I’ve been waxing since I was a teenager. Growing up in the modern world you soon learn that our relationship with body hair is contradictory.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that we are all human. From your manager to your grandmother there are things that most of us do regularly but would never admit to. In an endeavor to bring us all closer, create mutual understanding, and to remind you that deep down we are all just disgusting, I’ve made a list.
Picking your nose:
Whether it’s a cheeky pick and flick whilst you are stopped at the lights or in bed at night – everyone loves a good pick. It’s cathartic, gets the crusties out and saves any embarrassing snotty moments with work colleagues. There’s nothing worse than having to tell someone you can see something green congealed in their nasal hair.
Checking out your stool:
It’s an important part of your digestive health to check the bowl after you’ve “dropped the kids off at the pool”. Or maybe you just want to Snap Chat it to your mates because it was enormous!
Lied about farting:
Of course you have, you’re not an idiot.
Stalking past flings on Facebook or social media:
You didn’t even date but somehow you are 3 albums deep. Thank god you can delete your browser history.
Had an “accident” in a public place:
I’d love to say if you haven’t soiled yourself in public, you haven’t lived. If you’ve travelled anywhere with a dodgy hygiene history this has definitely happened to you.
Eaten an entire cake or equivalent of junk food – alone:
You might tell your housemates you had people over, but really you ate the entire thing… with a spoon.
Sneezed in your hand and wiped it on something in public.
You’ve sneezed and now you have a slimey slob of mucus cupped in your hands. No one will notice if you just wipe it surreptitiously on your pants, would they?
Drunk called/texted or Facebook messaged someone you don’t like sober:
If you’ve been drunk, needy and had a phone handy – you’ve done this at least once.
Pretended to be sick to get out of something:
Whether it’s work or a family dinner the list of events you want to avoid only gets longer as you get older. Of course you have faked a sickie to get out of turning up.
Can’t say you’ve done at least three? I hate to break it to you, but you’re probably a Cyborg.
1. Why would I want to give my cat a Real Meat Injection?
This sounds like the kind of offer one receives at a backpacker bar.
2. HIGH “PALATABILITY”- I’m pretty sure palatability isn’t a word.
Also, since it is food, I would assume that it’s palatable, for the cat at least. No need to make up a word to tell me about it.
3. 100% SATISFIED or 100% REFUND — How does one judge cat food unsatisfactory?
“Look here, the Real Meat Injection wasn’t nearly large enough”
“The vegetable flavour was there, but Mr. Whiskers couldn’t taste the cheese.”
“Tibbles is actually lactose intolerant. The cheese flavouring upset her stomach and she shat all over the shag carpet.”
I am willing to bet that no one has successfully wrangled a refund for Coles Complete Cuisine Real Meat Injection. If anyone has, I want to know who they are and how they managed to prove that they were not satisfied with cat food. Then I will hire them as my attorney.
Long story short, despite the dismal product marketing, I am a huge fan of Vegetable and Cheese (not to mention Real Meat Injections) so I bought 7 boxes… all in the hope that I’ll be 100% satisfied.
Yesterday whilst on Twitter I saw this photo pop up on my feed.
It reminded me fondly of year 6 camp, long before the invention of selfies. I hate to tell you people, but the ol’ let’s put our heads together for a photo has been around a lot longer than the iPhone, in fact, I was spreading my lice infested hair all over other kids with the use of a disposable camera. Sheer brilliance.
There are a few standout memories from my childhood and almost all of them involve lice.
In Australia in the 90’s there was a KNIT NURSE who visited schools. All the children would line up (probably increasing the spread of lice – they can jump) and walk one by one into a hall. In the middle of the school hall there were two seats with two middle-aged nurses behind them. They wore hair-nets, rubber gloves and dour expressions.
You would walk forward and sit nervously in the seat, sweating. Because if the nurse found knits in your hair, you were sent home with a note to your parents in hand. The note read;
YOUR CHILD HAS LICE! To avoid a school wide infestation, we ask that you apply the following treatment to your child’s hair….
What followed was worse that the constant itch of lice. In order to remove the lice from their happy homes, a thin toothed, metal comb was raked across your scalp. You would then be covered in a variety of potions. My mother, being a hippy, attempted to use herbal remedies the first 3 times, however, the lovely Oil and Lavender concoction she made was essentially a day spa that my lice frolicked in. No, the only thing that worked on real, nuclear holocaust surviving lice was something far worse. KP24.
It seared the skull and the smell of it burnt your eyes. I was sure it was 9 parts kerosene, but it was the only thing that truly destroyed lice. The tragic part was that it had a very distinctive smell. A smell that every child was familiar with. It was the Eu de Cologne of Exclusion.
Kids are cruel at the best of times and giving them added ammunition is never a good idea. At playtime after the KNIT NURSE had visited, we would scour the school yard to spot who was missing. When we found out who was at the center of the infestation we would avoid them for weeks when they returned to school, their poor KP24 soaked skulls stinking up the corridors. Kids don’t forget and they certainly don’t forgive.
The golden rule with putrid farts is, “who ever smelt it, dealt it.” I believe this is one of life’s cardinal rules and it certainly applied to knit infestations. Despite denial at the time, I believe was responsible for 90% of the lice outbreaks in my year level. Perhaps not alone, but let’s be honest it only takes one kid with an itchy head and a passion for hugging others. I’m a hugger. I’ve always been a hugger.
Recently I was at a party, in the middle of a conversation, when I had an epiphany.
I was being boring on purpose.
It sounds like I’m making an excuse for my shitty party behaviour; alas, this was hardly the situation…
It has taken me some time to learn that there are certain people I simply don’t want to talk to at parties. At the ripe old age of 25, I can spot them coming a mile off. They are the type of person who never asks you a single question, who walks away feeling like they’ve made a new best friend and yet they don’t know anything about you. Despite the fact that they’ve been talking AT you for 45 minutes.
It’s what I like to call a bad sex conversation. One person leaves feeling satisfied and the other like they’ve just been used.
When faced with a bad sex conversation, you can use the following game plans:
Game Plan 1: The Fob Off – (This is not another way of saying hand-job)
The Fob Off is when you skilfully listen to the speaker for a few minutes, nodding and smiling, before realising you need to get a drink or go to the bathroom. You navigate the speaker within proximity to another person (the victim) and you Fob Them Off. See Example:
Egomaniac: And then I couldn’t believe he’d broken up with me in Berlin and I was like, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!? Can you believe something like that would happen, just after my cat/dog/goldfish died!? [Stares at you, demanding a response to said horrible situation].
You: [nodding] Oh how horrible [sympathetic noise], Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I need to run to the bathroom. This is Clarence, Clarence meet Ego Maniac.
Clarence (aka Victim): [confused and accommodating] Hi!
Game Plan 2: The Ghost
Follow game plan 1, but when they turn around/ are distracted, run.
Both of these techniques work well. but there is only so many times you can use them before you stop getting invited to parties altogether. (It’s also difficult to execute The Ghost when at an intimate dinner party.) This is where the latest addition to my repertoire comes in…
Five Tips on Being a Bore
- Have you ever spoken to a truly boring person? The chances are quite high because the world is sadly full of average people (especially if you work in customer service). Boring people are difficult to hold conversations with because they don’t offer anything. Nothing. Nada. When you are talking at a brick wall, the conversation becomes stagnant and awkward pretty quickly.
- If you are like me, awkward silences are your kryptonite. I’d prefer to blurt out something stupid rather than let the silence settle in. This fear has made me a fool. To get rid of that pesky person you need to EMBRACE THE AWKWARD SILENCE. That sweet, sweet, sweaty-palmed moment will have them leaving for a drink in no time.
- Be devoid of passion. The world is a weird place and somewhere there is a person who is passionate about picking lint out of their bellybutton. Bellybutton lint might not be your cup of tea, but if you speak to someone who is passionate about it, you might just discover a twinge of passion yourself.
- Give one-word answers. Again, this is one of my pet hates, but when used in the appropriate situation it sends any conversation into the stink.
- Don’t give away physical signs of enjoyment. Smiles, nods and raised eyebrows all express interest. Keep your face devoid of expression and you’re on a fast ticket out of there.
Now you might think that all this effort to get rid of someone who is ‘just taking the time to talk to you’ is really unfair. Before you make any more suggestions, I’m going to go ahead and tell you, that this is not just an average conversation you are working to end. This is a BAD SEX conversation.
The other person does not care about you in the slightest. They have not and will not ask anything about your life, your job or what you like to do on the weekend. This person just wants to talk about themselves and that is why you are boring them to death.
These “bad sex” conversations are bad for your health. It’s important that we surround ourselves with people who are interested in something other than themselves. Conversations are about interacting with someone else, so if it’s been a while since you listened instead of spoke, you should try and do it now.
Sadly, there is always the chance that the person who is talking at you enjoys it so much that despite all your attempts, they will continue. This is the final line of social interaction and this is where the niceties end.
I work in online communication and I listen to people whine and prattle as a part of my job. Everyday. I consider it within my right to say, if I’m not getting paid to listen to your shit, I’m going to end the conversation right here.
It’s Friday night and I’m standing in the line at the Fish and Chip shop. It feels about 100 degrees and I am sweltering whilst waiting to order. I’m crowded in by families, couples getting up in each other’s personal space and groups of friends gossiping about their week. I have a sweat moustache.
Fish and Chip Lady: “What’ll you have love?”
Me: “Um, do you have a small pack of fish and chips?”
Fish and Chip Lady: “That’ll be the single pack.”
Me: “Yeh, one of those please.”
Fish and Chip Lady:“Are you sure hon, that won’t be enough for you and your boyfriend”.
*winks saucily at the strange man standing behind me*
Me (face turning beetroot): “Erm… he’s not.. I mean, we don’t… I’m by myself”.
Fish and Chip Lady (staring deep into my eyes in pity): “Oh, okay. I’ll put that through”.
As I pushed through the sweaty people waiting for their orders, this is what popped into my head:
As I wiped the sweat off my upper lip, I thought:
‘So what if I’m getting fish and chips on my own on a Friday night? I like fish and chips. Sure, I probably wont finish all the chips. But fuck yeh, I won’t have to share my calamari rings.’
A week later, I ducked into a food court for a quick bite. I grabbed some delightful spring rolls and this napkin –
This is when I realised, society says; ‘it’s weird to be alone’. According to this napkin and the Fish and Chip shop lady, you should be with someone. Hanging out alone in public is a social faux pas.
The fear of being alone is real for many of us. Otherwise why would that meme be so damn popular? It probably stems from the human fear of death and the idea that we face whatever comes after life by ourselves.
And I get it, some people out there are legitimately lonely. They don’t have any friends, some of them need some loving. Perhaps they are even looking for someone to share their lives with. But that’s being LONELY. Not ALONE. And that’s why we have the internet.
The thing that no one talks about is that relationships are fucking hard work. I’m not just talking about your lover or your wrestling partner. I’m talking about spending time with your family, being nice to your average work colleague and dealing with your friends 24/7. That shit is exhausting and if you don’t get a chance to re-charge with some quality alone time, you’ll lose your mind.
Like this guy, who just wanted to eat his freaken ice-cream and didn’t feel like sharing:
The problem is, that so many of us are from the Disney generation where it’s been drummed into our brains that we need someone else to make us happy.
I’m not advocating that you get rid of your friendships, relationships and average colleagues. What I’m saying is, that people who are uncomfortable hanging out by themselves must have really shit personalities. If you can’t stand being around yourself than who the hell else will?
You know what makes me suspicious? Those people who stay in relationships that suck. The whole “I don’t want to be old, alone and get eaten by my cats” mentality.
Are you afraid of ending up alone and being eaten by your cats? Answer these 3 questions to find out:
- 1) Have you ever gone to a restaurant/ cafe or bar by yourself, on purpose?
- 2) Can you spend an entire day by yourself without calling someone to hang out with you?
- 3) Have you ever ditched a social engagement for some alone time? (Sexual and non-sexual, both count as self-love).
If you answered YES to at least one of the three questions above, you are doing alright, will find inner peace and may manage to walk on hot coals without getting burnt.
If you answered NO to any/all it’s time you invest in some one on one loving. Take yourself out for a nice meal and glass of wine. (Don’t get too comfortable drinking alone though, I hear that’s a slippery slope).
So the next time you get stood up, haven’t been invited to a party or your lover is screening your calls, remember kids – being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.
Just for reference – this is what Fish and Chips for one looks like:
Yeh, that’s right. Fucking awesome.
A friends dad told me about the 6 P’s just before our final exams. I was 16 going on 17 and thought old people were the worst. Needless to say, the wisdom was lost on me. As it has been, most of my life, hindsight is a massive bitch.
20 minutes into our 4 day hike in the Nepalese Himalayas I wished I hadn’t been such a know it all.
It had begun to rain and Erin and I were wearing runners. Our socks were wet, we didn’t have rain jackets and our bags were the super cool, cloth souvenir type made by Nepalese hippies. Despite looking fabulous for any “WE ARE BEING ADVENTUROUS LOOK AT US” photos we planned to take, we were hideously under prepared.
We were setting out from the mountain town of Pokhara and planned to trek the Annapurna circuit trail. A trail that went vertically up to a place (hilariously) named Poon Hill and back again. We were under the impression it would be a leisurely 4 day hike, with maybe a few little challenging rocky bits. We were wrong.
Realizing it was colder than I expected, I purchased a bright pink puffy jacket just before the hike, which made me look like a pregnant piece of fairy-floss. On the upside it would probably be the reason I was found if I happened to slip off a mountain.
That first day we hiked 9km up 3,000 stone steps. Exhausted, our legs hurting, we looked much less glamorous than expected. That night, Raju*, our Nepalese guide pointed out the ominous snow clouds on the horizon. Three days later trudging through calf deep snow in leggings and runners, I couldn’t help but think about how fun and spontaneous we were, whilst I shivered with cold.
For this reason I decided to make a list of things to remember for any hopefuls who also plan to go trekking (in freezing conditions) sometime in the near future:
- 1. Wear good shoes. If you don’t, you will have to sacrifice a pair of socks, which you will then put over the outside of your shoe so you don’t plummet to your doom slipping down icy steps. (You will also look like you are wearing purple clogs.)
- 2. Pack spare socks (see above)
- 3. Lock the bathroom door. Getting walked in on is embarrassing. When it’s in a squat toilet and the intruder is another group’s Nepalese guide*…it’s much worse.
- 4. Get a guide. Don’t be a douche-bag, it doesn’t matter how awesome you are at reading maps, you will get lost and be found by some mountain family when they plant their spring marijuana crop.
- 5. Suck it up. Your legs will hurt, your back will ache. But there is a 100-year-old man carrying a basket the size of your body up the mountain next to you and he’s smashing it.
- 6. Embrace annoying hiking songs. The Song That Never Ends is infuriating, but it’s also hilarious. Your guide will love you for it. (Alternatively, they will poison your Mo-Mo’s) either way it will be fun all round.
Overall I recommend taking the plunge and going trekking in Nepal regardless of how prepared you are. It would be a crime to say the hike wasn’t one of the most incredible adventures both and Erin and myself have ever had. The view made all the leg pain/ singing worth it.
In 4 days we hiked over mountains covered in snow, got walked in on in squat toilets by unsuspecting locals, slept in all our clothes, ate veggie Mo-Mo’s for breakfast, lunch and dinner and generally laughed ourselves stupid. Yes, our legs ached and we did a fair amount of whingeing, but we made it. And now we are better than you.
*Raju is the sweetest man alive, with an enormous smile. He was a fantastic source of support/ hilarity (and beat us at celebrity heads numerous times) over the 4 days he was with us in the mountains.
*This particular intruder ended up spending the night in the same shack we stayed the night in. Mortifying.