When I get really excited, I drool.
it's hot.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Palatial Pants
Hey, guess what?! I've moved into the city! No longer on the insular peninsular, I have spread my wings and tiptoed out into the big wide world. My neighbourhood is excellent - I feel exceedingly normal, so much so that I think I might have to up my rat-baggery quotient. It's like Melrose Place, but with more vintage motorbikes and less heterosexuality. And all my neighbours seem to really like house music.
So! Wanna see my new room? No? Well tough shit, I'm a meglomaniac and this is *my* bloggy woggy and I wanna show you.
The photo above is pretty crappy, but it shows how big my room is, highlights my new red beanbag AND my super fucking awesome three door built in wardrobe with mirrored doors (hmmm must find an opportunity to put those to their proper use *cough*)
And here is my storage facility with garish SE Asian inspired decor vomit. (ps are we counting candles? Prizes for the person who can correct identify how many I own)
I like my vanity with a side order of Latino Catholic guilt (and the door to my ensuite is on the right there). Do you like my flowers? They are sweet peas and poppies and I bought them at the markets on Sunday because that is how I roll these days. There are three candles hiding behind them.
And finally, my bookcase. Stuffed if I know where the rest of my books have gone, but I have a very bad feeling that they may been poorly packed in flimsy boxes in my parents' very damn garage brewing a fantastic array of mould as we speak. There are two rows of books hiding behind the Hello Kittys but that leaves another 134582405627456204875624 books unaccounted for. Humph. PS the artist model on the right is not finger banging the other. Its actually dolefully praying, whilst the other leaps with heartfelt ecstasy - its a comment on different manifestations of spirituality and belief blah blah. Oh and there are five candles on the top shelf you can't quite see.
So! Wanna see my new room? No? Well tough shit, I'm a meglomaniac and this is *my* bloggy woggy and I wanna show you.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Gooood Morrrninggg, Miss Laaaadeee Pannntsss!
You know what? Who gives a rats about HT.
As some of you may know, I'm out on my first counselling prac in schools. Yes, I know I'm bosomy, I swear a lot, and I'm promiscuous. But you know what else? I 100% give a shit about keeping kids safe, helping them be happy, and helping them do the best that they can, no matter how crappy the cards they have been dealt are.
I have spent the last couple of days observing and participating in counselling sessions in several different schools (primary and secondary), and I have been impressed with just how much kids can deal with, from little littlies in kindy, to towering spotty youths in their final year of school. Kids who used to cut themselves 20 times a week, for no reason they can explain, but now haven't done it in 4 weeks. Kids who were near institutionalisation for depression overseas, and who have packed up their lives and transferred schools to Australia, with no family and no support, because they want to start over again and learn to live positively. Yeh, these might not sound like wins to everyone, but to them they are huge victories.
I love what I'm doing, I'm so lucky to meet these kids and for them to speak to me and to trust me to help.
On a related note, I'm likely to start erasing all identifying images and content soon. Even though I run this blog on a strictly anonymous basis, I would hate for my personal self - let's not forget the things I write here I rarely speak about to people in my 'real' life - to be mistaken from my professional self.
Oh and suck it up, Matt. You have no idea what shit 12 year olds deal with on an everyday basis. Your commitment phobia is, in the grand scheme of things, NOTHING.
As some of you may know, I'm out on my first counselling prac in schools. Yes, I know I'm bosomy, I swear a lot, and I'm promiscuous. But you know what else? I 100% give a shit about keeping kids safe, helping them be happy, and helping them do the best that they can, no matter how crappy the cards they have been dealt are.
I have spent the last couple of days observing and participating in counselling sessions in several different schools (primary and secondary), and I have been impressed with just how much kids can deal with, from little littlies in kindy, to towering spotty youths in their final year of school. Kids who used to cut themselves 20 times a week, for no reason they can explain, but now haven't done it in 4 weeks. Kids who were near institutionalisation for depression overseas, and who have packed up their lives and transferred schools to Australia, with no family and no support, because they want to start over again and learn to live positively. Yeh, these might not sound like wins to everyone, but to them they are huge victories.
I love what I'm doing, I'm so lucky to meet these kids and for them to speak to me and to trust me to help.
On a related note, I'm likely to start erasing all identifying images and content soon. Even though I run this blog on a strictly anonymous basis, I would hate for my personal self - let's not forget the things I write here I rarely speak about to people in my 'real' life - to be mistaken from my professional self.
Oh and suck it up, Matt. You have no idea what shit 12 year olds deal with on an everyday basis. Your commitment phobia is, in the grand scheme of things, NOTHING.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
TUTOR FAIL
Saw HT on Friday...
had a drink
grabbed some dinner
went back to his
And Its seems I really am quite the intuitive motherfucker because he launched into a huge "I'm still in love with my ex so I, um, I mean, I don't know what you want from this, but I errr, oh god, I want to go back to her but something stops me every time, but I errrr....." alrghqeirughq;eiorgjq;rl/fdkgjerlkgj sob story.
I think he gauged my lack of happiness with his presumption pretty quickly given that my eyebrows pretty much cocked through the roof in irritation. What ever happened to SHUTTING YOUR FUCKING MOUTH AND JUST ENJOYING THE FACT YOU ARE SLEEPING WITH A SELECTIVE NYMPHO. Jesus. Three times, we have seen each other. If you are that upset (a) go back to your girlfriend, and (b) stop fucking me. No one is holding a gun to your head forcing you to stick your dick in me. Over and over again. And anyway...six months and you haven't spoken to her? Sister has probs moved on. And if she took you back she'd fucking make you suffer like the piss weak dog that you are. Beg her for forgiveness or fucking stop being such a bloody self indulgent sook and put your big boy pants back on. Christ. Why do I always have to be the man of the house??
I did not say all the above to him, although I wish I did. I instead mentioned I hadn't got that far in my cognitive appraisal of our situation, and frankly I wasn't yet sure what my expectations were, and besides, I had some shit going on in my own life which made me kind of cagey about anything vaguely resembling a relationship and I'm fucking a bit busy at the moment as well.
After this conversation, there was a silence (for once) and we made a pot of tea and he had a shower and put on pyjamas(??!). We talked until early morning about anything other than the subject that really mattered. And he lay on the bed, and I lay near him fully clothed. And as we talked he placed his hand on my hip and internally I shrugged and though "ahh, what the hell. I came here to get laid after all.". He did all the right things and made all the right moves, and I was practically coming by the time he was inside me but then, I dunno, I just felt annoyed or something, and my orgasm backed out of the room like a mortified teen walking in on their parents. He, apparently, had no such issue, experiencing as he did a male multiple orgasm (his internal dialogue, the whole time wailing something along the lines of: "Be-pierced temptress whore! Unholy she-devil of the heaving silicon bosom!!"). I managed to wrestle myself a piss-ant orgasm in the morning, but, meh. Way to go, dude, you've totally wrecked it.
Understandably, I will fucking well not be contacting him again. And if he contacts me? Hmm, maybe. But I won't be in for much more than a little bit of dick and a lot of revoltingly self aware yet entertaining conversation. Having other people lump their problems on me kind of kills the magic.
FUCK. I wish I didn't always get so disappointed when people fall short of my expectations.
had a drink
grabbed some dinner
went back to his
And Its seems I really am quite the intuitive motherfucker because he launched into a huge "I'm still in love with my ex so I, um, I mean, I don't know what you want from this, but I errr, oh god, I want to go back to her but something stops me every time, but I errrr....." alrghqeirughq;eiorgjq;rl/fdkgjerlkgj sob story.
I think he gauged my lack of happiness with his presumption pretty quickly given that my eyebrows pretty much cocked through the roof in irritation. What ever happened to SHUTTING YOUR FUCKING MOUTH AND JUST ENJOYING THE FACT YOU ARE SLEEPING WITH A SELECTIVE NYMPHO. Jesus. Three times, we have seen each other. If you are that upset (a) go back to your girlfriend, and (b) stop fucking me. No one is holding a gun to your head forcing you to stick your dick in me. Over and over again. And anyway...six months and you haven't spoken to her? Sister has probs moved on. And if she took you back she'd fucking make you suffer like the piss weak dog that you are. Beg her for forgiveness or fucking stop being such a bloody self indulgent sook and put your big boy pants back on. Christ. Why do I always have to be the man of the house??
I did not say all the above to him, although I wish I did. I instead mentioned I hadn't got that far in my cognitive appraisal of our situation, and frankly I wasn't yet sure what my expectations were, and besides, I had some shit going on in my own life which made me kind of cagey about anything vaguely resembling a relationship and I'm fucking a bit busy at the moment as well.
After this conversation, there was a silence (for once) and we made a pot of tea and he had a shower and put on pyjamas(??!). We talked until early morning about anything other than the subject that really mattered. And he lay on the bed, and I lay near him fully clothed. And as we talked he placed his hand on my hip and internally I shrugged and though "ahh, what the hell. I came here to get laid after all.". He did all the right things and made all the right moves, and I was practically coming by the time he was inside me but then, I dunno, I just felt annoyed or something, and my orgasm backed out of the room like a mortified teen walking in on their parents. He, apparently, had no such issue, experiencing as he did a male multiple orgasm (his internal dialogue, the whole time wailing something along the lines of: "Be-pierced temptress whore! Unholy she-devil of the heaving silicon bosom!!"). I managed to wrestle myself a piss-ant orgasm in the morning, but, meh. Way to go, dude, you've totally wrecked it.
Understandably, I will fucking well not be contacting him again. And if he contacts me? Hmm, maybe. But I won't be in for much more than a little bit of dick and a lot of revoltingly self aware yet entertaining conversation. Having other people lump their problems on me kind of kills the magic.
FUCK. I wish I didn't always get so disappointed when people fall short of my expectations.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Lady list
1. I had my wisdom teeth yanked from my jowls on Friday. Owie. And the tube they jammed in me whilst I was under general has scraped all my throat. Oh, and I love Mersyndol Forte.
2. I got weighed as part of my admission to surgery, and I am about the heaviest I've ever been - despite exercise and eating well etc. I'm 69kg. However, I feel and in my own humble opinion look, the best I ever have. Being naked with someone about a week ago, I felt entirely comfortable with myself, and more so I felt really fucking hot. I like this growing into your skin thing :)
3. Lady Pants has new palatial residence in Sydney's groovy inner west! It's near several rad music venues, the Dendy Theatres, The organic farmers markets, cafe society central, and several international cuisine hubs. Ooooh and 10-15 mins to uni by bus. SWEET AS. My room is massive, with huge built-ins and my own bathroom. At over $900/mth its a bit past my budget, but meh, thats what Daddies are for. I will be living with a copper and a financial reporter type. They seem fairly straighty one eighty, but nice and chatty enough. I'm friggen excited.
4. I messaged Matt/ HT yesterday afternoon, because I got sick of waiting for him to resurface, and I thought I'd throw him a rope in case he was just feeling shy or awkward or whatever - "Hey how are you, this is what I've been doing, shall we catch up this week sometime" ... nothing too hectic. Mother fucker has not replied. A while ago, this would have devastated me, given how much I like him. But now I just feel mild annoyance. It's not that hard: we get along fantastically, you think I'm hot, I think you're hot, we havegreat eye-wateringly amazing sex. I'm too busy for a full time boyfriend at the moment, so a nice easy "let's hang out every week or two" scenario is all I'm looking for at the moment, really. Now. You may be a bit devo'd over your ex girlfriend, but fucking mop up the tears Princess, because she is gone. Half the reason she probably left you was because you are a giant dithering pussy. You're a nice guy with a lot to offer, but you are no good to anybody without a backbone. Want to see me? Then see me! Don't want to see me? Then say so, or give me some bullshit excuse! FUCK, ITS REALLY THAT SIMPLE. What a lame arse, limp-wristed sad sack of shit. next.
2. I got weighed as part of my admission to surgery, and I am about the heaviest I've ever been - despite exercise and eating well etc. I'm 69kg. However, I feel and in my own humble opinion look, the best I ever have. Being naked with someone about a week ago, I felt entirely comfortable with myself, and more so I felt really fucking hot. I like this growing into your skin thing :)
3. Lady Pants has new palatial residence in Sydney's groovy inner west! It's near several rad music venues, the Dendy Theatres, The organic farmers markets, cafe society central, and several international cuisine hubs. Ooooh and 10-15 mins to uni by bus. SWEET AS. My room is massive, with huge built-ins and my own bathroom. At over $900/mth its a bit past my budget, but meh, thats what Daddies are for. I will be living with a copper and a financial reporter type. They seem fairly straighty one eighty, but nice and chatty enough. I'm friggen excited.
4. I messaged Matt/ HT yesterday afternoon, because I got sick of waiting for him to resurface, and I thought I'd throw him a rope in case he was just feeling shy or awkward or whatever - "Hey how are you, this is what I've been doing, shall we catch up this week sometime" ... nothing too hectic. Mother fucker has not replied. A while ago, this would have devastated me, given how much I like him. But now I just feel mild annoyance. It's not that hard: we get along fantastically, you think I'm hot, I think you're hot, we have
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Perve Pants
I like Jacques magazine. I think it has something for all of the pervy mcperve pants out there. And look, I'm not saying they are representing anything other than, oooh, about 3% of female bodies as opposed to the usual 0.25%, but at least there is a leeeettle variety going on here.
That looks like the funnest ice cream ever
Elize from Jacques Magazine on Vimeo.
Jesus hecking christ, those thighs are magnificent. We know how I'm suss on vagina, but - wowsers.
[edited to add that now I REALLY want a cigarette]
Jacques Magazine presents Tori from Jacques Magazine on Vimeo.
That looks like the funnest ice cream ever
Elize from Jacques Magazine on Vimeo.
Jesus hecking christ, those thighs are magnificent. We know how I'm suss on vagina, but - wowsers.
[edited to add that now I REALLY want a cigarette]
Jacques Magazine presents Tori from Jacques Magazine on Vimeo.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Lay, Lady, lay
Date went well with HT on Friday. We had dinner (or he had dinner and I couldn't even eat because my appetite deserted me) and a bottle of wine at a cute little eatery in the city. The conversation was effortless and I didn't feel the urge to spring to the other side of the establishment every time my foot brushed against his under the booth table.
After tea, we headed out into the night to a bar where we talked and talked and talked and drank until closing time. He asked me to come back to his house and without hesitation I said yes, and we jumped in a cab.
In his studio apartment, I sat on the edge of his bed, and resisted the urge to fall in a fit of jealousy at the sight of his giant twin bookshelves with contents organised by date of original publication and grouped by cover colour. He made a pot of herbal tea and we smoked rollies, and the conversation flowed just as it had before, almost as if neither of us had any expectation of what was to come.
And then he lay on the bed and propped his head up with one hand. I lay on my side next to him and the words continued to roll forth, even whilst he ran his hand over my back, then my hips, and then my ass. He kissed me. He undressed me down to my knickers. He teased me until I begged, and then he wouldn't let me have a thing until I undressed him. He almost ripped my pale blue mesh pants in half trying to get to my pussy, which he ate with fervour and aplomb, pushing my thighs apart with insistence and reaching up to push his fingers into my mouth.
The sex that night was fairly fanfuckingtastic, even though I was tired- so tired I couldn't really come. I fell asleep around 5.30 only to awake around 8 in his arms. And he kissed me. And it started again. Dear Lord can that man make me scream. Also: Synchronised orgasms. Best. Thing. Ever. If I had had any energy left after it at all I would have stood up and given him a round of applause. (and it wasn't ninja sex either)
So. Like I said. Things went well. And not only was the sex great but there was a (tenderness? Connection?) underneath our urgency.
I left his house at 12.30 because he had to go to work and so did I. I left without a shower but with a passionate kiss, and braved a TWO AND A HALF HOUR trip home. I got busted by the barman from work on the bus too. Epic walk of shame.
He has messaged me since, told me how much fun he had with me, how tired he was all weekend. I like him, a lot, in case you haven't gathered, but I'm not expecting too much. I found out, through the course of the evening, that in March (when I met him first funnily enough) he broke up with his girlfriend of 5 yrs. She was 30, and they were on the path to eternity. But he couldn't say for certain that he would give her children. So she left him... OUCH! I genuinely feel sorry for the guy.... I think we could have a bleeder.
We shall see. Either way, he gave me the best rogering in recent memory.
After tea, we headed out into the night to a bar where we talked and talked and talked and drank until closing time. He asked me to come back to his house and without hesitation I said yes, and we jumped in a cab.
In his studio apartment, I sat on the edge of his bed, and resisted the urge to fall in a fit of jealousy at the sight of his giant twin bookshelves with contents organised by date of original publication and grouped by cover colour. He made a pot of herbal tea and we smoked rollies, and the conversation flowed just as it had before, almost as if neither of us had any expectation of what was to come.
And then he lay on the bed and propped his head up with one hand. I lay on my side next to him and the words continued to roll forth, even whilst he ran his hand over my back, then my hips, and then my ass. He kissed me. He undressed me down to my knickers. He teased me until I begged, and then he wouldn't let me have a thing until I undressed him. He almost ripped my pale blue mesh pants in half trying to get to my pussy, which he ate with fervour and aplomb, pushing my thighs apart with insistence and reaching up to push his fingers into my mouth.
The sex that night was fairly fanfuckingtastic, even though I was tired- so tired I couldn't really come. I fell asleep around 5.30 only to awake around 8 in his arms. And he kissed me. And it started again. Dear Lord can that man make me scream. Also: Synchronised orgasms. Best. Thing. Ever. If I had had any energy left after it at all I would have stood up and given him a round of applause. (and it wasn't ninja sex either)
So. Like I said. Things went well. And not only was the sex great but there was a (tenderness? Connection?) underneath our urgency.
I left his house at 12.30 because he had to go to work and so did I. I left without a shower but with a passionate kiss, and braved a TWO AND A HALF HOUR trip home. I got busted by the barman from work on the bus too. Epic walk of shame.
He has messaged me since, told me how much fun he had with me, how tired he was all weekend. I like him, a lot, in case you haven't gathered, but I'm not expecting too much. I found out, through the course of the evening, that in March (when I met him first funnily enough) he broke up with his girlfriend of 5 yrs. She was 30, and they were on the path to eternity. But he couldn't say for certain that he would give her children. So she left him... OUCH! I genuinely feel sorry for the guy.... I think we could have a bleeder.
We shall see. Either way, he gave me the best rogering in recent memory.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Fuck me Friday (with a shot of reality)
1. Sting
Mainly cause he reminds me of Jesus. We all know how I want to fuck Jesus.Oh, and the tantra thing too. he can synchronise my breathing anytime he likes.
FUCK ME, STING
2. This Guy from "Glee"
HOT DAMN. I squeal - audibly - each time he comes on telly.
Even though he looks like a younger and Mohawked version of my ex boyfriend D-RO.
FUCK ME, THAT GUY FROM "GLEE"
3. Hot Tutor
[no picture available]
Well, duh. And here's hoping, right?
FUCK ME, HOT TUTOR
Mainly cause he reminds me of Jesus. We all know how I want to fuck Jesus.Oh, and the tantra thing too. he can synchronise my breathing anytime he likes.
FUCK ME, STING
2. This Guy from "Glee"
HOT DAMN. I squeal - audibly - each time he comes on telly.
Even though he looks like a younger and Mohawked version of my ex boyfriend D-RO.
FUCK ME, THAT GUY FROM "GLEE"
3. Hot Tutor
[no picture available]
Well, duh. And here's hoping, right?
FUCK ME, HOT TUTOR
Bad Blogger
Hi Guys,
Firstly, apologies are in order:
1. I have not responded you any of your comments on here
2. I have not commented nor even read any of your recent posts
3. I'm an arsehole in general
So, sorry! Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry! I'm tired and I've got a lot on.
I've finished my detox - I had my first coffee yesterday morning, and my first glass of wine prior to seeing Florence + the Machine at the Enmore (which was, incidentally, awesome). I had a cheese and tomato toasted croissant(!!!) for breakfast this morning, as it was my craving throughout the detox process and it was.....disappointing. My tastes have changed. I thoroughly recommend the detox process for anyone who is stuck in a rut - dietary or otherwise - as it has calmed me down and given me a lot of clarity. I feel, for the want of a better term, 'well', and I have been sleeping wonderfully apart from the fact my flatmate's cat has gone into heat and likes to try and root my foot.
I'm looking at a house in Darlington, which is pretty awesome/crazy and would involve sharing with a completely off tap older hippy lady. I'm trying to decide whether to take it or not, because she wants me to move in straight away, or at least start paying rent straight up. Eeeep.
I'm going out with H.T. tonight (in about 1 1/2 hours actually) and whilst I'm less nervous than last time, I definitely have a bit of an anxiety sweat going on. Not helped by the fact I dont think I like what I'm wearing - all my classmates at uni today told me I looked "smart" and "corporate". NOT the look I was going for. Shit. I'm wearing a cream peter pan collared blouse, a grey skirt which is high waisted and flared from the hip (hard to describe) which makes my waist look teeney-tiny, a black blazer and black tights with red flat shoes. I look like I'm trying to channel a secretary or a librarian. Whos about to run for the bus. BLARG. Anyway. Lets hope it all goes well. Maybe he'll want to spank me or something.
University is totally encompassing my life at the moment. I've got so much to do, and whilst none of it is particularly difficult for me, I'm intimidated by the sheer volume of it all. Saying that, I love what I'm doing - I care about what I study, I have a passion for it, and I think I will be pretty damn awesome when I finally step into schools. That might not sound exciting, but for anyone who has read vintage Pants when I was an EA in corporate land, you will realise how much of a big deal this is for me.
Anyway, I will endeavour to be a better bloggy friend, as much as I can. Please have patience with me, it might take me a while. Heck, it might not even be until after I've finished this semester. Pants' real world alter ego just has a lot of shit to juggle right now.
Firstly, apologies are in order:
1. I have not responded you any of your comments on here
2. I have not commented nor even read any of your recent posts
3. I'm an arsehole in general
So, sorry! Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry! I'm tired and I've got a lot on.
I've finished my detox - I had my first coffee yesterday morning, and my first glass of wine prior to seeing Florence + the Machine at the Enmore (which was, incidentally, awesome). I had a cheese and tomato toasted croissant(!!!) for breakfast this morning, as it was my craving throughout the detox process and it was.....disappointing. My tastes have changed. I thoroughly recommend the detox process for anyone who is stuck in a rut - dietary or otherwise - as it has calmed me down and given me a lot of clarity. I feel, for the want of a better term, 'well', and I have been sleeping wonderfully apart from the fact my flatmate's cat has gone into heat and likes to try and root my foot.
I'm looking at a house in Darlington, which is pretty awesome/crazy and would involve sharing with a completely off tap older hippy lady. I'm trying to decide whether to take it or not, because she wants me to move in straight away, or at least start paying rent straight up. Eeeep.
I'm going out with H.T. tonight (in about 1 1/2 hours actually) and whilst I'm less nervous than last time, I definitely have a bit of an anxiety sweat going on. Not helped by the fact I dont think I like what I'm wearing - all my classmates at uni today told me I looked "smart" and "corporate". NOT the look I was going for. Shit. I'm wearing a cream peter pan collared blouse, a grey skirt which is high waisted and flared from the hip (hard to describe) which makes my waist look teeney-tiny, a black blazer and black tights with red flat shoes. I look like I'm trying to channel a secretary or a librarian. Whos about to run for the bus. BLARG. Anyway. Lets hope it all goes well. Maybe he'll want to spank me or something.
University is totally encompassing my life at the moment. I've got so much to do, and whilst none of it is particularly difficult for me, I'm intimidated by the sheer volume of it all. Saying that, I love what I'm doing - I care about what I study, I have a passion for it, and I think I will be pretty damn awesome when I finally step into schools. That might not sound exciting, but for anyone who has read vintage Pants when I was an EA in corporate land, you will realise how much of a big deal this is for me.
Anyway, I will endeavour to be a better bloggy friend, as much as I can. Please have patience with me, it might take me a while. Heck, it might not even be until after I've finished this semester. Pants' real world alter ego just has a lot of shit to juggle right now.
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