Tinder, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…

I should have started writing this at least ten minutes ago (okay, twenty…) but I found myself distracted by my old friend Tinder. I wasn’t even looking – I mean, yes I was “looking” but only in the sense that I was using my eyes to peruse while my fingers did the swiping (on the screen that is). Technically I’m currently otherwise satisfied – but I haven’t got to the point where I’ve deleted the app yet; that’s the kind of thing that signifies real commitment and I’m not sure that I’m ready for that yet. Two of my friends recently made that call in their blossoming relationship and the very thought of it made me break into cold sweats. I’d be more prepared to walk down the aisle and commit to someone I was matched with via an online love calculator on a reality TV show than commit to deleting Tinder. Why, I hear you ask – well boys and girls, the list pretty much writes itself, so without further ado; my top ten reasons why I won’t be deleting Tinder (any time yet, that is…)

(oh and for the uninitiated, a swipe to the left means “sorry mate, better luck next time”, while a swipe to the right means “good one sweetheart, something has sparked my attention”)

1 – Shameless – every last one of us…

I’ve got no shame – regular readers on my blog should have figured that out by now but even those people with standards and self respect seem to lose it all the moment they sign up for Tinder. Remember, I’m on there too, so every negative thing I say could also be about myself (but let’s be honest, it’s probably not). People are upfront about everything – start a conversation and you’ll be surprised at what you find out – and your suspicions that every member of Gen Y is a self absorbed twat will probably be confirmed

2 – I don’t have a cat and free to air TV is boring…

I feel like if I had the patience to rear a pet then I’d probably get one and that way I’d be entertained for hours on end. Otherwise I could sign up to Netflix – but that also requires effort. What requires probably equal amounts of effort but has a better pay off is swiping through Tinder. Sure striking up conversation can be a pain in the ass but hey, most of the time the shit that my Tinder matches dribble is more entertaining than an episode of Home and Away – plus if I’m lucky, they’ll invite me to their place that has a Netflix subscription – and if I’m even luckier they’ll have a heater / air con (seasonal variance, obviously) and that’s great because electricity is expensive.

I found this on the internet – if I had this in my life then MAYBE I wouldn’t need Tinder? Maybe… image from here; http://www.catster.com/lifestyle/hot-guys-and-baby-animals-kittens-pictures-photos-book-interview-audrey-khuner

3- I don’t need to search ‘hot shirtless guy’ to get my kicks…

FREE PORN SAY WHAT?! Okay, ‘porn’ might be an exaggeration but as someone who proudly admits to enjoying the occasional male strip show (I’m only human after all…), I do enjoy swiping, swiping and BAM RIPPED AS HOT TOPLESS DUDE. Thank you gods of Tinder – you know just what I needed on this lonely, cold Tuesday night. It’s not like I’ll swipe right – I doubt that any guy who posts a shirtless gym pic is the kind I’d want to introduce to my parents but that doesn’t mean I can’t look…and screen shot for later.

4- I live in a post land line world…

Back in the day, basically before my dating years, if you wanted to ask a girl (or a guy) out, you had to dial a landline, never knowing who would answer. Did they live with their parents still? What if they had a psycho housemate who liked to mess with potential suitors? WHAT IF? That kind of fear could weed out the weakest of contenders however with the ease of direct contact through mobile phones and messenger apps, it’s now way too easy to contact the person that of your desires. For that reason, the short description under Tinder photos is now part on an essential veto process. A quote from Anchor Man? It says he likes that movie – and that’s alright, it’s a funny movie, but he lacks creativity and he’s probably dull as can be. A Dad joke? I like your style. An upfront admission to being a sexist creep? Well I’m glad we got that out the way! Or you could be like Jacob*, 28 from Adelaide. He’s in a polyamorous relationship and wants to broaden his horizons – good for him, and good for me. Glad we cleared that up, I’ll be swiping left and going on my way.

Call me...boys.
Call me…boys.

5- I live in Adelaide and I have a really big family

I can literally swipe five times and bump into someone I know – or am related to. It’s like walking down Rundle Street in March. Okay, I lie, I’m exaggerating a bit – it took me fifteen swipes tonight before I found a kid I went to primary school tonight. Finding these people always puts a smile on my face – not just because I enjoy making sly judgements about what they choose to put out there but because it’s nice to know that they’re still alive and kicking. This counts for family too – as creepy as it is to almost swipe right on your first cousin (and no, it doesn’t go ‘your cousins and then your first cousins’ – it’s all as bad as one another…) it really is nice to know that they’re getting out there – I do have a huge family and if I had to keep up with their lives using Facebook and human contact alone, I’d run out of time to sleep (around).

6 – I’m a stickler for good spelling

Communicating via a message app allows me to make judgement calls based on your spelling and grammar. Sure, I could do this via text messages but by that point you’ve already got my number – you could deceive me with your dulcet tones down the line rather than accidentally revealing your major flaws. Let’s have a text only probation period – and that includes no sending of pictures, I want to judge you on your conversation skills, not your package…I’ll save that judgment for later.

7- I’m a sucker for compliments

I chose five of my most flattering and interesting pictures to adorn my profile; in them I look pretty and fun. Little do viewers know that I usually wake up looking like a swamp monster and that sometimes (regularly) I’d rather cuddle up with my electric blanket and a good book than go an drink in a bar. They don’t need to know the truth so early on – let them be fooled and falsely believe I am the coolest babe going around. I will therefore accept the compliments that follow; “hey beautiful” – oh you! “You do comedy – that’s so cool – and brave!” – oh thanks (it’s not cool, it makes me neurotic and crazed but I’ll let you believe it’s cool)! “What, you’re on a diet? Don’t bother, you’re so sexy” – says the guy that will never get to see me naked or learn the bumpy truth…

8 – Being a judgmental jerk is way easier behind a screen…

Can’t we all be bitchy from time to time? Probably better to do it in a setting that won’t get you death stares across the dance floor. Just swipe left or right and reap the joy and satisfaction that they power of your phone gives you – because feeling powerful from Tinder is healthier than starting a death cult.

9 – I’m paranoid…

That my fingers will get fat if they don’t get their daily swipe-ercise. I may be grasping at straws for reasons to not delete the app but c’mon, I’ve made some valid points so far!

10 -The excitement of getting a match is too much to deny myself…!

That thrill of my phone producing that distinct long and low buzzing sound can be matched by no other. It’s either keep Tinder or become a drug addict, clearly the choice is simple.

“It’s a match” – no three words can give me the same kinda thrill…

*Name changed because I don’t want to be a total bitch – but I’m sure he’d know who is and probably be totally fine with being named and shamed – Tinder is public after all!I

Adelaide I love you but (sometimes) you’re bringing me down…

Isn’t it funny how sometimes the same reason that you hate a thing, a person, or a place can be the exact same reason that you love them?
When I was younger, I hated Adelaide; I hated this small town, with its quiet streets and familiar places. I hated the cliquey nature of all the social groups and I hated that it was impossible to hide – anywhere you went, you would always bump into someone to know. Everyone has these random, ridiculous stories of whom they bumped into and where – sometimes even on the other side of the world; every single Adelaidian has surely uttered the phrase: “ahh, Adelaide”. It’s always followed by a cautious chuckle, of course.
All these things though, can also be brilliant attributes for our wonderful town. Last night I fell head over heels in love with this beautiful town, all over again.
I’d been having a pretty crappy day and anyone who knows me certainly knows that when I’m saying I had a bad day, there is no exaggeration there. It was the kind of day that in which I was thankful that there are plenty of packing crates stacked up in the warehouse outside my office – they’re perfect to hide behind when you’re on the verge of crying or so full of rage that even the friendliest of soul better not cross your path. I felt like rubbish.
After work I was aimlessly wandering around the Central Market Coles, buying chocolate that I didn’t need – claiming it was ‘a gift for someone’ – yeah, I’m a terrible liar.
Feeling sorry for myself, dazed and confused, I hear over my shoulder; ‘Alicia’ – immediately I turned my head to see my beautiful, wonderful friend Sophie. She’s amazing – the kinda girl that can always make me feel better when I’m feeling down – and I quote “you’re a mutha fucking babe and lots of guys wanna touch your butt” – thanks sweetie, I know I can always rely on you to make me feel wonderful!
So she’s there and I realise I’ve got about 45 minutes to kill before I have to be anywhere. She’s walking to dinner to meet her friends (after stopping by home to drop off the toilet paper she’s just bought – yes, we are adults and make adult purchase decisions sometimes) and do I want to walk with her? Yes. I need her wise words of wisdom in my life – even if they mostly include pointing out that many of the people we encounter in our lives are indeed absolute dicks.
We walk to the pub and I’ve still got fifteen minutes to kill, so I go in with her. Almost straight away I walk into a friend from high school. We chat, Sophie’s friends walk in. Sophie’s friends know my friend.
Welcome to Adelaide – where you’re never alone, all you have to do is leave the house and this beautiful city will open up her arms and hold you in a sweet, (sometimes intrusive, invasive and furiously bitchy) sweet embrace.

Gorgeous image from here; https://craftyanddevious.wordpress.com/tag/radical-craft-adelaide/page/3/

They want to suckkkk your blood….

This isn’t a cheesy Twilight rip off – nah, I’m talking about nurses – and they want your blood too!


The lovely people at the Red Cross Blood Banks all around Australia may sound like vampires – but they’re actually great – and I can say that with 100% confidence! Today I gave my 45th donation and after starting on whole blood when I was 17, I moved on to plasma a couple of years ago. I’m not here to tell you all the facts – because I certainly don’t know them and if you wanted them, I’m sure you could find them all at the blood bank website – what I want to share is my quick tale of how easy blood donation is and why I do it! So at the moment I donate plasma (and slot some whole blood donations in every few times) and I can donate plasma every two weeks. You certainly don’t need to donate so regularly though! I’ve got type O- blood, which for some crazy reason means that these Red Cross people LOVE me (at least someone does…!) which is why I’ll sometimes throw in a whole blood donation. I pop in on Saturday mornings as I work during the week, I park in the city, as the blood bank provide parking vouchers to cover my time there and then I stroll in. The whole process is pretty relaxed – a quick survey and interview and then I’m in the chair. Now I’m not afraid of needles but I can say with full certainty that I won’t watch the needle go in – not that I can really feel it anyways! Once I’m all hooked up the lovely staff treat my like a princess! Would I like a drink? Yes please, orange juice! Something to read? Why yes, a trashy magazine if you will! When I’m doing plasma, I’ll usually make it through a couple of issues of Famous Magazine (and they’re usually pretty current – score!) but when it comes to blood, I can be done in less than 15 minutes! After it’s all wrapped up (pretty quickly), it’s time to treat myself! Cheese and crackers? Yes please! I’ll also have a mini mars bar if you don’t mind. If neither of those tickle your fancy, don’t worry, there are plenty more snacks to choose from! I love that these awesome people actually encourage me to sit down and eat – most would do the opposite, but not these champs! The best bit comes next; I leave the blood bank knowing that with only a little bit of my time, I have helped to save three lives. Sometimes I think that the knowledge of this gets to my head (as I walk down the streets and expect to be praised and thanked) but most of the time I’m just happy that I was able to help. Here’s the thing though – here in Australia, our medical system still sources blood from overseas. We need at least 17,000 more regular donors to sustain ourselves – so why not give it a go? If you’ve go any questions (because I’m sure you do!) just give me a shout! d27cdcb879e659b64bd40d9fa0adbbf1

Adelady – Sharing the Best of Adelaide

So it is with much excitement that I share some great news – I have started writing for a fantastic site called Adelady – and they have just gone live!!! You can read it here; http://adelady.com.au/alicia-norton/ but while you’re there, be sure to check out some of the great articles from a range of amazing local Adeladies! The site is run by the fantastic Lauren DeCesare and Hayley Pearson and if I were you, I’d definitely be keeping an eye on this – big things are happening!

Why chick flicks should be used as a torture device…

Why do I watch bad TV shows and movies? It’s kinda like asking ‘why do you drink terrible wine?’ – except it’s not at all. The answer to the latter question could be simple – ‘because it’s cheap’ – however living close to some of the best wine regions means this is no excuse. My excuse is usually that it was left at our house. It might have been open a while, lost its taste, on top of the fact that it was a bad drop to begin with and yet I’ll still drink it, because I like feeling giddy. I’m doing it right now, in fact. This glass of wine is deplorable – it’s been poured from a bottle of red that’s been open a month. I was using it for cooking and just kind of left it there. Today, on a relaxing Saturday afternoon, my gaze fell upon the wine and I though, well, ‘waste not want not’.

As I wrote the above, I realised there is actually a parallel between bad wine and bad viewing. The wine will get you giddy but the viewing will at least make you feel something – even if it is just the anger at the fact that something so terrible could in fact make its way to a screen near you. As I write this, and drink the terrible wine, I am watching a fine example of this, but I guess that means I should perhaps explain what I mean by bad – because if it really was ‘bad’ then why would I be watching it?!

I mean shitty TV shows – mostly aimed at women and lonely people; the ‘reality shows’ with unrealistic scenarios involving pressurised situations – usually in a kitchen or on a date with a ‘bachelor’ – (and you can’t decide if he actually is good looking or you just think he is because all the women on the show are crazily lusting after him). I’m sure you get the gist. There’s also the ones with the vapid female leads, driven by soul destroying consumerist motives, whose love lives are destined to fail time and time again – until some day they don’t. It’s not real, they’re not nice and I think my head might explode.

Now I'm not saying that these are the 'vapid' ladies I was referring to above...but I'm not saying they're not...
Now I’m not saying that these are the ‘vapid’ ladies I was referring to above…but I’m not saying they’re not…

I’m talking about horrendous films, the kind that girls get together and watch while sharing a bottle of wine, blocks of chocolate and the tears of ruined relationships. Like the one  I’m watching right now – alone, with that disgusting glass of wine that I am actually considering tipping down the sink (but let’s be honest, no matter how bad it tastes, I’ll probably still keep drinking it). It’s bad, I know exactly how it will end – and she certainly won’t end up with the bloke she thinks she will – it’s her quirky off-sider she just met whose currently driving her insane that she’ll marry – not the wealthy doctor who she’s known for four years. Yet, I keep watching it. If my boyfriend were here he’d probably say something like ‘Oh god, why don’t you just get in a hot bath and slit your wrists, that would be less painful than watching this, I think it’s giving you eye cancer.’ – yeah, he’s a sweet heart.

From a technical sense, these flicks aren’t gonna win any acclaim – ditto the TV shows, they might not even break even at the box office but you know what? They’ll certainly make you feel something. Sure that ‘something’ might be a strange mix of happiness that the leading lady got her man, mixed with jealousy that your man may never live up to the high standards set by the on screen gents – or it might just be anger that you’ve wasted your precious time watching something that could potentially be used as torture material in Guantanamo bay.

Netflix tells me that most of these titles fall under the category of ‘feel good’ – and who am I to argue with the beauty that is Netflix?!  I don’t know if it’s because they make me ‘feel good’ or because they sooth my brain cells (by not forcing me to use them) but one things for sure; I could be reading a really good piece of literature right now (honest, there is an actual book next to my bed) but I choose to watch this tripe – I, therefore, am no better than an accused terrorist!* Either that or I’m just a sucker for cheap thrills and mind numbing brilliance!

So I'm not saying that these films are bad...but also not saying they're not...
So I’m not saying that these films are bad…but also not saying they’re not…

*That may not have been my point, but I’ve drunk a lot of wine now, that may or may not have morphed into poison, therefore my opinion is valid. Very valid indeed.

Get in My Belly…

Well, not literally. Please don’t get in my belly because that would be a little bit weird. Unless your first name is peanut butter and your last name is TimTam (because that’s likely…).

So I’m back in the blogosphere after a few years and many things have changed (we’ll get to those later) but many things haven’t – one being my immense, intense and all consuming absolute love of food. Does the food have to be fancy? Healthy? Even all that good? Not necessarily and tonights meal was an absolute testament to that.

After working my ass off at the gym in an energy pump class (yeah, get used to it, I’m now one of ‘those’ people who tell you all about how I exercise) I felt entitled to waste all of my hard work by making my house family (consisting of myself, my totally rad housemate Stacey and le boyfriend Rhys) hot dogs, coleslaw and sweet potato chippies for dinner – and freakin hell it kicked some massive master chef ass. Eat your heart out Master Chef Judges (I would name one of them…but I don’t know their names…).

So this is what my food looks like – yeah, it tasted better than it looks…


Hot Diggidy Dog Monday Dinner
Hot Diggidy Dog Monday Dinner


The highlight of the night though was the thing that truly destroyed any affect that the gym may have had…can I introduce, Peanut butter Tim Tams – new, innovative, in demand and delicious (hey, I should work in marketing…) these mouth watering little chocolate treats just got a million times better when they got together with my favourite breakfast spread, made sweet (geddit, sweet?!) chocolately love and made the most historically important offspring to grace the planet earth since Jesus Christ. I’ve heard a rumour (from a nutritionist friend – can’t trust those healthy types though…) that they use seven different colours of brown in the TimTam manufacturing process but I’ll be damned if any kind of health food mumbo jumbo ever stops me from indulging. In anything. Ever. By the grace of god I don’t know if I’ll ever experience anything so delicious again, so I sit here writing to you, drinking wine in a post food orgasm state of relaxation, dreaming about my next mouthful of happiness. Oh and please note, that this post is in no way sponsored by Arnotts – although I wish it was…because then maybe they would give me more TimTams, but a gal can only dream!

Move over boyfriend, you just can't bring me the same kinda pleasure that these babies can!
Move over boyfriend, you just can’t bring me the same kinda pleasure that these babies can!