Getting older comes with a lot of crappy things. Medical cover. Mammograms. Matching linen with your teal trimmings. It also comes with some good stuff too. Clarity. The ability to stand up for yourself. And a genuine Zero Tolerance policy for bitchy dramatics. Without these things (and home Nescafe machines) adulthood would be…
Month: June 2013
I HAVE A DREAM. (And it comes true because I’m totally psychic)
When I was little I had a very strict morning routine. I would wake up in my wooden boat-bed filled with sunrise enthusiasm and quickly bound into my parents’ room. “Do you guys want to know what I dreamed last night?” Jumping straight in between the groggy pair, I would launch into the most interesting,…
Birds of a Feather
I have a tattoo on my arm. It is a feather. It is maroon and looks like henna. I got it on my brother, Cormac’s, 17th birthday. I have another tattoo on my back. It is Wilson’s name. I got that one because I wanted to keep him close. I decided on a feather this…
Little Mitch Update
Mitch called back again tonight. If you don’t know who Mitch is you are missing out on a little ray of sunshine. This is Mitch I wrote on a piece of paper “please angus if you get a second can you please do a shout-out for nine year old Mitch and tell Australia he loves…
The story of the stupid Bunk Bed
My bunk bed has been quite the topic on this little blog. I’ve brought it up a few times. Well at least twice. This bunk bed however has not been all sleep-overs, cookies and cubby houses. I’m not going to lie, that’s pretty much EXACTLY what I thought it would be. ‘Disappointed’ would be the…
The Soldiers
Firstly, let me apologize if you think this post is a bit heavy. It’s not. It’s reality. And secondly, let me take that apology right back. Suicide is a taboo topic as it is. It took me a very long time to answer people’s questions as to how I lost my little brother. “My little…
Nothing ever changes…
The cutest thing since Rudy Huxtable just happened. A little boy named Mitch called the radio show I work on. He told me what his name was and that he was 9 years old. He asked me if we could please play a song for a girl named Zoe. He was very shy. I told…
OThis is what I am dealing with
Meet my dad. He is ridiculous.
Love a good theory…
I love a good theory. That is why I called this post ‘Love a good theory’. (#perfecttitle) Over the weekend some friends and I came up with a coupla’ crackers… There’s the Sydney Messina Complex Theory… This basically consists of the eastern suburb obsession with “flavour of the month”. Of course we related this…
