Life Archives - Page 4 of 11 - noellelynn writes

August 6, 2013

Are You There God? It’s Me, PMS.

It’s no secret I am obsessed with my period. Every other tweet I do is about PMS. In fact, I don’t even need a period app, my Twitter timeline basically performs that function. So since I can’t shut up about it, I might as well blog about it.

PMS

Let’s just put it this way, women have been acquitted from crimes because of PMS. I am extremely short-tempered, I hate everyone, I don’t want to do any work, “I’m sorry, I can’t schedule a meeting this week because I’m PMS-ing”, there’s nothing good on TV, “oh my god, why are you calling me, can’t you just text me!”. Everyone gets it, from my clients to my girlfriends. Men would inevitably have to bear the brunt of women’s PMS but god help you if you ever dare suggest that I’m hormonal. “Is it that time of the month?” is a question I sincerely believe can be responded with a heartfelt bludgeoning. In under 3 seconds, I literally become a raging PMS-Zilla, “Whether it’s my time of the month is NOT the point! I hate you! Why won’t you die and leave me alone! Where are you going, don’t go, I need you to rub my feet”.

I Want All The Food

I’m actually pretty good when it comes to snacking, I generally don’t eat a lot of fast or sweet food but with the precision of a Swiss timekeeper, exactly 7 days before the deluge, all I want are carbs. And ice-cream. And chocolate. If there was a mashed potato flavored ice-cream, I’d want it. I want to eat a whole bag of potato chips, while laying in bed, wiping my tears away with my ice-cream spoon. Then there’s the inevitable remorse that happens after and the only thing that will make me feel better are cookies.

The Bloat

The Bloat is some kind of parasite that invades my body, retains water and emotions, renders all my clothes unwearable and seems to enjoy inhabiting my stomach and the fleshy part of my arms just near my underarms (affectionately termed “BUPS – Bits Under The Pits). Where is all this goddamn weight coming from? Does it hide in my shoes for 3 weeks out of a month? How much contouring do I need to do on my face to make myself look like I don’t have 5 chins? And even though this happens every month, I still don’t realise it’s PMS till I catch myself sobbing because I can’t fit into a dress (this may or may not have happened 2 weeks ago).

This Is Zit!

Hey look, I’m 13 again, thanks zit! My body never fails to show me who’s boss by delivering a pimple that’s got roots and a mortgage on my face. It sets up camp and laughs at me as I try everything from toothpaste to a blowtorch.

The Deluge

Then there’s the 7 day wait for the flood to hit. It can come any time! When you least expect it! Usually when you’re wearing white! Always when you never have a tampon!

———-

Put all these things together and maybe you can understand why many women, like myself, are raging irrational lunatics once a month. There’s no way to make it out alive, so my recommendation to men is: bring her food and shut the hell up.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_weSk0BonM]

July 3, 2013

Get A Chihuahua If:

I’ve had Dolce for 7 years now. I got her when I was part of a couple, and now, I’ve had her as a single (for half her life). I can’t explain why I wanted a chihuahua so badly, it wasn’t for the jewelry. I just knew it HAD to be a chihuahua. We spent weekends in Brisbane looking for the perfect one and of all the dogs to choose from, I picked the most problematic one. These are the lessons Dolce has taught me. (Yes, there were supposed to be two chihuahas, but after I got Dolce, the notion of getting a “Gabbana” was quickly abandoned)

Get a chihuahua if:

You have a family and are not single

All dogs don’t like to be alone but Dolce has these crazy lunatic “ERRRMAAAGERRRDDD MOMMY’S HOMMMMMEEEEE” attacks whenever I’m in a 5-km radius around home. She runs around, throws herself on the door, runs up the stairs, runs down the stairs and then finally has a reversed trachea attack (more on that later). If it wasn’t for the support of my family, it would be tough for me to have a social life that would allow me to stay out all night (what? clubs open till late now) or go on vacations.

You want a dog that you have sat on

My ex-boyfriend threw his whole body weight on the sofa and smushed our little 3-month old chihuahua in the process. She was alright but I suspect some mental damage occurred.

You want a dog that you have to carry around

Initially, this was super cute when she was 500grams. Then, she ballooned into some sort of Yao Ming chihuahua at a whopping 4.3kg and walks to the beach end up with me carrying her tubby ass home.

You want a dog that wedges herself everywhere

Chihuahuas are burrowers – they love crawling under blankets (I lost her there once) and wedging herself right against your body, or in her case, her favorite place, between my legs (hey, who can blame her?). This results in cramped legs and being pushed off my own bed by a chihuahua.

You want a dog with health problems

Dolce has every small dog health problem: reversed trachea (sounds like an asthma attack), heart murmur, ear infections, impacted anal glands (yes, this is exactly how it sounds) and luxating patellas. (Pic was her after a bee sting, which she, of course, was allergic to)

You want a dog with social problems

Unfortunately, I think Dolce was from a puppy mill which means poor breeding and as a result she has poor socialisation skills. I’ve sent her to puppy kindergarten (yes) where the specialist diagnosed this as a form of “doggy autism” and I had an epic crying breakdown right in front of this large Australian woman who had no idea what to do. Dolce is petrified of all other dogs – from fluffy puppies to lazy seniors. As a result, she’s a little dog-lonely, but I don’t think she notices.

You want a dog that doesn’t eat a lot of dog food but wants all your food

Dolce wants ALL YOUR food. If you want her to be your friend, just have food. This bundle of nerves will suddenly transform into Lassie if you have bacon. She loves durian and fro-yo.

Every guy you’ve ever dated puts you in the “Paris Hilton” high-maintenance box

I understand the association but I don’t see why my having a chihuahua would have anything to do with my high-maintenance form. That comes from a whole lot of other things.

You want a dog can will sleep anywhere

Dolce can sleep anywhere – on my table, on my mouse, on my feet, on my hands, under blankets, under beds. She’s quite gifted.

I love Dolce. Remember, a pet is for life.

June 19, 2013

So OVER It.

I have, what you might call, an over-indulgent pensiveness. Ok fuck it, I’m an over-thinker. I know everyone thinks they’re an over-thinker, but mine has scaled to new heights of complete lunacy. I have recently come to accept (I acknowledged this years ago…) that I am a person of EXCESS. I believe this to be a direct result of years of forced repression of emotions. I considered the showing of emotions in front of anyone to be sign of weakness. I have never been the girl who gently rests her sobbing head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, while being nestled in the manliness of manly strength.

In fact, it’s been quite the opposite. I have never cried or thrown up in front of a boyfriend before. Yes, I know how absolutely ridiculous this sounds. I used to be proud of this fact, like I won some Cold Fish of the Year Award and received a years supply of frozen cod (mmm cod). In recent years, these repressed emotions have burst forth – in the most irrational and incomprehensible ways – I can’t even use PMS to cover up this shit.

OVER-THINKING

Every girl over-thinks a little. If you don’t, I don’t wanna hear about it, keep that serenity shit to yourself. It usually involves a boy and ranges from mild “I wonder why he hasn’t called me” to spicy “That asshole is dicking someone else, I know it!”. Now, that’s not the over-thinking part, that’s just regular thinking. This is a sample of my train of thought, using that simple fictional example.

I said “fictional” right?

So, over the course of the day, I basically start off as your typical lazy freelancer and swell into some kind of Demon-Female-Hellhound of over-thinking and assumptions. I know this is crazy. Some people have suggested yoga. I tried yoga. I over-thought yoga. Here’s that diagram.

Needless to say, yoga did nothing to stop my over-thinking.

I am openly admitting my problem, my flaw, and am ready to embrace change and make an active attempt to relieve myself (and everyone around me) of this horrendous bad habit. I’m open to suggestions – as long as it doesn’t involve:

Silent retreats
Technology withholding
Counting to 10 seconds

I’ve been told that’s something you can switch off, but I am literally in the dark, fumbling around for that alleged switch. Help an over-thinking, over-reacting, insomniac-suffering, sister out.

May 20, 2013

5 Things Men Do That Drive Women Crazy (Good and Bad)

Here’s a short and extremely simple list of things men do that drive women crazy – both the good kind of crazy, and the bad kind of batshit crazy.

5 THINGS MEN DO THAT DRIVE WOMEN (GOOD) CRAZY

1. Hold their face while kissing them or kiss them on the forehead. Drives women crazy.

crazy carry

2. Pick them up, or carry them like they weigh nothing. All women like to feel like they’re thin, so at least pretend to not buckle under pressure.

crazy plans

3. Make plans. I can’t emphasize enough the value of making a reservation. Women don’t appreciate getting a 6pm phone call, “what do you feel like doing tonight?” when you’re supposed to meet at 8pm.

crazy foot rub

4. Foot rub. It doesn’t have to be ancient Oriental foot reflexology here, just a simple foot rub is enough to make our knees weak.

5. Send flowers. Sorry, but that shit still works. Haven’t you seen the way girls go nuts on Facebook with photos of flowers sent to them? Even better, try to be more imaginative and send over a pizza or something. It signifies “effort”. That you were thinking of us enough to spend 5 minutes to send something over. Works. Every. Time.

5 THINGS MEN DO THAT DRIVE WOMEN (BATSHIT) CRAZY

1. Phone problems: phone battery died, problematic phone, turns phone over on table, always on the phone with you, takes a call in another room. We hate this shit. Fix your fucking phone!

0 crazy dishes

2. Dishes. Men always seem to go for the “soak the dishes” instead of washing it. We all know it’s a deflection of work. The jig is up.

0 crazy drunk

3. Binge-drinking. No-one wants to be with the guy who drank more than everyone else, and is acting like a drunken buffoon. That shit is embarrassing for everyone.

0 crazy manchild

4. Man-child behavior. The guy in a semi-state of Boy Meets World, not quite a man, not quite a toddler.

0 crazy lost

5. Getting lost. Nothing causes our esteem in a man to drop quite like a guy calling you and telling you that he’s lost on his way to meet you. Firstly, that means your ass is waiting for him. Secondly, Google maps?? Maybe it’s the admitting of a failure that turns us off, but girls seem to always lose their minds when this happens. For God’s sake, even Tom Hanks managed to get himself and Wilson off that island.

See? So simple. 🙂

April 30, 2013

The Women That Women Hate.

Before I get more accusations that I’m a man-hater, let me write another post about how annoying women are. (Wait, am I going to be called a woman-basher next?) Let this be gospel: I love men and women! And dogs! And carbs!

This post is an extension of Girlfriends and how unpleasant we can be to own gender. Sisterhood, my ass.

The Blabbering Bitch

We all have that friend who gets a little bit too drunk and will feel it’s completely ok to open the Pandora’s Box of YOUR past indiscretions, stupid stories and innermost feelings to everyone at the table, while you try to nervously giggle it off and wipe up the cocktail she just spilled all over you. Trying to get her to stop talking will only make you look extremely defensive. I prefer giving a swift kick under the table. I have also handed a friend her purse before and told her, “You need to go home now, you’re done.”

The Relationship-Fail Rooter

Once a group of single girls have been friends for a while, a sort of group think develops. We commiserate about lonely nights, shitty men and PMS bloat. And then, quelle horreur, one of the single girls deigns to get a boyfriend. Energy shifts and the passive-aggresive girlfriend starts to poke holes in the stories. “He cooked for you? Why? He can’t afford to take you out?” “You have great sex, oh my, he must have been a player before” “You mean you haven’t even met his friends yet?”. Female friends are a pressure cooker for burgeoning relationships, always keep them separate.

The Wardrobe Watcher

There’s always that one girl that pays a little too much attention to what you wear. Which is all well and good, but combined with bitterness, usually presents itself as “Hey, didn’t you wear that dress last time?”. Like, what the hell? Are you Joan Rivers now? Usually, that girl has somewhat of a questionable wardrobe herself.

The Thunder Thief

The girl that loves to interrupt you and steal your thunder and attention when you have people so rapt. She’s basically the girl that will fight for air-time until you back down and she’s Queen of All Conversation. She will settle down for a bit after that, but once you open your mouth to speak again, my god, does she have a better story than you.

The Inception

I am unsure about the motivation of The Inception, but she’s that girl who says, “I was just going to say that!” after almost every good idea/joke that you come up with. Sometimes, she will insert herself into your story that she’s heard before and you’ll be looking at her, thinking, “Bitch, you weren’t even there!”.

The Debbie Downer

Nothing new here, but seriously women, if you are so consumed by how sad your life is, can you please go on a retreat to make it better and then rejoin the group who are having a nice Friday night out? I give allowances to moments of melancholia, because lord knows even I have them, but allow the enthusiasm of your friends to infect you, and not the other way round.

The Conceited Celebrant

Then there’s the girl whose every milestone in life is the celebration of HER. The girl that has about 5 events for her birthday (including at least one overseas trip) and even worse, the girl who’s about to get married. She will have an engagement party, about 3 bridal showers and 1 hens overseas trip finally culminating in a destination wedding. All in all, you can become quite broke being this girl’s friend, because the chances that she will actually foot the bill for anything is slim to none. Genuinely popular girls are the ones who are nice about it and reciprocate in some way. The more self-absorbed ones will find the RSVP numbers dwindling as days go by. The Summer Of You, is over but at least you’re getting married, which means there is someone out there legally bound to enjoy your company.

The Unpunctual Princess

While I will attest to not always being on time, it is usually off by about a maximum of 10 minutes, during which I apologise and maintain contact with the person I’m supposed to meet with an ETA. In the grand cliche of double standards, I loathe waiting for people. I am completely ok waiting for them in a cafe, mall or bar, but if I have to stand somewhere and wait for them for 20 minutes, I literally lose my mind especially when they don’t respond to texts or calls. It’s a disgusting habit and I will make no attempt to cover up my displeasure.

The Dependent Damsel

Ok, when I make new girlfriends, one of my criteria is: Can they be alone for a while / go to the bathroom alone? There is nothing more annoying than a friend who insists that you need to follow her to the bathroom, or goes with you so she doesn’t have to sit at the bar alone. Contrary to popular male belief, we don’t all have to go together. And if you drag me to the bathroom with you, you better have some damn good gossip for me.

I love you, women. And I love you even more, crazy women. If you have any evidence that proves I’ve been any of these types of women, please keep it to yourself.

Category: Life