I should probably start this by explaining that I am certainly not the most sophisticated of women; I buy my make-up from the supermarket and I wouldn’t even think twice about eating an entire Dominos Deep Crust all to myself. However, when I was offered the chance to try an eye enhancing treatment thanks to the excellent folk at Essential Beauty, I was intrigued.
Furthermore, when I found out that it would mean I could get flawless eyes without having to wear (and therefore remove) any eye make-up for at least two weeks, well that’s when this lazy girl was sold!
To read the rest of the article, head on over to Adelady.
Attending yet another friend’s wedding recently, with my boyfriend in tow, I was struck by the gorgeous decorations that adorned the venue, remarking to said boyfriend; “Isn’t that some lovely bunting?” What happened next left me gob smacked, in a state of shock and absolute despair, my boyfriend replied by saying; “what in the Lords good name is bunting?” (okay, that’s not what he said but I kind of wanted him to sound cutesy and proper, he actually said “what the fuck is bunting?”). It was at this point that I began to question every decision that I had made about my life up until that very point – how could I be planning to spend the rest of my life with a man who does not know what bunting is? Slight overreaction, perhaps however I was in a little bit of shock.
The mark and sign of adorable hipster gals and guys worldwide, decorative bunting is a diverse thing of absolute majesty. Being a bearded man who, when it pleases him, refers to himself as a barista and at other times a comedian, I assumed that he would have knowledge of such things. It turns out that I put too much faith in him.
After pointing at the delicate material hanging from ornate ribbon strung across the venue, I expected him to be impressed however my explanation was simply met with a shrug and ignorant comment; “Ah right, just looks like bits of scrappy material on a string to me”. The feeling of disappointment once again filled my being, I would never be able to commit to a man so ignorant of such beauty.
Lucky for him, my love can look past him lack of knowledge about this simple facet of society and my mind got to thinking. Bunting is a staple of many happy households, cafes, bars, baby showers, weddings and awkwardly nostalgic 60th birthday parties filled with relatives that you’d secretly hoped were already dead. It is diverse in its application and a thing of much excellence, could its purpose not be bigger than we had previously imagined with our feeble narrow minds?
Bunting could probably fix marriages that are on the brink of destruction, it could likely cure cancer and without a doubt end many a mental illness.
Bono (of U2 fame, just in case he is not longer relevant at the time of publishing, as is the nature of the world we live in) recently suggested that comedians could end wars, with jokes spreading laughter far and wide soldiers would not be able to resist the urge to laugh and their hearts would inevitable be filled with joy. Bono is an idiot however he could be onto something, filling the hearts of soldiers with joy could in fact end all wars and if there is one sure way to bring about joy then that is, without a doubt, bunting.
So let’s all raise a glass, to that oft overlooked, at times misunderstood, beautiful addition to any life: bunting.
I want to get married. One day – when the right guy comes along. It’s not a religious thing or anything like that; I just really like the idea of getting married (and y’know, having a wedding and all). That being said, I’m not just gonna settle for any old guy and I’m sure that I’m not the only one whose got a list of requirements for their future husband (though I may be the only one daft enough to air them online while I’m still single as all hell). Meghan Trainor released ‘Dear Future Husband’ earlier this year and plenty of feminists (like me) sure do think she got it wrong – I definitely feel like her list should have been a little more realistic…a little more like mine.
Of course I would like all the normal things that anyone would expect of a relationship; respect, love and shared dreams (blah blah blah) – but no one wants to hear about that. You want to hear my obscure diva demands and boy have I got some for you, so without any further hesitation I must present to you the list of 12 requirements (because 12 is my second favourite number, a fact that you WILL know if you wanna put a ring on it) of anyone hoping to wife me;
Must choose dogs over cats Dogs are superior to cats – it’s a scientific fact. Furthermore, I cannot take a cat man seriously – no disrespect, but these kinds’ guys certainly do not make me feel safe and secure. Much like cats, I feel like a guy who like cats will in fact try to suffocate me in my sleep – and not because he’s strangely abusive but because he has a superiority complex. You know it makes sense.
Must be okay with hair Please realise that I am not a dolphin. Yes, there are times where my skin will be silky smooth however there will be other times when you will be concerned that I’m turning into a Chia Pet – you know, those things from the 90s that grow sprouts out of them? I will try to regularly keep it all under control but let’s just put it this way, if he’s not willing to be silky smooth as a cyclist (side note; I probs won’t go for a cyclist) then you can’t give me grief for the occasional slip in standards. Basically, if you’re willing to wax your crack on the reg then I’ll consider putting in more effort.
Must drink (and enjoy) wine You’re not a real man if you don’t like wine – well not in my books anyways. I’ve written about it before – but basically, you must enjoy wine. I don’t need you to know everything there is to know about it (but if you do, please note that I don’t really care – and neither does anyone else). Wine is good – take note fellas.
Must have a star sign that is compatible with mine My star sign is Cancer. This means fuck all – except of course when it comes to figuring out with whom I could in fact be compatible. Let’s be honest though, I’ll twist it in my favour if he’s worth it.
Must be accepting… Of the fact that I’ve already decided on a name for our first born – and our second and third for that matter. Call me crazy (go on, see what happens) but I’ve got some damned good names picked out, so if ya wanna lock this down, just accept the fact that we will not be naming our child after your great-aunt Edna.
Must be okay with Nacho Cheese feet Sometimes (not often, I promise) my feet smell. There was one particular occasion that they smelled like nacho cheese Doritos. I have no explanation for this but it is a thing that happened and who’s to say that it won’t happen again? Be prepared.
Must be able to deal with my chronic fatigue paranoia I don’t stress much and surprisingly I’m not an overly anxious person but every now and then I convince myself (with no solid evidence) that I’m suffering chronic fatigue. On multiple occasions I have ended up in tears, having a tantrum because I think I have chronic fatigue. I’m fine within a few hours though; just ride out the storm with me, okay?
Must understand that carbs are great (and sometimes they are not) Don’t make me eat healthy if I don’t want to but don’t make me eat shit food when I’m trying so god damned hard to ‘be good’ – and I swear to god, if you think that you’re gonna have any opinion on what goes into my mouth then you may as well just give up now. This includes edible and non-edible objects, pay attention.
Must be able to drive a manual It may be a strange measure of man hood but in my mind, real men have the ability to drive a manual. If you can’t drive a car at all, keep on peddling by sweetheart because as hot as your fit bod will probably be, I ain’t gonna dinky on the back of your fixie all the way to your parents house. Oh what was that? We could catch the bus? Been with that guy, done that, those days are in my past buddy.
Must not have nicer hair than me If your hair is nicer than mine, I will inevitably be intimidated. The inequality that this will cause in our relationship will be too much for either of us will handle and will inevitably end in tears.
Must not be too muscular Most girls have a type, my type is basically anyone who doesn’t make me feel inadequate (see above…) therefore, if you’re biceps are bigger than my head then it’s probably not gonna work. Don’t get sneaky on me either; I might have to put a clause in our pre-nup.
Must get along with my Dad My dad is the raddest bloke in the world, closely followed by my brother. They certainly have their flaws – anyone who’s seen my Dad on the dance floor can attest to that however anyone who wants to put a ring on it will need to get along with the main men in my life. The easy thing is that Dad pretty much gets along with everyone but lucky for me he won’t be backwards in telling me if he doesn’t like a guy – believe me, it’s happened before. Oh and some people might think I’m a little bit backwards but I would want a guy to ask my Dad if he was cool with it before asking ME to marry him. I don’t think my Dad needs to give permission as such, but I’d definitely want my Dad to be down with it.
So there you have it – some might call me nuts but I just like to think I’m organised and under control. Trust me ladies, if you don’t think like me you’ll be regretting it down the track when 15 years into the marriage you’re stuck with a cat loving, wine hating body builder with luscious locks flowing in the breeze
I’m a little bit annoyed actually, because you see, people keep judging me. I don’t really think that their judgement is fair or valid or, in fact, very polite. Often people will tell you that judgement is just in your head and that ‘hey, being ‘judged’ is a bit of a first world problem, why not go get yourself a soy double mocha-chino and get the fuck over it’. When judgement is obvious though, like when someone does those eyes where they’re looking down upon you and just kind of sigh – maybe they’ll roll their eyes too, with the sole objective of making you feel belittled then it really sucks. This is all sounding pretty damned horrible right now, yeah? Kind of in the whole ‘get out the world’s tiniest violin and play to our hearts content’ way…
Anyhow, I guess you want to know what I’ve been feeling judged about…well, if you insist, I am sick and tired of being judged for talking about my wedding. Yes, I am aware that it’s generally not socially acceptable to talk about your wedding plans BEFORE you get a ring on your finger – yep, that’s right, not even engaged, but seriously, why on earth should that stop my planning?!
There have literally been occasions where I am telling a group of people all about my wedding plans, only for one of them to joyfully exclaim ‘I didn’t know you were engaged – congratulations’ – no, you ass clown, I am not engaged and now you have just made this kind of awkward and you’re certainly going to give me an odd look when I say ‘no, I’m just really organised…’ – and we could have avoided all that!
Now before you get all ‘you don’t need to get married to be happy, you can be a strong independent woman who don’t need no man’ – yes, I’m very aware of that. I don’t necessarily want to get married though, I actually just want a wedding, you see. Now you’re really thinking that I’m crazy, and you know what? You’re probably entitled to that; I’ll let you have that one. People have said to me “why not just have a party”. No. You clearly don’t get it. I want a wedding. Sure it won’t be traditional – I’ve already decided that catering will consist of hamburgers (and a vegetarian version, of course) and cheese platters – because these are superior forms of food. I’ll think I’ll wear a kind of non – traditional dress (but I can’t give too much away) but here’s the clincher – it’s gonna kick the butt of all my ‘friends’ weddings and only cost a fraction of the price! Yep, I’ve got it all sorted. So stop judging me – because yes, I am secretly judging your $20,000 wedding budget – ya fucking nutter.