The A-Z of Alcohol (part two)

E is for Eclairs
A beautiful smooth drink served in a shotglass. One too many of these and you'll feel it in the morning... and be stumbling around that night.

F is for Frangelico
According to a good mate of mine, C "Its good shit!"

G is for Goon
Goon just happens to be a slang name for Wine. Bottled or Casked... it all tastes strange and it all gets you well and truly over the hill if you drink enough of it. Although - Brown Brothers 'Cienna' is a rather lovely concoction...

H is for "Hot Toddy"
A DEADLY formula of heated liquor (scotch, brandy, port) and coffee or tea. Theres just something about them that messes with your mind in half the amount of drinks necessary to normally get you shattered. There are funny stories regarding my mum and a shotgun after a few Hot Toddy's actually... remind me about that for another post.

As for todays underwear? Blue panties, black lace trim, and a peephole in the back

I apologise for missing a post yesterday - but believe me: it wasn't for lack of wanting. Just extremely bloody busy is all. I was at work all day - Saturday night, a busy night, lots of tourists around for a weekend racing thing they were holding at the grounds nearby, so had people coming in constantly all night - most of which were already on their way to being completely comotosed. Then went to an all nighter afterwards. It was fantastic. I got to see a lot of my mates from school that I haven't seen since it ended... It was great to be able to catch up with everybody and see what they're doing... realising that we're all still a bunch of piss heads even though (some of us, myself not included) now have respectable jobs - banker, carpenter, pharmacutical distributer....

Today was pretty hectic - haven't slept since Friday night and did an all nighter drinking and partying before I had to go to work... still surprisingly looked good though. Which was lovely. The wonders of some cold water and water proof mascara can do wonders for a girl. TIP: ALWAYS carry waterproof mascara in your bag ladies, and lip gloss. Met a really nice guy at this party... I have no idea what his real name is... but we spent hours discussing the simplicities and complexities of the human mind, as well as everything sexual under the face of the sun (DISCUSSING it, not doing it... geez, take that mind out of the gutter. NOW). I enjoyed talking with him and spending time with him. Overall a brilliant night. Just being able to go out and see my mates was fantastic on its own. But meeting someone who challenges and broadens your mind with every word that floats off his tongue was definately a mind altering experience. I'm looking forward to seeing him again in the future. Only a short entry - because I'm completely fucked. Panties for the weekend? Saturday night - black lace g-string... Sunday - Black boylegs with 'kiss me' written on the front... Tacky, but direct. Sleep well. XX

Lazy day: spoke to some friends I'm rather close to... confiscated a large piece of glass from the dog and rescued her from a garden hose clip she'd SOMEHOW gotten attached to her lip. Bloody thing is always up to mischeif. Did some housework and enjoyed a long conversation with the boys, heres a little extract of the more G rated part of it:

ME: Who's your perfect woman?
D: Has to have dark brown eyes
D: Looooooooooooooooooooooong black hair
M2: Smart, funny, attractive - you know, the classics
D: Is into Metal as much as me
M1: Brown hair...must have brown hair...
D: And can hold her own in a thrash pit
M2: Must be sweet
D: And a nice arse doesn't hurt either *winks*
L: Redhead, hot, likes gaming, fantastic cook, likes me too would be nice
ME: *laughing*

Sometimes I wonder how my guy friends DON'T know about the sexual stuff I tell them... I'm always the one they come to for advice on women... how to approach, good body language, signs that she likes you, flirting techniques... I even got asked a question about what oral techniques I like, my best sexual experience, my worst sexual experience. Even what got my "engine going"... I was surprised to hear one of my mates ask me where the clit is... I nearly fell off my bloody chair with that one! Gah... lots of tea later and a large bowl of fried rice consumed, the sexy conversation ended with kisses and groping and we parted ways... they appreciated the underwear though - red lace, see through ;)

No I didn't show them, the wind caught my skirt... honest.

Another day of domesticity, dotted with random acts of childishness and utter fun to be honest. A few loads of washing and some housework... then rolled around on the grass with my dog and played with her for HOURS... it was great. I love it when she's happy, and her tail wags so fast that her whole body moves with it. She's a lovely pup, but we didn't always have her. We rescued her from an abusive owner. The day we got her she was locked in the boot of a car on a forty degree celcius day for chewing a plastic coke bottle left in the back yard... she was so skinny and frightened... all bones... its lovely to see such a drastic change in her in such a short time span. Just a few months... four I think, maybe five that we've had her. I love her for her foolishness though, her clumsiness... you can tell now that she never really got to be a puppy... shes so silly and playful... and you can't wear her out no matter how much you try. I swear, she has energy coming out of her ears that dog. LOL. When she was a little tired, and sniffing after the cat that ran into the shed, I lay on the grass on my back and watched the clouds. And I remembered how good grass felt. And how long it had been since I'd done this.

Its funny how you forget the childish things... the innocent things.

And then the dog came and layed on my body and sneezed on my chin. That was charming but hilarious. A good friend of mine told me that "Life would be pretty dull without dogs"... and I think he's right. Just like the old man with his jack russel... like me and my heelers... dogs really are a man's (and a woman's) best friend. It doesn't substitute human contact though... emotional, physical, intellectual, psychological... even sexual (unless beastiality is your thing). A dog is great for comfort... for companionship... a best friend. Doesn't compare to waking up next to someone who's hopefully not QUITE so hairy as your four legged friend. As for today's underwear? Pale pink boylegs with newspaper print all over them. Yes, you can read my arse.

ANZAC Day. When Australians and New Zealanders remember our war heroes...


And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack,
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said Son,
Its time you stopped rambling, there's work to be done.
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As the ship pulled away from the quay
And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.

And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water
And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk he was waiting, he'd primed himself well.
He shower'd us with bullets. And he rained us with shell,
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

But the band played Waltzing Matilda, when we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs, then we started all over again.

And those that were left, well we tried to survive,
In that mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knock me arse over head,
And when I woke up in my hospital bed,
And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead.
Never knew there was worse things that dyin'.

For I'll go no more Waltzing Matilda, all around the green bush far and free
To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs
No more Waltzing Matilda for me.

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded,
The maimed, and they shipped us back home to Australia.
The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be.
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn, and to pity.

But the band played Waltzing Matilda, as they carried us down the gangway.
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then they turned all their faces away.

And so now every April, I sit on me porch
And I watch the parades pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glories.
And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore.
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, What are they marching for?
And I ask myself the same question.

But the band played Waltzing Matilda, and the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men dissapear.
Someday no one will march there at all.

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by that billabong.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

The A-Z of Alcohol (part one)

A is for Absinth
Ah, that elusive green stuff that everyone makes such a big deal out of because apparantly it makes you hallucinate. It fucks with your brain because of the high alcohol content. Hangover cures definately needed after a night of this.

B is for Beer
Ah, the wonderful Australian tradition. Nothing like an Aussie beer. I am the beer drinking girl. Personally I've heard its a turn on for blokes - chicks that drink beer. But I've had nothing but good responses from it ;)

B is also for Bourbon
A little rougher than scotch, but just as popular. A drink that many enjoy straight up, and personal friends that are close to me drink reguarly. Comes in many a shape and form, but the purer the better.

C is for Cowboys
Originally known as the "Cock Sucking Cowboy" this is a beautiful creamy concoction that slides down the throat like well... something very dirty if you know what I mean *awkward wink*. What can I say - I'm a Cock Sucking Cowgirl.

D is for Daniels, Jack that is
Ah, Jack Daniels, beautiful drink. Nothing in the world like Jack Black to set the mood and get you absolutely shitfaced.

Today was the boring day of the week. Housework day. Boring, yes... yes oddly satisfying. Seeing the home in dissaray and looking at it again in a few short hours - sparkling and clean, seeing your own face smile back at you in quite possibly EVERY shiny appliance in the house is a satisfying feeling... a feeling of triumph. "I HAVE CONQUORED THE DUST BUNNIES!!" she shouts from atop the kitchen bench and laughing at her own insanity. Strange how we tend to ENVY other people's insanity in a way... all one has to do is look at the proverbial 'rock-star' and realise what I'm talking about. The pure chaos and madness (and yes, insanity) of their everyday existance can make the average human being quite jealous. More than once you will hear a small blonde teeny-bopper whine "I want to be just like HER!". Poor child.

Anyway, after the ritualistic scrubbing, polishing and dusting of every reachable surface of the home, I played silly buggers with my dogs. Two blue heelers, the most lovely loyal companions a girl could ask for. Always lavishing you with love and affection and with what in return? A bowl of food once a day and a few treats here and there. I love my dogs. Turns out that (after standing in a steamy, squishy pile of dog excrement - disgusting but true. I apologise if you, dear reader, parted ways with your lunch) my dogs HATE a bath. Mention the very word and they turn and run like well... a dog possessed I suppose. Hiding under the bush at the back fence with their tails between their legs and covering as if I were sending them off to the glue factory. Ah... but this is where bribery comes into it. The power of a chocolate biscuit *evil grin*. That power, a girl knows all too well. As for the underwear? Yellow boylegs. Actually, thats what I wore for most of the day - what can a girl say? Doing the vaccuming in your undies is just one of those things...

Yet another boring and quite uneventful day at the office. Had a few nice chats with the customers that came in, some of the locals are really quite lovely. Had a great little chat with a nice middle aged guy that just worked on a Sunday for the first time in six years as he's a single parent. Then we had a giggle at the expense of his mate. Seriousness replaced with playful mocking and piss-taking. Ah, lovely. And no watersports involved, I assure you. Cheeky little thing ain't I?

Got offered another shift by a mate of mine that also works there, she needs the time off for a doctors appointment but I'm not entirely sure I want to take it. I mean - I need the cash (is there EVER a single time in anyone's pitiful existance when they don't NEED more money? Excluding the disgustingly rich, obviously), but I'm not entirely sure I want to do another night next week. I quite enjoy having some remnant of a social life, thankyou. Even the local alcoholics (astonishingly) didn't make the trip today! Ah, but you see - it was market day. Far too important to go and look at other people's old junk and see how much they want for it to fuel their booze habit. Lovely isn't it. Quaint little things, human beings.

Was terribly cold today - not the weather, but me rather. I'm afraid I might be coming down with something and hope to the Goddess that I'm not. I suppose running into a cool room (two degrees celcius) and then back into the shop (approx 20 degrees celcius) every few minutes isn't great for ones body... but they're paying me to be cold. So I'll shut up and put up. At least my arse wasn't cold - purple and white striped boylegs, little frill around the legs and a bow at the front with 'cutie' written on the side. Simply adorable. Arguably not entirely sexy - but at work I ain't trying to impress someone who wants my body. I'm there to get paid. Maybe I could accomplish both as a call girl. Hmmm... ponderisms.

Another day at the office. Sitting back now in front of this horribly glaring computer screen and drinking a redback (beer, darlings, beer). A very 'blah' day generally, nothing overly exciting to report. Perhaps the highlight of my day at work was battling a giant cricket for life and death. I swear, it was huge. As big as my head.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating for dramatic effect, just a LITTLE. But you get the drift, surely.

I find it amazing how even the most devout alcoholics refused to show up today for their weekend supplies because of the slightly cold weather. A little rain, a few gusts of wind and BAM! No booze for them. Ah, but the brave and almighty certainly showed up. Yes yes. And generally a nice crowd they were too. Yet again another day of flirting with everything that has two legs and was old enough to buy alcohol. Fortunately for me, the extremely comfortable undies kept my arse warm: lovely little hot pink pair of boylegs. Very nice indeed. Maybe I'll make the underwear record a regular feature. Only if they're particuarly interesting of course.

Ah, goodmorning to the masses! Today is a day of great joy, a day that brings a wide smile of satisfaction to my lips and warms the heart. The day off. Admittedly, I have a lot of those, but hey, one must enjoy the blissful gloriousness of being able to lay in bed all day doing nothing but reading and eating white chocolate and raspberries (beautiful combination by the way). This morning (in the very early hours) two somewhat interesting, and equally strange things happened to me (yes, in the VERY early hours when one is normally found asleep in a large comfy bed). One, was a call from a complete random person who believed that he met me while dancing in collingwood. To which, after much flirting I must admit, I told him that I've never been to collingwood in my life and certainly have no idea what he's talking about. He was a nice guy though. Shame I never knew his name. The second of which was a funny little flashback which had me laughing my arse off at 4am... For the sake of anonymity, the man in this flashback will be known as 'A'...

ME: G'day A
HE: G'day Trace, hows life?
ME: Not to bad, sunshine, and yourself?
HE: Ah, getting there.
*few moments pass while he picks a bottle of bourbon - cougar, incidentally - off the shelf, talk back radio blaring*
HE: This guy definately has a face for radio
ME: Is that right?
HE: Have you seen him, darl? He's got a face like a bucket of smashed crabs!

Ah, sweet comedic memories.

Now one is faced with the overwhelming decision of what to do on a day off. This bed is far too warm and far too comfortable to risk getting out of it just yet... nope. Definately not right now. Mmmmm... pillows. Is it just me or is your own bed one of the most sinfully delightful pleasures of the human existance. I don't know a single person who hates their bed. I mean, when one is experiencing playful romping between the sheets it is still one of the most wonderful places to spend time. Yep, I think I'll just stay here for a while. Damn, now I miss the playful romping.

Upon first inspection the title of this online diary... affectionately called a blog - may seem tacky. But ah, let one explain, please. Tonight while sitting at work and watching an elderly gentleman walking his jack russel, the truth of 'man's best friend' became apparant. Smiling to myself as the man chatted happily to his companion, watching it jump around his heels with such vigour and excitement that seems alien to such a small dog one was hit (like a brick wall to emphasise the point) with my own position as a friend to the masses. Not unlike a bitch, I might add. Then I watched the people that entered my place of business, the locals - the gawdy men after a hard days work, indeed, even people that I went to school with - kindergarten if one will be honest. And I listened to a man who very obviously started to flirt with me (and of course, one flirts back!) and the conversation that followed...

ME: "How are you today, love?"
HE: "Ah, sweetheart, better now with seeing your lovely self and getting THIS into me"
ME: "Go on then! Rub it in that you're going home for a drink and I'm stuck here for the rest of the night! Geez..."

And one has to realise... that when dog is man's best friend... then surely the barmaid - the bottle shop girl - is an alcoholics. For that is what I do - I work in a bottle shop. I sell booze to the masses of this incredibly small bush town and I love every minute of it. Its strange to know that I've lived in this town for fifteen years and never known half of the people that reside in it. Now I have my chance. Fresh out of school, all the promise in the world of going to uni and getting a degree in something that will put me head and heels above the rest (or so I was informed while at school, but thats another entry)... and I work in a bottle shop. And I wouldn't have it any other way.