Christmas

Another record for my future reference. The only thing you need to be aware of is that most of Christmas Eve was spent with my parents trying to get us, and later just Boyfriend, to watch a video on their mobile phones of a lady fucking a tiger. We refused. They wouldn’t let up. But dad was stoned and mum, while unusually sober, was busy. So it was, fortunately, forgotten.

My parents aren’t normal. I know everyone says that, but… You guys, tiger fucking.

We’ve developed a Christmas Eve tradition: Boyfriend and I go to my parents’ house to sleep. Last year was fun, all Singstar, alcohol, prawns and getting stoned. This year I was sick and we had to prepare to host lunch at our place the next day, so it wasn’t great.

The best part of Christmas is always the morning, when the family hang out, everyone leisurely unwraps presents one by one, and thanks the giver, etc. We didn’t get it this year, because my brother’s girlfriend had a family breakfast, and then the two of them rocked up about an hour late. So instead we had to do presents super quickly, before everyone got there. It was annoying. I’m getting unreasonably angry just thinking about it. It was a god thing taken away in an already stressful day. Also, we received word that Boyfriend’s grandmother died that morning.

We alternate lunch with my dad’s brother’s family, none of whom we gel with. They're jocks. One of the sons gives out a very rapey vibe. So we did lunch, (anyone want an FCUK perfume set?) then Boyfriend, his brother and I went to his family’s place in Hurstbridge. We hung out there, went to his dad’s work for a bit to keep him company, and then went to Diamond Creek to see his awesome cousin and wife. They’re close friends of ours, and I love that we get to see them on Christmas day; it’s always 30 minutes/an hour of sanity in a fam-heavy day.

Back to Hurstbridge, then to Whittlesea to my mother’s side’s party. We got there too late, most people had gone.

Boxing Day his dad’s side have their do, (god, I resent having my boxing day taken up by family stuff! pre-Boyfriend I always spent the day hanging out, playing with my new toys).

On the 27th we went to Apollo Bay for the first all-family holiday in 12 years, and first one with both kids having partners ever. My brother is such an angry person; he brings the worst fucking energy with his moods. He caged it somewhat but he was still a cunt most of the time.

My brother’s girlfriend came with us. She’s lovely, but she bought her mum and dad to stay overnight on the 27th. ????? They were really nice, fantastic people, but it was just weird having extra people there.

28th we had lunch at Chris’ (fancy restaurant with amazing views) and found out that Boyfriend’s grandmother’s funeral was to be on the 30th. Which meant we had to leave Apollo Bay a day and a half early.

29th we just hung around Apollo Bay, 30th we drove home early morning so he could attend the funeral. I didn’t go, I’d never met her. The funeral was a source of conflict because I didn’t think he needed to go: it cut into our holiday and he hadn’t seen her for years and years. He was adamant, we worked through it and all is well, as per usual.

The 30th was also our five year anniversary, but instead of going to a fancy-fancy restaurant (we usually go away, but we *were* gonna be at Apollo Bay) we got Mexican takeaway (first time this year, and last time for another year. It’s the corn chips).

New Year's Eve. It's amateur night. Too many fuckwits going out who never drink during the year. The city’s filled with cunts, everything’s three times more expensive, and you can’t get a cab. Fuck that noise.

The last few years or so we’ve been spending it with my favourite friendship group, a small do with just us drinking and being fuckwits. This year we had a grand total of six. We drank (some of us busted out the Turkish Martinis. Ye gods, so good). We laughed, we Singstarred. We had a view of five separate fireworks displays from the CBD, and along with the lightning it was spectacular.

But not as spectacular as the next night, when Boyfriend and I spent an hour and a half hanging out on the verandah like a pair of old wogs, watching as not two seconds went by without lightening filling the sky.

Now I’m back at work. Barely feel like I had a break, but I’ll harden the fuck up.

New Years Bidness

Happy New Year, gay lovers. I hope it was sufficiently decadent.

My Christmas break wasn’t as relaxing as I’d hoped. Work is crazy busy and I’ve developed another cold (?!!! I never got over the last one!) so I finished yesterday thinking ‘ye Gods, I need a holiday’. Dinner at Seamstress and then a very exhausted stint at the Editors concert perked me up a little.

Anyway. You know how every year, I give something up? In previous years it’s been:

2006: Smoking (and haven’t taken ONE DRAG of a tobacco cigarette since. Not that I don’t want one every day).

2007: Chocolate (and when I got back onto it in ’07, I found that I couldn’t eat white chocolate anymore: too sickly. I used to love it. Weird).

2008: Chips (not fries, potato chips) highlights included not going near a large selection of them, spread out like the little whores they are, when I was stoned out of my gourd and IN THE SAME ROOM, ALONE with them. Rock.

2009: My grandmother’s food. Things like eggs and milk don’t count; I’m talking about the vast supply of chips, chocolate, Tim Tams and other junk that she constantly stocks. None of it’s amazing, and the possibilities for bad, mindless snacking mean this is one I’ll keep after year’s end.

I do this to learn about myself, and because I’m an abstainer, not a moderator. I’ve never cheated on any of these, once. It’s easier for me to say to myself, ‘ok, no chocolate for one year. At all’ than to say, ‘ok, just little bits… once a week’ or similar. I don’t moderate well. Which I need to work on, but for now, in the fifth year of giving up, I’m going for broke:

2010: No anything I’ve done before. So no chips or chocolate, and no fast food.

Also, no ice cream until after the wedding (I made this one in early November, and it comes with the caveat of ‘unless it’s extremely fancy in an expensive restaurant I wouldn’t normally visit’. Which is fair, since it probably only works out to 8 restaurant-small serves of ice cream in 20 months).

Hopefully this’ll reboot me into mindful eating, and to lose the sackload of weight I need to for the wedding. Go team Desci.

Desmas

Merry Christmas, my darlings. I hope it’s Plastic Santastic.

I’m fascinated by what people get their loved ones for Christmas. Here’s my list:

Boyfriend: We’re keeping with tradition and getting each other Rock Band. And $200 worth of Singstar songs.

Mum and Dad: Revitanail gift bag for mum, hemp and oat cookies for dad (hehe), home made World’s Healthiest Foods Cookbook for both of them, a box of Pollywaffles for both of them (because apparently they don’t make them anymore?!) and as a joint present with my little bother, some money to go on a trip to Tassie.

Brother: Money for a trailer, in a home made paper trailer.

Brother’s Ridiculously Hot and Lovely Girlfriend: Chocolates and champagne. I went with Max Brennar this year, as Koko Black’s Christmas options weren’t as flexible.

Boyfriend’s Twin: a Belkin hands free car kit for his iPhone

Boyfriend’s Parents: Wii Fit apparatus

Boyfriend’s Older Brother: A Boba Fett plush toy!

Boyfriend’s Sister-in-Law: Chocolates

Boyfriend’s Niece: Supercool misc. crafting kit.

Boyfriend’s Nephew: Re-gifting the excellent plush Rottweiler that Funzo’s parents got me the last Christmas we were together. The tag read, ‘Merry Christmas Desci. Something to hug on those cold nights alone’ or somesuch. I didn’t know what they meant. This was after they knew Funzo was moving out of our Kew home, but before I did.

Boyfriend’s Nan: Tin of chocs. Nan-like.

Yaya: Voucher to go clothes shopping.

Boyfriend’s Cousin/his family: (with whom we’re good friends) Max Brennar ‘The Brown Cross’ Gift Tin (picked because ‘the Brown Cross’ sounds vaguely dirty) and some Dench mince pies

Coworkers: Either chocolates, wine, MOR soap or lip balm.

Et toi, gay lovers?

Teenager

Sometimes I think I miss being a teenager, but it’s truly only in the most wistful, arbitrary sense.

I’m a sentimental guy; I can’t help it. I remember how everything was so new and exciting, everything was a first. I’d get high off nicotine and the presence of my friends.

But then I remember how shit it was. How everything mattered so much. I was lonely and raw and trapped. I had to depend on my parents for everything. I couldn’t do anything because it required money, permission, or both.

And just fuck that, seriously. My dad used to drum it into me: these are the best years of your life. And from 13 onwards, I believed him: these truly were the best years of my life. Sometimes it felt like they were, and sometimes I genuinely wanted to die because if this was as good as it got, I didn’t want to see the rest.

Then at around 21, 22, I realised that it was bullshit. Throughout my 20s my life just gets better and better: first came freedom, then independence, and now, slowly, a little bit of money (to fund the crazy adventures I always wanted to have as a teenager).

I’ve always said that if your teens were the best years of your life, you’ve done life wrong. And occasionally I see dour Facebook acquaintances talk about how they’re having their ‘5th 21st’. I even had a cousin with an event for his 19th birthday subtitled ‘because it’s all down hill from now’. But he’s a jock so perhaps that is indeed the case.

I’ll be 28 in December. I can’t fucking wait. My 20s have been amazing but bring on my 30s. With a boy who loves me and a full time wage, our lives stretching ahead of us to spend in the same crazy, ridiculous fashion we’ve set for our late 20s. Sure, I’ll get wrinkles, but fuck it, so does everyone. And I will rock the Haggard Old Goth look.

Friday Night Drinks: a Timeline

Yes, I know yours goes beer, beer, beer, beer, and I think you’re ever so clever because of it. Beer is disgusting.


6pm: Vodka and soda with workmates. Some are drinking wine, but I don’t want to get sleepy.

7pm: Amaretto on ice, just because a workmate has been drinking Amaretto and orange juice (or amaretto and apple juice) all night and it’s very tasty. Plus the sugar will perk me up.

8pm: more vodka and soda, perhaps with some sort of dinner.

9pm: vodka and diet coke: bad quality Chinese restaurant vodka is covered up by the diet coke. I’m not a soft drink drinker, but the caffeine will perk me up.

10pm: water, followed by a vodka and soda.

11pm: at the Dancing Establishment. A tequila shot with lemon and salt.

12 midnight: Another shot of tequila. It’s an upper.

1am: a little nauseas, perhaps from too much dancing. Vodka and soda to make me feel better.

2am: water

3am: Maccas’ diet coke. Mmm, watery and flat: just how I like it. (Soft drink is too sweet and bubbly).

10am: Berocca with Panadol

11am: Left over watery, flat diet coke as I contemplate a merciful death.

Desci's Home Alone!

Here's something I wrote months and months ago. It fell through the cracks:

Saturday, 14.54

Boyfriend's in China working on some big woo-woo film. It's a public holiday, which means I have to look after my parents' dog.

I haven't been home alone in Bundoora for ages. Let's see what I've done so far:

- Slept for 10 blissful hours (I haven't had more than around 7 hours this whole month, which may be why I'm a little sick at the moment)
- Got up earlyish to buy veggies and fruit (and, um, some home made cake and organic chocolate... but no dairy, because I'm phlegmy) from the Farmer's Market
- Went to the physio

So that's all the serious stuff I have to do out of the way. I got home at around 12.30, and here's what I've been doing: laundry, eating leftover Chinese food, cake and chocolate, watching downloaded TV and having a JO (since my copy of Tristian Taormino's 'Chemistry Vol 1' was FINALLY delivered on Friday! 52 minutes in and it's fucking awesome).

Dryer's done. Time to do another load.

***

16.38

Talked to Boyfriend on Skype, doing laundry and blogging up a storm.

***

17.02

Ah, the pleasure of one's company. It's when you get to act like the weirdo you truly are. And wee with the door open.

***

18.59

More writing, more laundry, more skyping with Boyfriend and more left over Chinese. Watching Edward Scissorhands for the first time since I was little. It's better than I remember. Would like some wine, but not drinking in deference to the possibility of have a sleeping pill later. Mmm.

***

19.56

Decide to have sleeping pills on Sunday. Wine time.

***

19.58

Mmm, merlot. Mmm, organic chocolate.

***

20.11

Cultivating a pleasant buzz and trying to googlestalk someone with only their (common) first name and job.

***

20.13

Give up the googlestalk. They can find me.

***

20.56

Confronting childhood fear, BRB.

***

***

Sunday 14.02

Chemistry Volume one is AWESOME. So many lady JOs in the past two days. I couldn't walk properly for a bit. Also leftover Chinese food, organic chocolate, TV and misc. tasks.

***

15.12

I'm definitely not an arse man. I'm a boob man. Bums are just... bums.

***

[transmission ends]

Mirena: One Year On

Well, about 15 months on, since I had it installed in early September 2008.

I don’t know how much I went into it at the time, but basically I decided not to take the pill anymore. It had been about 6 years, I remembered it every day, but it was just the hormone thing that got to me. So I looked at all the options and decided on Mirena.

It’s an IUD that’s meant to work for five years, that releases localised hormones to the uterus only.

The gyno said that because I’d not had children, my cervix hadn’t been UNLOCKED yet (!) so they had to put me to sleep to put it in.

After some initial cramp-like pain, it was fine. I had a long, very light bleed for about a month in around January, I think, but since then I haven’t had a period. This is one of the selling points: most women either have much lighter periods, or like me, they stop altogether.

At first I was paranoid about it falling out. You have to check for the small nylon string every so often, just to make sure it’s still there (having said that, after the first month it is unlikely to come out). The one bad thing is that sometimes Boyfriend can feel it while we have sex, as a painful nylon thread stabbing the head of his cock. But it’s only happened a few times, and we’ve found if we change positions and ‘reset’ then it goes away.

Since it works for five years, traditionally this is for women who don’t want children, or have ‘finished’ with their breeding. However you can get it taken out if you do decide you want them.

The Verdict: I love it. Mirena totally and utterly works for me. I encourage you to do your own research, since we’re all built differently and there are dozens of contraceptive options out there.

The Nerd's Guide to Drug Experimentation.

I was meant to do this several YEARS ago. Enjoy. It won’t be worth the wait, sorry.

Drugs are cool because they are fun. Not because you look cool doing them - you look ike a cunt doing them. But they're fun. And they make your brain see things in different ways, forever. But they only keep being fun if you don't do too much of them.

I've blogged about how I've never done the amount that I'd like. Well, not counting pot, since I have a hot and cold running supply of that and still only do it about five times a year.

So, here's an exhaustive guide for people like me: conservative partying nerds. The coolest effing people on the planet.

I'm assuming you're no stranger to alcohol. Have you had it to excess, to throw up point? I suggest you do, in 'ideal circumstances', or IC. Why not, test your limits. Just make sure you never fall asleep on your back when you’ve been drinking. I almost died doing this when I was 15. Embarrassingly, the same day Michael Hutchence died.

Here and throughout, I'll refer to IC. it means: in a safe place, with responsible people who care for you. I've never had a bad trip because I've always been in IC. Which leads me to my first point:

There will always be more drugs.

Even though acid is rare as hen's teeth now, you WILL be able to get more. Even if it's in five years. So, if someone offers it to you, and you really want to try it, but you're not in IC, just say no. I've refused pills many a time because I've been around people I barely know, who I wanna impress and look good around. Had I taken them, I might have been paranoid about looking like a dick in front of my new friends, which would have ruined the experience. Boyfriend once had acid when he was anxious beforehand, and had a bad trip. It just magnifies your current feelings. Bad feelings often equal a bad trip.

Now, if you're completely new to drugs, take a panadine forte as a starter. They're easy to get from the doctor; they're just a mild painkiller, stronger than panadol but way weaker than morphine.

Have it about two hours before you go to bed. After about an hour, you'll feel a lovely, giggly, misc. 'druggy' feeling. Like it? Then you're ready to move on. Hate the feeling? The lack of control over feeling odd? That means, at this point in time, you may not be ready to try anything stronger. THIS IS COMPLETELY OK. Even if you’re in your fifties, there is still time later to reassess your readiness to go on to harder things.

Like the giggly, sleepy, stoopid feeling the painkiller gave you as you drifted off to sleep? Then how about some pot?

Pot affects me thusly: Giggly, hungry, sleepy, bed time. Some people say sex while stoned is great. I just wanna watch some cartoons, then eat, then sleep. Each to their own.

A word of warning: You know how with alcohol, when you vomit after too much, you feel a million times better? It's not like that with pot. I've never had enough to vomit (though I've had enough to spin out) but when you chuck after getting too stoned, you just keep feeling worse. So err on the side of caution. There will always be more drugs. If it hardly affects you, just have more after an hour and fifteen minutes.

First: Grass and beer, you're in the clear. Beer and grass, you're on your arse. Don't drink before having it.

The last thing you should know about marijuana, is that smoking it gets you stoned pretty much straight away. You know how you get a lovely buzz straight after a glass of wine? It's the same thing with smoking pot. BUT, if you're having hash cakes, you have to wait an hour for it to take effect. Seriously. I've had 1/4 of a cake before, and 45 minutes later, been thinking 'yeah, it's not working. Well, dad said it WAS a weak batch, plus it's quite old, plus I didn’t give them a chance to properly defrost... maybe it's just that. Oh well, another time.' 20 minutes later I've been giggling uncontrollably. Sometimes pot 'doesn't work' on people. That's cool, just try it again another time. Or if you have it, try more... BUT ONLY AFTER 1.15 hours! Otherwise it might all just happen at once, and you'll end up like my friend Bossy, who told me my hashcakes sucked... and then spent the night glued to the driveway, chucking his guts up. O how we laughed.

Wanna do harder stuff? Try some bulbs: you know the little gas canisters you can get from cake shops, that you put in a metal whipping cream thing to make your own whipped cream? Well, they’re pretty cheap and if you suck the pipe of the metal appliance and release the gas, not only does it have a curiously lovely taste remnant of whipped cream, but you get this lovely, very druggy high for just a minute or so. After about three minutes it’s like it never happened, too. Which is nice, because there’s nothing worse than not liking the start of your trip and realising you still have several hours of it to ride out.

Bulbs are the closest thing I’ve found that replicates that feeling you get from hard drugs. It’s like listening to the NIN song ‘Beside You in Time’, you know the ‘whop whop whop whop’ bit at the end? That’s what a bulb is like. They’re lovely. But don’t do them more than once a year or so, because they’re not great for you.

Ready for class As? ABIDE:

- only in IC
- try and get it from a reputable source, or dealer you know. This is hard, but if you have references, it's better. There are sites out there, like pill rater, that may or may not help.
- Tell people it's your first time! I was with Dice the first time I tried speed, and although I didn't wanna look like a dweeb, I had to tell him. He was lovely about it. (I was just scared I might spin out, have an allergic reaction, or get 'rusty pipes': a blood nose when snorting. And safety first, kids, even if you are scared of looking uncool. All Dice said was ‘I wish you’d told me before! I would have let you have my bit, too!’ what a sweetie).

That reminds me: only do drugs with ‘cool' people. By that, I mean people who don't pressure you. People who DO take no for an answer. People who don't bang on about it. If someone's passing around a joint, and another person says no, the correct etiquette is to just move on. There are thousands of excellent reasons not to have a drag: driving. On anti depressants. Don't like it. Workplace drug tests. etc, etc. People have to respect this.

There’ll always be an opportunity to do drugs. Do it in a safe, sane environment and have a nice trip.

Desci is Messy

Have you ever woken up with the worst cold and hangover of all time, of all time, AT THE SAME TIME? Saturday after my party, I genuinely pleaded with Boyfriend to smother me. This is why I’ve never drank while I’ve had a cold.

Then I had to spend the rest of the day trawling through research for an overdue article. Oy.

On the Tuesday after my birthday, post Guttermouth, I wrote on the FB:
Desci was examining her many moshpit bruises and thought she saw a particularly lurid one on her boob. Turns out, it was the faded texta signature of the guitarist. 28's gonna be a classy year.

The morning after my party, Boyfriend told me that I had a personal first: hurling in a taxi. Why? Why, 28 year-old-Desci?

Music

At my old editing job, we listened to the radio. It was an open plan office of around 18 workers, and people complained that it was too quiet sometimes.

We listened to Triple J, because with no ads and its diverse sensibility it was the fairest choice. Though I hated it for the most part, and they’d play the same bad songs every day. But! It was better than Nova, which the radio sometimes found itself on, because they’d play the same even shitter songs every hour.

I never listen to music when I work at home. Never, ever, ever. My thesis was listening to Get This, then silence all day (while I sat on TSSH… sorry, I mean, wrote my thesis) then podcasts at night (the voices calmed a Stressy Desci as I tried to sleep).

On this Art Retreat, the strains of Boyfriend’s music tinkerings can be faintly heard, along with birds and misc. nature. I’ve found myself listening to three excellent background music choices:
Pavement: Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (the 2-disc set)
Metallic Falcons: Desert Doughnuts
Animal Collective (all)

All are lovely to either really LISTEN to, or to have on in the background as pleasant noise.

Guttermouth was OVAH

Incongruity: going to a punk concert and screaming 'WEEEEERK, TRANNIE!' at the singer.

At 28, I've finally discovered black lipstick. It's cunty fierce, not babybat. More about that later.

Guttermouth!

Things What I Liked:
- They played ALL the songs I loved back in the day: Lucky the Donkey, Just a Fuck, Lipstick, She's Goth the Look, Skaters, Asshole, Bruce Lee Vs the Kiss Army.
- They put on a good show. Much talking, but in a funny way, not in a Blink 182, 'Just get ON with it!' way.
- Not a huge crowd, so I had a perfect view the whole time.
- Mark calling me a 'Psuedo Goth... but you're doing it pretty well'. Bitch.
- They don't have setlists (!) but when I told him it was my birthday, I scored a guitar pick from the bass player. The guitarist signed my boob. They all signed a tee shirt for me.
- I was pushed up to the front of the mosh pit. Good, but I have so many bruises and aches on my upper body now. Ow. OWWW. Which brings me to:

Things What I Not Liked:
- When they got a gorgeous little old school punk boy onstage and read him. They did the same with a cute goth girl (another goth at a punk concert! Turns out, she just moved here from Tassie. But I was thrilled to not be the only one without the 'jeans and tee' combo.
- Between songs, the guy next to me told Mark it was my birthday. 'Then I dedicate this next song... to ME! Because nobody cares it's your birthday!' Bitch x 2.

Such a good night. Such a messy, fun night. I love getting older. But fuck growing up.

Off to work now. Have the shakes. Oy.

Happy Birthday to ME.

Activities for this year's Festival of Desci*

- Where the Wild Things Are. Could not be more Dave Eggars if he played all the parts, had a picture-in-picture commentary and sat beside you as you watched, poking you in the rib. Still, I liked it. It was… impossible, really. I think I have to see it again. I’d love to know your thoughts?

- Dinner at Oriental Tea House and Sakura Kaiten Sushi (BEST SUSHI TRAIN EVER). Yum Cha lunch @ Plume with the parents.

- Guttermouth in concert, a water bottle filled with Vanilla Absolut.

- Buying 40 more songs on Singstar.

- Finishing School for dancing, and drinks at my place for the talking. (My birthday parties tend to have a talking section, and a dancing section).

- A tiny white Eee PC Boyfriend gave me! It weighs one kilo. I love.

- Brining in baked goods to my colleagues, because most of them are amazing.

- More decadent and retarded shit as it happens.


*I've been doing the festival for many, many years now. Enough so that family and friends now acknowledge it, and welcome it. Here's the yearly ever changing/day-of-week-dependant festival schedule:

Day 1: December 5
The Day of Decadence. Also my Name Day (it's a wog thing).

Day 2: December 6
The Day of Gratitude. I do nice shit for the people I enjoy.

Day 3: December 7
The Day of the Birth.

Day 4: December 8
The Day of Recovery.

Day 5: December 9
The Day of Reflection.