Well, today was an eventful day. Had a wonderful morning, breakfasting at stately Yarraville and then frolicking in windy Williamstown. It's quite a lovely place, if you close your eyes and pretend you can't hear little children screaming and cute dogs relieving themselves, both in liquid and hard form, all over the luscious greenery of the 'park'. (I put that in inverted commas, as today we decided that it's not really a park, but more of a 'reserve', which, although we could not define, we thought that it captured the lack of intimacy and peace that a park would never not posses).

BUT ANYWAY, today I ALSO became the proud owner of a Mac Book Pro. Now let me tell you, despite appreciating the Macs for their beauty, grace and style, I was never much inclined to enter into its extended family circle, simply due to the fact that I could not work them out. Even now, being One Who Owns A Mac, I still cannot fathom how such a beautiful machine can be so different from every other computer I have ever had. But let me tell you this; it sure is easier to type on! And, as a bonus, it does not contain the five million viruses my other computer is currently infested with, and, as a result, must be executed in the near future.

So, travel with me on my journey of Mac Discovery - it should be quite an interesting ride.

I am lesbian, hear me roar.

So, last night I participated in a very eagerly awaited activity: the viewing of the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. And Jesus Christ. I don't know what to do but turn gay, because to refuse that lifestyle change would be to perish from the flames of jealousy currently ravaging my insides.
Those women, nay, ANGELS, are beyond amazing. Although many believe that that show was made primarily for a male audience, I must say I disagree- women are just as, if not MORE so, enthralled to see such specimens of perfection flaunting their stuff down the catwalk, dancing with those giraffe legs to the beats of the Black Eyes Peas, throwing sultry looks and cherry kisses to their adoring fans.

Oh, Miranda. You just make all the Aussies cry with pride.

And Heidi...6 weeks after you had your THIRD child, and you look like that. Seriously, I think I speak for all the women who have had kids, and who will in the future, when I say WHY, WHY ARE YOU SO LUCKY?


I have realised something lately; people are good, people are strong and people are willing to help you understand the meaning of happiness.

Not too long ago, happiness seemed a distant star, twinkling jovially from the sky, reminding those who couldn't reach it just how far away it really was. It would touch only those who have found some inner peace within themselves, those who have discovered the meaning of their own special brand of joy.

Insecurity is one the most destructive emotions of all; it exists to question everything that you do and everything you feel. It beats you down gradually with its stifling doubt, denying you free will, to the point of refusing you your instinct. And that's the one thing no one should ever forget; if it feels right, it's right, and it will make you happy.

And people who are happy are able to make others happy too.


Do you know what's absolutely delicious? This. (I am currently eating croissants and pretending they are pancakes).

Fashions Owies

So, today I spent another beautiful day with two wonderful people. I really do love it when I have so many good things to look forward to in the one day- it just makes time whiz by in a cloud of happiness. Ha ha, how corny.

Anyway, one of these said people is a great friend of mine. Aside from her good heart, intelligence and witty (yet sometimes ridiculously random) sense of humour, we share a mutual hatred of People Who Cannot Dress Properly. It really is a tragedy that in our rich and abundant nation, one which offers most people the opportunity to express their indvidualites via any means possible, many still choose to ignore the basic rule of first impressions: dress nicely and appropriately.

Now, this said friend of mine and I have categorised people that we see on the street as dressing in very particular ways according to their age, ethnicity and gender. However, being girls, we are usually primarily interested in other girl's clothes, as we feel that male fashion does not offer as much scope for the imagination.

So, Asian: We have determined that two main prominent types exist. (There are certainly many, many girls who dress incredibly well ). There is the super cutesy Asian girl, always wearing her white, patent leather high heels, coupled with a denim or tartan mini (white and pink checks), and a little fluffy cardigan that is never complete without a massive bow, usually lined with dimontes. She has permed hair, also containing a bow or a cute little headband, and hobbles along on her heels in such a fashion, that it is both frightening and comical to watch.

The other type? Well, she is uber trendy, always coordinated and wearing the latest magazine/catwalk finds. She dresses in Gasp/Bettina Liano jeans, with the white stitching down the side, carries the 'It' bag, and matches is to her cropped leather jacket. (Which I have nothing against, but please, make it somehow UNIQUE). Oh, and they also wear the newest shoes, whether they be the studded black leather heels or snakeskin pointy pumps. Now, this outfit does not sound as horrendous as the other one, but it has one main problem: it totally lack any individuality, self expression and true style. Please people, let's look BEYOND what Cleo and Cosmo tell us, and try to purchase clothing from places other than Bardot, Sportsgirl, and Supre. (That said, all three are fantastic, just MIX THINGS UP A LITTLE).

Now, the white chicks. They also have a standard uniform, one which ensures that they never actually stand out. In this group, you will most likely find items of apparel such as: gladiator sandals, footless tights, worn correctly (if there IS such a thing) or pulled down half over the foot. (I don't understand). You may also, however, stumble upon tiny denim shorts, coupled with a long, cotton singlet (I'm visualising navy blue, coral, yellow and white) with that little pocket sewn in at the breast, or some kind of floaty top, worn over the top of said singlet or underneath. Then there is the ribbon, which is used to tie the hair up in a high ponytail, whose colour usually matches some article of clothing, or perhaps a shade in the tight, tiny Supre dress that has also recently made an appearance.

Ahh, people.


Ok. So a few people (mainly two) have been, to various degrees, HEAVILY encouraging me to write something. ANYTHING. Just to get myself started again. It's funny how once you get into a rut, it's so incredibly difficult to get yourself out of that comfortable yet unproductive existence, telling yourself that everyday, something is going to change; that you'll get up, have some breakfast, read the news and then get started on some GROUNDBREAKING story that will make you the new Journalist of the World ( I made that up, but it would be so cool if that was actually an award).

So for the past year or so, perhaps a little less, I have been on a total roller coaster. (I was going to put 'of emotion', but I just couldn't.) So now, things are finally looking up. I believe that the most incredible feeling in the world is when your mind suddenly awakens from a long and relentless nightmare, slowly clawing its way up to begin working towards that long- lost dream. The spark of ambition begins to return, and you start to remember that there is so much shit out there that you've lost, and must gather up again into a pretty basket, decoarted with the shining material of success.

Hopefully these two people know who they are - one will for sure, for she is always (delicately, of course) telling me that I should really throw myself into writing and fashion and all things delicious and just WRITE.

Well, let me share just a few of my observations then, that I have been carrying in my head for the past however months I have not updated anything here.

1). Now, I promise I am not trying to be offensive, but I really want to know WHO finds mullets attractive. As a resident of Werribee, I have noticed that most days, I will encounter a walking mullet. Today, as I was quietly and quickily walking down the ramp at Werribee station, I saw not only a mullet, but a CURLY, RED mullet strutting its stuff in front of me. Who, you may be asking, did this piece of artwork belong to? A woman in a very thick, navy jacket, with black raybans and nazy working pants from Kmart. (

And now a question: Can people, anyone is welcome, let me know if they find mullets attarctive? And WHY? OR if they perhaps are open enough to understand the concept of the mullet? I really would like to hear the response.