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just spent the weekend at the army barracks
Is Chewing On

Gore Vidal

Listening to:

Everything in Transit
Jack's Mannequin
Lick Those Stripes!
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The Herd
Carresser of Annabelle
Crazy Lone Ranger
Island Sinker
Labert Leopard
Lego Man
Shakin' That Ass
Sloth Min
Uber Bitch Jase
Van Ren


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Songs of the Plains
Family Court

One would be in less danger
From the wiles of a stranger
If one's own kin and kith
Were more fun to be with.

Ogden Nash
Sunday. 2.26.06 4:42 pm
So it's been a week since my last post. It would've been a longer hiatus, if it weren't for Jay and Katy (*salutes them*), and the fact that classes start tomorrow and so everyone's been given a day off to sober up.

And since I cannot pinpoint anything specific (the brain's still a bit sluggish...might be withdrawal symptoms), I'm just gonna give you random tidbits. Unless you'd rather I give you a minute-by-minute account of making my own bed for the first time (and that's a whole lot of minutes, my friend).


I'm going to start a toilet rating system soon. Over the past couple of weeks, I've gotten to know some pretty well...too well, as certain people have pointed out after having to forcibly separate us. Points will be awarded for proximity, ease of access, comfort (e.g. bathmats = gentler on the knees), hygiene, availability of tissue/toilet paper, and traffic.


Spiders are not your friends here. And you should always check the walls and toilet before you drop your pants.


I wake up with a fresh bruise every morning. And I don't know how I get them.


The washing machines and dryers should be clearly marked as such. Really, you can't blame first-timers for loading washing powder into the dryer.


One annoying thing about being a small female in a land of rugby lads is that I tend to get treated like a stuffed toy. I've lost count of the number of times I've been picked up (literally), and tossed over a shoulder or carried around like a kid. And it's not like I can run away, since they have the advantage of longer legs. Granted, it's nice to be carried to my room when I'm too pissed lazy to walk. But dammit, drunk guys are not the best at judging spatial distance! Those walls/doorframes/pillars/tree branches hurt!!


The on-campus accommodation's got a good location. Just a four-minute walk from the supermarket and pub. Which means that at the pub's closing time (midnight, can you believe it?! Aussie slackers...), there're always a number of shopping trolleys lying around, waiting to cart intoxicated people home. The important thing to remember is not to let an equally intoxicated person do the carting. It's a good thing there was grass at the bottom of the slope when Paddy decided to push me home one day.


Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea of where these bruises came from.

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I'm Seeing Double
Saturday. 2.18.06 10:22 pm
I have not spent any of the last six nights sober.

Australia may be a bad influence.

I shall update (and reply) when my hand-eye-keyboard coordination has returned to normal again. If ever.

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Woe is Me
Tuesday. 2.14.06 12:05 am
I have just been invited to a party.

With promises of free booze, good music, and studmuffins galore.

But mature, responsible person that I am, I declined as I have a 9.30am lecture tomorrow. And I could never forgive myself if I fell asleep in cla...

No, I cannot lie to you.

The truth is, I have nothing to wear. Nothing clean, that is. I haven't done any laundry since I arrived because quite simply, I've absolutely no idea how to use a washing machine. It's very sobering to learn that clothes do not magically appear fresh, clean, and ironed in the wardrobe after spending a night in the clothes hamper.

This is clearly becoming an issue. Evidently, I need to stop procrastinating and do something now.

*Advertises for a Washing Lady to move in*

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It's WAR
Friday. 2.10.06 1:47 pm
I’m in luck.

For the past week, Housemate P and I had been silently warring. It was a battle of wills, fierce and intense. But I prevailed, because the loser had to take out the trash.

When I first moved in on Monday, the garbage bin in the kitchen was already full. An empty Absolut bottle sat a good four inches above the brim, proclaiming itself as King of the heap. Obviously, HP would empty the bin soon, because nothing in it belonged to me.

I was wrong. A carton of chopped spinach and a Coke bottle soon joined the Absolut. Then an egg carton, a milk bottle and a greasy paper bag that used to contain pie. By Wednesday, we had to whisper in the kitchen, because anything louder would cause an avalanche of trash.

“The bin,” I whispered to HP when we bumped into each other by the fridge. “It’s rather full, isn’t it?”


“What do you think we should do about it?”

“Well,” he tossed at me challengingly. “I reckon someone should take it outside.”

“Hmm. Someone should.”

That night, the kitchen stank of the remains of someone’s vindaloo dinner. He was obviously trying to pong me into submission. Well, two could play at that game. I popped open an expired can of tuna that had been left in the cupboard and dumped it (carefully) onto the pile.

By Thursday, no one could cook in the kitchen. Or rather, HP couldn’t cook, while I couldn’t heat up a frozen pie in the oven. I was beginning to regret the tuna. But there was no way I would lose. Because the one who backed down would obviously be forced to assume the role of Janitor for the rest of the year. And if he thought that I was gonna be cleaning up after him, he was sadly, fucking mistaken.

This morning, I was awoken by someone dragging and thumping suitcases into the previously empty room next to mine. A new housemate. Curses.

About an hour later, I walked into the kitchen to find HP staring in astonishment at an empty garbage bin. He looked up as I approached, “Did you…?”


We grinned at each other. We had found our Janitor.

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Nights Without Pukeyface
Friday. 2.10.06 10:33 am
I had a bit of trouble getting to sleep last night. It was so quiet, too quiet. And I got lonely in that tiny, empty bed of mine.

I missed Pukeyface snoring me to sleep.

I missed cuddling up to a warm, furry body and a cold nose.

I missed sleepy wet licks on my ear.

I missed the weight of a dachshund's head on my stomach.

I missed having to wrestle the covers out from under a selfish dog.

I missed the sudden kick in my side as she chased the shadows of dreamscape birds.

I missed the way she'd always snuggle up to me even though she had so much space on her half of the bed to stretch out in.

But then I remembered how she used to fart those silent killers in bed, while still asleep, the cheeky brat. And I felt better immediately.

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Westralian Mishaps
Wednesday. 2.8.06 1:10 pm
I was told that I would be bored to tears in Perth. The Melburnians said so and the Sydneysiders said so. And when even the Adelaidians looked at me with pity in their eyes, I resigned myself to a year of Sudoku and Futurama videos.

But I seem to have been worried over nothing. If the past couple of days were anything to go by, Perth promises to be quite an eventful village city. In this short period of time, I’ve already managed to:
  • Lock myself out of the house
    The front door is equipped with one of those secure locks – the sort that can only be opened by a coded metal tag – to keep out the plebs. Unfortunately, there’s also a trick to opening it, and I was somewhat distracted (i.e. too caught up admiring my reflection in the glass) when the lock mechanism was explained to me. It took a good half hour of running around with a threateningly full bladder before I finally found someone to let me into the house (and the loo).

  • Trap myself in the computer lab
    I was exploring the campus and thought I’d try out one of the computers. The thing is, I needed to swipe a student card to get in and I didn’t have one yet. Nothing to worry about as I simply slipped in after someone else. But what I didn’t know was that I needed to swipe out as well. When I finally got up to leave, the only other person in the lab had already disappeared (inconsiderate little shit). I had to hammer on the glass window till some guy noticed me from the outside. I just hope he’s not a Psych student too.

  • Set fire to my first self-cooked dinner
    How was I to know that fried steak’s so flammable? Lucky it happened in Wombat’s kitchen and not mine, since there’s a $300 fine for setting off the smoke alarm in my house. Note to self: blowing on a flaming pan only makes it worse.

  • Be groped by some perv on a bicycle
    In hindsight, “Dammit, he's ugly” should probably not have been my initial reaction.

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Babel Fish
Saturday. 2.4.06 1:44 pm
I took my dog out for a walk. We went down to the lake and chased a few birds, with me barely hanging on to the end of the leash as she dragged me skidding through the mud. A very dirty walk, but a nice walk all the same.

On the way home, we met a Security Guard out on his rounds. He was an Indian, uncle-ish looking sort of guy. Very friendly too, as he stopped when he saw us and flashed me a smile (but not Pukeyface because really, who would smile at a mud-splattered Fat Lump?).

"Hullo!" I called out, waving a muddy hand.

"Hullo!" he called back, waving a stick.

The exchange over, we stood there in awkward silence for a bit, racking our brains for the next thing to say. He turned out to be the better conversationalist.

"Gong Hei Fatt Choy!"

Well, that was sweet of him, wishing me a Happy Chinese New Year in my mother tongue. So I thanked him in the same. And that must have triggered something, because suddenly, he rattled off a longer stream of Cantonese.

I was lost - I couldn't understand a word of it. And sad to say, it was because his Cantonese was so much more advanced than mine. So I did the only stupid logical thing to do.

I nodded encouragingly.

And so it went on for a good ten minutes. He said something totally incomprehensible, I did my best to look like I understood and made sounds of agreement. Back and forth, back and forth. He was starting to make me feel small and this annoyed me.

"Feh!" I mentally snarled. "You're not the only multilingual one here!"

Then I suddenly noticed a lull in the (one-sided) conversation. I dragged my attention back to the Security Guard who was looking at me patiently. He was obviously awaiting some sort of reply.

Hah! This was my chance to impress him with my knowledge of Hindi! I quickly ran through my repertoire of Hindi phrases.

"Aloo Gobi!" I blurted out. And fled.

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Warm Me Up
Thursday. 2.2.06 11:23 pm
"Darling!" My father called out as he stepped through the front door. "I got you a going-away gift!"

I ran to fling myself into his arms. He bought it! After weeks of wheedling and Daddy-pleeeeeeeeease!ing, he finally bought my Stella McCartney Running Trail Fleece with handwarmers!

"Err, no. Not the jacket. It's something a bit more practical."


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