MELLIPOP BLOWS CHUNKS

Ok, so apologies for the extended absence - I have been on Maternity Leave with the new puppy. Will update you on the little blessing shortly, when I return to full health again.

So I'm at home sick today. I went home early from work with the most wicked migraine. One of the directors offered to drive me home. I almost vomited in her leather interior Lexus. Luckily we were able to quickly pull into Kings Park - me clutching my tiny lunch box for dear life - and I managed to repeatedly projectile vomit out the door just in the nick of time.

I think its the first time I have ever vomited in public without having a drink or two under my belt. And the second time I have vomited with a boss of mine, who then drove me home in a fancy car (the first was an Audi TT). Except, as mentioned previously, this time I was totally sober.

Mellipop: Always striving to find new and innovative ways to completely mortify myself.

MELLIPOP, LOVE YOUR C**T

Ok, so bolstered by a hefty shot of Vitamin B from a couple of pieces of savagely devoured Vegemite toast, I now have the much-needed strength to reflect on my last few posts and quite frankly, I’m bewildered.

As I sated my raging hunger with a good old Aussie-food stalwart, I had somewhat of an epiphany. To be precise, I was left wondering exactly why it is that historically, I have been so popular with the members of the opposite sex.

I mean seriously, if I was a bloke, I came to the blinding insight that I WOULD SO NOT BE ATTRACTED TO ME.

As I looked with detachment on the scene - a kitchen cluttered with a couple of days worth of unwashed dishes, four empty Cascade Premium beer bottles and a poor excuse for a woman in navy blue trackpants feeding her sorry self with Vegemite toast after 9pm - I was left feeling that God had somehow short-changed me in the desirablity stakes.

Now if I were maybe some sort of Amazonian big-breasted golden blonde honeypot I could possibly understand my success with the XY set. But nay, I am a medium-height, medium-weight, dark blonde, B-cupper with questionable cleanliness standards, an attitude problem and a complete dearth of culinary skills to boot.

I mean, seriously. I can’t cook, I spend an inordinate amount of time daydreaming, I tend to forget at least 80% of anything my partner ever actually says to me, and also forget about the same percentage of things I say in the reciprocal, I am the crappiest excuse for a housewife ever, I am frequently crass and thoughtless, I could do with some fine-tuning at the gym, I’m embarrassing in public when I’m drunk – and oftentimes when sober, I tend to find my partners’ friends stultifyingly boring, I’m much less intelligent than I aspire to be, I always have my head in a book or my headphones in my ears, I never wear the lacy lingerie my partner bought me and I make next to no effort to vamp it up in the fashion stakes.

I do however, have a fucking kick-ass record collection and a bookshelf full of feminist literature to die for. Plus I have this certain way of raising one of my eyebrows in mock ridicule that can look really cute sometimes if I really try. That’s it. Well that, and my wise-ass mouth. And boy, do I make that poor sucker work it’s wise-ass off for me. Though I suspect I’d better stop all of this self-indulgent self-flagellation now before they cart my wise-ass off to some soppy vagina-loving self-esteem support group for Women Who Suck Too Much.

Geez, well I won’t be posting much of that on any internet dating sites in the near future…. I’ve only had four beers tonight. Truly.

CAN YOU GET MALNUTRITION IN FOUR DAYS?

Ok, so tonight's dinner was four Cascade Premium beers.
Full strength. More nutrients.

I'm too weak to blog.......

LETTUCE A'LA MELLIPOP

Ok, so it’s hard to really be bothered preparing meals when you’re on your own. Last night’s dinner was half a rockmelon, a nectarine and some yoghurt. Tonight’s fare is even more painfully austere, even by my notably lazy standards.

So I’m sitting here eating a bag full of “gourmet” lettuce leaves for dinner because I can’t be arsed chopping up a couple of tomatoes and a spanish onion and throwing it all into a bowl with some balsamic vinegar and cracked pepper.

The worst thing is, the lettuce leaves are GRITTY. That pisses me off. Now the thing is, if I’m paying $17.99 a kilo for what amounts to a handful of glorified grass, I at least expect it to be freakin’ WASHED. In today’s fast-paced world I simply don’t have the time to clean my own lettuce. What it comes down to is that I shouldn’t have to shell out $17.99 a freakin’ kilo for leaves with the dirt still attached – I’m paying premium price for some other sucker to provide that service for me, by God!

Aaah…Fuck it. I’m sure there’s vital nutrients in all that dirt anyway. I just have to try not to retch….

MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE GOT A GOLDFISH INSTEAD

Ok, so Anton is in Sydney* this week and I'm here on my own with only the dog for company. So I go to turn in early last night and discovered that the little blighter had vomited on the bed during the day while I was at work. Twice. She'd burrowed in under the doona and hurled on the fitted sheet. There were two big yellow patches of dried doggie vomit with chunky bits in it.

So we slept on the couch last night.

And yes, I did clean the fucking sheets, before anyone asks..... (Yeah - I'm looking at you, Gray...)

* Anton is in Sydney to pick up Dog # 2.... I tell you, sometimes I think I need my fucking head read.....

COMMUNITY SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: MELLIPOP APOLOGISES TO BAZ

OK, so in response to my previous post I get a wildly angry* phone call from the Baz-ter this afternoon. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT THE CHEEKY BUGGER WANTS ME TO BLOODY APOLOGISE TO HIM! Right here in public. On Mellipop. The nerve!

It turns out that he’s cool with the physical intimidation and leg-breaking threats. It appears that I was both fair and discriminating with my aggression on NYE because talking to him today, he told me that when I was speaking to his girlfriend, in between threatening to bust her ass I also promised to break HIS legs too, if HE dumped HER. I don’t know about that… Doesn’t sound like something I’d say. I think maybe Baz had had a few too many Bacardi Breezers** by then….

So anyway, Baz wants me to both publicly apologise to him and note for the record that he DID in fact call me last week, like a good friend should. He phoned but I wasn’t there to take the call. Glad we got that sorted....



* In this context, “wildly angry” could also be read to mean “not angry at all - in fact - rather quite amiable”.

** Baz doesn’t drink Bacardi Breezers. I just said that to emasculate him. He drinks beer. And the occasional shandy.

MELLIPOP GETS PHYSICAL

OK, so what's the ettiquette when you physically threaten a mate's girlfriend?

It's now been TWO WHOLE WEEKS since that fateful New Years Eve and I've still yet to hear from my best mate. Not a single phone call, email, SMS or AVO (that's a restraining order, for those of you who just missed the punchline there..)

I mean c’mon – it’s Mellipop here! I am an absolute pussy when it comes to physical intimidation. I WAS JOKING! I haven’t hurt anyone physically since I seriously kneed my brother in the balls when I was 10. And he’s sired two children since then SO THERE WAS NO PERMANENT DAMAGE DONE! I mean, he started it anyway….

Ok, so here’s a quick NYE re-cap for new Mellipop users. Put yourself in my shoes. So I call my cobber in Sydney on NYE and he puts his new girlfriend on the phone, whom I’ve never met or spoken to before. We say hello and chat for a bit about how great this guy is. All very amiable. Then I threaten to break her legs if she dumped him. That’s all.

I WAS JUST BEING PROTECTIVE! I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE!

What if I told you that she called my mother a whore? What then, huh? Ok, so she didn’t actually SAY that my mother was a whore. Or even IMPLY that my mother was a whore. Or allege that my mother was in any way at all connected with the Sex Industry. In fact, she didn’t really say anything nasty about me OR my mother at all. But my point is, SHE COULD HAVE! I mean, that conversation was just getting WAY OUT OF HAND!

You understand, don’t you Baz?

So all my closest mates are blokes, right. To be honest, I love meeting their new girlfriends because they often find me a little bit intimidating and most-likely suspect that if I haven’t already slept with their boy during the course of our longstanding history, then I am already hatching sinister plans to add that puzzlesome sexual oversight to my current To-Do list.

So for the record, can I just state for all past, present and future girlfriends of my best mates:

I HAVE NOT SLEPT WITH A SINGLE ONE OF THEM.

They’re all yours girls, unsullied by the evil taint of Mellipop….. Enjoy!

Maybe I probably should apologise to my mate for the NYE incident, though. Maybe…. OK. So I’ll apologise. LOOK, I’M REALLY SORRY I THREATENED TO BREAK YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S LEGS.

She knew I was joking, right?

And YOU know I’m joking, right Baz?

I DID like her, you know. She seemed like a nice girl. I mean, you KNOW I'm a deadset twat, but that's why you love me, right?

Call me B…. xoxox

MELLIPOP COULD QUITE EASILY KICK BRAD PITT OUT OF BED

Ok, so forget the tsunami crisis. Everywhere I go today, folks are blogging the Brad and Jen breakup.

I'm sorry, but in addition to my many other shortcomings as a human being, I am certain that I must be a complete and utter failure as a woman. Maybe God forgot to tuck my ovaries in there tight with all my other girly plumbing, or maybe my oestrogen levels are completely out of whack but Brad just does not tickle my pink bits at all.

So today, I am going to share a little secret with my soul sistas of blog. And listen up my blog brothers 'cause I am going to liberate you from your "Why Can't I Have Abs Like Brad Pitt" Cosmo-induced shame.

Ladies, I hate to be the one to break this to you but:

BRAD PITT IS AVERAGE-LOOKING.

And MIDDLE-AGED.

And now it would seem, he is also DIVORCED.

One might also argue that he is a CHAUVANIST PIG for dumping his wife because she thought that maybe she might like to have a career rather than pad around the kitchen in her bare feet, spewing forth a succession of perfect Brad-babies in her spare time between washing the dishes, changing Brad-baby nappies and scrubbing the skid marks out of Brad's jocks.

Yes, ladies - Even Brad Pitt leaves SKID MARKS in his undies.

HOW SEXY IS THAT?

And don't even start me on George "Grandpa" Clooney and Jude "Bore" Law.... Call me crazy, but I'm more of a Merrick and Rosso kind of gal. Rrrrrrrr..... Now the thought of THAT brings a pleasant little tickle to the nether-regions. I used to wake up with those two luscious boys every morning. And then I moved to this godforsaken state. DAMN YOU TO HELL NOVA 93.7 W.A.!!!! Haven't you heard of syndication? Even the moronic fuckers at MMM have managed to work it out!

Anyway, the moral of the story is that conventional beauty gets boring real fast - and there comes a point where even Botox can't fight the inevitable ravages of time - but a boy who can make you laugh is always DEAD SEXY!

MELLIPOP IS THE BOSS

Ok, so my parents are coming over to visit in a couple of months and boy, am I looking forward to it. No really, I am. I'm going to pay them back for all those smug, self-serving parental torments I endured for 16 years. I have already started practising some of those age-old guilt-inducing sayings like, "While you're under my roof, you'll OBEY MY RULES!" and "Earn your keep. You're not paying board so get in there and DO THOSE DISHES". I will also make them take the rubbish bins out and pick up all the dog poo in the backyard. But best of all, I get to pull rank over the remote control.

And in the case of disobedience or dissent, I will hit them with my father’s favourite saying - “If you don’t like it, THERE’S THE DOOR!” Oh yes, it shall be fun. The tables have turned now, dear parents. Your asses are mine for ten whole days…..

THINGS I LEARNT IN MY MISSPENT YOUTH

Ok, so when I was a kid my name when I used to play dress-ups was Susan, which I thought was very adult and sophisticated. Susan looked a lot like Agnetha from ABBA and I think she used to smoke. Her husband was called Steven.

I don’t much like the name Steven now. I dated one once. Well, OK, it was more serious than that. We lived together for 18 months. He was a homeless unemployed drug addict when I met him. My parents thought he was JUST GREAT! So did all my friends, who were thrilled that I had landed myself such A GOOD CATCH.

Last time I saw him he was just another unemployed junkie with rotting teeth. Last time I heard from him was when he rang my mother’s place looking for me because he had just been beaten up and had a broken jaw. Presumably he had no money and nowhere to stay. I didn’t return his call.

If I were to play dress-ups now, my name would be Audrey and I would look like a young Deborah Harry. Audrey would stay away from homeless drug addicts and NOT try to save them. She knows better now.

2004: NOT MUCH GOING ON HERE

Ok, so I was going to do a 2004 review and then decided that it would be too depressing as it would easily rank as the most eventless and uninteresting year I've ever had. I quit my job and went on a sabbatical for about 8 months. Watched a bit of Dr Phil and walked the dog as inertia set in hard. Then moved to Perth.

But I saw this on Bree's blog and decided to steal it. The questions, not her life... The following boring details, sadly, are all Mellipop...

1. WHAT DID YOU DO IN 2004 THAT YOU'D NEVER DONE BEFORE?
Quit a fabulous job. Got sucked in by a shonky chiropractor. Moved out-of-state to Perth. Quit smoking properly. Started a blog.

2. DID YOU KEEP YOUR NEW YEARS' RESOLUTIONS, AND WILL YOU MAKE MORE FOR NEXT YEAR?
After you give up smoking, all other resolutions seems so lame (and achievable) by comparison.

3. DID ANYONE CLOSE TO YOU GIVE BIRTH?
Mikey boy popped his second. Couple of others I know got a head start on the foetus for 2005.

4. DID ANYONE CLOSE TO YOU DIE?
Italian grandfather died. Close genetically, but that's about all.

5. WHAT COUNTRIES DID YOU VISIT?
No other countries, but WA must count as an entirely different planet.

6. WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE IN 2005 THAT YOU LACKED IN 2004?
A video recorder to tape Dr Phil now that I'm back in the workforce. My own high-paid, widely-read column in a major metropolitan newspaper or magazine.

7. WHAT DATES FROM 2004 WILL REMAIN ETCHED UPON YOUR MEMORY AND WHY?
Grandfather's funeral. My devastatingly sad New World farewell party. The day we left Sydney. My triumphant return for the New World Xmas party.

8. WHAT WAS YOUR BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT OF THE YEAR?
Finally getting Anton out of his rut and getting his arse to Perth.

9. WHAT WAS YOUR BIGGEST FAILURE?
Finally getting Anton out of his rut and getting his arse to Perth.

10. DID YOU SUFFER ILLNESS OR INJURY?
Eerie metaphysical lower back problems that disappeared as soon as I started working again. Cyclical migraines back to belt me around a bit.

11. WHAT WAS THE BEST THING YOU BOUGHT?
My beloved eMac.

12. WHOSE BEHAVIOUR MERITED CELEBRATION?
Everyone who reads my blog regularly. Cheers all!

13. WHOSE BEHAVIOUR MADE YOU APPALLED AND DEPRESSED?
My own.

14. WHERE DID MOST OF YOUR MONEY GO?
Well not working for eight months helped annihilate my meagre savings. Moving all my bloody books and CDs to Perth took care of the rest of it.

15. WHAT DID YOU GET REALLY, REALLY, REALLY EXCITED ABOUT?
Dr Phil.

16. WHAT SONG WILL ALWAYS REMIND YOU OF 2004
Drive by Shannon Noll. Me, Anton and Comanche tooling around in the car singing loudly and changing the lyrics to "I've got a dog, I've got a big black shiny dog, Maybe tonight we can go for a walk...Let's Waaaalk...Anywhere you wanna go I will take you there 'Manche, Take you there 'Manche..."

17. COMPARED TO THIS TIME LAST YEAR ARE YOU:
a) Happier or sadder? Much the same.
b) Thinner or fatter? Marginally fatter. Damn those stubborn two kilos...
c) Richer or poorer? POORER!!!!

18. WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU'D DONE MORE OF?
Work. Writing.

19. WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU'D DONE LESS OF?
Nothing. As in doing nothing.

20. DID YOU FALL IN LOVE IN 2004?
That happened back in 2000. Still going strong.

21. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVOURITE TV PROGRAM?
Kath 'n Kim.

22. DO YOU HATE ANYONE NOW THAT YOU DIDN'T HATE LAST YEAR?
I don't hate anyone.

23. WHAT WAS THE BEST BOOK YOU READ?
The Fountainhead - Ayn Rand

24. WHAT WAS YOUR GREATEST MUSICAL DISCOVERY?
Blue by Joni Mitchell. Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys. Still ambivalent about new music by Devendra Banhart, Interpol and The Libertines. 2004 kinda sucked for new music - any recommendations are eagerly welcomed.

25. WHAT DID YOU WANT AND GET?
To move to Perth.

26. WHAT DID YOU WANT AND NOT GET?
I always get what I want.

27. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVOURITE FILM OF THE YEAR?
Super-Size Me

28. WHAT DID YOU DO ON YOUR BIRTHDAY, AND HOW OLD WERE YOU?
Had lunch at the pub in Cottesloe. Had dinner and saw a Ramones documentary at outdoor cinema. 28.

29. WHAT ONE THING WOULD HAVE MADE YOUR YEAR IMMEASURABLY MORE SATISFYING?
Having an income for most of it would have been nice.

30. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONAL FASHION CONCEPT IN 2004?
Jeans and trainers. I don't do heels or skirts. Or fashion, actually.

31. WHAT KEPT YOU SANE?
Music and books. Anton and the dog. Blogger.com.

32. WHICH CELEBRITY/PUBLIC FIGURE DID YOU FANCY THE MOST?
Robbie Williams

33. WHAT POLITICAL ISSUE STIRRED YOU THE MOST?
I'm fairly apolitical these days. Was momentarily depressed when Howard got back in but hey, what's another three years...

34. WHO DID YOU MISS?
You all know who you are

35. WHO WAS THE BEST NEW PERSON YOU MET?
Do virtual friends count?

36. TELL US A VALUABLE LIFE LESSON YOU LEARNED IN 2004:
I value (and need the companionship and support of) my friends and family more than I thought I did. Herbal diet pills don't actually work.

37. QUOTE A SONG LYRIC THAT SUMS UP YOUR YEAR.
Two from Belle & Sebastian

" I spent the summer wasting, the time was passed so easily" (except in my case it was a whole year)

"Ooh, get me away from here I'm dying" (applies to me in both Sydney and Perth!)

OH DEAR, DID I REALLY SAY THAT...?

Ok, so recall is not such a good thing. Events from my NYE disaster keep trickling back into my consciousness and I'm not too happy about it.

So I just remembered talking to one of my best mates on the phone, who was sharing NYE with a very new girlfriend (couple of weeks by my count). Him handing the phone to her so that we could "meet" for the first time, in hindsight, might not have been such a good idea. As you may or may not recall from my previous post, I was somewhat on the wrong side of being sober by that point.

So we said hello and started talking - both of us saying how great he is - and as it happens, I now remember threatening to break both her legs if she broke up with him....

Fuuuuuck.

ME + NYE = DISASTER

Ok, so can I start by firstly reassuring everyone back home that I AM NOT HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN.

Yes, so in the grand tradition of Mellipop's Annual NYE Disaster, this New Year just past is a new entry - with a bullet - into my All-Time Tragic Top 10. Let me tell you, I've had some shockers in my time, none of which I intend mentioning here.

So my first NYE in Perth was - like all virgin experiences - fraught with disappointment and tragedy. We had no idea what folks in Perth do for kicks, and since I am on forcible leave without pay for three weeks, the option of blinging it up was not an option at all.

Essentially, the short version of my night goes as follows: I crashed out at around 10 pm WA time (I made it to midnight Sydney time, at least) after spending the evening at home with a couple of bottles of wine, making drunken, teary phone calls to all our nearest and dearest back on the East Coast. I now live in dire fear of receiving our next phone bill.

So if any of you received such a phone call (and I believe they got messier as the evening wound to its premature close), just chalk it up to yet another of my heartwarming eccentricities and rest assured that - and I repeat - I AM NOT HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN.

Following from that, I would also appreciate NOT being reminded of the tone or content of any of these calls, few of which I clearly remember and all of which I would prefer to forget. Yes, I do really love you all but I would have preferred not to have been quite so weepy about it... It's not good for my image, you see. I'm hardcore.

According to Anton, my last known movements were to cry myself to sleep on the couch with my tongue hanging out, only roused by the need to vomit into a stew-pot thoughtfully laid out for me by my beloved.

Another NYE triumph!