I don’t want to be at work today. I’m not in the mood and I’m not motivated. Just thought I’d share this.
I went out on Friday night as I mentioned earlier and I also went out on Saturday night – free food and booze. Saturday night wasn’t a real late one and I even got a sleep in in the morning. That’s if you can call waking up at 6.30am as normal, then going back to sleep for an hour a sleep in.
I then had to pick up Jaycee Junior who was half an hour away and we stopped off at the beach on the way home to walk the dog and get wet. Once home we got ready for the next outing. I’d won tickets to the Tropicana festival on in the city. I went to my friend’s place in the city to pick her up (she was my date for the day). After we had a commiseration beer (her lovelife is leaving nothing to be desired) and a swig of vodka and walked to the festival location neither of us were feeling festivally. I also had a grizzly child on hand and I knew there would be trouble if he didn’t sleep.
We ended up offloading the tickets and my friend’s daughter and walked back to her house via a food stop with my son sleeping in his pram.
Last night after I’d packed him off to bed I put Goldmember on to watch and couldn’t really get into it. I don’t mind a fart joke but this was a bit over the top I thought. I do love the costumes though and wish I could have borrowed Mike Myer’s costume when he arrived in Club 69 dressed as the pimp. Well he looked like a pimp – fantastic.
Slept well last night and arrived late at work today but am only at work for two days this week. We have a public holiday mid week and I’m taking the Thursday off too. Yippee!
I’d organised babysitting last night to go out and see a band reunion of some old friends who haven’t played in this band for a long time and this was definitely their last gig. I must have spent a fortune in phone calls organising who and where to meet and plans kept falling through. It finally turned out that I met a friend at her housesitting place in the city, had a drink there, then drove her and two mates to a pub in the city where I dropped them off. I then proceeded to pick up a girlfriend and just as she got in the car we got a phone call.
‘It’s sold out, we’re all at the Grace Emily’. So we went there. It was nearly 11pm by this time and we should have arrived at our initial destination at 9.30pm to get into see the reunion gig. Luckily we saw them at their practise gig last Saturday night at a party.
We went to the Grace Emily where a bunch of other friends were, either with stamps to get into see this gig, or not. I didn’t want to hang around at the pub just chatting, I wanted to see a band thank you very much so my girlfriend and I walked back across town to where I’d originally dropped off my other mates and saw Spencer P Jones and his band. I’d seen them a few months ago and was a bit disappointed with them last night compared with the first time. It was probably partly to do with the disappointment of things not going according to plan. The last time this happened, I ended up meeting my sons father but nothing similar happened last night – or perhaps it did and I don’t know it yet.
We stayed for the band and then decided to walk down to where we’d orginally planned to go and as we arrived people were pouring out so Where’s the Pope? had obviously finished. As we walked up the stairs it was clear that many people had vacated the space as we could feel the sweat and heat. Well we’d made it in, too late though, but in time to see two of our mates dj’ing. By the time they finished it was 2.30am and definitely time to go home.
I’m going out tonight to a dinner I don’t have to pay for, and no, it’s not a date. Jaycee Junior is fast asleep due to his late night and early morning and I just finished reading a book that I sobbed for during the last part where a main character dies. Even though I knew she would die I still cried. Can’t remember sobbing that much for a book since Storm Boy.
I bought more clothes today. I vowed at the end of last week after a few splurges that I wouldn’t buy any more clothes for a while but I bought a pair of 3/4 length pants and yet another a-line skirt. I know in previous years I haven’t bought that many clothes because I hated the fabric or the cut.
This season I love the cotton a-line skirts. The last few summers the fashion seemed to be polyester or other man-made fabrics and the skirts were quite figure hugging and looked quite appalling on me. I’ve got one sitting in my wardrobe and it’s pretty hidden because I usually choose the comfortable cotton a-line skirt before this one.
Back to the a-line though. For a girl with a waist and a, I quote, ‘…arse with a mind of its own’ the a-line skirt is my friend. It hugs my waist which still isn’t too bad. I would like to diminish the little overhang that’s beginning above my belly-button, but apart from that my waist is not too bad. And the a-line skirts skims nicely over that arse with a life of its own. I figure I’ll buy up on the cotton a-line and next season when the straight cut skirt comes back (it’s gotta come back some time) I won’t need to bother cause I’ve already spent my wardrobe budget. Perhaps once the trend is over I can spend my clothes budget (what’s left of it) in op-shops buying someone elses last season’s clothing.
The other thing I like about the a-line is I can buy a size smaller than I would normally because my lower half consists of two dress sizes, only because I don’t fit the mould of a stick figure but have a waist and an arse.
On the other hand there are the low waist pants – the bane of my life. In some cases I can’t even pull em up to my low waist region. Because I have that arse with a mind of its own, and these pants are made for the stick figure, a size that should normally fit me and would if it was my friend, the a-line skirt, doesn’t cover my arse.
I’ve realised that these pants that I can’t pull up are mainly in the shops where an extra large is in actual fact a size 14. This does nothing for my self-esteem. Being mostly a size 14 makes me an average sized woman in Australia and probably most of the developed world and a lot of shops are telling me that I’m not average but extra large. To me, extra large is obese and I don’t consider myself obese, just curvy.
Why is it that ‘women’s fashion’ is made for a young and skinny girl who is an impossible size 8? What about the real and more mature woman (not necessarily more mature though) who is the average? I’ve said it in the past and I’ll say it again here, there has to be a market for decent, not too expensive clothing that flatters a woman with a bottom and a waist, and also women with the waist and no bottom. And I won’t even begin on women with large chests because that’s not me but I’m sure it’s hard for them to find well-fitting and trendy clothes.
Can I say to the younger woman, who is not the skinny size 8 that clothes manufacturers would have us be, who wear low-rise pants and not cover much tops that bit that hangs out in the middle is not very attractive at all. Another little anecdote while I’m on my fashion police bandwagon – I saw a woman one day hop into the lift who’d obvioiusly just had a baby, and she (the woman) was bearing her midriff and showing all of us her full-on stretch marks. There is no need for this.
…but having said that, I work most Mondays now. I used to work Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday but ever since I started the job I’m in now I picked up an extra day so I struggle into work on Monday mornings now.
I don’t feel too bad seeing as I didn’t get that much sleep on Saturday night. There was a party I went to late Saturday afternoon with about five bands plus dj’s afterwards. I left when the dj’s were still doing there thing but it was 2am by then and there was a bit of a drive home. I then woke up at 6am with a really sore belly and everything that goes with that (won’t go into the gory details but it involved a mad dash or two).
One of the bands that played Saturday night was an old favourite I haven’t seen for a few years now and this was a practise run before a ‘proper’ gig this Friday night. They’re a bunch of guys around 40 years old still thrashing it out and doing a pretty good job. Another band that played had a guy drumming who I haven’t seen for a long time so we had a good catchup. I think he likes me a lot and kept saying if I needed any help to contact him. He’s a carpenter so I should take him up on it, but for what return he expects I don’t know.
It was supposed to be a kid friendly party but when I heard that there were going to be five bands I thought if I take Jaycee Junior I won’t be able to enjoy the music as his ears can’t stand it so I managed to organise babysitting and just that fact alone made me happy.
It was one of those parties where I talked to a lot of different people, some I don’t necessarily talk to all that often and I wish I could remember more of these conversations but the music meant I couldn’t actually hear a lot of what was being said in my ear. I’m a bit of a shocker for just nodding instead of saying ‘what?’. The drummer was going on a bit and we did have an interesting talk at the beginning about a mutual ex-friend so I’m glad about that as it’s cleared a few things up for me.
Looking back on the night I realised the people I was having one-on-ones with were pretty much all men and I still didn’t have a pash. Working against me though was the fact they’re mostly all taken and I don’t go with married men I know about.
Christmas is definitely over. The tree has come down and the hotter weather has arrived. Anyone who reads this who lives in the northern hemisphere and is freezing, hopefully this will make you feel a bit jealous and a bit warmer with this picture of me on the beach last weekend. It was a bit too cold for me to go in the water as it was windy, but warm enough to hang around wearing bathers.
Here’s my old banner for posterity.
I was sitting at my computer a couple of weeks ago while I was at home on the internet. Television mustn’t have been very exciting that night which doesn’t surprise me as it’s crap this time of year so I was spending time in front of my other screen. Anyhow, I decided to do a search on Google for my son’s father’s name.
Let me explain, my son’s father lives in London and I haven’t seen him since I was about four weeks pregnant and haven’t heard from him in about a year so I thought I’d see if Google turned up anything.
Well much to my surprise it did. I won’t say which person it is. When we last spoke he did mention he’d gotten into music and might be going to Greece to do a gig and as I haven’t heard from him since I don’t know if this happened. I do, however, have visions of him rocking up on my doorstep and that thought mostly horrifies me.
I do send photos of our son to his mother occasionally with my address and phone number so he can ring. I haven’t received a call from him or ever received a letter from him since I sent the last lot of photos in about April last year. Unfortunately I have no way of knowing if he ever received them.
The only reason I even bother to keep in touch with him is for his son as I can live without contact.