Much A Doodle About Nothing

Early this year I was victim to a series of misgivings that forced me to move out of my amazing beach shack in Bronte back to Blacktown with my parents.  I went from hitting up the beach every day to laying low below the windows to dodge bullets.  Okay that’s being a tad bit dramatic, but to be fair there was a shooting in Blacktown not long ago.  As you can imagine this was a huge adjustment and living out of the hood for a while I forgot how colourful the characters are here…

While I was away, we got some new neighbours who make Trent from Punchy look like a right gentleman.  Firstly I would like to point out that most male bogans in Blacktown look like Gareth Keenan from The Office UK but with rat tails in oversized FuBU/Wu-tang gear complimented by wife beaters and southern cross tattoo’s in the most cringe worth spots.  Actually a southern cross tattoo in any spot is cringe worthy. If you live in a hole and don’t watch The Office UK, to give you an idea, this is what Gareth Keenan looks like:

Anyways back to the neighbours from bogan hell… So they’re your typical foul mouthed, centrelink loving, goober spitting variety and are ruining my life on a daily basis.  Firstly they drive a bright blue Holden, also embedded with a southern cross tattoo.  If that wasn’t bad enough, they feel the need to speed up and down the culdesac in this wretched vehicle everyday.  I should point out that the rest of my neighbours are either retired couples or ethnic families who don’t give a flying fuck how fast a fucking Holden can fly round a culdesac.  

Secondly they feel the need to constantly blare their shit house bush doof at all hours of the day because of course they’re unemployed and happy lapping the Culdesac only covers 1/4 of the day…  My ears can’t take it any more.  I too am unemployed right now (hence why I haven’t gone running back to the pretentious east), but I spend my free time doing normal shit like internet stalking and day napping. 

I actually don’t have a problem with bogans, and at times find them lovable in their rissole eating ways. But like all societies there is a class system at work, and the filth residing next door sits at the bottom of the food chain, giving hard working bogans a bad name. THE END. 

Once again uni has ruined my joy of reading.  I can’t wait till winter break so I can tuck into a big ol’ book and escape the boring realms of my reality.  Middlesex has been sitting on my bedside table for ages.  I think i’m going to give it the proper attention it deserves…. Only another 8 weeks to go :(

(via misty-circles)

The News Limited Building is pretty much the Muggle answer to The Ministry of Magic.  Hidden in the ugly part of Surry Hills, from the outside it looks like a run down wear house, on the inside it is glossy and sparkling.  If all goes to plan, hopefully I will have a legit ‘briefcase-worthy’ job there soon.  In the case of that happening; my first mission is to head straight to the department of mysteries and find my self a hot unspeakable boyfriend.  For some reason I always pictured them to be broody and sexy. 

My conversation with Simon Amstell

Me awkwardly standing next to him while he chatted to other fans: “So i’m just going to awkwardly stand here and wait my turn”

Simon: “oh hello! You are?”

*puts hand out for me to shake it while I awkwardly go in for a hug*

Me: “Sneha! So happy to meet you! Thank you for the laughs! I loved the show!”

Simon: “Thank you!  Are you with all these lovely people?” *points to the throngs of fans*

Me: “No I came alone”

Simon: “Why?”

Me: “Because I have no friends”

Simon: “I don’t believe that for a second! You seem perfectly outgoing! Maybe it’s me and your friends didn’t want to join you…”

Me: “No, it’s definitely not you… I actually have no friends”

Simon: “Why?”

Me: “Because I spend all my time locked up in my bedroom watching Never Mind The Buzzcocks”

Simon: “Ahh So this is my fault? Sincere apologies”

Me: “Yes. And now you have to be my best friend to compensate for all the potential friendships I have lost”

Simon: “… umm… I would love to but i’m leaving the country soo….” 

*Simon runs away crying*

Suffice to say, this was just like the time I met Oprah, except nothing like it.  I managed to out-awkward someone who makes a career out of being awkward… AWKWARD! That episode of Community where Troy freaks out after meeting Levar Burton screaming “YOU CAN’T DISAPPOINT A PICTURE!” takes on a whole new meaning after this cringe-worthy encounter…  On the upside I managed to get a picture with Simon, so I can spend the rest of my life not disappointing that…  Really though he’s amazing and smells like all my favourite things - London and funny gay Jews.  He’s actually the only funny gay Jew I know, but I’m working on that*  All in all it was definitely a night to remember <3 

*If you’re a funny gay Jew and reading this… Best friends? 

I recently read an article on Oprah.com where celebrities sent heartfelt letters of advice to their 25 year old selves.  After reading them, the first thought that came to mind was to ammend Whoopi’s letter to say “after Sister Act 2, you became a disgrace that openly farted on The View.  Please never leave the house again.”  The second, inspired me to write a letter to the 25 year old me.  Which is now. 

Dear Sneha,

Please get out of bed and wash your damn hair! It stinks and needs a cut.  Also, no matter how American-Apparel-hipster you think your top bun is, it looks like you have a giant turd sitting on your head.  One more thing… Please don’t eat a giant Toblerone bar for breakfast ever again.  I know it seemed like a good idea at the time but your ass is getting out of control.  Not in a good way.  Speaking of, get your ass to the gym at some point this week so we can judge the old ladies getting down to the hip-hop/zumba fusion class.  That will be all for now.

Warm regards

Me xx 

UPDATE: Dobby called moments after I posted this saying “Sne can you please wash your hair today, straighten it and wear it down?”  I asked her if she had read this post and she had no clue what I was talking about…  I’m taking this as a cosmic sign that It’s actually that time of year for me to wash my hair.. 

So last night I noticed in my TV Guide that Titanic was going to be on Channel 7 at 8:30, the excitement of which made me schedule a study break around it (more like a procrastination break from procrastination).  However to my disappointment, it wasn’t Titanic the movie but some BULLSHIT miniseries.  WHAT KIND OF FUCKERY IS THIS!! The TV guide should have explicitly expressed this instead of vaguely writing “Titanic”.  My whole evening was ruined, because it meant that I actually had to study…  This is why I will never trust network television AGAIN. End of rant. 

I’m not a dickhead. I’m a unicorn. 

(Source: sebastienmillon, via pleatedjeans)

Sometimes I wish my best friend was a Triceratops called Tusky.  We would have the BEST prehistoric adventures!!  We’d start our day with buddy Danny the Diplodocus, who’d score us some juicy coconuts from the highest tree tops.  Charged from all the breakfast goodness, we’d play hilarious pranks on Rexy the T-rex; who contrary to popular belief isn’t that scary (due to his useless dwarf arms).  After spending the afternoon shooing those darn Pterodactyl’s from our lawn, we’d chill by the water hole with our BFF Stacy the Stegosaurus (who has all the prehistoric weed connections).  Tired from the days activities, Tusky would gently roll over and let me sleep on his belly. IMAGINE!!

Last week I came across an article on HelloGiggles called 5 Ways Titanic Ruined My Life. Considering that I still struggle with my own ‘Titanic complex’, I was compelled to read it immediately, if not sooner. The more I devoured the list, the more it eerily felt like the author was scribing my own thoughts. It was almost like I was Rose, desperately crying out “Is anyone alive out there? Can anyone hear me?” and getting the response I was so hoping for, “Yes, I hear you! You’re not the only Titanic freak still in existance!”

I was at the tender age of 10, on the verge of 11 in the summer of ‘97 when Titanic crashed into the iceberg that is my life.  I distinctly remember walking into the theater a young girl and coming out a woman. It changed everything. For one, Kate Winslet broke my cinematic boob virginity. It’s true what they say, you never forget your first. She set a benchmark from which I would compare my own boob progress for the next 10 years (i’m no Kate, but I do alright). I was also obsessed with gracefully standing on my toes, just like she did. I was convinced that If I managed to do it, the man of my dreams would instantly fall in love with me.

Which brings me to my second point, I was one of those insufferable young girls that always had a celebrity boy crush, JTT being my first. Going to an all girls private school, I was very much boy deprived and compensated by letting my imagination run wild with heartthrob boyfriends. However at that point it was still quite innocent; nothing more than tepid daydreams of holding hands with Devon Sawa on movie dates and stealing sweet kisses from Freddie Prinze Jr under the shade of a big willow tree. But all that changed rather quickly. Leo was the first boy, or should I say MAN, that took it up a notch. After watching Titanic, my fantasies evolved to “back seat escapades to the stars” if you know what I mean… My inner sexual being had pushed it’s sweaty palm up against the fogged glass, and there was no going back. Combined with my ‘Disney Prince complex’ (that’s a WHOLE other ball game) to this day, no man has ever been good enough (I doubt i’ll ever meet Jon Hamm aka real life Prince Eric). Or if I do find a decent one, I automatically assume he’s going to tragically die while I hoarsely whisper through tears, “i’ll never let go”. Okay, I admit that’s being a tad bit too dramatic, but I wouldn’t be this way if Titanic hadn’t shaped me so… See my point now?

Despite my obvious deep seeded and slightly disturbing issues, my heart still goes on for Titanic. I’m going to see it on IMAX 3D next week!  The anticipation of which is becoming the social highlight of my year, making me realise one very uncomfortable truth about my pathetic reality; 10 year old monobrowed me would be very disappointed in the way I turned out… I always assumed at that age by the time I turned 25 I would be just like Rose, riding horseback with one leg on each side into the sunset with my Jack (technically replacement Jack due to his heroic yet soul crushing death). Instead the only place I am riding, is solo to the supermarket to drown my spinster sorrows in a bucket of Ben & Jerrys… People joke, but Titanic literally DID ruin me for life. Thank god i’ll always have Liz Lemon.  As for now… I must dash! I’m already running late for one very sexy ‘Shame style’ mind date with Michael Fassbender.  He can get a little ‘temperamental’ if i’m not on time… Coming Fassy!!