shorten my skirt and call me bridget
total number of cigarettes smoked today: 5 (not bad for a sunday)
units of alcohol consumed: 1 (outstanding)
calories ingested: who the fuck cares?
number of times thought about sex: about 57 (and counting)
number of times thought about the schmitz: 2 (well i was at the gaslight before)
number of times thought about sex with the schmitz: 0 (until just then. so i guess that makes it 1 now)
so many of you out there will find this hard to believe, but i have never once had a sweetheart on valentines day. to be perfectly honest i've never really had a sweetheart on any occasion to speak of. except maybe for those 2 months when i convinced myself that my "casual friend" really and truly loved me, despite his total ignorance to anything about me, including my name on occasion. hey, we've all been there. haven't we? please say we have.
now i know what you are thinking:
"how, how is it possible la nadine that you have never had a honey, what with your sparkling eyes, your dazzling wit and your whopping big cans?"
i know, its hard for me to believe too. but alas, it is the truth. would i lie to you? okay, so admittedly i lie to you all the time. sorry bout that. its for your own protection. but not this time. this time its straight up non-fiction all the way baby. except for the bit about my "sparkling eyes". its more of a dull stare really.
anyway valentines day for me is traditionally spent pretending not to care that i'm perennially single. i get all high-horsey and bra-burny and rant away to anyone who'll listen about how the whole thing is a big pile of commercial nonsense invented by hallmark so that their sales don't suffer a complete lull between those other meaningless money-grabbers, christmas and easter.
bitter much? i might as well just marry my cat now and get it over with.
but in all honesty i actually spend the whole day secretly hoping that i'll arrive home that night to a big bunch of roses and a declaration of love from an intelligent, funny, labour-voting, brunette hottie who wants nothing more than to cook my meals and kiss my neck for the rest of his life as we sail the world on his yacht and live off the earnings from his past life as a slashie (model/actor/writer/musician/chef/human rights activist/spy/astronaut/neurophysisist/cancer-curerer/fireman).
okay so i know i had a point lurking somewhere amongst the cat-marrying feminist and delusions of romantic grandeur. if only i could find it i'd share it with you.
oh yeah, valentines day. i do care. i know i shouldn't because i'm all snarky jizzwitch independent porn-lovin' woman. but i do.
there, i've admitted it. i'm la nadine and i'm a closet romantic. i'm the softest softie from softsville eva. I'M BRIDGET FUCKING JONES.
so go ahead, laugh NEAR me. laugh as close to me as you want. i can take it. i'm strong(ish). but for fuck's sake just don't laugh AT me. i just couldn't take that right now.
happy fucking valentines day everyone!
*runs off crying*
19 Comments:
'intelligent, funny, labour-voting, brunette hottie who wants nothing more than to cook my meals and kiss my neck for the rest of his life'I was with you right up until the word 'his'.
Curse this fucking gender to hell!
Happy Day, Cansdine. x
me too! all of it. even the marrying of the cat bit.
i hate being tough on the outside, but really just wanting to be gooey.
fitsy baby, "his" was a metaphor for "her" which really means "ms fits" who of course is "you".
is it march yet? i'm horny...i mean hungry.
La Nadine
I'm intelligent.
I voted for Peter Garrett.
I'm brunette.
I live at the beach.
It's hot.
I'm a hottie.
I'm a he.
I like kissing necks.
See you at my blog in twenty
I'm with you all the way on this one fellow never-had-a-valentine. Let's buy each other a dozen red roses and then I'll meet you at the 7th Annual Anti-Valentine Convention this evening and we can brag about our "Sercet admirers" and pretend we didn't want them anyway.
You, me, nicole and a hundred single men at the Rose at 8:00pm tonight.
Be there La Nadine.
There's beer, boys and bocce @ the Rose.
happy valentine's day everyone.
*to be read aloud with the creamy yet sincere delivery of my current radio bread-winner 'start a conversation with the Sydney Morning Herald'*
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Here's the code for your Virgin Blue website login so that you can access your prepurchased tickets that I've paid for - get on a plane to Melbourne, and then a taxi from the airport to my house,
Because I want to screw you.
wow, so many offers from so many hotties. i should whinge about my love life more often. maybe even write some angsty poetry about being alone and helpless. maybe not.
But alas, I fear your heart yearns for the schmitz...
yes, its my "heart" that yearns for the schmitz. we'll go with that.
I thought it was your 'arse' that 'burned' for him.
Maybe we had a bad line.
yes, we had a "bad line". we'll go with that.
Be my valentine. In a mates way. xo
BEVIS said...
Hmm, I'm intrigued by the whole lesbian thing you and Fits are dabbling in. Did you know it's been my dream-of-dreams since the day I met her in 1991 to have a lesbian affair with Ms Fits?
Yes, of course you did. My grotty little juvenile mind is well documented in this otherwise-completely-mature world of blogging.
Well, thanks for the imagery, the two of you. I will treasure it always.
Or at least until I return from the bathroom. Excuse me, I gotta go take care of something.
Ahem.
BEVIS
BEVIS! ON MY BLOG! OH, HAPPY DAY!
i promise young man that i am not being sarcastic in my enthusiasm about your sudden return.
i remember you and your funnies with a fondness and have often asked fits where you disappeared to.
however i didn't believe her story. something about going on a long journey to get your soul back from the king of the vampires.
oh wait, that was spike in buffy. my bad.
WELCOME BACK BEVIS!
BEVIS said...
I just creamed my pantiloons!
They're white and have those frilly wide bits near the knees because I was heading out to a dual at dawn with a moustitioed gent who insulted my heritage last eve, when I sat down to check your blogsite again. But enough of my pantiloons.
While I reach for the tissues to clean myself up, let me first ask if your reference to Buffy was simply a pop culture reference,... or are you, as am I, a rabid BtVS fan??
Are you an insane Slayerette? Or have I embarrassed myself completely by unmasking myself like this, and now everyone's standing around me and laughing, just like they did at school when Ms Fits pulled my pants down to my ankles, stood on them so I couldn't pull them up again, and started slapping my thighs to draw attention to my white pasty legs?
My, she was mean. Still wanted to French her, though.
BEVIS
i am indeed a huge buffy fan.
meaning that i like the show a lot, and not to imply that i myself am huge. i'm medium sized.
i have seen all the episodes and am guilty of the occasional long discussion of the show's themes.
i don't however know everything ever about it and i am not the conference-attending type. i'll leave that to other hot bloggettes.
i do wanna name my firstborn spike though. or billy idol. same diff.
and of course you wanted to french fits despite her meanness. cruelty is hot. i always demand she calls me bitch when she's doing me in the hallway.
fuck, no more long comments. i could have wrtitten an entire blog post by now.
xox
BEVIS said...
Well, I'm one of those sicko fans. But I've never attended a conference.
I own all episodes on video or DVD, including Angel (season 5 comes out very soon!), and have many of the books, figurines, and plenty more (mousepad, chess set, jigsaw puzzle, postcards, fridge magnets, etc).
I won a competition to see the final two episodes of Buffy at the cinemas the week before either episode had aired on Australian TV, and to celebrate (and in the hopes of maybe winning some sort of prize on the night), I dressed up as a very life-like Spike.
When my hair is spray-painted yellow and I wear the outfit (and strike the pose with my gorgeous cheekbones!), I actually look a lot like him!
My wife went with me, dressed up as a nearly life-like Faith. We won diddly-squat, and as a result, I hate Nova FM.
And yes, I'm one of those weirdo freaks who knows everything about everything about both shows.
So maybe you want to avoid me now.
(But hopefully not.)
BEVIS
Post a Comment
<< Home