of the car has obviously suffered the wrath of an angry baseball bat.

Enter Ruby, and Dodgey Mechanic

Ruby: Is that my car? Nooo.....
Dodgey Mechanic: Yep, she's a write off. Looks like some heroin junkies stole it and trashed it up pretty bad.
Ruby: Fuck. (yelling now) FUUUUUUCCKKKK!!!!
DM: Calm down Ruby. You better clear any belongings left in the car before we take it to the big car yard in the sky.
R: (looking through car, being careful not to cut herself on the shattered windows) They've stolen my CDs, they've taken my fluffy dice, and no...nooo!....they've taken my Melways 465th edition!! How will I ever find my way home from this god forsaken town?!

Note to readers: this is where the reality section of the film ends, and Ruby's fantasy land section begins.

Suddenly, the boot pops open, and out jumps a SMACK ADDICT, freshly awake from his drug induced slumber, with a dirty, dirty needle hanging out his arm.

R: Were you the one who stole my car?
Smack addict: Yes, yes it was I.
R: But...but didn't you realise how much this car meant to me?
SA: Ahh no, I've never met you before.
R: But...but didn't you realise that I've just spent $2000 fixing it?
SA: Um, no, I was just looking to get my next hit.
R: But.. but don't you understand that my excess on this car is worth the same as it's market value, thus rendering me penny-less and car-less? And how the fuck, I am going to get to work now??
SA: Look, lady, I'm really sorry about your car but I gotta get going...
R: HOLD IT RIGHT THERE MISTER!

Suddenly, Ruby pulls out her well concealed M77 Mark II All-Weather Centrefire Bolt Action Rifle and blows the head off that cunting, good for nothing, worthless, sub human, St Kilda smack addict.

Le fin.

Moral of the story: never park your car on the street in St Kilda. Get off your lazy ass and get the zapper to your underground carpark fixed.

Which brings me to my next point....with a budget of $5000 or so, what kind of car do you think I should buy?

Ebay Madness Special Edition: Introducing Ruby, Toast Artiste

2005-08-03T10:29:00.000+10:00

This blog is in desperate need of some culture, and who else to bring that touch of class, than our friends at ebay.

Whilst searching for more weird shit to post, I stumbled across the 'toast art' category (yes, it has it's own category!). And I was inspired. I think I've found my calling. Here's what I'm up against:

Woohoomysteryman's 'Woohootoast'

And with a reserve of only $500 US, this one's gonna go quick smart!

BridgetAllison2's 'Pacman'

I find the smooth lines and minimalist approach intriguing.

Andesign101's 'Delta Goodream Toasted'

Mmmm she looks good enough to eat. Or feed to my dog.

So there you go. Now, I've bought all the supplies (toaster, bread) but I'm having some creative difficulties. Does anyone have any ideas for my first piece? I'll be sure to post the end result of the best suggestion.

On being stood up

2005-08-02T00:23:00.000+10:00

Last night I got a text from Blind Date Boy confirming we're still on this evening. So I'm assuming everything is Go.

This afternoon I spend an embarassing amount of time getting ready, so much so that I'm running 30 mins late. I send him a text to let him know this (once I'm on my way there), and get one back from him, which was something along the lines of 'shit, sorry, I've been called into work and we can't have phones on, so yeah can we make it Thurs or Fri?'

You. Are. Fucking. Kidding.

Fair enough if you get called into work, but LET ME KNOW. Especially when it's only half an hour til we meet up and you know I'm driving an hour to get there.

I went out with some friends instead. And they made it all better. Yay for lovely people.

Safety panties

2005-07-31T16:43:00.000+10:00

Definition: a pair of underpants so repulsive and granny-like, that the fear of revealing them to a potential mate, far outweighs the temptation of drunken first date sex.

Now I just have to choose the rest of my outfit.

Retards and hot dates, hopefully not at the same time

2005-07-30T02:30:00.000+10:00

Does anyone else feel that political correctness has gone too far?

The other day at work I got a talking to for calling someone a retard. How rude! How nasty and unprofessional I hear you say! Well no, not really, considering the person I was talking about was ACTUALLY RETARDED!!!!

But apparently, it's not nice to call them that.

My previous job was working as a therapist for disabled children, and at the risk of sounding nice (shudder!) I've done my fair share of volunteer work for the intellectually less fortunate. So who the fuck are they to say I'm a bitch??

Last time I checked, the word retarded meant to slow or impede, which is exactly what happens to a retarded person's mental development. I never knew calling something as it is was was so offensive.

And how the fuck is 'disabled' any better? To me that states that they are unable to do anything of importance to society. I hate PC gurus who've never seen the real world.

In other news, I have a HOTT date on Monday. OK, to be specific I have blind date on Monday. Fucking sad I know. However, I have seen photos, and he does look rather fuck-me-right-now-oh-yeah-ruby-right-there even if I do say so myself.

And no, I don't need reminding how sad it is to be needed to be set up. I'm only young for fucks sake, but for reasons unbeknownst to me, all my friends have paired off already, leaving little ol' Ruby on her lonesome. Bastards.

I shall let you know in due course how it goes. Cross your fingers for me kids!!

Edumacation

2005-07-27T01:19:00.000+10:00

Today, after over six months of playing grown up, I returned to uni.

Today I officially started my honours year, and quite frankly, I am scared shitless. Sitting in the 'getting to know you' meeting, it became painfully obvious that I am totally unprepared for this challenge.

You see, I've been working full time, pretending to be a real adult who makes money and buys gorgeous things and doesn't have to ask her mummy for $$ because she spent it all on $1 pots at the uni bar.

But now I'm a full time student again. The culture of it is fine, it's great fun really. However my head is just not in that academic space right now. But the 11 other honours students starting today certainly did not have that problem. Big words abounded, and one tosser insisted on calling everything by it's scientific name - 'so, last night I was socialising my Canis familiaris when it vocalised upon sighting of a particularly delightful form of Columba leucomela.' Oh for fucks sake, can't you just say 'my dog barked at a pigeon'? Wanker.

However, my inner therapist reckons that I'm just intimidated by all these intellectual types, who have for reasons unbeknown to me, kept reading all the latest scientific literature over our six month break. Meh, whatever. I fucking hate over-achievers.

Ebay madness

2005-07-25T19:49:00.000+10:00

I often find it jolly good fun, or at least satisfyingly disturbing , to type indecent words into ebay and see what those wacky kids in the US of A are selling this week. I know, I know, I am crrr-azy! Being the genuine lover and sharer that I am, I thought it amiss of me not to enlighten you, my dear reader(s), as to what gems I've found this week:

1. Whilst we're all partial to the odd rattlesnake hat-band or kangaroo scrotum coin purse, something tells me not many (sane) people will be bidding on this baby:

BULL Penis WALKING Stick CANE Taxidermy GREAT GIFT NR

"This is an actual bull penis cane, 37" long, 1.5" across the top of the handle grip for comfort. My father, who lived in the Ozarks, had a hobby of making these canes, getting his fresh "organs" from Branson, Missouri. The entire length of the cane is one bull penis which has a steel rod run thru the inside for strength. It is very sturdy, & surprisingly pretty!, as he used one... & he was a tall man weighing over 200 lbs. It has been polished with a polyurethane coating & will be a nice specimen for a long time."

All I can say is, I hope I have a 37 inch penis to lean on when I'm old enough to need a walking stick. Hahaha! Ha. H. Ugh. Lame I know.

2. If the Lleyton and Bec union doesn't work out, we'll all know why:

nutri grain weird shaped good luck charm

"weird shaped nutri grain (if you are thinking of getting married within the next 12 months this will give you very good luck)"

Well duh! Who doesn't know that weird shaped breakfast cereal promises years of marital bliss? Incidentally, the young lass who's selling this item also has a Leapster educational game for sale. Methinks she should hang on to that one a wee bit longer.

3. Paired with a throw rug and some scented candles, these could really pretty up the place:

2 Real Seal Taxidermy Sea Life

"Welcome to my ebay. This is 2 Real Seal Taxidermy Sea Life . It is very fine, very ancient, is a best that you collect, a lot of people give it high comment. Many antique collectors want to get it . so it is beyond its own value and valuable of collection ! Bid with confidence and do not miss it !"

Ugh, they look crunchy.

4. Whilst searching for the word 'vagina' (teehee), I discovered that not many people can spell the word 'monologues,' but I also unearthed this chestnut:

THE VAGINUT---------------VAGINA SHAPED PEANUT

"WOW @@ LOOK @@ THIS PEANUT WAS FOUND BY MY GIRLFRIEND IN A BAG OF PLANTER NUTS ITS ANATOMICALY CORRECT AS FAR AS I CAN TELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SORRY ABOUT THE PICK BUT IT REALLY HAS ALL THE BITS PLEASE GENUINE BIDDERS ONLY GOOD HOME REQUIRED!!!!!! (WATCH OUT NEXT TIME FOR MY JESUS SHAPED POTATO)"

I like this guy. At least he's got a sense of humour. What would make me laugh even more, is if some tosser actually buys it.

Which they undoubtedly will.