Un-Fucking_believable

Wednesday, July 31st, 2002 | Culture Clash | No Comments

Un-fucking-believable

Had a girls night last night with Bear and Mouth. We went to see “The Sweetest Thing”, which was a fairly OK kinda flick. It had the stupid comedy aspect, along with anorexic bodies clothed in all the latest designer threads. Not quite reality, but a nice trip away from the daily grind.

We all then tripped down Margaret Street to partake in a caffinated beverage each. Well, I had coffee, Mouth had herbal tea (fucking yuppie) while Bear had lemonade and chips.

It was a nice conversation, laughing about the ‘rumor according to the movie.

Apparently, the idea that men like oral sex is nothing but a nasty urban myth. They hate it. Tell your friends.

Conversation travelling lightly, two of us wallowing in the sex-less depression while the other gloated about her rampant sex life. I dont want to think about it. I refuse to believe anything she says. No person could fuck that many times without the need for some serious medical attention. I’m as jealous as hell.

Piffle.

Anyway, that’s not the point of this entry.
The topic sprang from the idle comments made by one of my friends when the waiter swung past to pick up our order.

“Here comes that fag again.”

I dont know if its my liberal upbringing on the coast, or my hippie heritage, but I dont find anything offensive about blokes who like blokes. In fact, I find the blatant homophobic attitudes rather offensive. Not to sound like some kind of new-age fuckwit, but I dont really think love has boundaries. I’m not speaking about physical bump and grind, just the emotion. Like friendship, I dont think there should be set regulations placed on who we love.

I dont want to know what happens behind closed doors, as that’s none of my business. I dont think about what John Howard and his wife get up to on election night. I dont spend time wondering what anybody does in their spare time, so why should I care about what gay people do? I just cant seem to comprehend the ingrained opinion that seems to be in the small-town bloodlines.

My opinion is, if what they do makes them happy then who am I to condemn them? In fact, who the fuck cares? I’m not the Emotion-Police.

What my herbal-tea/lemonade drinking friends dont realise is that I’m not friends with them because of their sexuality. I’m friends with them because I enjoy spending time talking to them. They make me laugh, and I trust them. I dont discriminate between gender, politics, race or religion, so why the hell should I draw the line at sexuality??

However, my friends and I dont share the same opinion about this topic.

I dont have the energy or the time to argue with them, as I know they’re steadfast in their opinions. Nothing I say will ever convince them to reconsider.

So I order a stronger coffee, and focus on the Commonwealth Games Updates flashing across the TV screen. Go Aussie. Kick arse.

Ok. Before I go completely

Monday, July 29th, 2002 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Ok. Before I go completely insane, let me just fill you in on what happened to my last post. I’m talking about the half-finished crap that you’ll see beneath this one.

Yeah… that one. The lengthy masterpiece that got lost in transit somewhere between flexinet.com.au and blogger.com

Bastard.

Anyway…. in the past few days, nothing much has really happened. Mothership has headed off to Miles, so I’m home alone for the week. She left this morning after several painful hours of reassuring her that I wouldn’t expire on my own.

Not to sound too much like a Dawson’s Creek wannabe, but… Shyeah right. I’m perfectly capable of cooking, cleaning, washing, drying, taking out trash and… at a push, dashing down to the local milko to replace the empty bottle of milk at 7 am.

Perhaps its me being grumpy and cynical, but in 17 weeks (HOLY SHIT) I’ll be doing this routine full time. In another fucking country. Perhaps its just mum getting clucky in her old age. Her little baby is all growed up, about to fly away from the nest.

Eh. Who knows. I have a week of space and quiet. I can watch the Games in peace without shrieks of excitement each time something mildly exciting gets replayed…

Oh, speaking of the Games… bring on the godamn swimming. Dangerous when wet, baby. Aint nothing so spectacular as watching the splash and dash. Of course, I want to see the squad get up for the sprints, and a few Commonwealth records come tumbling down in the process…

Anyhow.
Must do project.
TTFN.

Sniffles

Thursday, July 25th, 2002 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Sniffles

Well, I’m finally getting over my cold. Although my poor old shnoz feels like its been abused by sandpaper for the past 5 weeks. Still have a few sinus issues, but my head is clear. I can think again!

Last night I headed out to

Unimpressed

Tuesday, July 23rd, 2002 | University | No Comments

Unimpressed

You may have noticed that I have been absent from my blog for a while. While I do have sufficient excuse (being sick, being away from computer) the blame can rest soley on the shoulders of Blogger.Com for some fucked up software error that monged up my template.
*fuckit*

So… anyhow… now that I’m back… I guess you could hope to expect a little bit of frequent blogging action once again from yours truely.

I’ll summarise what happened in the past 4 weeks:

Got very sick
Went to Movieworld, made friends with the bloke in the Fred (scooby-do) costume.
Spent alot of energy trying to organise Ringbearer/Flexinet.
Moved back to Toowoomba.
Still very sick.
Missed several really great parties due to above sickness.
Am now back at uni.

---

and now for something completely different

---

University administrators are a mixed bunch. Its like a bag of jelly beans. You reach your hand in, blindly pull out a single bean. On some days, you’re likely to pull out a million icky black ones before you find a treasured yellow one. While other days, you’ll hit nothing but taste all day.

Today, was a mixed bag.

#1 Jelly Bean - Icky
Engineering Administration.
“No, your enrollment isn’t finalised yet. I forgot it.”

#2 Jelly Bean - why.god.why
Engineering Administration.
“I’m afraid it looks like you wont be able to do your course, as they’ve met the quota of students for this semester. Dont blame me. I’m not as incompetant as the new software.”

#3 Jelly Bean - Full of Jelly Goodness
Science Administration.
“So, you’re in your last semester. You need one more unit to graduate, and this is the only unit you can do? Fuckers. Wait right here.”
…left sitting in a cosy warm office for two minutes.
“No problems. Just dont tell anybody else on the waiting list that we jumped you over the queue. Lucky you came to see me. Good Luck with everything!”

#4 Jelly Bean - Full of shit.
“All those non-army, non-male, non-REAL engineering students can go and shoot themselves now. But wait til after I tell you about the equator, my children, my new 20y/o calculator, the silly indonesian students last semester, the radio cable, the army feild trip and my science degree.”

And then now… after I’m safely at home, I get an email from Jelly Bean #5.
“Whatever was said in class about non-Army… you can forget. You’re welcome to the class. Statements about Computer Engineering not being a REAL engineering degree still hold. Dumbasses.”

If it wasn’t for Jelly Bean #3, I may have killed myself by now.

---

Important note about engineers.
All real engineers carry a calculator in their belts. You never know when you’ll be in the middle of a corn field.

Ok… I’m a Real Computer Systems Engineer. Not an Imaginary Computer Systems Engineer. I dont use a calculator. I use a computer. If you find me in the middle of a field without a computer, please call an ambulance. My building has moved without me.

Big Business

Tuesday, July 16th, 2002 | Bad Days | No Comments

Big Business

I’m not even in this business yet, and already I’m sick of it. I’m the meat in the sandwich that is Ringbearer, and Flexinet. Flexinet are basicly PAYING for the whole of Ringbearer, yet Ringbearer are too frightened to agree to the 50% ownership by Flexinet.
By rights, it should be 100%, but I’m not about to get up on my soap box. If they’re willing to arse around for the next 4 weeks, then Ringbearer will simply fizzle away into nothing.
The everybody looses everything.

*thud*

So, now I’m sitting in my PJ’s, waiting for the other three (yes, one has already pulled out) to arrive online so we can have a chat about everything. Also, Dr J doesn’t seem to be returning my ICQ messages, so I guess I’m on my own.

Money corrupts everything.

Gee… I wonder if I’m salami, or plain old chickenloaf? Soooo the meat in the sandwich…

---

In other news, I’m still trying to figure out what I’m doing this semester Uni-wise. There’s a few options:
Telecommunications Principals, Web Publishing, or Data Management.

As its my last semester ~ever~ I’m looking to do idiot courses that I can sleep through and still pass. I will be spending most of my time on my project as it is…

About to go and see Hippy Boy to try and get some intelligent input from him. (I may be asking a little too much, I think)

Doyle.

Annoying as all Hell

Saturday, July 13th, 2002 | Good Days | No Comments

Annoying as all hell

Ok, well, I’ve just dipped into the realm of the borderline obsessive compulsive. I downloaded a radio interview of Elijah Wood when he was filming “Try Seventeen” in Brittish Columbia.

Is it me, or are all Canadian Radio Personalities total fuckwits? He’s a walking advertisment for Drug Control. He’s busy hitting the speed just a little too much….

Otherwise, the interview is pretty good.. being a perfect illustration of the real lives that people have behind the hollywood gloss. I actually feel sorry for the headliners, as I’d hate to be under such constant scrutiny.

“Jacqui Doyle runs out of milk, seen at the local shops in ugg boots and paint splattered t-shirt”

Piffle. I like the way I live. I can drive in traffic, be obnoxious, swear randomly, and people wont give a fuck. Making a total dork of myself wont be splashed up on the nightly news, and my retarded fashion sence wont be eyed over by Entertainment Tonight. I love the fact that I can sit here on my balcony wearing a ripped jersey, wearing socks and stained tracky dacks without a telephoto zoom lens catching me in all my awkward glory.

“Doyle falls over step, spills coffee down herself, then invents a new level of inapropriate swearing.”

Ak. Love my life. Hate all drugfucked radio personalities.
Oh… remind me to get the coffee stains out of my cargo’s.