Turning Lamebos Into Rainbows

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


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Roommates: fucks sake not again

Shit hit the fan last night at around 12:40am on a work night.  You’d think that I would have learnt my lesson from the last time that roommates just don’t work in my home. I’m just not made for cohabitation, especially not with gronks anyway.

Back story: for the past four months or so one of Boy’s friends, let’s call him Gronk,  has been living with us. First it started to help him out with a break up, but it’s somehow turned into a seemingly more permanent arrangement...

So last night Boy and Gronk go to the pub for what was meant to be just a couple of drinks, and then turned into late night karaoke. It was organised that they would bring back dinner at 8:30 once I finished my uni class, but I get a text saying they’re going to stay out (even though Boy starts work at 630am and struggles more than me with mornings).

So already I’m hangry from that and decide to go to bed. Strike one.

After a few hours of not being able to sleep, at 12:40am I hear the front door open and hear four voices. What the? The noise then proceeds to our courtyard and I can hear bogan banter, beers and bad singing.


Urge to kill rising.

I go downstairs and the straw on my back snaps. Some old dero bogan man and beanie wearing cunt nugget bitch are sitting on the rabbit cage with beers with Boy and our room mate. At 12:40am on a work night. Oh hell no.

“What the fuck is this? Yeah no this is not happening, get the fuck out of my house”.

Cunt nugget bitch pipes up, “uh no, that’s for him (points to Gronk roommate) to decide”. Gronk roommate who is a guest in our house, has the final say in whether it’s cool that our place turns into a late night party haven and public menac to our neighbours.


Now let me point out that it has been explicitly discussed my expectations and needs for our place. I don’t care if you go out, you don’t bring it back to the house. It’s important for home to be a sanctuary for my mental health. 

By instead they bring strangers into the home that I have built with Boy for years, and somehow turn me into a stranger in my own fuckng house.

I cracked it at Boy. I told him I’m fucking done with this kind of bullshit and I’m leaving. I told him have fun being single with his fuckface Gronk friend. I’m going to my parents house.

He was drunk, rambled about how yeah he fucked up once and I’m a psycho. I told him it’s not this once, too many times similar to this over months and years and this is the straw that broke the camels back.

He doesn’t have my back. He can’t put himself into my shoes. It’s just about what he wants to do and have fun, and I always have to just suck it up and deal with what he wants, otherwise I’m the bitch.

I left and went to my parents house.

I guess we are broken up now. I’m not talking to him today as I’m still angry and upset. I can’t go back right now to get stuff either as I will probably smash Gronk roommates guitar in his face.

I guess this is the end.

Nonsense unicorn


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Forever Young

I received a text last night about another friend expecting a baby. I think that now officially moves the ratio of my friends closer to the motherhood side and I am the outlier . Eww.


I am officially at that age where all my friends are getting married and having babies, and I’m just here roller skating, looking at BJD dolls and planning which gaming console I’m going to buy next.

I don’t care if I’m 30, im too damn young to be needing all of this adult bullshit.


When I received the text last night, instead of feeling happy for my friend I started to get that gut wrenching burn of anxiety inside my chest. I closed my eyes and tried not to panic about the perpetual paradox that I live in.

Why don’t I want the same things as everyone else? Am I unknowingly a sociopath or something?

I don’t want babies now, but I also don’t want to have babies when I’m older.

I don’t want to get married, but I don’t want babies out of wedlock.

All these thoughts, wishing I could just follow the status quo. But I don’t freaking want to.

And I know that blah blah when the time is right, but you can’t argue with biology. And what if I end up having wary menopause, or fertility problems, I’m already 7 years out of my breeding prime, am I really meant to be thinking of re-spawning now?

When do I draw the line and make the decision to take a leap into adulthood?

When do I have to grow up?


Nonsense Unicorn


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Roller skating Noob

Dear diary,


So I have discovered roller skating and have been obsessing for a month!

It’s kinda a nice feeling to actually feel excited and look forward to my class every week. I haven’t felt this kind of excitement for a while and it’s all that’s getting me through each week.

Besides the fact that I can’t stop, turn around or go backwards, or damn crouch low enough to do the shooting duck- it is so much fun!

My social anxiety goes through the roof at the same time, like thoughts that the instructor hates me and thinks I suck, or my skates are too bright.

And oh my god I think I have a nemesis! So at the beginning of each class we go around in circles to warm up, 2 advanced bitches were going in the wrong direction, one came right at me! My arms flailed and I braced for impact crying “sorry!!!” And she dodged last minute smirking at me. What a cunt nugget.

So now I’m more motivated to somehow get better and bowl the bitch down.

Moreover, I attempted to put toe guards on my new skates and stupidly burred the screw of my toe stop and now it’s stuck! I hope I haven’t broken it. Only had them for two weeks.

Anyway, just wanted to share my new found passion. Hope I don’t break any bones.

Yours sparklingly,

Nonsense Unicorn


FYI image courtesy of mile joos art. What a legend


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ART WANK

I’ve always been of the somewhat opinion that contemporary art is a bunch of massive wank.  My appreciation always halted at Lichtenstein, or sometimes Warhol, but after that it’s always rather pissed me off than anything else.  Compared to the actual skill and talent of the classics, I have been all WTF is with painting a canvas black (I can do that), smack a $20,000 price tag on it and call it art because the art resides in what is not on the canvas. Piss off.

Anyway, this is all up until I visited MONA and ermagherd some artworks actually made me feel shit.  Quite a surprise. If you haven’t been, you totally need to go to Tasmania and check this out!  It’s pretty much a museum of art that’s the private collection of this gambling guru, so there’s a mix of old awesome stuff and weird ass contemporary shit (like literally a shit machine. Literally. It eats and poops. Art.)

So after my visit, there’s a few artists that I have been obsessing about since then.  I couldn’t be bothered to provide my review cos that’s not what I’m writing about.  If you like creepy Silent Hillesque shit, check out Patricia Piccinini or Berlinde De Bruyckere.  I’ve always been a bit of a morbid unicorn, there’s just a certain beauty in the seemingly twisted and grotesque artworks. I’m loving it.

One particular artist I’m obsessing about and have had epiphanies (well, not really, but felt something something) about life and all that kinda crap is Andres Serrano.  He’s a famous and hectic controversial photographer, where he’s used a lot of bodily fluids in photos (think Metallica Load and Reload album covers! That’s his blood and spooge!), as well as taken photos of the Klu Klux Klan and homeless people.  “Controversial”, but again there’s just a different perspective and beauty to his art where for the first time I actually appreciate a photographer, where most I’ve met are super duper wankers.

I’m not so much interested in all that work mentioned above, but he did a project called The Morgue Series (Cause of Death).  Pretty much he had access to a morgue and took photos of some dead people.  But seriously, it’s not as crass or horrible as it first sounds.  I’m not going to post any of the pictures here because everyone has difference experiences and thoughts and feelings on death, but I saw one of these photos at Mona and it just made me feel…..not numb. Even for a moment.

Click here if you want to see Blood Transfusion Resulting in AIDS by Andres Serrano, the picture that has made me think and feel and shit.  I’ve never really been scared of death, I’ve always felt a somewhat peaceful release associated with it, and this picture, as well as the others, still manages to capture the soul and life of going to the other side…

SO! Here’s where the lamebo part comes in.  I went to a friend’s party on the weekend and an old mate, who used to be legit cool and nice and down to earth back in school days, but now is a massive wanker photographer (who mainly takes hipster wedding photos and glamour shots of his girlfriend) sits down to have a chat.  He starts the usual mundane “what’s been happening, what you doing etc” conversation, but me being adverse to that boring bullcrap small talk, bring up Andres Serrano.

“OMG ArtWank, you know Andres Serrano right?  He’s super famous, if you haven’t you really need to check his shit out as a photographer.  He takes photos of spooge and dead people, but man there’s a strange magic to what he does.  Look him up!”

He googles the name, sees the picture of Piss Christ, looks at me weird, and then totally does the “uhh… I have to go over here now”.

What. A. Wanker.  Like, okay so you don’t have to like it, but I always feel that, particularly in the art world, you should always be open and perhaps know your art?  Know your competition?  Be aware of other modes of creation, instead of living in your own bubble of what you do?  And moreover, screw you for being a wanker!  You used to be cool with my inherent strange conversations but now you’re just allergic to fun.

I’ve gotten used to weirding people out with my morbid obscurity, but seriously. Open your mind.

ON an unrelated matter, totally re-discovering The Smiths.  Where were they when I was a hopelessly melancholic teenager? (Who am I trying to kid saying was lol only change is I’ve got more wrinkles and saggy tits now…)

Nonsense Unicorn over and out

 

 


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Stink Dick

It was the season of 21sts and the single period after Cherry and I broke up. I was at that stage of being over the heartache and not really giving a crap about guys, just getting drunk and having a good time.

I’m at a friends costume party dressed as a dog, and something something who knows how it happened but I end up sleeping with this guy. Let’s call him SD.

Side note: wtf is with picking up guys when dressed up? And I’m not talking about the slut version of costumes, I had freakin black spots painted on my face. Perhaps a closet furry?

Anyway, so it kind of turned in to a one night stand that wouldn’t go away and somehow turned into a relationship. A quite mundane and boring relationship. I think it was the epitome of a rebound, no feeling but it fills the time kind of thing.

We would do relatively boring things – eat dinner and then fuck in my car. He never focused on making me cum (don’t think I ever did? Not worth remembering).

And OMG he had stink dick. Like, how can you be 21 with stink dick? Do you even shower? And I actually put that thing inside me. Gross. But at the time I was young and thought perhaps it was normal or something .


6 months down the track I was somewhat looking for an excuse to break up with him (the dude wore skinny jeans for jeebus sakes!) Luckily, he went away for a weekend  with friends and one of my bfs was part of the crowd. She caught him fucking this known slag and let me know.

Who would have thought that cheating could bring so much elation, but there we were. So I was at work and couldn’t wait until I finished. I texted him to come meet me and dumped him there. Dumb ass denied it the whole time which made it so much easier, because dude you were caught red handed.

He lost a unicorn for one night with a hippo. 

Conquest count: 12

Nonsense unicorn


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A few filler fellas

Or a few filler fucks, but perhaps that’s a bit too crass for a heading. Also, How’s that for alliteration! Anyway, I thought I would get back to my conquest list.

There are a couple that are just not full blog worthy, so I thought I would just provide a quick list of some of the conquests that I can remember.

Sharing is caring: RG’s Ex

After the douche that broke my esteem, I was feeling terribly down and shitty about myself and just wanted to crawl up in a hole and die. Believing that no guy would want to touch me ever again if I was truly as disgusting as douche wad made me out to be.

So RG being the good friend she is said I should totally hit up her ex for a good time to help. And so I did.

Probably one of the most hilarious and awkward things I have done!


Two boring jack hammers

Then there are two guys from school that ended up as drunken screws. Nothing exciting, too drunk and no self esteem to care, ended up back at their place to be a starfish to their jack hammer. Walk of shame in the morning.


I didn’t know it at the time as I didn’t know them well enough, but apparently they both had girlfriends so I was unknowingly the “other woman” for a night. What jerks.

And that brings us to the double digits….

Nonsense unicorn

Conquest count: 11


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Loves of my Life

I reckon we experience a lot of different loves in our lifetimes, as we fumble through on the eternal search for that one sparkly human that lights up your world.

I thought I would share a couple of the stories of the loves I have experienced in my 29 years of being.

The Star Crossed Love

I was 16 years old (cue Benny Mardones here) and on a family holiday overseas to the mother land to meet family. Days spent hanging out on a farm, one of my cousins mates was interested in me and a love bloomed.


It was kinda disgusting how text book it was – it first started when he asked me to go to a town dance where we waltzed together and later kissed under the moonlight.

Followed by 6 weeks of moonlight picnics and day trips to town eating 6 ice creams just to prolong the time we were spending together.

He spoke broken English and my understanding of the language was crappy, but somehow we connected and made it work.

Unfortunately due to the problem of me living a million miles away, we were torn apart at the end of the holiday, looking out the back window in tears as I saw the love of my life slowly fade in to the distance. We wrote love letters for a while but that slowly faded away.

My parents went over there not long ago. He is married with a kid now, but apparently when he gets drunk he still talks about me. 

The First Real Boyfriend

The cherry was my first real relationship. You know, proper dating and waiting a month to screw.

It lasted about 2.5 years but probably 1.5 years too long. I was in love, but I guess it was one of those things where you are more in love with being in a relationship than actually having a real deep connection.

I was hurt when it ended, but in retrospect it was more of an ego bruising than heartbreak.

The One that got away


I was so in love with the Watermelon for a very long time. Read the hyperlink for the whole story, but he was always that guy that (maybe I totally imagined it) like there was some kind of magnet there, but for some reason just never went anywhere. It was never meant to be, but I pined for so long.

We hooked up twice (no sex) which still stand as some of the sexiest moments I’ve had, as well as some of the most romantic (Nights in White Satin will always remind me of him).

I stepped away from our friendship to distance myself, and now he’s on his way to becoming a priest, so that probably says a lot about the situation.

Although I’ve been over it for a very long time, I still can’t help but wonder if there was anything there for him too. I guess I will never know.

The Lie


I spent a good three years of my life begging a fool to love me. It was through this experience that I actually learnt what real love is and that the right person will go the hard yards with you and that you are worth it.

Dumb mother fucker professed his love for me when I stopped seeing him when I met the Boy. Too little too late doy.

The Real Deal


And that brings me to The Boy today. Almost five years of up and down, and heck who knows if this is a forever deal, but at least I know that we have gone through a lot of waves and still something keeps us connected.

We have respect for each other, we get each other, we fight for each other. That’s pretty sweet for now.
And there’s the loves of my life. What’s yours?

Nonsense unicorn