Turning Lamebos Into Rainbows

Rambling Goat and Nonsense Unicorn present… The Awesome Person's Guide to Life


Life as a people phobe

Social anxiety (or what I prefer to call “hermit hoboness”) is a pickle of a dickle to live with. It’s this thing that looms over you and squelches your heart into palpitations when faced with the prospect of *gasp* interacting with humans.

Let me give you a low down on the things that are normal for most but are sucky or terrify me.

Phone calls bring pain

I hate talking to people on the phone. It’s painful. The stress of not being able to hear them, or understand Them, or talk to someone I don’t know. Ergh.

Every ring gives me a heart attack and I battle to decide whether to answer the phone or not.

Hence why my phone is always on silent.  Or I just leave it upstairs – out of sight out of mind.

The dreaded greeting hug

What is with everyone and their need to physically touch me?

Can’t a wave suffice? Thumbs up perhaps?

The worst is when it’s a hug kiss combo. Why not through acid in my eyes too?!?


Friends scare me

You would think that you should feel comfortable around your friends and be yourself, yeah? Not for me. Even with the best of friends, I still get incredibly apprehensive meeting them and hanging out.

Even having a good time makes my face ache.

Meeting new people is torture

Why not just lock me up in an iron maiden covered in my own feces instead?

Meeting people turns me into a deer in headlights – I just freeze and want to die. We met some blogger friends who can probably attest to me being as exciting as a limp lemur on morphine. Can’t. Deal. With. Newness. Ugh.

Not to mention having to remember new names, and then you forget their name and then you die.

New people + the greeting hug = certain death

Pretty sure murder is evil, soooo….. if you haven’t known me for 28 years then don’t touch me or you will have a spontaneously combusted corpse to clean off your shoes.

Everybody hates me

Because the situation is so stressful, you overthink every single thing and come to the conclusion that you suck and everybody hates you and WHY DID YOU COME OUT OF YOUR CAVE?

Omg you said something and no one responded – THEY THINK YOU SUCK.

Does that chick have dirt in her eye? NOPE SHE HATES YOU YOU CREEPY FUCKER.

It’s near impossible to just chillax and not be thinking about every single move you make so that you don’t implode and die.

…………aaaaaand I just got turkey slapped.


Lost my spot now – so YEAH there’s an insight into the world of social anxiety.  So next time you judge someone for being quiet, or boring, or creepy, just take a moment to think about what kind of internal battle may be going on.

Nonsense Unicorn



Pleb Life

Due to our fancy shmancy writings on here many would assume that we are high rolling rich cats. Well, let me let you in on a little secret: we’re totes not.

It’s true my friends, your friendly neighbourhood Rambling Goat and Nonsense Unicorn are one step away from being frothy hobos on the street – or what we like to prefer, plebs.

But the pleb life is not as bad as you would think. On the contrary, it can be quite amusing as your lack of cash forces you to find cheaper and better forms of entertainment. As someone wise (and probably rich and famous) once said:

Its better to be poor in wealth but rich in spirit 

And rich in spirit we are (and not only due to the vodka).

So here is a list of some of the great and fulfilling benefits of living the pleb life.

Innovative ways to get drunk

  • Going to a music festival and don’t want to pay $10 for a mid strength beer? Just bury some bottles of grog under a tree a few days before and boom! You have a nice dirty hole of alcohol goodness to supply you for the day.
  • Sit in a park with a $5 bottle of wine and laugh at all the passers by and how sneaky you are for drinking in public.
  • Once I put alcohol in a Maccas cup and went to the Ivy (some Lame fancy nightclub). Spent five dollars the whole night. Boom!

You learn that noodles are life


Who needs to go out when you have board games

Screw nightclubs when you can sit at home in your onesie and ply board games. Or cards. There’s so many of them to choose from!

Pets provide constant and free amusement

Once I watched my guinea pigs eat grass for two hours and never got bored.


What are some of the things you do to live up the pleb life?


I’m Not In Love

I’m not in love, so don’t forget it. It’s just a silly phase I’m going through…

Sitting upstairs trying to listen to a disgusting statistics tutorial,  I hear my  bellowing and heavily depressed boyfriend downstairs on the phone crying to his mother:

“I love her but I’m not in love with her”.

My heart sinks.  The computer screen seems to zoom out and blur as my chest begins to contort rapidly against invisible ropes, a swelling lump of dread scratching the back of my tongue and choking me.  Woah, for a perpetually numb and stone walled individual this feeling is intense.  Too bad it’s full of the usual melancholic stress and demise.

We have been having our problems lately, and we’re both aware of that.  He is fucking depressed and crippled with anxiety, and I’m so pro at depression I’m like a walking ghost that no one knows the wiser is merely an empty shell.  We’re like two blind frogs trying to stay on the same lily pad together.  We have discussed this, we know life is shit yadda yadda, but we also decided that we love each other too much and it’s worth fighting for and all that crap.

And then I hear this.

The typical girl inside me wrote a note on a post it, took it down to him and gave it to him, storming back up to the study to pretend like I was learning about numbers and shit.

I can hear everything.

His phone call ends and, crying, he follows me up.  Oblivious and in a stupor to what he could have possibly said.  I couldn’t tell if it was denial and an awww shiiit how do I cover this or actual cluelessness.

“What did I say? I was talking to my mum,” he wails.

“Oh, that you love me but you’re not in love with me.  Fine. Make a fool of me.  I’m done”.  The ropes constricting my frail rib cage even more.

“What?! I said I love you!  Mum said that being in love with someone is the honeymoon when you first meet and then things change.  That’s what – we aren’t in the honeymoon period anymore.”

Hoooooooold up a minute.  My head is going whack.  My concepts and contexts of what is love are getting all muddled up.

Yeah I know relationships change, the honeymoon period ends, things turn into a roller coaster, but I always thought it was the being IN love with someone that made it worth all while.

Does being in love just constitute that honeymoon period?

Aren’t  you meant to be in love the whole time?  Or is it just a temporary destination?

If you fall out of the honeymoon phase, have you fallen out of love?

Because, to me, I love many a thing.

I love my parents.

I love my friends.

I love my pets.

I love schnitzel.

I love lamp.

But it is that special, heart burning up love that tethers me to this fool.

If he is not in love with me, then what is this?  Cos if I get a schnitzel I don’t like then I just don’t eat it – I ain’t gonna take the time to make a gravy to make it taste better.  I’ll just get a new schnitzel.

He doesn’t get why I am distressed and upset at this.  Am I missing something here?

Does “romantic love” exist not being “in” love?


nonsense unicorn



The Skittish Deer

The last update post I told you guys I was looking for a rental place. After 3 weekends of traipsing through people’s houses at inspections and finding nothing suitable, I took the offer and moved in with DD.

I didn’t want it to seem I was jumping from one guy to the next so after a snarky remark I sat down with the ex and told him the story: I was moving into DD’s spare room and it was only until I found a place for myself. I honestly thought he’d just go ‘fair enough, I just want you to be happy.’ Instead (and of course this would happen), he had lost his job that day, got drunk, cracked the shits and told me I’d “fuck him within a day.” Fair call, I did, but we’re broken up and I’m not living with the ex anymore so my carefactor is at an all time low. Adult tantrums piss me off though, there’s no reasoning with an illogical drunk man.

So I’ve been living with DD for a week now. I was already on edge by moving here because of the ex’s reaction but combine that with the whole ‘moving into some-guy-that-you’re-kind-of-dating’s house’ situation and I’ve become a skittish deer.

Then came the L word.

Right before I moved in, DD texted me “I think I’m falling in love with you.” Ummm awkies. I didn’t say it back. I don’t want a relationship right now. Dating, yes, relationship, no. There is absolutely a difference in my mind. And in this skittish deer analogy, I was just eating some grass and he came barreling towards me with flashing lights and loud noises. ‘HEY ITS A DEER LET ME RUN AT IT AND PAT IT!!!’



Too much, too soon. Errybody chill.

So again, I have myself in a conundrum. I’m dating a guy who loves me, living in his house but sleeping in a spare room in order to feel like this is not a relationship. But there’s definitely more to it than just sleeping in separate bedrooms.

I had a beer with Jake a couple of days ago and he explained it on the pub table. One side was casually dating and the other was being in a relationship. The crack down the middle represented the line that could be crossed to turn casually dating into becoming a relationship. I told him a few things we were doing and he responded. Here’s a few examples:
*Sometimes we sit out the front with the dogs, eat cheese & bickies and drink beer. [Coaster sits at dating end]
*We cook eachother dinner. [Coaster still in dating half]
*We do our grocery shopping together. [Coaster moves up and sits hanging over the line]
*We had a bath together (its a big corner tub) the other night with suds, music playing and a beer aaand
*Every night we seem to snuggle on the couch and I fall asleep with my face on his chest. [Jake moans and throws the coaster across the table as I laugh]

And Jake will shake his head at this because after realising that I totally do ‘relationship’ things and give off the wrong vibe, that very night I went out with NU and her man for dinner and I rang up DD afterwards to come pick me up. In the middle of Sydney CBD on a Friday night.. At like 9:30pm. I was standing across the road from a train station which can get me home in 10 minutes and I still rang. I wanted to be all cosy in his car! My bad.

So yeah, this deer is now totally eating out of his hand. Well wait, back up (oh god, great pun, you’ll see). For the first 4-5 days of moving in I didn’t poop. And then I caved and went at work. Even now I can’t poop while he’s wandering around the house and have only done it when he’s not home or if he’s asleep. There’s a time and place people! I’m not at that ‘brb gotta go poop’ comfort level yet and apparently I’d rather make myself constipated than use the bog in an uncomfortable environment. I spoke to him about it yesterday and he was flabbergasted, apparently most men just do it whenever and don’t care.

Anyway, without spending the next 10 minutes explaining that most women genuinely fear being heard and smelt, I’ll just hold onto this small piece of evidence that proves I’m still a skittish deer.

If you’re at this point wondering why the heck I’m so warped and can’t just have a relationship and be done with it, I’ll present you with one final morsel that is freaking me out:
DD isn’t poly.

Previously he said he was, is fine with the idea of me being with others and doesn’t have any problems. Now that I’m here, I said I wanted to meet up with a guy for a beer and he responded with “really?? I thought you’d want to focus on us and our feelings. I’d rather do that and then in a couple of months you can start seeing others.”
SCREECH!! There’s the handbrake.

Why does this keep happening? Why say one thing but when it comes to the crunch, change your mind?!

The irony here is that he just broke up with a girl because she claimed she was poly and when we started msging more she freaked out, said she wasn’t ok with it and then he broke up with her. SO MUCH IRONY.

So yes, trusty ol RG always denies herself awesomeness to make others happy (*exaggerated sigh*) but I logically discussed our options;
1. Say our goodbyes (but I’d still be living here which would be awkward).
2. I’ll go and have beers with people even though it will make him uncomfortable.
3. While I live here I won’t see others but as soon as I move out into my own place, we’ll re-discuss and see if he feels comfortable with it yet. Apparently the more feelings we have for eachother, the more freedom he’s happy for me to have. Personally I call bullshit but that’s because I literally just went down the ‘just give me time!’ rabbit hole. My ‘fuuuuuuuck yoooou lifeeeeee’ radar was going off.

To see where his head was at, I asked him if he was interested in other women (dating/sleeping with). He said no. I asked if it was more likely that he was just a tolerant monogamist rather than poly. He grumbled and didn’t really answer. He has told me that he’s 100% fine with me continuing to see a current play partner, so that’s where the tolerance part comes in, but realistically that could very well be as far as his tolerance goes. A one-sided poly relationship could be a disaster. Or, it could work out. Who knows.

So I guess I’ll lay low, postpone meet ups with everyone except my play partner for a few weeks and then see what happens. The deer is either going to start frolicking or run off to the next park.

Rambling Goat


Parent Sex

I never grew up thinking my existence began with a stork kidnapping me from a cabbage patch and shoving me in my parent’s letter box.  I remember always being a somewhat rational and realistic child. I don’t ever recall getting “the talk” either, and I think it is due to the unfortunate placement of my bedroom next to that of my parents.

If only…. oh, if only…

Through the bangs and groans and slaps and ooohs pounding through the walls and into my fragile ear drums,  I learnt at a very young age that *gasp* my parents had sex. And it angered and disgusted me.  I would lie awake at night, exhausted already because falling asleep was always an arduous task anyway, blocking my ears and yelling shut the hellll upppp to no avail.

Through this, I believe a deep subconscious disdain for the sexual world began brewing in my soul.

Yeah I’m an adult now, but fuck the excuse it’s what adults do when they love each other and other bull crap to create an excuse for it.  Well, no, you were just not giving a shit about how your children will react or think about it.  It scars the fuck out of your soul.  I didn’t realise how much this has pissed me off until it randomly came up during couples counselling the other day when the psych was asking about attitudes towards sex growing up.  Years and years later, and thinking about it still makes my body react and want to vomit.

So now I’m blaming their sex for my non-existent libido and invisible wall inside me that doesn’t let me release my full sexual potential.  Yes parents,  my sexual disfunction is your loud and moaning fault.

Moral of the Story: if you’re going to roast the broomstick, have the courtesy to make sure that your children are 150% oblivious to it, or you can be royally soiling their mind.

Nonsense Unicorn


Couples Counselling

I used to think couples counselling was lame and futile. Like a sign that you’re just prolonging the inevitable break up. I used to think that if I ever got to that point in a relationship that it’s time to go Hans Solo. You’re done. Quit trying to fool yourself and let go.

But I guess that was before I found someone that is truly worth fighting for. Someone worth making that extra effort and rather than butt heads like stubborn Rams and throw my hands up in the air, I am willing to do something drastic to invest in my relationship.

Invest in my relationship to make it better.

Because a relationship, like anything in our lives, takes work and time and effort. We easily put additional effort into our careers, friendships, qualifications, and even ourselves by going to therapy or massages or even reading a book. Like any of these aspects in our lives, relationships deserve an investment too.

Some like to think that if there’s love then it will all just work out, and if it’s not working out than its not meant to be. Relationships don’t just happen. Okay maybe for some people they do, but if you’re having a few struggles with communication or something else then that’s okay – it is still okay to get outside help.

Because to me, a true relationship is two individuals making a bond with each other. And like any individual who thinks and sees things their own way, sometimes you are bound to clash with someone else – be it romantic partner, friend or parent.

Shit happens sometimes. Bad periods happen sometimes. It is life. And it is okay to get help.

Nonsense unicorn



What constitutes a date?

There seems to be this awkward grey area when:
A) you’re not exclusive with someone or are single
B) start talking to people on a non-dating website
C) want to meet the person you’ve been talking to.

If it was a dating website then yes, fair enough, you go on a date. But if you’ve started communicating through social media (Facebook/Fetlife/LinkedIn/Instagram/Twitter), it’s not entirely obvious.

Is it a date? Are you just friends? Are you thinking you’re just friends and they think it’s a date? I’ve noticed that no one is blunt about it. And I’m probably adding to the confusion because I’m not blunt either..

In my defense though, I’m not actively seeking anyone and I like meeting interesting and fun people. So yes, it could eventuate to play or dating but how do I know before I meet the person?! We might just hit it off as friends and keep it at that. Friends just ‘hang out’ don’t they?

And it’s not just online interactions that have me stumped, no no, it happens in the good ol real world too. A workmate today was talking about a restaurant that sounded awesome. I said “oh wow, I want to go there!” and he responded with “we should go!”. Insert awkward pause. I’m thinking ‘did he just insinuate he wanted to take me on a date there?!’

I assume he was thinking one of these options;
1. ‘Oh god, that sounded whheeeeyyyy too much like I wanted to take her on a date..’
2. ‘Yes! Totally asked her out and it sounded so casual. Damn I’m smooth.’
3. ‘Did I just miss something there? She’s not responding and looking at me strangely.’

Maybe “we” meant ‘you, me and a bunch of other people’?

Ugh. Humans are so confusing. Wise folk out there please enlighten me – what constitutes a date? Dinner at a fancy restaurant for a first ‘meeting’ is most likely a date, but activities like having a coffee or having a couple of drinks could be a friend ‘hangout’ OR a date. Can you have a date with a friend??

Rambling Goat


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