Turning Lamebos Into Rainbows

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


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



Tattoos and Peeing


Ok I’m going to say this straight up; I’m 28 and I pee’d on the floor. I was legitimately shocked too, I didn’t mean to do it. It wasn’t a drunk blunder like my ex who pissed on the TV in the middle of the night, but rather a sober miscalculation of sorts..

I’m getting a new tattoo which happens to be on the back of my thigh. The first stint was the outline and it hurt like a mofo. I’m learning a lot about anatomy from this like:
*the back of your thigh is tender as f*ck and
*there’s shit in there that makes you twitch. My tattooist said it was like tattooing a jumping castle..

On the way home my leg seized up like a peg leg and then entered a lot of puddles against my will. I get inside and need to pee. Well fiddle-dee-dee, the seat is right where my painful leg would sit. Challenge accepted (mainly because I’m busting). So I manage to do the most awkward sitting position where one butt cheek is on the seat and the peg leg is in the air.

After a terrible nights sleep where I pretty much squashed my tits into flattened pancakes against the mattress, then coming to the conclusion that I can’t actually get any of my work pants on, nor fathom a day of physical work, I encounter my next two problems.

Problem 1: Getting my monthlies. There’s something about period blood and an open wound that screams unhygienic to me. If there are any female pirates with a peg leg and a tampon needing to be used, I understand your mental anguish. Let’s just leave it at that.

Problem 2: Needing to crap. I was half freaking out, half lolling at this little adventure.

Stupidly a day before getting started on the tat, I noticed that I needed to not only wash my hair, but also dye my hair. Did I do it? No.
Enter Problem 3: Dying hair. Hair dye and an open wound are again not feeling like the best match made in heaven but I do it anyway. I’ve got the day off work and I’m getting used to these awkward challenges so what could go wrong? Uhhhh yeah, I’m pretty sure I damaged my back somewhat. Apparently bending over forwards in the shower and washing the hair dye from neck down to the top of my head is like a bajillion times harder that doing it the opposite way. But I feel that it was the only way to keep the dye from running down my leg.


Well it took like 3-4 times as long. So apart from getting hair dye in my eyes various times, my hunched over position turned me into even more of a cripple.


In conclusion, the whole painful leg thing wore off in 2-3 days and I booked in to get the rest of it finished off.

Stint number two came around and I made sure it was a friday afternoon to solve the work clothes not fitting issue. I didn’t bother trying to change the pancake boobs situation but came up with a genius plan for the other issues:
1. Numbing cream – sometimes it’s ok to be a wimp ok?
2. Wash my hair before going.
3. Sit right forward on the toilet seat so the tat doesn’t touch it.

Well the bloody numbing cream wore off about halfway through, I realised I have visible roots in my hair and should have dyed it and my pee ended up going on the floor. My bad.

Not only that but while visiting the toilet for a #2, my dog yelped. Cue the freak out and ‘quicken this shit up!’ (literally) because of all the times to possibly yelp, this truly was bad timing. Footnote: I hobbled out of the bathroom in a frenzy and she was sitting there wagging her tail and smiling. Errrr.. Cheers.

Of course there’s always little lessons to be learnt along the way. Today for example, I swept the floor with a semi-peg leg and noticed something hilarious. When you bend over to pick up say, a pile of dust with your dustpan and broom, you will look like a giraffe drinking. There’s no casual bending over as normal.


Also, sneezing while bent over like a giraffe and holding a dustpan of dust is not attractive and results in further sweeping.

So now after all this, I look at girls with tattooed legs posing for a casual selfie and think ‘cute as that selfie is, you and I know that you’ve probably pissed on the floor.’


UNLESS everyone else has thought more logically; as the ever-wise NU pointed out to me, “you should get a shewee!”


I asked a guy friend with a tattooed butt how he sat on the toilet during recovery. “Like normal. I just sucked it up and dealt with the pain”. Ok smarty pants.

Either which way it’s safe to say that reality is rarely glamorous. Keep it real peeps!

Rambling Goat


Why I love the ‘uncool’ guys

You might read this blog and think NU and I are super cool, super popular gals surrounded by guys who look like models and wear fancy clothes but you would be dead wrong. Growing up we had a group of guy friends who were dorky, innocent and nerdy as anything and we loved it.

We went to a Catholic School and they went to a Catholic School but while I (I won’t speak for NU) was smoking behind the school, getting detention, getting drunk, skipping school and chasing boys, they were getting good grades and going to church. While I was bringing home a shirtless (and sockless) guy at 6am who casually swears in front of my breakfast-eating parents, these guys were sound asleep. Or waking up to go play soccer with friends in the park. Ah, such innocence 🙂

Why they were friends with me is anyone’s guess but I now have a sneaking suspicion they were living vicariously through me.

Times haven’t changed though, I still love guys like this. Guys that NU and I have coined ‘Giggling pack of virgins’ or ‘GPOV’. I don’t mean to discredit or devalue people here – we created this code name when our group of guy friends were all virgins and it just stuck 😛

Anyway, I truly do love the uncool guys. They’re the underdogs, the nice guys. You know the ones (or maybe you are one of them). They blend into the background, do good deeds and have them unnoticed, are never picked first in sporting teams, are inexperienced with the ladies, don’t have many friends that are girls OR all the girls they chase just end up wanting to ‘just be friends’ etc.

We have a seemingly unlikely alliance but apparently the GPOV’s are still putting up with me and I’m still reveling in their unsung awesomeness.

I spoke about this not long ago with my friend Jake. He’s definitely not a GPOV and oozes coolness like a celebrity (but isn’t a douchebag like most ‘cool’ people). NU and I sat with him in a ritzy bar and got talking about GPOV’s. He wanted to know why we wouldn’t prefer to have guy friends who are more similar to us. It’s a legitimate query, your friends are usually on the same page as you. So I’ve decided to explain why these guys are legendary and how our quirky symbiotic relationship works.

Why GPOV’s are great friends:
*They have your back. Good guys value friendship and comradery. To put it simply, if you’re spewing in the bushes, they’ll take you home rather than ignoring you to hit on some chic.
*Speaking of which, they won’t try to hit on you. They don’t want to ruin a good thing and they don’t actually think you’d be interested in them anyway. From what I’ve learnt from Johnny’s teachings, they’re probably wanking over you a fair bit but they certainly don’t let on to us that this is the case.
*Their innocence amuses me. For example, I have this friend who’s not real experienced with food and drink. So I keep taking him to a Japanese restaurant that NU and I love and now he’s tried crispy fish eggs, ox tongue and octopus balls (shape, not actual nutsack). As for drinks, he’s now had grape beer (in a can), Tequila shots, Mojitos and Guinness. Every single new experience was hilarious to watch, I even took photos of most of these first reactions 😀
*They’re usually free to do stuff with you. No need to try and work in to some busy guys schedule! You can ring them on the fly and unless they have some family thing, they’ll be there.
*They make the effort to do stuff with you. None of this ‘I’ll ring you if I’m in the area’ bullshit, they’ll travel to most places within reason. Having a bday celebration 1 hr away? No problems.

The other side of the symbiotic relationship is the benefits of having a semi-wild female friend:

*Learning the female mentality. Much like a guy who grows up with sisters, they actively seek out knowledge and learn a ton about how to deal with women.
*More success with the ladies. Having a girl that is a friend always scores a guy well in the ‘finding a girl’ department. It’s a subconscious thing but we trust other women’s judgement. If they were the ‘I’m going to murder you in your sleep’ kind of guy, guess what? No female friends. Ok that’s a sweeping statement but whatevs, it’s pretty true.

*They get an insight into a different world. They can be taught stuff that they dont yet (or don’t ever want to) actually experience eg. drugs, raves, one night stands, orgies.
*They’re amused and enthralled by my stories. I don’t actively entertain them with my weekend debauchery but if something happens to come up (inevitable when playing ‘I never’) then I’ll just mention it casually and they instantly want to hear more.

So there you have it, an unlikely friendship but a great one nevertheless. Appreciate the good people around you everyone, that’s what makes life worth living 🙂


And because that was way too hard to find just one awesome ‘unlikely friendship’ pic, here’s some more to warm your hearts! image




Rambling Goat


Duck Quacks Don’t Echo

I have a new favourite show.. Just kidding, it’s still a tie between Archer and Adventure Time. But I *have* found this interesting English show called Duck Quacks Don’t Echo. So because I’ve been slack with the posts lately (so many drafts, need to finish, arrggghhh), I’ll entertain you with some facts that are scientifically proven on the show.

1. Laughing 100 ‘ha’s’ (fake or real) burns more calories than using an exercise bike for 10 mins.
Laughing = effective exercise.
Machine gun laughter (hahahaha) = more exercise than a drawn out laugh (haaaaaa).

2. Blue eyed people have a higher tolerance to alcohol. In saying this, they end up spending more money on alcohol to keep up with the brown eyed people, and end up doing more damage to their body.

3. Redheads have a higher tolerance to pain. Non redheads have a gene that blocks the self medicating morphine-like boost, whereas redheads get the boost and feel less pain.

4. Just to make us all feel better, there’s one area of the body that doesn’t feel pain due to the small amount of nerves located there. Think you know where it is? It’s that flap of skin on your elbow that sticks out when you straighten your arm. Pinch it and see if it hurts!

5. If you still want to try and get close to the redhead pain tolerance, swearing when you injure yourself actually decreases the pain.

Now if like me, you’re kind of bored and just want to hear some random useless (or I dare say, useful!) information, all you need is like 2 mins here, but be warned that the ‘Fact Finder’ sections are from the studio audience and not all of them are true (but most are!).

Today just hit hectic on the randomness scale! Enjoy.

Rambling Goat

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Rainbows for all!

Congrats USA!

For those of us interested, I thought I’d Google and see what other legendary countries have marriage equality;

[From Wikipedia]
*Netherlands (2001)
*Belgium (2003)
*Spain (2005)
*Canada (2005)
*South Africa (2006)
*Norway (2009)
*Sweden (2009)
*Portugal (2010)
*Iceland (2010)
*Argentina (2010)
*Denmark (2012)
*Brazil (2013)
*France (2013)
*Uruguay (2013)
*New Zealand (2013)
*The United Kingdom (2014)
*Luxembourg (2015)
*The United States (2015)

The laws in Slovenia and Finland are expected to take effect in 2015 and on 1 March 2017, respectively; in addition, following a constitutional referendum, Ireland is expected to introduce legislation in 2015 making same-sex marriage legal.

In the United States, same-sex marriages have been ruled legal by the Supreme Court.

In Mexico, same-sex marriages are only performed regularly in Mexico City, Quintana Roo, Coahuila and Chihuahua, but these marriages are recognized by all Mexican states and by the Mexican federal government.


Australia does not yet allow same-sex marriage. Shocked? So are we.

According to a Crosby/Textor poll, 72% of Australians support marriage equality.

Of those 72%, I’d like to give a special round of applause to the following supportive groups within our nation:


From AustralianMarriageEquality.org

So basically our Prime Minister won’t follow 18+ reputable, leading countries, listen to 72% of his population or acknowledge his sister’s 12 year lesbian relationship as worthy of marriage.

Here’s hoping this latest decision in the USA will change his mind. If not, well lets not let one idiot stop us from being ourselves and demanding equality. If he doesn’t want to be known as the guy who fought for our rights then fuck him, we’ll vote someone in who truly does care.


Rambling Goat


I got shat on by a Croc.

I went on a holiday up north a week ago. Apparently this area is not only infested by crocodiles (you cant go swimming), but also Cane Toads which have poisonous skin.


Mmmmm tasty.

So it sounded like it was going to be fun! I was going with bf and some of his family (mainly boys) so there wasn’t going to be any cocktails by the pool. We were going to get adventurous.

Lunch of the first day was interesting. Here we were with a couple of grandparents at the local RSL, eating and drinking. I was at one end of the table and the oldies were at the other. After finishing my conversation with a couple of the boys, I turned around to get back into the other conversation. It sounded like the oldies were talking about their new camping spot. They were saying they tended to the little garden they had around their caravan. I say “oh that sounds nice, how often do you go there? Like once a year?”

The gran says “no no, once a month, sometimes more”. I notice everyone’s looking at me horrified.. The subject gets changed quickly, we finish up lunch and head to the car. Bf’s dad breaks the silence “Wow, nudist colony!! Didn’t see that coming!”

So apparently I sounded overly keen to hear about a couple in their 70’s/80’s getting nude and doing gardening. Oh and it’s a colony so they hang out with other nudists.

Funny sidenote on that – I made mention of this as a funny facebook status update (“it’s only awkward if you make it awkward”) and my 83 year old nan ‘liked’ my post. Yeah, she’s on fb and is apparently loving oldies being nudists. Not going to think about that for any longer than I need to!

After lookouts and bushwalks that afternoon, we decided the next day we’d ride an amphibian. image

At this amphibian adventure park, we also found out we could meet a croc and get a photo. Yesssss!! I’m there.

Now before you go imagining this:

It’s actually more like this:


But with sticky tape on its snout..

Right before I was meant to hold my little croc, there was a wet sloppy noise and the handler got coated in shit. So much so that he noted “ugh, that’s definitely wet my phone..”. Also, as he went to hand me the thing, it was thrashing around in his hands. So I was both disgusted and freaked out.

Well the area I was told to put my left hand was absolutely, positively, the anus. I asked if I could move my hand up further but the request was denied. So there’s your old pal RG wrapping her hand over (and gripping tightly) a crocs butt. A crocs butt that had just taken a shit and not had any sort of clean up.

So yeah, handed the thing back after my photo (I’m not sure what was scarier – the croc or my jowls and hairy arms, you’re meant to make me look hot you stupid photographer!), and we know how it ends up; I had croc shit all over my hand. It wasn’t on my bucket list but I guess I’ll have to add it so I can tick it off. Uhhhh yay?

The next day we headed to the Great Barrier Reef for a day of snorkling. Bf’s dad told us it’d be flat and it’s a reef so the boat ride out would be nice. It wasn’t.

Normally I don’t get seasick but I’ve since discovered my trifecta of necessary requirements for a good ol chuck chunder;
1. Other people vomiting. Hearing a whole bunch of people vomiting, smelling the vomit and seeing someone holding a bag full of vomit is not cool.
2. Toilet water on my feet. So the waves knocked the boat around a fair bit and on one of these particular waves, the water got knocked out of the toilet, spilling on the floor and then my feet. Which also leads onto..
3. Toes. Not only were my toes covered in toilet water but I looked out of the window and someone on the second level had their feet hanging over the edge and they were wiggling their toes.

And my toe phobia really amped up that combination because before you know it, I was outside next to bf’s dad’s gf (who herself was holding backing vomit) projectile vomiting my pancake breakfast into the Great Barrier Reef.

Worst part? There was a gap in the solid railing wall where my feet were and I happened to get vomit on my toes. No kidding.

Ugh, anyway after that I was good, we got to the snorkeling area and instead of looking like this:

It looked like this:

No exaggeration. There weren’t sexy girls in bikinis and tanned men playfully splashing the water, there was a shitload of wind, 90% of people wearing wetsuits and people either using pool noodles to help them float or wearing life jackets. There was even a group of people all holding on to a life ring with a ‘guide’ pulling them.

I went out with bf and with the waves and current, he lasted like 15 mins then gave up and went back to the boat. As there were 6 of us, we’d decided to have partners but mine just left me! As I was waiting for his 2 brothers to come hang with me, I realised I was just hanging out in the deep water between the boat and the shallower reef. It took them maybe 10 mins to get to me, and in the meanwhile I was just treading water and floating around. Enter phobia #2 – sharks.

Now I dont know about you guys, but the sound of water and being shit scared are both ways to make me need to piss. I couldn’t remember if pee attracts sharks but I held that baby tight until the boys got out to me.

I sussed it out. “Does pee attract sharks?” “Dunno”. Good enough for me. Ladies and gentleman, I pissed in the Great Barrier Reef. And I heard a while ago that it warms up wetsuits – yep, confirmed.

Later on, I even did it again. No shark bites, just fish swimming in my urine (and vomit from earlier). Sorry sea life! I feel like on a mere technicality, it kind of cancels out because I too had vomit on me and swam in urine that day.

Oh yeah, another lovely holiday!

Rambling Goat


I wiggled my butt to a male stripper.

If you haven’t checked out Jake Butler’s blog True Confessions of a Male Stripper, then get out from under your rock and get over there!

I was lucky enough to get a ‘hi’ from Jake on Fetlife, convinced him to blog his hilarious and shocking stories and we have been in close contact ever since. A few days ago I got to meet him for the first time..

He had picked a discreet table at the back of a bar in Sydney in case our conversation turned kinky (of course it was going to!). I also didn’t (and still don’t) have his number, was going to meet him alone and had no phone battery. There was potential that I was going to be stabbed but honestly I was kind of ok with that. My life is pretty shit at the moment so being stabbed didn’t sound *that* bad. It would be an interesting day either way – I’m either going to be losing liquid or consuming liquid (blood/beer). But also, we talk everyday and my intuition said he was awesome.

My intuition was right 😀 And liquid (this time urine) actually became a major issue.. More on that later LOL.

So I was late (what’s new), hadn’t eaten and needed to charge my phone pretty bad. He just sat there calmly with the beer he’d bought for me and listened to my nonsense (which included showing him a glass jar with a felt heart in it). He grinned and said I’m exactly like he thought I would be.

Well good! I hope.. Sidenote: I don’t just carry round that heart everyday hoping I can show it to new people, it was my bday present for NU. True story. We’re big fans of the show Oddities so I did a cute version. If you have no idea what I’m talking about – it’s cool bro, I’m moving on with the story!

I got him to search around the table for a power point to charge my phone. He totally did because even though he’s super professional looking and sounding, he wanted to help this insane girl.

I’m not too sure how much to give away as he has to keep his anonymity but to the ladies who are interested, let me rave on about how lovely he is! I’m also going to rub it in that I got to meet him (ner ner!) – I’m not one of those cool bloggers that somehow manages to meet people with crazy awesome jobs. My latest claim to fame was a guy who wanted me to trample him. I never did get around to doing that (he’s got a bit of a serial killer vibe, so it’s probably best I don’t)..

I also never hang with men in suits – I have a bit of an ‘us’ vs ‘them’ mentality which needs to be remedied.. Do clean men like dirty girls? Dirty as in actual dirt – I’m a tradeswoman, not some unhygienic crazy cat lady hoarder (although this could very well be me in the future..).

Anyway, Jake was very nice on the eyes, ears (he’s got an accent tehee!) and brain. He could be nice on the nose but I didn’t exactly sniff the guy to check – act normal RG, act normal! 😛

We had a couple of drinks, I scoffed down some fries and then fetlife was mentioned. Hmmm.. We needed to choose a fake name for it in case people were listening so at the same time I said “banana”, he said “cucumber”. Wow, awkward phallus moment. It all went downhill (in a good way) from there. Apparently I swirled my chip in circles in the aioli when ‘threesomes’ came up in conversation. We possibly needed another fruit to cover that convo up but I forgot anyone was around me, I was too busy picturing threesomes 😉

At some point I wiggled my butt to him which again was another one of those ‘not sure why I did that but I did, so deal with it’ moments. I realised my jeans actually made my butt look heaps flat (thanks you stupid wall of mirrors) so to the untrained eye it probably just looked like I was standing there. Again, Jake wasn’t phased by my insanity, he just grinned and drank his drink. In hindsight, I probably should have asked to see his version. OMG jake – can you twerk? 😀

Well our time was up and ever the gentleman, he escorted me to the train station. Enter my liquid problem.

Again, hindsight, why didn’t I pee before I left?? Now I was sitting on a rocking train with a pint and schooner worth of beer in my bladder. I’ve got a bladder of steel normally but maybe the fries were pushing on my bladder? I sent him a text laughing about my dilemma (not literally or I totally would have wet myself). I was rocking like someone with a mental disorder but thankfully only one woman (sitting next to me) could see.

Apparently at this moment, I also felt the need to msg my bf:
Going to piss myself on the train

Pretty straightforward. No need to beat around the bush. Then I got out at Central station as I had to change trains and legged it to the toilets. Don’t worry, I again updated bf:
Update toI let St central closed
Going to other ones fooouuurrrrccckkk

It sounds pretty drunk but thats ‘about to piss myself’ mixed with ‘tipsy’ and thankyou, yes, it was an achievement to also multitask into that scenario ‘msging a running commentary to bf’.

I did get a msg back in case you’re wondering. It said ‘Ok’. For the record, ‘Ok’ msgs shit me but I completely understand there’s nothing else you could possibly say in this situation. So, fair enough.

Well I didn’t end up pissing myself (Huzzah!). I was over trains by this point though and running pretty late, so I got a taxi. I made it to my next destination, caught up with friends, drank more, hung out with a family member and then of course this story is going to end strangely – I made my bf’s brother choke me (“it’s relaxing!”) while we were cuddled up and sleeping on the train trip home. He didn’t seem phased and just wrapped his arm around my neck like a tight, murderous hug. Thanks bro!

I’m just going to go ahead and say that I’ve got some caring, patient, accepting and super awesome friends and I feel pretty lucky in that respect. Friends are totally underrated 🙂

Rambling Goat