Probably Not a Thing

I’m back. Who knows for how long? (Spoiler: probably not long as I get lazy easily.)

The Bachelorette isn’t that Ali chick so I’m back on board.

I missed the first episode so I’m coming into this a little late and because of that, I thought I’d have more questions. I don’t. I have just one. Why did casting focus so heavily on men with unisex names or names with letters missing or added.

I’m not saying it’s a bad sign for the calibre or men this year; but I definitely could say that.

Angie goes on a camping date with a married dude and I for one, am disgusted. I am so sick of camping being glamourized in the media. Camping isn’t fun; it’s the ‘after’ scene of an apocalyptic movie. Gross.

Highlights of this date include Angie saying she’s a ‘lady’ and that’s why she won’t share a room with him on the first date. As she finished the sentence I quickly started clearing my schedule in the morning to ensure I’ve got time to read all the Op Eds on women’s media sites about her slut shaming girls who do want to do the dirty on the first date.

The group date is a photoshoot and the producers have seriously upped the ridiculousness this year. Into it.

Wazza (who’s name I only know because it’s tattooed on his back in my favourite ‘such is life’-style font) throws one of the great tantrums and the response from the other men highlights why the Bachelorette is a superior entertainment product to The Bachelor. Instead of consoling him they mock him mercilessly about not being able to hack having balls on his chin. Classic chicken suit gag.

The fuckwit politician from Noosa (story checks out) continues to be a fuckwit on this date.

Wazza leaves. Has Angie missed out on the best bloke? Hard to say. But also, not that hard to say. No; no she hasn’t. Next.

The fuckwit politician admits to being a sexual predator and all around piece of shit and yeah, story checks out.

Noosa’s finest local government representative gets told to leave which is a true testament to Angie being a boss bitch who won’t be forced by producers to keep a fuckwit around just for entertainment purposes. Good for her, bad for me. Thank God we’ve still got Jamie in there to carry the torch.

The first single date is here and in an early plot twist it turns out Cass is achingly keen to be picked.

Single Date 1: 

Nick’s evidently still feeling a little nervous about the whole thing so he’s invited Shannon for the first one. She’s perfect on account of her condition. She suffers from the little-known RSF (Resting Stoked Face) and will ensure Nick’s tires are sufficiently pumped without him having to do or say anything remotely amusing or impressive.

WAIT. STOP. Just a quick reminder to everyone that Nick is a professional rugby player. We know that because he’s holding a rugby ball and doesn’t drop it.

Ok so, Nick and Shan are going on a helicopter ride and wherever they’re going is irrelevant because all I care about is the shady mansion fly- by to make sure the rejected losers who weren’t picked know just how undesirable they really are.

For some stupid reason the chopper isn’t landing and instead they’re being forced to participate in some kind of reverse surf lifesaving activity where they’re dropped into the water? I’m personally annoyed they didn’t include the shots of them playing Flags with driftwood. Missed opportunity there Channel Ten.

We’re treated to our first ‘Couch in the Wild’ of the season and it’s the tasteful kind you’d find in the outdoor area of every cashed up bogan on the Gold Coast’s house – nothing inspires like the memories of blacking out on poisonous cocktails on Kuta Beach!

They go swimming and then 25 year old Shannon reassures Nick that she’s absolutely, 100%, unquestionably ready to settle down. And honestly babe, I get that. You’ve thrown yourself into the demanding Car Care Consultant career full throttle for years now and it’s time to make space for something else in your life.

Post date, Shannon is faced with a truly horrific scene. Twenty desperate chicks sitting in a room blatantly talking shit about you as you walk in. Absolutely not. I would have legged it out of there so fast.

Group Date:

The first group date of the season is a series of super tasteful photoshoots that the producers definitely didn’t plan to ensure the girls look proper stupid the whole time.

80’s Rock Band:

Cass and her Just Cuts bespoke hair extensions are in their element in this shoot. There were other girls in the shoot too but I can’t remember who they were.

Rural Firefighter Service (or something?):

Ah, a tale as old as time. Brooke, the sexy yet simple farmers daughter from the run-down property next door versus Vanessa Sunshine, the sad and butchy best chick friend who just wants Nick to see her for more than the diligent and oddly strong fire fighter she is.

School-Themed Porno Shoot Thinly Veiled as a nod to Nick’s Passion for Education:

Little known fact about Cat, but 15-year-old Cat was actually the person that Tina Fey based the entire Mean Girls script on. This whole thing gave me PTSD from the one horrific term I did at an all-girls school in Grade 10.

Yoga:

Sophie couldn’t concentrate on her Downward Dog form because she was trying not to Upward Vomit. The whole thing was very uncomfortable.

Single Date 2:

Nick takes Romy for a Sunday feed at a pizza joint his uncle owns. I thought that the producers planned and paid for all the dates on the show, but in this instance I am willing to admit I’ve been proved wrong.

Bloke makes half-hearted attempt to take a girl on a date with as little pre-planning or effort as possible, whilst spending as little money as possible and ideally participating in an activity that will help cure the hangover he definitely has – that shit is the most believable scenario ever.

Romy instigates a classic pizza making fight and Nick is into it.

Romy instigates a big dirty pash and Nick is not into it.

Mixed results for Romy today.

Cocktail Party:

Romy was excited to tell the girls all about how she and Nick definitely boned on the couch in the cellar of Nick’s uncle’s pizza joint. It was awesome, the best she and Nick have had and anyone who says it didn’t happen is just jealous.

Rose Ceremony:

There are 4 girls left and only 2 roses. The final 4 girls are Sophie and Cayla and two random people who have literally never been seen in a single shot in the past two episodes.

Sophie and Cayla stay and the two random chicks that no one knows or cares about leave.

Episode 2 ends and wraps up a very strong debut week from The Badgelor.

What are you doing to get through until next Wednesday? Me? I plan to find every fake Instragram account Cat uses to like her own pictures and bully girls anonymously.

We’re freaking back baby!

I know everyone is excited for the return of the Bachelor but let me tell you there has never been a more perfect mix of things I enjoy than trashy reality TV and professional athletes – I could not be more excited.

Firstly nothing has ever hit me to my core more sharply than his Dad ‘s advice – “There’s nothing you can’t get through if you hit it with pace.” Woah. Wise.

Straight down to Business. The ladies.

Shannon: The bogan painter with a slammin’ body and a penchant for multiple adjectives in every sentence. Quick question Shan – you unemployed or what? Casual painter who skates during the day…mostly on Thursday down to the local Centrelink office?

*Edit: Shan is on that Car Care Consultant corporate high flyer track.

Brooke: As a girl who genuinely loves sport a fair bit more than the average girl I wanted to like Brooke. I didn’t. Guarantee her ‘love’ for sport extends to a few super cute Roosters jerseys and a collection of dick pics from West Coast players. Boo.

Brittany (call me Britt): “I’m from a town called Port Macquarie. Have you heard of it?” Sorry, what? Spend three years travelling the world and forgot what a small town is Britt? Pull your head in.

Kayla: Pumped she got to re-wear her electric blue sateen toga from the O week party she attended with her friend at Griffith Uni back in 2009. As an Energy Healer recycling is a top priority. I want to talk shit about the giant rose quartz but honestly, I’m too distracted by her subtle ‘day of the dead’ inspired bronzer application to think about anything else.

Cat: To be clear, relocating to Bali to run your ‘fashion business’ from a co-working space with good wifi and non-existent labour laws doesn’t mean you’re “from Bali” darl. You’re clearly from the nice part of Brisbane. Aside from that, I like her vibe – seems like she’ll be cutting and funny. I’m in. #jewelleryplug

Something about plates

Something about birthday cake

Something about glitter

Sophie: Brand ambassador for BCF

Cass: Yes. This is the drama I came here for.

Producer: Has anything romantic ever happened between the two of you?

Cass: “um…*”

*I mean if giving him a BJ in a damp porta potty at the Manly Marlins Ladies Day is romantic than yeah, I guess you could say something romantic has happened between the two of us.

Also, Nick’s explanation of “The timing wasn’t right. She was doing her thing and I was doing mine” is the MOST hilarious guy talk bullshit ever. So vague, so stupid. Loved it.

Da(r)sha: I worked with this chick as an influencer for an Adelaide event a few years ago. Had I known. she did circus tricks I would have paid her more. Missed opportunity there Dash.

Vanessa Sunshine: Love a girl who says in dating you “gotta leave them wanting more” when rocking the always classy sheer material, plunging neckline and alarmingly high vagina split dress combo. She’s not here to make friends but she’s already lost because I am ALL IN on Vanessa Sunshine.

Everyone is here. Let the cocktail party shit show commence.

Osher walks in and to be honest I’m pissed that no one is more drunk yet.

Good news though because Osher is here to spice things up with the introduction of a tacky, heart shaped box containing a key, that for one lucky lady, unlocks two very exciting doors. Firstly, to a room where she can chuck it up on national television and then to a treasure trove of anxiety and self-loathing.

Cat hates Sophie because they’ve slept with the same bloke. Cat is fundamentally confused about what show she is on.

Turns out Kayla actually IS an Energy Healer. And jeeeez is she working overtime to heal the boring as shit energy at that cocktail party with her weirdo drunken behaviour. Give her a rose.

Nick calls Brooke a “little rhinoceros beetle” and I don’t think he knows how to compliment a woman. But it’s fine because Brooke doesn’t know what a joke is so they’re equally off the mark tonight.

Cass and her rank hair extensions finally get their moment alone with Nick. And coincidentally Nick finally gets a moment to start making a mental list of all the ways he would happily kill himself.

Blair: First thought is what profound and meaningful saying does the tattoo on her rib say and why hasn’t he asked her what she’s been up to since Scandal’us broke up in 2002? #RachelfromFriendshairgoals.

Brooke is the lucky recipient of the Bachelor Pad key I have three main take-aways:

1. Cass is totally fine
2. Honestly, Cass could not be less phased
3. Cass’ hair extensions might be frazzled but she certainly is not

Finally it’s the Rose Ceremony and I’m exhausted and don’t really recall what happened except that a few girls we’ve never even seen before get sent home and Vanessa Sunshine is SHOOK to be left to the last two. Love that play from Nick; 2 hours ago Vanessa Sunshine was all “leave them wanting more” and one almost rejection later and we can all look forward to watching her follow him around like a puppy for the next few episodes. It’s a comfort to know other girls are equally predictable.

The. End.

Final Thought: can we all just give a huge round of applause for the flawlessly narrated play by play from Alisha the entire episode. 100% here for the drama and nothing else. Love it.

I was talking to a friend this week about the guy she has recently started seeing and I realised we both only referred to him as ‘FIFO Guy’ for the entire conversation. To be honest with you, I don’t even think she told me his real name.

If you think that’s weird; you’re wrong.

Everyone knows real names are reserved for guys you know for sure you want to date/it could be something more serious than the current shit show that the start of seeing someone always is.

You can’t go telling your close friends all the dumb shit that the guy you’re seeing is saying or doing with his real name attached to it. What if he stops being an idiot and you start seeing him for real? Or he remains an idiot but you decide you can’t do any better and you’ve been single for too long so you’ll just make it official anyway? That’s asking too much of your friends to expect them to forget that shit and act normal around them.

But, if they associate old mate’s weird bedroom antics or the fact he can’t spell with a dude called ‘Big Dick Rick’ and then you introduce him down the track as ‘Angus’ that’s way easier for everyone. We can all pretend they don’t know anything about Angus’ absurd dirty talk that is equal parts hilarious and terrifying and zero parts sexy; or his inability to understand the different uses of ‘there’, ‘their’ and ‘they’re’.

That’s just basic psychology. (I’m guessing.)

So, to amuse myself this week I wrote down all the names (I could remember) that myself and my friends’ have used to describe dudes we’ve seen in the past.

They are straight up ridiculous.

Doctor Dan

Ugly Fireman

Trained Killer

The Hippy

The Potato

The Neighbour

The Irishman

The Stoner Doctor

The Farmer

The Cowboy

Superstar

Hollywood

The Pretty Idiot

Dumb AJ (army jerk)

Hot AJ

Private School Pat

Mentally Unhinged Harry

The Sheik

I know this isn’t a phenomenon that is reserved for women only but based on the guy friends I’ve spoken to our names are way more creative and amusing. ‘Bit Tits from The Normandy’ – descriptive yes, but you can do better boys.

In another new series for the blog, I’m excited to bring you ‘Just The Absolute Worst’. This is where I will basically just name things that are the absolute fucking worst.

For this first installment I bring you: Lift Talkers.

Since moving back in with my parents I’m back living in an apartment building that requires me to use a lift (keep your comments about using the stairs to yourself because I’m on the 19^th floor so that’s just a completely ludicrous suggestion.)

Nothing fills me with fear and anxiety faster than waiting for the lift to arrive, wondering what the hell I’m going to do if there is someone in it who might say hello to me. Or worse, ask me how I’m going and expect me to reciprocate.

I don’t care how you your day has been or is looking, where you’re off to or where you’ve been. And it’s weird if you care about those things for me. We’re not friends, why are you so obsessed with me?

Lift Talkers; they’re just the absolute fucking worst.

Oh and to the deadest psychopath on level 20 who has twice now spoken to me when I’ve got my headphones in, which everyone knows is the international symbol for ‘definitely don’t fucking talk to me’, you are the absolutely fucking worst of the worst.

Please note: Lift Talkers of course extends to workplace lifts as well. How about you don’t comment on your desperate need for coffee in order to get the day started like some clichéd Instagram post and we just stand in silence until we reach our respective offices instead? Work is shit enough without having to start it with a fake greeting from a fucking stranger from the gaming company two floors up.

So yeah, don’t be a Lift Talker.  They’re the absolute fucking worst.

I’ve been home for a month now and you know the first thing I say when anyone asks me “how’s it going?” I say, “It’s hot” (usually with an expletive or two included).

I know we’ve all heard about Seasonal Affective Disorder but it’s always spoken about in relation to cold places. Well you know what? When it’s hot as balls on a daily basis I’m not a doctor but I’m pretty confident it’s affecting my mood too and I don’t think Heat-Induced SAD is getting enough attention.

To be fair, it’s not really making me depressed, its just making me wild with anger. I wake up angry, I spend my day angry and I go to bed angry (my parents are so lucky.)

I went to dinner last night and we walked outside at 9:30pm and it was 30 degrees and 85% humidity. That’s not an exaggeration, that’s just life here in the FNQ. Yes, it’s as fucked as it sounds.

It’s so hot here that if I want to have the occasional afternoon nap I basically have to lie on the floor (hot air rises, duh) because even with the air-con on full-time the sun is so fucked up that it’s still hot inside.

I honestly don’t know how people live their whole life here? Oh that’s right, they do; they’re just perpetually aggravated.

I’m sure my Dad was a really happy guy for the first 30 years of his life before he moved here. Now everything makes him angry. I thought it was just general ‘grumpy’ old man stuff but now I’m not so sure.

He’s been walking out of his air-conditioned house, his office, the restaurant he has his boozy Friday lunch at and the Golf Club Pro Shop/Bar (they’re literally the only places my Dad goes) everyday and it’s made him the most irritable 60 year old on the planet.

You know what though, I’d probably be furious that my daughter used the car for approximately 5kms and didn’t fill the tank all the way back up even though everyone knows that’s the way I like it and she has no respect or appreciation for other peoples property, if I had been living in this fucking hellhole for the past three decades.

So yeah, I’ve got a bit of a bone to pick with the people in cold places who are always complaining about it. Oh you’re having a ‘brutal’ winter? It’s dark there? It’s making you sad?

Throw on a jacket, get a floor lamp and shut the fuck up.

In the interest of a balanced take (basically a journalist), I spoke to a friend of mine who is living in London about this and this was her response: “ You’d think throwing on a jacket would suffice but then you wake up on your 12^th day without having seen sunlight and you start thinking about the best corner on your walk to work to throw yourself in front of one of those red double-decker buses you used to think were so cool.”

This just furthers my point….Better a suicide than a mass murder. Which is where I’m currently at in my level of fury over life in general.

Hey Townsville, it’s April…get your fucking act together.

It turns out there is a cyclone headed for my town in the next couple of days and in a nod to my inability to be a fully-formed adult at 27, I had zero idea how severe it is predicted to be or when it would be happening until my Mum called me about it this morning.

She wanted to know what I was doing about the ‘cyclone prep’ while she and Dad were interstate.

LOL

Firstly Mum; if this cyclone is as bad as you’re saying it’s going to be surely you’d be coming home to manage the situation/look after me/the house/the pets etc.? Oh you’re not? You’re staying in Sydney with your favourite child and your grandchild? SHOCKER.

Secondly, what is this ‘prep’ you speak of? I’ve not been through a cyclone as an adult and you better believe I took absolutely no notice of anything that you did in these events as a child. As long as there was food in the esky and batteries in my discman/mp3 player I was sweet.

Alas though, it looks like this one is on me.

Luckily for me my parents (selfishly) moved from our sick family home to an apartment recently so the level of danger on the 19^th floor is considerably less – silver lining of no longer being able to go home to my real home or ever have an opportunity to teach my own children to swim or play tennis or in anyway share my own childhood memories and traditions with them, though right?

But anyway, as I said, this one is on me.

Having been living blissfully cyclone free for 8 years now though I’ve been trying to remember what they’re like and these are the main takeaways I’ve got:

1. Candles make everything cooler and fire is fun
2. Monopoly with your family will still absolutely end in someone getting grounded and someone crying even in the dark
3. Having to exist in Townsville with no air-conditioning is hell on Earth
4. Canned food is for poor people and I want no part of it (this still stands)
5. Weirdos who enjoy camping are actually good people to befriend in events like these because they have access to things like generators and camp ovens  (see point above)
6. Flash flooding closing schools is North Queensland’s version of a snow day and they were awesome (as long as your actual house didn’t flood, that’s obviously not ideal)
7. Alcohol is necessary and should take priority in the esky – get a second if you need (Relax guys, I learnt this by watching my parents, I wasn’t drinking as a child)

Fun memories for sure; but not the most helpful right now.

I’m not a complete idiot though so I’ll 0bviously move the furniture off the balcony.  But I’ve still got questions about  the ‘prep’ and the event itself.

1. How many days do I have to be without power for Centrelink to sling me a couple grand?
2. How does Centrelink check this kind of thing or is it an‘honesty system’?
3. Does Sarah Wilson allow you to break from the 8 week I Quit Sugar program if canned food is your only option?
4. How many cans of tuna can you eat before you’ll die of mercury poisoning?
5. Will an inter-state university give you an extension on assignments if you are without power (regardless of the fact you’ve not started them in time anyway)?
6. Do people really fill their bathtubs with water to flush the toilet? If that’s true, I am out on humanity because that shit is disgusting. Hold it in and then go to a McDonalds as soon as they open. Come on guys, have a little class

 

I would say wish me luck, but I’m feeling pretty well prepared and overall fairly confident about how I’ll handle this when it hits so probably no need.

 

In a move that isn’t surprising at all, Grant Hackett’s parents have nominated him to carry the Baton in the upcoming Commonwealth Games Baton Relay. Well, sure!

I am all about this.

Good for you Grant, get back out there in the community and get involved. This is the kind of thing that Channel Nine would be all-over.  You’d be back on the Wide World of Sports couch in no time. I don’t think I’m alone in saying I miss seeing that dreamy head of hair and hearing your well thought out comments on Netball and Javelin every Sunday either.

Now, I know there will of course be naysayers. But Hacks, don’t let the haters get you down. Remember this is a role/honour you’ve downright earned.

For example, getting a police escort/tail is something you’ve got way more experience with than amateurs like Anna Meares (who got to go to London for this same role!) Additionally, the baton this year looks a lot like a Yard Glass and with a couple of modifications (which the organising committee would I reckon be keen to accommodate) you’d be able to fit a couple of Milton Mangoes in there for the trip. While you’re asking for modifications I think a quick drill into the side would also be a great option for storing a couple of No-Doz in case you get weary on your walk. Just a suggestion though, up to you.

So yeah, I’m Team Hacks on this one. Good luck mate, I hope the committee sees sense and locks you in quick!

While I’m thinking about brand alignments with athletes, there are couple of extra no-brainers that have just sprung to mind.

CrimSafe and Quade Cooper. That bloke knows a thing or two about safe home security.

RSPCA and Mitchell Pearce. Why the RSPCA hasn’t scrapped Lowndsey for Mitchell as the ambassador for the RSPCA Ruff Riders charity rides is genuinely nuts to me.

 

Welcome to a new series – ‘Flog of the Week’.

This week I’m kicking it off with not a single person but an entire group of people. I know that can seem unfair, but in this instance it’s genuinely every one of them.

Mature Age Students.

Full disclosure I am technically a mature age student myself but I am attacking my postgraduate degree the same way I attacked my unfinished undergraduate degree…with little to no effort and an unfounded feeling of superiority. So, for the purposes of this blog (and my own self-worth) I am not one of those mature age students.

Anyone who has studied at university knows that Mature Age Students are the absolute worst. In every class they’re always sitting at the front, looking engaged and interested like some kind of asshole.

We get it. You’re here because you want to be rather than because your parents and peers pressured you into it but can you be less annoying about it?

How about when the lecturer asks if there are any questions at the end of the class you take the lead of the other 95% of the class and close you laptop, pack your shit and head to the exits. In actual fact no one else wants to hear your ‘alternative theory on the syllabus’ or your ‘interesting note on this weeks reading’. Seriously, shut up.

I’m sure you’ll find it’s a relief to know though that mature age students are as annoying if not more annoying than off-campus/online students. I’m doing my degree via correspondence and the amount of unnecessary and infuriating posts on the OPTIONAL discussion boards is absolutely ludicrous.

Hey ‘Steve from Moonee Ponds’ I could not give two fucks if you “found the reading enlightening and the OPTIONAL homework really helpful and between you and me, fun!”

Hey Steve, your jokes are shit, there is no way I’m doing the OPTIONAL homework oh, and I hate everything about you.

Oh and ‘Eliza from Stafford’ no-one is impressed by your Week One photos and your “interest in the difference in images when you change the apperture and shutter speed’.

Yo Eliza, any danger of you fucking off?

In conclusion Mature Age Students are all flogs. They’re this week’s Flog of the Week.

I turned 27 this week.

I’m sure you’d agree that birthdays are, as a general rule, a good time for reflection. This year though…not stoked.

This year I woke up on my birthday back in my parents house in North Queensland, a full- time student, no longer gainfully employed and very single.

To ensure you’ve got the full scope of just how far backwards I’ve stepped here – one month ago I was living in a sweet house in inner city Sydney (with a rad housemate…shout out Maxxy!) and worked in a pretty awesome job in sport that I actually liked with people I was genuinely happy to spend time with everyday.

So yeah. 27 is off to a fucking flyer.

The upshot – bucket loads of content about my undoubtedly miserable but hopefully amusing life living back with my parents in the smallish town I grew up in.

Full disclosure – in case you read that previous sentence and thought I was the kind of girl who looked for the silver lining in situations. I’m not. I actively avoid finding the silver lining in situations. Positivity…gross.

So check back in if you’re ever feeling like your life isn’t quite where you’d like it to be… You’re welcome in advance.

27 with your life together…that’s probably not a thing. Right?