pruesaysit.com

Hello Kitty?

The $5 Threading is at Hairport…Parkmore Shopping Centre…Keysborough. There’s an Indian bird there who does it, although I didn’t catch her name. I’m sure if you give them a buzz, they can help you out.

Collie Cat hasn’t come inside and it’s nearly 5am. I can’t sleep without her inside. I think she was frightened by all the new years festivities in the street. I keep thinking she must be hurt or kidnapped or has fallen victim so some other tragic fate. I hope she hasn’t fallen in with a bad crowd. Maybe she had too much to drink and can’t get home? God, If I’m like this, what kind of mother will I make to an actual child?

More texting back and forth with MulletAdam. So confusing. So complicated. So, what now?

A cat who’s identity I haven’t confirmed as of yet, chewed it’s way through my data cable for my phone. Hopefully there will be another one from Ebay arriving in the next few days so I can upload all the pics I have taken recently. I can’t email them to myself from home coz the reception here is so shitful. Oh little data cable, I’ll never take you for granted again.

Where is Collie Cat? I’m going to call her and see if I can find her…again.
I think Greg is going to blow his stack if I go to the front door and call for her, given that he’s trying to sleep on the couch. I’m going to tell him to shove it. That’s how I’m rollin’ tonight. I’m in a bit of a take no prisoners kinda mood.

No sign of her. I hope she comes home soon.

Eyebrows and Eyesores

Yesterday I had my eyebrows threaded…this is the result.

It cost me $5 and I think they look awesome! Apparantly you can have any body hair threaded and it’s more efficient than waxing.
I’m totally going back to have it done again.

The pic above is one I took today for MulletAdam. Yes, there was correspondance again. Don’t get too excited, we both know how it will end up.
This is one he sent in return…

He truely is a sexy man with enormous feet.

Santa Sack o Nuts

I just deleted the 4 paragraphs I had typed this last half hour. I was trying to come up with some fantastic and humourous way to talk about how much my family means to me at Christmas, but it wasn’t coming out properly. It sounded contrived and cliched and very 7th Heaven, all of which apply in no way to my family. So I’m going to try again…Bear with me.

My family are an insane mish mash of nutbags, perverts, orphans and smokers. And I love it. There is no where in the world I would rather be on Christmas day than at the Mental Asylum otherwise known as My Parents House.

My mum is the most amazing host. She makes sure everyone else has everything they need before she ever sits down to eat her own food, regardless of how cold it’s getting. She gets genuinely embarrassed when you give her a gift. Whenever I ask her what she wants for Christmas, her reply is always “I just want a nice day”. Given that I can’t wrap that up and leave it under the Tree, I normally end up buying her something from Kmart. Regardless of what it is, she always makes you feel like it’s the best gift she’s ever recieved. I could go out into the yard and pick up a few of the cats turds, wrap them up and present them to her, and she’d still gush over how lovely it is that you even thought of her.
My dad is just as predictable when it comes to his behaviour on Christmas day. Regardless of whether you gave him a Rolex or a side of Ribs (which is what I did give him, incidently), his reaction is always the same. He grins and says “Thanks Pruey…Yeah, that’s real nice”
Between arriving at the house, and the actual eating of lunch, he hovers around the Kabana placed on the table for people to snack on. Generally the Kabana is gone within minutes of it being put out. Then he sifts through the bowl of mixed nuts, hunting for Cashews. Then I complain he’s taking all the Cashews. Generally he’ll open up his mouth and offer me the paste that’s formed on his tongue. He really is a classy guy.

This year Greg, Loz and my mums brother, Danny all came for Christmas lunch. The only member of our family missing was Teeda, but she’s in Cambodia. That fact didn’t stop my parents from wanting to fill a plate with food, put a name tag on it and take a photo to send to her.

Between bouts of insanity, we ate, smoked, drank, ate, smoked, ate some more. We wore ridiculous hats. We laughed at innapropriate subject matter. We exchanged gifts. My dad got my mum a Slot Car set. Within minutes, there was a track set up on my parents kitchen floor. Watching my mum enjoy herself so much made me smile. We ate Tiramisu. We spoke about the prospect of all heading out the back and purging like Ancient Greeks. Fortunately, that plan fell flat.

I spoke in my last post about how I usually find myself in a post Christmas funk around now. This year, I’m not really feeling that. More than any emotion, I’m just feeling appreciative for the family I have, be they blood related or acquired along the journey. It was a day I want to remember for a long time.

Happy Holidays

Would you believe it’s Christmas again, already? It seems as though the older I get, the quicker the years go by. The time leading up to Christmas always feels so frantic. There’s such a big lead up to it, that once Christmas is over, I generally get a decent case of the blues. It’s not that Christmas is a disappointment, it’s just that the day goes so quickly. One minute you’re complaining that you’re so hungry you can’t wait for dinner, the next- you’re laying on the couch with your pants unzipped, wearing a red paper hat that came out of a bon bon that’s 2 sizes too small, vowing never to eat that much again. And then it’s over. Til next year, when you inevitably do all the same things, and make all the same promises whilst looking down at your bloated gut.
I know Christmas is special because it only happens once a year, but why can’t we have it twice a year? Three times? Let’s ignore the religious aspect of Christmas for arguments sake, and look at it on an entirely secular scale. Would having a holiday like Christmas more than once a year make Christmas day less special? Do we love it because it only happens once a year? Are we only this nice to eachother because we figure we only have to be this nice once a year? Excluding the presents, wouldn’t it be nice to have 2 or 3 days a year that you’d get together with your family, break bread and enjoy eachothers company? Where people are more friendly than normal? A day that encourages strangers to smile at eachother and wish eachother a good day? Maybe the old addage, You can have too much of a good thing rings true. Maybe people would become blaze` about the essence of the holiday if it happened more than once a year?

Speaking of Christmas, Loz and I got Greg a porno DVD as his gift. A lovely little film called All Dat Ass… I dare you to say it without impersonating a big black guy.
We gave it to him yesterday, and he put it on in the loungeroom. While watching some greased up chick have her butt pounded, Loz and I laughed at the hillarious bed spread beneath them. We also noted that we thought this girl had had anal bleaching performed. We made a few more comments regarding the scene, set, size of girls tits. Then Greg cracked it and turned it off. He said he couldn’t stand to hear us talk during it. Nate agreed that you can’t talk during a porno. Loz and I disagree.
Loz and I both think that if you’re watching a porno with friends, conversation is vital to stop any feelings of arrousal. The last thing you want to do while watching porno in mixed yet platonic friend type settings is to get so toey that you want to hump the couch cushions.
The boys are of the opinion that you just keep your mouth shut and watch it. I’m curious if this is just something that comes down to gender differences, or whether the boys are just wierdos? I always find silence during porno kinda akward. It’s a totally different scenario if you’re watching porno with a lover. You’re not talking about the shitty 70’s bedspread then, instead you’re giving a hand job. But if you’re watchin a skin flick with mates, I think there needs to be a little conversation to cut down any sexual tension that might arise. What do you think? I need opinions.  

I’ve already swapped a few more presents. Shaun got me a doona cover from Adairs. I already had one like he got me, so I took it back and put some more money towards and picked up this.

 
It’s probably up there with the fave things I own. I lurve it.

I got this for Nate.

I should probably go to bed, given that it’s 2am and I’ve got a big day tomorrow.

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season and that you’re all safe and happy and loved.

Booze Hound

Note to self: When you have a tolerance to alcohol that is somewhere in the negative range of the spectrum, do not expect that Liqueur Chocolates won’t make you feel a bit light headed and giddy like you’ve had a beer.

Rules for Knowing Me

Everybody Loves Hatemail

when are you going to talk about something with substance. So far all I have heard about are your shopping expiditions, your boyfriend(s) your cats, your penchant for pepsi and your love for cigarettes and porn…get a job and get into the real world prudence…You should be ashamed of yourself…Living off the government like you do, on disability….Dont you have a concience?????

Some cunts have all the fun on a Friday night, sitting in front of their PC’s posting hate mail to someone they obviously don’t like but who’s site they keep reading.

For those of you playing at home, let me clarify a few issues raised in the above comment.

A) If you want substance, try reading The Age website. You’re not going to find anything of substance here. You’re only going to find the ramblings of a bored 24 year old who, indeed, likes Pepsi, her cats, smokes and porn. I also like provoking morons, hate mail, slurpees on hot days and Spider Solitare. You can find all the other subjects I write about by looking in the catergories section at the bottom of the page.

B) Unless I’m mistaken, my world isn’t faked with smoke and mirrors. This is the real world. My real world revolves around recovering from a mental illness and sleeping a fair bit due to the dosage of medication I take. While I don’t crap on about it all the time (I’m not a fan of sob stories) it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve suffered from Depression, Anxiety, Panic Disorder and Agoraphobia for the last few years.
You’re mistaken about the Disability deal. That’s not what I get. I’m under the care of a therapist that is working for Centrelink. She has me providing medical certificates while I’m paid Newstart allowance. I’d say if the therapist employed by Centrelink doesn’t have an issue with me ‘living off the government’ then you probably shouldn’t be too worried about it either. Thankyou for your concern though.

C) Yes I have a conscience. It’s actually quite clear. I’m sure that has something to do with having the balls to sign my real name to opinions and thoughts I express here.

Mid Week High

With the demise of Monday Family Dinner Night™, Trivia Wednesdays have rapidly become my favourite night of the week. As a fattie, you might expect my enthusiasm to peak at the $5 Parma and chips on offer that night, but that’s only half the reason I go. Okay, fine it’s a major contributor to my enjoyment but who can deny the lure of cheap and tasty Parma?
Other major factors influencing my Trivia Wednesday excitement are as follows.

1. Getting to see friends during the week. The mid-week catch up has come to be a pivotal appointment in my social schedule. Actually, it’s the only ongoing appointment in my schedule, but that’s beside the point. It’s a good chance to find out gossip that one might otherwise forget by the time the weekend rocks around.

2. The fact we kick arse every week. Wednesday night I took a few minutes to indulge in the warm glow of being a winner. It was the night we’d been hoping for, First Place. And let me assure you, it felt good. For me, coming first is more exciting, not so much because of the smug satisfaction of beating teams with names that refer to Chuck Norris, but because it’s the one prize of the night I get to take part in. Second place, our usual ranking, recieves a choice between a 6 pack of VB or a bottle of crap wine. It might be nice wine, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t know because I don’t drink. So essentially, I’ve never got to savour the spoils of our victory. That is, until now! Or more so, until next week when we can redeem our $50 voucher for a plethora of cheap Parmas. This makes me very happy. We might even kick our heels up, and pay the extra dollar to get salad with our meals, you never know! Thus is the spontaneous life of the victor.

3. Trivia Dave. He’s the host of trivia. I’m sure his name is not prefaced by the word Trivia, but I’m sure he thinks of it as an affectionate term. Unless Chops is using it, and then it’s just “Hey, Trivia man…come here!” I’m not so sure he enjoys that so much. He’s really not Michaelangelos David to look at, but there’s something about him that’s alluring. Perhaps it’s because he holds all the answers? I’m unsure. And apparently, other women are drawn to the magnatismn of a man with all the answers too, as he normally has cute little lasses fluffing around him all night. I’m not sure what all the other girls see in him really, but I can’t deny that I’m  not drawn to a man with a vast a knowlege of the Simpsons as I possess.
He took our parking spot the other night as we turned up to the Pub. I put down the window and shook my fist at him. “Shake harder, son!” he said! *sigh* Be still my heart.
He let me be his ‘board girl extroadinaire’ the other night. Maybe he likes his women smart, fat and well versed on the Simpsons? I should be so lucky!

4, 5 & 6 influencing factors all have to do with the Parma. 7 was going to be about the Parma too, but I just couldn’t bring myself to devote another factor to menu prices that charge me $3 for a glass of Coke to wash down said Parma.

so instead, 7. The fact that it leaves me feeling smarter than when I walked into the pub. I doubt most pub patrons can say that, but for me, it’s true. Sometimes I forget that long before my blogging days, I was once a high achiever who excelled academically. It’s a nice feeling to exercise that part of my brain on a weekly basis, at least. Plus it gives me a chance to prove all that useless information I’ve absorbed over time has finally proved it’s validity in taking up so much space in my brain. I’ll never get angry at you again, Brain. I promise.