Quarter Life Crisis - Getting Tindered...

Remember that time I started a blog when I was 25 and called it Quarter Life Crisis, well I’m about to turn 30 next week and realised the Crisis actually turns out to be life! That’s also what you tell yourself when you’re five years older and so much bloody wiser (and also not much has changed....)

I think it’s not uncommon that you reflect before a birthday but I do find approaching this epic milestone I am suffering from some sort of ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ psychosis. This in simple terms is taking reflection to the next level and having the genuine belief that that moving to Italy and gaining 15kgs by eating pasta will be bring inner peace.

Yeah......eat your feelings and find inner peace. Eat them!!!

So let’s take a little journey and look at what’s changed and what hasn’t changed...this week’s topic is....

RELATIONSHIP STATUS

Currently single but on the up-side have not been surrounded by cats and eating my feelings for the last five years.......or have I????  Nah, I did have a pretty sweet relationship but because we were both struggling to ‘adult’ properly and spent a lot of time watching critically acclaimed drama in bed whilst eating Coles ice-cream sandwiches (these are actually beyond amazing) we decided the logical thing to do would be to part ways.

Seriously the value is unbeatable!!

The good news is this wonderful new App called Tinder became available, the bad news is Tinder is bloody awful. My first Tinder date was so full of promise. His name was Luke and he was the perfect blend of guy next door/scando hipster.

His four revealing pics consisted of –

1)   A very pensive expression, clad in a denim shirt and looking over some Tuscan vineyards.

   Translation: The looks says thoughtful (maybe even smart!), the shirt says practical and Hipster (what doesn’t go with denim??) and the Vineyards (doesn’t go on Contiki tours whilst travelling Europe)

2)      Another pensive expression, Vintage Train Driver’s Hat and Empty glass bottle with ominous note.

      Translation: He is still thinking (really smart?), the hat is possibly his late grandfather’s (or he is an uber hipster!) and the glass bottle says Arty Farty Cool or according to my friend’s ‘wanker’

3)      Yet another pensive look....overalls and aggressive side burns

        Translation: ok this guy needs to smile...the overalls (controversial but also Hipster in a Mario Bros kind of way) and the sideburns...(these can be removed)

4)     A Pitbull

       Translation I love dogs, please let this be his dog. (Handy tip: dogs in tinder pics will increase your chances of a right swipe by at least 100%, just ask my friend Tim! Cats on the other hand will secure a strong left swipe)

We chatted for a good couple of weeks – both trying to ‘out-LOL’ one another with our impeccable wit. He passed the music taste test and eventually a date was set. I was absolutely shitting myself.

We decided to meet at Le Bon Ton in Collingwood (Hipster alert!) – I had chosen this denim one-piece to clearly appeal to his hipster vibe and show that ‘I’m just a casual girl who effortlessly throws on a onesie with zero thought’.      

Sadly when I got changed at work ready for the date my colleagues immediately shut-down the onesie and advised I looked like Lena Dunham in Girls and not in a good way...What the fuck, panic!! I decided to wear a dress which I thought was a bit too ‘office chic – so embarrassing, but it was too late as the Denim onesie had already taken its own life after being thrown a barrage of insults.

What I thought I looked like....

What I actually looked like....(don't get me wrong, I love her but these shorts need to be burned)

I got to Le Bon Ton and was sweating in places that no one should sweat (next level nerves). I looked around and thought I must have been early. I mean the only guy at the bar was a bald guy in an ill-fitting ‘bogan-goes-to-court-for-drink-driving’ suit. I waited a few minutes and noticed the said baldy looking at me quite intently.....oh god.

So turns out his pics were a little different to the real life version. Now don’t get me a wrong, I’m not a total superficial bitch, I can work with bald, what was really offending me were his ‘corporate shoes’ which also looked a bit like this. Deep breath, give this guy a chance.

Generic bad man shoe

Thankfully he wasn’t a robot – he was witty and thoughtful (the pensive photos weren’t lying) but he was also severely depressed. We talked about how we’d both just come out of long-term relationships (so sexy, I can’t even deal) and how sometimes when he works out he just breaks into tears. At this point I was basically on a date with Gill from the Simpsons.

'What's old Gill gotta do to sell you this car??'

Needless to say we ate deep-fried Hipster chicken and wrapped things up pretty quickly – he gave me a lift to my car and played Elvis which did raise the bar a little bit but all I could look at were those nurse shoes pumping the gas.

When he dropped me off he asked if he could kiss me. Now I know what you’re thinking – of course I said ‘Yes!’ Look I was a few wines in and thought maybe this could be our Brenda and Dylan McKay moment (he drove a convertible) – it wasn’t.

God we're perfect!!!

The reality of the Tinder First Date Kiss...

So look folks what did I learn from my first Tinder experience – you are basically blind dating. Have I given it another go, absolutely!! This is not why I consider it bloody awful, that will have to be saved for my next post.

Let’s just see how many likes this bad boy gets and we will go from there, spread the word. Maybe some cool magazine will hire me as there columnist and pay me squillions to talk about my shabby life...maybe not xxx

Sent from Outlook

CAR-TASTROPHE!

Did you know that your licence expires? Seriously it does….

I recently found this out after an awkward encounter with the cops on Dynon road, Footscray.

And unfortunately they did not resemble the following fun kind of authority...

Or the extremely caring kind....

Or the ferocious 'roller-blading kind'....

It was about 9:30 on a Friday night (already a sad story considering how early it was) and I was coming home after a dinner and a cheeky wine with an old friend. After having my car at the mechanics for the last two months I felt exhilarated being back behind the wheel listening to the sound of cardboard flapping in the wind of my broken window. It wasn’t until I saw the tell-tale signs of the red and blue lights flashing ahead that I decided to panic…

* One glass I’ll be fine (totes TAC add)

Sure enough the rumble of my broken muffler saw the officers waving me down in no time.

Officer – ‘ Just one long continuous breath please ’

I can hear my heart thumping as the officer is taking way too long looking over the results. Why do I feel like an immigrant trying to bring in bags of fruit on Boarder Security?? And even sadder, is this officer potentially attractive?

Officer – ‘ Have you had anything to drink tonight? '

Me – ‘ Just a glass of wine.'

* Oh god, am I going to cry?

Officer – ‘ Can I please see your driver’s licence? ‘

Me – ‘ This is awkward…I actually don’t know where my licence is? ‘

* SHIT!!!!!!!!

Officer – ‘ Right… ’

Me – ‘ I have my passport though. ‘

* This is so Boarder Security right now

Me – ‘ Am I going to lose my licence? ‘ 

* Seriously sounding like Cher from Clueless right now

Officer – ‘ No of course not! ‘

* Relief

Officer – ‘ Because you don’t have a licence to lose…You’re licence expired a month ago ‘

* FUCK!!!!

Enter two more officers (including a Sergeant) who asks me to pull over so that we can have ‘a chat’.

Officer 2 – ‘ So. Is there any reason you’re driving with an expired licence? ‘

Me – ‘I know this is going to sound crazy…(IT DOES)…but I didn’t know licence’s did expire.’

Officer 2 – ‘ Right. Did you not receive a renewal notice in the mail? ‘

Me – ‘ Well, I actually recently moved home with my parents….’

Meanwhile Officer 3 is shining a flash torch into my car while he appears to be searching for something. Rather embarrassing when he shines it across some empty weight watchers bars. (P.S they don’t work)

Officer 3 – ‘ She’s got a registration sticker from 2010. ‘

* Oops, I forgot about that.

Me – ‘ Yeah….about that. My car is actually registered I just forgot to put the sticker on. ..Twice.’

Officer 2 – ‘ Do you have a job? ‘

Me – ‘ Yes! ‘

Officer 3 – ‘ Do you deal drugs? ‘

* Low point

Me – ‘ Are you serious? I live at home with my parents. I know my car looks like a hobo’s and maybe a junkie’s but you can call my mum to confirm that I’m actually just a straight twenty-five year old loser.’

* Lower point….

Officer 2 – ‘ Now we won’t do that. But I do suggest you renew your licence and put your registration sticker on. You may receive a fine in the mail…’

Me – ‘ How much would this ‘said’ fine be??

Officer 2 – ‘ About $350 ‘

Me – ‘ SHUT UP!!! ‘

Officer 2 – ‘ I  won’t shut up actually. Now how do you plan on getting home tonight? ‘

Me – ‘ Um drive..’

Officer 2 – ‘ You can’t drive without a licence now can you?? ‘

* Shit! Didn’t think about that

Officer 2 – ‘I suggest you call your mum now and get her to pay your renewal over the Internet. ‘

Me – ‘ Ok great…will do! ‘

And here comes the saddest point in the story where I pretended to phone my mum (who I knew was actually away for the weekend) and got her to ‘pay my renewal over the internet’. I then preceded to drive home illegally against the advice of the kind officers.

Now kids what can we learn from Aunty Tor’s mistakes??

If you see the red and blue flashing lights ahead and are currently driving an unregistered car without a licence, pull over, put the hazard lights on and call a cab. And finally if you google ' funny cop pics ' the results are endless....

NB. Since the occurrence of the recent event, I have endeavoured to both renew my licence and can confirm that my car is also currently registered. What I can also confirm is that it took me another two weeks to complete both tasks….

YOUNG MOTHERS DO 'AVE EM!

There are a lot of things that you’re yet to know about me and one of those things is that I’m in a mother’s group.

Now the obvious question is; do I have a secret child like the girl from Mad Men or Gypsy from Home and Away? And the answer of course is yes I do.

Calm down, I don’t really. But if I did I’d be seriously concerned for its well being and nutrition at this point. It may even put me in the company of the following phenomenal parents..

Oh Britney...

Alas, I digress…

The reason I’m in a mother’s group is because about four years ago, at the ripe old age of 22 I found myself between jobs (seriously unemployed after being fired from a call-centre) and the happy aunty to a gorgeous baby boy called Will. Now obviously my sister, a new mother and lost twenty-something herself was stoked to have a jobless loser around that also happened to live next door. But whilst she allowed me to change the odd nappy and drive around in the car with her whilst she got the baby off, she was also embarking on new friendships that came from the community ‘ Mother’s Group.’

Now it was only natural that I tag along with her and share my endless knowledge on all things baby right?  How could I not! 

My sister asked me when she attempted breastfeeding for the first time in hospital with her newborn,

 ‘ How long should I feed him for? ‘

And with the utmost confidence I replied.

‘ Oh just a few minutes, until he looks full.’

Now for the baby-less out there this might sound like a very reasonable and measured response to such a question. But as many mothers would know completely inaccurate. Unfortunately my dear sister discovered this the hard way after she was unable to leave the hospital because her poor baby was not gaining enough weight.

Again how could I not pass on my wisdom to helpless mothers everywhere???

The amount of things I now know about children is both obscene and quite tragic. For example I know that –

·    The first poo to come out after birth is called the meconium and looks a lot like vegemite. Yummy!

·      Kids get up early (not good for people that suffer from sleep apnea or that are generally quite lazy)

·      The following kid’s films should be banned – Cars, Cars 2, Bolt, The Smurfs, did I say Cars? And anything with lengthy musical intervals

·      Playing Lego is only fun if the child has no input whatsoever. The same can be said for Playdough, Barbie and any board game.

The joys of playdough...

Amateur!

·      Parks are the work of the devil.

·      There are such things as ‘indoor playgrounds’ where you can pay to watch other parents squeeze themselves through claustrophobic like tubes whilst they try and rescue their children ten feet off the ground.

Good luck squeezing through those pipes...

·      You can successfully convince a child that daylight’s savings has started early and it’s ‘time for bed’ when it’s actually 5:30 pm.

·      Putting shoes on any child under the age of four is possibly the most frustrating and aggravating task in anyone’s life especially if they are trendy lace-up converse, not cool.

·      Children will poo anywhere, anytime, any place.

·      Children’s TV presenters would have to be highly medicated to sustain that amount of enthusiasm. In fact, rumour has it that Anthony, the blue wiggle is actually on the ‘roids.

So obviously what I have gained from being a pseudo-mother, apart from Nits a couple of times and a nasty case of school sores is that I am completely UN-fit to be a mother and should probably avoid it until I’m in my forties and rich enough to hire a lot of help. Until then being an aunty ain’t so bad….

xxx

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

Miss me??? Yeah, you missed me...you missed me as much as this guy misses his wife...

I know, I know, I’m bloody incapable of keeping up a weekly blog. BUT in my defence I have been busy committing the most obvious crime of a twenty-something…moving back home with the parentals.

Now what I will tell you is that I moved home to save money so that I can buy a house and set myself up for the future…Now what I won’t tell you is that I moved home because I can’t pay my rent and I’m swimming in credit card debt.

I must admit it hasn’t been an altogether smooth transition, however after six weeks I am happy to report that I have successfully moved the contents of an entire house into a  4 x 5 metre squared room and various secret hiding spots around the house. Thus going from this -

 To this....

And finally this....(if you look closely you'll spot my CPAP swung over the bed head)

This has been difficult for two reasons; a. I’m a hoarder (just like my grandad) and b. I have a 1970s uber anal dad who loves to straighten carpets and wear advertorial caps. Here he is – he’s name is Ronny and he will feature in many more posts to follow.

Now obviously a number of hilarious blog-worthy things have happened since my last post, so I thought I’d compress them down to the following dot points –

* Whilst moving house my dad helped me to move my bed only to discover a number of condoms underneath it...awkward....Even more awkward that they had not been used and screamed of desperation...double awkward....

* My brother Carl came home for a visit from Copenhagen. He is a very funny a man and has an unusually large nose. Nuff' said.

* We went on a family 'bonding' holiday to Daylesford where my brother and I spent the entire two days playing Mario Kart and trying to defeat bloody Bowser's castle in the snow world. Still haven't clocked it...Definition of Frustration: Watching a four year old continually driving into turtles, bananas and walls whilst attempting to play Mario Kart and lacking the correct hand-eye  co-ordination. 

Old School....So unhealthy

Want!!!

* I ‘sexted’ at least four times and also privately facebook messaged (a new low)

* I bluetacked pictures to my wall because that’s what you do when you live at home with your parents

* I discovered Parks & Recreation. Amazing!

*  I attempted to be sexy/quirky on New Years Eve and wore diamantes under my eyes which later gave me a rash

Sexy/Quirky? Just downright sad I'd say...

*  I discovered a mole on my dad’s back that I was convinced was cancer but actually turned out to be a benign wart. Yuck!

*  I also discovered this super cool poo chart...which stool are you??

* I discovered people with too much time on their hands call themselves coffee artists and create masterpieces such as this…(p.s if you can’t hear my sarcasm, I hate it!!!)

* ·      I joined ‘ Blender ‘ for twenty minutes and found this guy

*  I went to Foodies and my brother set me a challenge to purchase him a treat from the 90s and I came back with these beauties

So as you can see it has been a thoroughly unproductive six weeks and has indeed set the tone for the year. Yay!

See you soon enough xxx 

Sorry I'm late...I was busy stretching

Two weeks in to this thing and I’ve already failed at a weekly blog…I don’t feel bad though because this sort of failed ambition is a common symptom of a quarter life crisis. Another symptom is an attempt to ‘right a wrong’, so on that note I will deliver two posts this week instead of one. Impressed? You bloody better be!!!

Now after a de-brief with my ol’ mate Stace on the last issue, she told me she couldn’t read it because it was far too depressing, so I thought I’d attempt some positivity this week but that’s not really my style, so instead let’s talk about – Sleep Apnea…

A couple of years ago I was diagnosed with moderate to severe sleep apnea. Boring!!! This may come as a shock to many of you because traditionally people with Sleep Apnea look like the following –

In other words...fat middle aged men or really really old people. They’re not twenty-something with the world at their feet and a whole lot a cash to blow on crazy machinery and sleep studies.

I won’t bore you with too many scientific details about Sleep Apnea – but in a nutshell it’s when you hold your breath too many times during your sleep which can result in loss of oxygen to the brain and extreme fatigue. The fatties usually get it because their necks are too thick and it blocks their airways (so not PC…) But on the plus-side (pun not intended), I seem to have developed it because of my ‘over-bight’ or as my doctor put it ‘facial deformity’ (thanks doc, that’s hot!!)

Unfortunately there are not a lot of options for the fatties and facially deformed. They can either have their jaw broken in eight places, re-set and live on a liquid diet for two months (basically the equivalent to an extreme makeover). Thus ending in some of these stunning results – Where do I sign up???

The most common cure however is the old CPAP machine. The CPAP is designed to continually blow air down your throat to ensure that your air passages aren’t blocked during sleep. I know, I know….SEXY!!!!

Here are what the doctors tell you it will look like before you purchase the machine –

 and here's a more realistic version....

I don't know about you but she looks completely nuts!!! And also a little scary...

Now who wouldn’t want to wake up next to this in the morning???  Nothing to see here folks...

Kiss me you fool!!!

Obviously my sex-life has quadrupled since bringing the CPAP in to the bedroom…AND I just love it when my friends want to try it on…

So look kids the long and the short of it is – Sleep Apnea for twenty-somethings = NOT COOL!!!

Until next time when I promise to make a positive contribution to the world. xxx