Pikers Pikers Everywhere

Pike #1*
Saturday - I had tickets and my former roomie Sarah changed her mind/ didn't return my calls. There is a whole story there but lets just say this is the final straw and her number is now permanently deleted from my phone. (not forgiven)

Luckily I offered myself up to a very sexy guy who wined and dined me. He picked me up from my apartment, drove me into the city in his convertible, bought me drinks and dinner etc. He is absolutely hot and yes the only downfall is that he is gay.

How unfair, if only I could sprout a cock, become a man, and date him I would. In fact he's good looking in a traffic stopping kind of way and it happened twice while I was in his presence. Who knew that really happened? He's My New Hero - but Cherry Banchele is still up there and can incidentally also be named and shamed as a piker herself for her Italian weekend effort of "I'm not going to Venice with you and you can't make me."

In true Cherry style she blames the evil Maritza. Loves it. However, if it was to me Ms Cherry- I wouldn't loves it so much and your arse would be in Venice and having a damn good time sourcing out the saucy hot Italian sasuage.

Pike#2
This probably isn't a technical pike but I must name and shame myself. I was scheduled for an interview this morning. A 7.50am interview that is! Who the bollocks schedules an interview for that time on a Sunday anyway? NOVA - the people who interview for English teachers in Japan, that's who. My alarm went off at 6am (way to early after getting back late from my faux date) and I was on the phone soon after spouting some bullshit reason as to why I couldn't make it. NOVA will be back next month but I'm sure my name has moved from the A list to the black list so we'll see if I'm invited back.

Pike # 3,4&5
Tonight is Tropfest. The annual outdoor film festival in Sydney. Last year I didn't get to go because Sarah piked on me at the last minute (ooh, running theme here.) So I thought I would line up three different groups with the intention that one of them would surely show. WRONG.

After an all night sexathon my friend was simply too tired to make it (forgiven). Ex roomie Drew just landed from a week long business trip in Bali so he was out too (forgiven.) KJ didn't call either but lives far far away out of the city (forgiven). And now it's raining and the bloody festival has been called off early - that teaches the organizers for marketing it as going ahead 'rain, hail or shine.'

Next Week
Next Saturday is Mardi Gras. I'm going to the parade but am starting to sniff more pikers. The guest list is always long at the beginning but they drop like a glitter from a marching boy's shorts when Saturday night rolls around. I am going to that parade even if it's on my own.

*I can't remember any other terms for piker - it's a person who ditches out at the last minute.

Wonka and One-Night Stands

I'm hung over from last night and the only thing that seems to make sense to eat is a weird combo - hot dog frankfurts, a croissant, a wagon wheel and pineapple juice. I can't find the Advil and am too lazy to walk to the shops so i'm suffering through it.

I was lining up to see a live re-voicing of the original Willy Wonka movie when my guests and I got antsy. We felt that the bar was calling our names louder than the Oompa Loompas were PLUS the door bitch was being over zealous with her clipboard antics so we fucked Wonka off, and headed to Bondi.

Now, I'm generally a vino or cocktail girl but if you put a beer in front of me I’m not one to pass up it up. A bevoir is a bevoir and I’ll accept all offers. Sure, lets blame my being polite as the reason for my being drunk.

My friend's ex/friend was out with us and on the prowl for a one-night stand. He's a gardener/landscaper - the equivalent of the Desperate Housewives guy but Aussie but more of a rugged type.

So gardener guy revealed he has a pre one-night stand domestic preparation routine that he undergoes. It's essentially tidying up his house and making it 'female friendly.' You've got to be ready I guess. I wonder, is there also a plan B, C, D in place in case something goes wrong?

Sadly for gardener guy there was no one-night stand but he did get to take his ex and me home with his brother. That actually sounds far more interesting but really; it's not at all what you think. At least if it were to happen he would have been prepared.

The Half-Nekkid Eye

.In the spirit of continuing with the naked theme here is my first 'Half-Nekkid Thursday' pic. Check out Mike's blog for some sexy HNT.

The Naked Truth, Almost...

If a punter chooses to bang his co-worker over a desk while in plain view from their office block it's my right to look. Connel Wagner building in Neutral Bay - Mondays around 9.30pm 4th floor.

If a neighbour chooses to leave their window open while shagging and screaming up a storm it's my right to listen. My apartment block - any Sunday morning and she is loud.

But what if you've seen someone naked and they don't know it?

I'm due to meet a guy I've accidently seen naked. Yes, accidently I swear! Do I go on pretending that I don't already know his religion based on his choice cut (not Jewish for the record.)

It wasn't like he was a private dancer dancin' for money. There were loads of people. Although I did pay for it but it's not what you think.

He's an actor in a play and I've been e-mailing him re: NYC stuff. I thought I should go see the play beforehand. I do my research, you see.

In the second act his kit was off and he was standing there delivering a monologue stark bullock naked. There was no where else to look. Maybe at his face but what fun would that be?

I think I'm going to tell him that I plan on seeing the play and see what he says. Unless he likes the fact that I've seen it. It's possible. If he's willing to show the world his bits then I'm sure my having seen it is the least of his concern.

N.B Naked actor boy is not the guy pictured that is Antonio the Italiano (consider him a little gift from me for reading the blog.)

Flat out Sharing

Over the past 6 years I've lived with 32 people in 11 different places. This spans 3 countries and 4 cities and does not include my summers spent sharing a platform tent with a Dutch and Israeli girl. 8 of these people are from my summer spent interning in London. My happiest time was in the ground floor apt in the London Docklands. Great apartment, great view, great people, great life!

My sitch now in Sydney has been an asshole of a ride. So far 6 people have lived in this 3br that we call resort style living. The roomie history for this apt goes like this. Drew and Sarah were here first and got me in. They remain cool esp Drew who is letting me house sit in Newtown next week. Cheers thanks a lot (I promise I'll be vegetarian while in the apt).

Flat mate replacement #1 was a personal trainer who lied about cash and moved out within a week. He's left his live in girlfriend to join our home and we suspect he went back to her. It wasn't us he was a shifty bastard who later told our friend sheen that he had to go look after his sick mother!

Had Drew not bumped the freckle muscled lad one morning we would have returned to an empty apt. 6 months later he still hadn't returned to collect his 25kg bucket of body builder protein powder or faux Aboriginal artwork (even though he called 3 times to arrange pick up.) This guy had a truck outside and was busy loading it while Drew was still in the apt. He saw Drew in the hall and less than 5 minutes later called him saying that he was leaving and would be out by night.

The Personal trainers successor had scored a job working for the government in the money laundering investigations department. This lemming had the government call me requesting my personal details and a list of every country I've ever been including exact dates. Screw that. Nobody has that information so I rejected this request in a not so polite way. The Lemming stayed in his room for hours and most of the time you wouldn't know if he was there or not. Freak.

The new generation here are busy starring in their own soapy. They've each dated the other's best friend and now after both being dumped, their best friends are dating each other. So all that is left to finish it off is for them to date each other or date their own best friend.

Side note: Michael Jackson's "Liberian Girl" is playing. I always thought it was "librarian Girl."

Market my Arse out the Door!

Week two of my marketing class and I've already quit. This wasn't via fax or phone or e-mail this was one of those grand exits -- walking out in the middle of class.

"Had ENOUGH have you?" the rotund Scotch teacher asks looking puzzled as I'm halfway out the door.

He's oblivious to the idea that his ranting could have offended anyone.

"I've had ENOUGH of your derogatory comments" I say flatly looking him right in the eye.

Ahh, the penny drops and panic sets in as he starts to plead "please forgive me" but I sharply cut him off "no, I don't forgive you" and keep walking.

He was telling the class how he was homophobic and started asking "What is a heterosexual anyway? (confused with the meaning of metrosexual) I can't tell the difference in Sydney between boys and girls. Poofters this Blah Blah Blah."

My blood was boiling, my heart was racing and my anger building. Frankly I could not believe what I was hearing. He continued on to say that "poverty is self inflicted." What the?

The second time he used the word "poofter" that was it. I was up and out of there like a bullet. I just couldn't take it any longer and someone needed to let him know that this was not okay.

Once I was out of class I paused at the end of the hallway to listen to the aftermath. He launched into damage control apologizing if he offended anyone. Sadly the class was silent but at least my ojection was noted.

Round two tomorrow. Jude calls the school...

Mortified by my Mobile

My V-day traumas continue. I was in the spirit sending a few texts here and there and was shocked when my ex-boss texted me "Happy Valentine's Day!"

What? It must be a group text as the one I got wasn't personalized. That's a bit cheeky. What the bollocks am I supposed to write to that?

It was about 20 minutes later when I stopped dead in my tracks and realized the error of my ways. Oh shite, she was responding to a text I sent to her. Fuckety, fuck.

I had written a text to a friend who bares the same name as my ex-boss and sent it to the wrong one. I have a flash back to my writing of the text in between phone calls while on assignment . Of course the note included my revival phrase "eat your heart out" and a bastardisation of her name.

I convince myself that I didn't send it. I remember the phone ringing but I don't quite recall the part where I press send. Maybe I didn't press send.

I used to have the proof of delivery function set on my phone but since I found out that they count as a text I cancelled. Clearly Vodaphone is at fault here. Bastards.

I place an urgent call to friend. No answer. I send another text asking for confirmation of my V-day wishes. The response stings "I hate to break it to you but you..."

I did all the right things; I listed (WORK) after the bosses name in the phone. The only reason she is still there to screen calls from her. I haven't used it I swear. This phone ettiquete is meant to be idiot proof (possibly). Jude proof, (No). Now it says BOSS great dirty big caps. B-O-S-S and then the name.

On the embarrasment scale of ex-boss relations this one just registers -clearly not the worst. Maybe I should send the number to the mobile phone graveyard where the number of my ex-personal trainer resides. R-I-P model/ actor /trainer number.

Dirty Dazza Ditched Me

That Bastard. Should I be at all surprised that my garage squatter Dazza has moved his stuff out and ran off owing me money? No. The message was sent to me via text. Considering he was forced to sleep in a garage for 5 days it's no real shock. Luckily for me he was nice enough to return the clicker and the key. Happy V-Day Jude. At least you're getting screwed by someone.

Eat your heart out on V-day

I am trying to bring back the saying "eat your heart out" and have decided that V-day is going to be the day to start. It's such a hot little saying; you are sure to appear hotter by using it. It's so retro.

The sexy Ribena guy who works at the outdoor cinema is my first target.

A perfect place would be at the cereal dating night at Westfield Bondi Woolies or Coles. You know, the place where you dolly around with your trolley and a box of cereal sticking out the top that best describes you. e.g Fruit Loops for the eccentrics, Variety Packs for the one night stand types, or Nutri-Grain for the gym buffs. I used to think this was an urban myth until I saw a press release put out by Westfield although, i've never met anyone who has admitted to doing it.

This year V-day is on Tight Arse Tuesday so going to the cinema is guaranteed to be a maze of clinging couples out to see Cassanova.

Hula Hoops and and a Head of Lettuce

I was on my way to Woolies to pick up a head of lettuce when I spotted a girl carrying 3 hula hoops. Well, not spotted from a distance like "look up there yonder what are those hoop like things that person is carrying?" More like she was walking past me and I said "What's up with the hoops?"

Apparently she takes a weekly Sunday evening hula class here in Sydney town! I guess if there are pole dancing schools why not hula hoop schools.
Anyway, these were no ordinary hula hoops. They were special weighted ones with red and white/blue and white stripes like a candy cane. They were kind of like the ones in primary school that were used in p.e class for athletics day, not the dodgy Barbie pink home version that always had a couple of sharp bends and a ball spinning around inside. These were bona fide professional hoops.

I was eager to find out more from hula hoop girl; was she a circus performer, a cheerleader, a go-go dancer or maybe a stripper and most importantly could she do it while on rollerskates (the old school kind)?

She claimed she was doing it just for "fun" but I think we can safely assume that she was really a go-go dancer in training Boogie Nights style. She did after all have those bitty shorts with the racing stripe down the side. Maybe there is a new cool bar opening in Syd and if there isn't there should be.

Nope she can't do it on skates but I assured her it would only be a matter of time. And before we knew it we had reached the literal fork in the road. As she veered off to her apartment we paused and smiled at each other for a second, me knowing she was really an in denial go-go dancer and her knowing I might be going to buy a lettuce but I sure wasn't going eat it. She was right.