The Incarnation Experiment

Every once in a while, when you feel like you've lost yourself and there is no way to bring back that spark, one remembers that they can always reinvent themselves. At a price.
This brings me to today, where I headed to the nearest Westfields to get my fix. I called it my day of Retail Incarnation. A reboot for the soul, ignoring all financial judgement from the Angel on my shoulder. She reminded me that I caught the bus there to save on petrol money.

I ignored her!

Just to hasten the guilt-free haze, I bought myself a new Christina Re notebook for all my delicious ideas.

I was thoroughly enjoying myself, when it hit me. School Holidays. The holidays themselves didn't actually hit me, but a sticky-fingered fairy-floss hand on my new prized possession did. What I concluded was this

a. I needed a baby wipe pronto
b. The coordinator who put a kids playground, a magician, a balloon animal guy, a popcorn machine and a fairy floss (grr) stand in one small corridor should be fired immediately.( And I should definitely take their place! )
c. I'm fairly certain that Frederick William III didn't actually invent the modern "schools" as we know them. I bet it was his wife Louise, with 10 children. I can see it now, that poor woman just wanting to freaking shop in peace from 9-3 on a week day, and VOILA! School.

So for those of you who can't wait to get the young masses back into their educational confinements; to shop without the sickly sweet smell of popcorn and oily fingers, and the shrilly squeaks of "I WANNA GO HOME!!!", fear not. It's only two weeks away. And if it wasn't for that super baby making Louise, those cotton candy stands would probably be permanent features of our shopping experience.

Aside from the shrills, the prams cramming me inside aisles and blocking my entrance to many a tiny sale store, I still managed to get some goodies to cart home. I probably should have known when to call it quits, but there's always one more pair of shoes that I need, and don't have. It was the straw that broke the camels back.. And also his piggy bank. And by the camel's piggy bank...... I mean my own.

Although I had to wait an extra 15 minutes for my Ben and Jerry's fix, the devil herself (It's a she. She wears Prada, right?) couldn't wipe the child like delight on my face. I lit up brighter than a tacky Christmas tree when I got handed that small tub of chocolate chip cookie dough evil (which of course, melted all over my handbag as I forgot I wouldn't be getting home in the comfort of my air-conditioned, petrol weilding vehicle).

Of all the children that could have messed me up, here I am cleaning up after my own child like delights.

Scrubbing my guess bag by hand like a good little girl,

<3 Miss Coordinate

The Married Bore Epidemic

                         

It has recently been pointed out to me, by my very feet-on-the-ground best friend, M, that I suffer from a common case of what she like to call the "Married Bore".

(Couples don't generally seem to notice, because it's usually too late, and the M.B bacteria has already clouded ones judgement)

One dark and ominous evening, I was robed up and ready for a nap, when the not-so-delightful trill of my ringtone sounded. 

M: How MUCH do you love me?

Me: hummm.. what?

M: Were you SLEEPing? MARRIED BOOOOORE!

Me: No! I was just getting ready to go out... It's a new club.. Called... Feather Doona.

M had scored entry to a fabulous Celebrity cocktail event for a photography launch. Any excuse to finally use my Little Red Dress (one notch sluttier than the little black one) and de-mould my Old Faithful All nighter Stilettos was good enough for me!

So there we were, looking fabulous, at the fabulous Ivy Bar on a Wednesday night before the event, when some guy at the bar starts waving me down.

Lets call him "The reason why I made grateful love to my boyfriend that night". Mr Smooth, for short.

He waved his armani arms in front of my face till I finally acknowledged his presence. My first mistake!

"Smoke?" he signalled. I held out out to him. "Can I sit with you?" he asks. 

He looks harmless, I thought. Mistake number two.

Then of course started the awkward staring and interview questions "How old are you, where are you going tonight? What's your BSB and Account number?"

I casually dropped the "boyfriend" bomb when he said he was in banking, "Oh my boyfriend is too". Very sly, I thought.

With Super Pervert reflexes, and before I can say "Invisible", he turns his attention to M, telling her repeatedly how beautiful her eyes are (between extremely arrogant small talk about how successful he is, cause he's 30, single and balding and living with his family). 

Aside from the subtle tones of douchebaggery in his speech, I would have to say that THIS was the dead giveaway:

Me: Are you going to have that cigarette?

Mr Smooth: No, I don't smoke

If a facial expression could project the words "THEN WHAT THE FUNK DID YOU TRICK ME FOR!!!",  I would have worn it with a matching outfit down to the toes! 

As expensive as M and I looked that night, we were not above getting free $9 drinks, so we hastily accepted when he offered to buy us a couple, checked our order twice and went to the bar for us.

"What a douche bag!" I hurriedly say as M nods vigorously in agreement, expecting him to be back any second. "At least we get a vodka cranberry for our troubles!".

10 thirsty minutes later, my Super Pervert Spotter eyes see Mr Smooth himself, BUYING A BEER and walking to another table!!!

Not only was I no longer worthy of conversation because my body wasn't available for rent that evening, but we got stood up! We got stuck with doing the community service of holding him up from the next victim for (what seemed) a lifetime, and got stiffed of our payback! I hope to god that was the only thing he was stiffing that evening. 

I will say this. To my single friends, Godspeed. I believe all the other fish in the sea may or may not be streamlined with the ONLY bacteria worse that the Married Bore Epidemic.

This is now called the "Only Jesus will think about loving you now" Fungi.

Dear Mr Smooth,

I would normally assume that this would be a funny story for you to tell your buddies... But 

If you are reading this, I want ten minutes of my life back. You are a testiment to the quote


"Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak"

That'll be $9!

Part time Married Bore, Full time girlfriend,

<3 Miss Coordinate

Because we all need a little balance ;)

The Emotional Terrorist

 
The Experiment
In my 8 month absence, I have noticed an abundance of a species that I would like to take this opportunity to introduce. That is, of course, if you haven't had the "pleasure" of encountering one already.
As the Zebras of the world meet the Lions, I give you...


The Emotional Terrorist
It's the bird on the wire above you that makes you shuffle over in fear that it might poop on you.
It's the loser in a fight that insists someone "make a choice" (who, may I note, never gets chosen!)
It's the fight you have, where you don't really say anything clever until a half hour has past... and they've already left!
It's the man that admits he just likes to fight
It's the complete and utter absence of all regard and logic, with the sole purpose of being a complete Kaniption to your existence.  


The Result
So this Zebra watched The Lion King for practise, put on her Cat Suit and ventured into the wilderness, where she wouldn't have to ask twice for an attack or two.
I came head-to-head with some Grade A reasons to stay in bed in the morning. It was as simple as the approach.

I walk into my function room at work, and who should be there but the CEO and the Head Chef, who I had on good authority, enjoyed a bit of "Machine Gunnery" to the lower ranks.
So I walked in. To my own function room.
Chef: Excuse me 'YOUNG LADY', I believe we were having a conversation before you walked in. (I swear he said it exactly like that, Capital letters flying all around). 
CEO: Don't you have something to do? Or something to clean?
This was my moment. Fight or Flight.

Dear the Verve, 
No matter how many times I listened to your lyrics, NO. This Could very well not Be The Moment!
I froze and made a hasty retreat. If anyone asks, my "Fight" reflex was just looking for the opportune moment.. and got lost.

I was falsely inspired much like the way that watching Julie & Julia inspires you to cook something well out of your skill range, and end up with stew.
In my research and experience with such creatures, I have found various ways to deal with these really bad April Fools Jokes of humans.
Don't!
(In this exception, I will break my meticulous grammar rule and start a sentence with Because)..
Because the only way to deal with these emotional pests, I mean really deal with them so they don't return, is by becoming one. So until they create a Mortein strong enough, I'll be sharpening my claws for phase two!

                              If I'm not back in five minutes.. Just wait longer!

Miss Coordinate <3