Sunday, October 28, 2012

So ab-selfies are a thing now...

Just when you got your head around the concept of foodstagraming (for those of you not across this epidemic, it involves people photographing their hoity toity meals before they even take their first bite, then uploading it to Instagram) and Kimmy K-esque mirror selfies (taking a snap of yourself in the mirror and more often than not hashtagging the designer labels you're wearing) a whole new trend rears it's self-indulgent head.

Enter ab-selfies. 

Or what I like to call 'yo, look at me. I go to the gym and have a toned tum. I'm sick as, bru.'

Hashtag wanker alert!




Retro babes


Oh hey there, Clint Eastwood. Look at you being all
smoking with your shirt off. 

Richard was, is and always will be a babe. But never
more so than riiiiight here.
Before the bunnies, Viagra and general creepiness old mate Heff became so well-known for, the Playboy mastermind was just a sprightly young whipper snapper writing his way to success. 
Russell Brand is that you? Oh hang on, it's Bob Geldof aka the lead singer of The Boomtown Rats, the dude that created Live Aid and adopted his estranged wife's love child she had with
Michael Hutchence. Aka a super-champ and pretty good to
look at, too.
Whoddathunk it but Mel Gibson was a bona-fide hawwwtie! Shame about the racial slurs, battle with the booze and his
consequent fall from grace.
There's a reason Rod Stewart has bedded squillions of women. He doesn't have conventional movie-star looks but the dude
has rock star charisma, and then some.


Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Girls' gal Lena Dunham is killing it


At the ripe old age of 26 Lena Dunham is the creator and star of hit TV show, Girls, has scored 4 Emmy nominations, won a truck load of twenty-something fans and now is set to pocket 3.5 million bad boys with a new book deal with Random House. And what are you doing with your life? My biggest achievement this week was running home. Then eating a bag of chips.
Anyway, Lena's penned a modern version of Helen Gurley Brown's 1962 controversial book, Sex and the Single Girl, titled Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She's Learned. She says it will explore 'everything from sex to eating to travelling to work.' Adding, 'I am thrilled to be working with and learning from the brilliant minds at Random House, and to be among their incredible roster of authors. I look forward to digging deep to produce the most thoughtful and personal book I can.' 
Lena is a much needed breath of fresh air in an otherwise blonde, busty and bland landscape. And she doesn't give a shit what you think. Last week the star sparked a fury of backlash when she attended an event in LA wearing an outfit that, gasp, showed off her normal-looking thighs! Nasty bloggers were quick to judge but I'd just like to say a big THANK YOU, LEGEND for keeping it real. This is an accurate reflection as to what most chick's legs look like, so deal with it chumps.  
And Lena fought back with aplomb, 'If Olivia Wilde had gone to a party in little shorts, she might have been on a "weird dressed list" or been told her outfit was cute,' she said. 'I don’t think a girl with tiny thighs would have received such no-pants attention. I think what it really was "Why did you all make us look at your thighs?" My response is, get used to it because I am going to live to be 100, and I am going to show my thighs every day till I die.'
Amen, sister. 


Friday, October 5, 2012

How to unlike someone

It's basic human instinct to want what we can't have. When I was 8, all I wanted was a pony. Dad said he'd get me a 3 legged one on the side of the road for a hundred bucks but that's as close as I got. A few years later, I was certain my life would be complete if I had a ginger lop-eared rabbit. Sadly, I never got the rabbit but I was allowed hermit crabs instead. Thanks mum. At 24, I've moved on from fluffy animals and find myself gravitating towards dudes more unobtainable than Rpatz and Gosling combined. And it's not because they look like them in any capacity, but because of big kid shit like great ocean divides I've got more chance of winning the lottery than getting the boy.

We waste a lot of time, energy and bandwidth pining over those we can't have. If our Facebook history could talk, we'd be screwed.  And until a magical crush-be-gone pill is invented I've devised this list that should do the trick:


  • Go backwards in their profile pics and marvel at the horror, you'll be turned off in no time. Adult acne! An unkempt monobrow! An Ed Hardy tee! You can't hold my heart captive any longer buddy - you used to be an ogre with horrific style.
  • Picture them doing the most unattractive thing you can think of. For some people it's your dream boat taking a dump. Or maybe wearing a paisley vest with elephant trunk jeans. Or a better yet, picture them doing a dump wearing a paisley vest and elephant trunk jeans. Brilliant, are you repulsed yet?
  • Kill them off and pretend they are dead. Delete their number, unfriend them on facey and all other social media. Out of sight, out of mind. If you just can't bring yourself to hit delete, unsubscribing so they don't pop up in your feed also works a treat.
  • Implement the not-allowed-to-talk-about-them rule not only for the benefit of yourself but for your mate's long-suffering ears. Yep, rattling on and on about Mr Jerkus-Melerkus is as about as interesting as your super wacky dream you had last night and debating as to whether or not you should get bangs. Once you cut down on the verbal over analysing, your mind will follow suit.
  • In the wise words of relationship guru Zoe Foster - it takes twenty three seconds to reply to a text. Two. Three. So when their phone goes beep and they look at your message with no excitement and put it back in their pocket: they're not worth it. Imagine them doing this every time you text. Ouchy yes, but you deserve the world, not some chump who can't respond to your efforts in a timely, respectful and witty manner. No banter? No play. Save your awesomeness for someone who would slay a thousand unicorns for your heart because you're excellent.
  • And finally, photoshop their head on this and look at it every time you're on knife's edge to making contact.  


What's that? You STILL like them? May I suggest you buy a one way ticket to Uzbekistan and become a yak farmer? That's sure to keep your mind off things.





Proof there's good in the world...

Falling over in public is right up there with having toilet paper stuck to your shoe, food in your teeth and the good old skirt tucked in your undies number; damn humiliating. And I don't know about you, but in the past week my faith in humanity has diminished rapidly. With the tragic news of Jill Meagher's murder Aussie women the nation over shuddered a collective 'that-could-have-been-me' and wondered: can we trust a stranger in the street anymore?

So when I face-planted mid-jog on Riley St the other arvo I was pretty stoked when a lovely construction worker rushed over to see if I was ok. 'Bloody ripper of a fall you took there, love! But don't worry, I did a first aid course last year. Don't move, I have a kit in my truck,' he said. 'Thank you! I'm so embarrassed, I swear the pavement attacked me out of nowhere,' I joked. 'You should always check on people when they take a tumble,' he added. 'Even if you don't know them.' He reminded me of a gorgeous grandpa who you just want to have cups of tea with.

The legend fussed over me and my bloody knee like we were Royalty and off I hobbled with a little less dignity but a lot more faith - there's plenty of good eggs out there. 

My bung knee and fabulous bandage

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