PlugInMatty

a frosted window, a dirty mirror, and a kinda bored PlugInMatty... I did some writing today, too. w00t! (edit: yes Mark Arbour, the mirror really is dirty.)

I was laughing at something, but I have no idea what. I remember pretending to waltz with one of my colleagues (to Lady Gaga's Poker Face ), so I'm pretty sure it had something to do with that. (and no, in case you're wondering, I can't dance)

so, the photos from the office Christmas party have started trickling in... lol.

See, if you were truly dazzled by my beauty, you wouldn't be able to see anything beyond the 'very handsome man' (lol) in the photo. shame on you. yes I know most definitely it's a doona. and since you asked, I spent the next 15 minutes making my bed up in fact, I was an hour late for a party I was supposed to go to that night, because I was busy getting rid of numerous similar piles around my just-moved-into house. welcome to my obsessive-compulsive world (note: I don't actually have OCD, just an unnatural obsession with controlling my environment ) you weren't dazzled either? SHAME ON BOTH OF YOU!!! haha as if. (I keep that in my nightstand ) what you see in the bathroom is shaving cream, two varieties of deodorant (Brut and Rexona, for those keeping score), moisturiser (), a razor and four (:o) different varieties of hair product. and speaking of heavy duty lube, I think Chase should hop on a plane and fly down under, so I can take him up on his offer. yes/no?

I thought the expression matched the lighting haha but thank you nonetheless!

I call this one 'come on, get happy!'

punch him in the tits.

without question, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Gene Wilder was, IS, freaking amazing.

So there's this Australian politician who yesterday told a press conference that he was molested by his scoutmaster. (Link here) Now usually, I would not go anywhere near the subject of child abuse. It's f**ked, it's wrong, and there's an especially fiery place in hell for those who do it. But this guy is the public face of political conservatism, and represents a party whose core political belief is that gay people are second-class citizens. He's anti-LGBT adoption, he's anti-IVF treatment for lesbians, he's anti-Gay marriage. He's anti-you and I, basically. If he had his way, we'd probably live by the word of the bible and all the gays would be herded into Auschwitz. But he's a child abuse victim. Err... so? How can I reconcile that with the fact that he's a conservative dirtbag? ... Nope, I can't. I just can't. I know he's an abuse victim, but... Nope, it's just not there. I get robbed of civil liberties, he gets robbed of his childhood. It's like retro-active karma. and you know what? that sits just fine with me. Karma's a bitch, Steve Fielding.

I dunno, this might be taking the 'alpha-female' thing a touch too far Happy birthday, Sharon! (I'll have my present to you by the end of the week)

cheese and vegemite ftw

oh wow... Wish I knew what to say, really. I just hope that we, as a community, managed to bring even a little bit of light to your final days. rest in peace, dude.

a date at Subway? with Jared? don't forget that he has AIDS. use a condom I expect to hear tales of bad 'six-inch or footlong' puns, too. and if you're good, I'll send through Chapter Six in the next 24hrs

surely you know of Erin Brockovich?

Anything I edit

haha I totally had you pegged as a Jesse McCartney fanboy you can add Jeopardy! to my list.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHMYGODGRAPESODA!!!"

Chapter Six is now plotted and written in its entirety. Yay! But there's a catch... it's written entirely in dot points. Oops. So now I've got a week to take 3,000 words worth of dot points and turn it into something that's up to my usual lofty (*cough*) standards. Anyway, since it worked so well for Chapter Six, I'm going to blog a bunch of random dot points today and you can respond as you wish. - on annual leave until October 6th, and I've got absolutely nothing planned between now and then. - haven't been to gym in ten days, due to a retarded foot (x-rays negative, thankfully) - posted a sneak peek of my next story here. you should read it/comment it. NOW. - discovered the wonders of champagne breakfast on Saturday morning. - discovered the wonders of Adrian Grenier on a 3 metre projector on Sunday morning - discovered that my iPod has a bizarre habit of playing You Found Me by The Fray when I put it on shuffle - I don't even really like The Fray. - told a Greek girl that she has more facial hair than I do on Saturday, so she cried - met a girl who was an accessory to a recent murder, so now I know a local 'celebrity' - met a cute boy, but found my desire to have sex with him was overwhelmed by my desire to punch him in the face. fortunately, I did neither. - watched Australia's equivalent of the Super Bowl with twenty or so friends on Saturday afternoon, got pretty trashed - reinforced my belief that Aussie Rules kicks the shit out of Gridiron - discovered a show called Better Off Ted. funny as shit. - got Calvin Harris' Ready for the Weekend stuck in my head. rather annoying. - came up with a great set of characters the other day, now just need to write them a storyline - thinking about getting involved in the wider writing community, once I have a couple of completed projects to 'shop around' - emailed a lady about joining a local organisation... three weeks ago. no response. - cat just went to sleep in the space between my laptop and my face. - cat showing no signs of moving, that could be my cue... later.

/Letters From The Inside by John Marsden. I was only about 12 years old when I read it, and it was the first book I'd ever read that didn't have a happy ending. More than that, it was the first book I'd read that didn't have everything wrapped up in a perfect little bow. Basically, this one book took all of my perceptions/prejudices up to that point (i.e. 'and they all lived happily ever after'), and turned everything on its head. I'd like to think that book shaped the stories I write today.

*sympathetic nod* it's ok, Jack. nobody's going to judge you.

haha yes, I believe eight-year-olds are the target audience for Drake and Josh. unfortunately, I'm 23

TV, what a wonderful invention that is. Since the basketball season finished a few weeks ago, I've had the (unfortunate) honour of sitting down in front of the little black box thingy and staring at pictures for an hour or two most nights. Brilliantly mindless. And mostly, it's been a good thing. I've fallen back into the habit of watching Daily Show/Colbert, I've been able to catch up on my beloved procedurals (like Lie to Me and Without a Trace), and I've also been able to catch the final episodes of my beloved Project Runway. Overall, it's been a passably good experience. However, all this extra tv has had a rather unfortunate side-effect. And it comes in the form of these two boys... Drake and Josh. It's this rubbish sitcom on Nickelodeon, and I've somehow found myself becoming addicted to its stupidity. God damn, it makes me laugh. Anyway, I've been watching so much of this show lately that I've begun to pick up on all of its little nuances. For example, the fat kid loses a crapload of weight over the course of the series, and nobody bothers to mention why. The boys also have an Ataris poster on their wall. I've also picked up on the fact that the little sister is also the girl out of iCarly... and we've started watching that too What the f**k is wrong with me? Anyway, now it's your turn... Tell the world about your embarrassing tv addiction.

So I grew up. Dunno when it happened, but I grew up. After years of promising myself that I'd turn 23 and devote an entire year to living out Blink 182's What's My Age Again?, I've woken four days after my 23rd birthday and realised that I'm already grown up. A functional, contributing member of society. A fully-fledged adult. What do I do? Now I'm scared. I think I'm gonna have to sit back and have a think about what this means...

Thanks for all the birthday love, guys. Won't bore you with all the details, but I can tell you that I didn't get drunk. Almost got plastered, though... But thankfully, my foot isn't broken. That's a story for another time, though