to order, dial 1800-GET-UR-GAY

disclaimer: this post was checked prior to publishing by a real live gay man. he has given it the official 'gay man seal of approval'. and he speaks for all gay men everywhere because they are all gay just like him. so don't be getting all up in my kool-aid about being offensive and shit. just fucking cope already.

last night i realised that i am a failure.

i am a failure as a straight, single, shoe-loving woman. i am a failure as a liberal-minded, sexual being. i am a failure as a carrie-bradshaw wannabe. and i am a failure as a card-carrying member of the fucking latte left.

the reason for my failure is simple, yet hard to believe. i am a failure because:

I HAVE NO GAY FRIENDS!

not one. nada. zilch. zip. zero.

indeed i have many gay acquaintances. a friend's sister; a colleague's flatmate; an ex's brother; an old neighbour; a vague blog friendship. but no actual friends. no one i can call up for a coffee or a movie or a chat.

and i just can't figure it out. i used to have heaps of gay friends. HEAPS. i had so many gay friends i couldn't see straight. gay people fucking love me. i'm like robin to the gay person's batman; like noddy to the gay person's big ears; like katie to the gay person's tom cruise. not to imply that any of them are gay. no sirree.

so what the fuck happened? how did i end up sans gay friends in my mid-twenties?

i guess they all just moved to the country with their gay partners to breed spoodles or some equally stupid hybrid breed of canine and forgot all about their single, hetero female friends in the city who are still struggling to find a decent man amidst the available riff raff.

stereotyping much? confusing 'sex and the city' with real life much? who me? never.

*worries she is about to lose her gay fanbase.*

*isn't sure she actually has a gay fanbase.*

*vows to get a gay fanbase. stat.*

so anyway, i am thinking of starting up a non-profit organisation to help other people like me. a sort of dating agency if you will. a place for single women without gay friends who desperately want to start sentences with "my gay friend (insert name here) says that...". and alternately, a place for gay people who want to find that special straight someone to call their own.

it will be great. there will be internet chatrooms, monthly meetings, and maybe even bi-annual picnics. and if you join now we'll give you a bonus gay friend with your original purchase. that's two gay friends for the price of one, people.

DO NOT MISS OUT ON THIS EXCITING OFFER! AVAILABLE ONLY WHILE STOCKS LAST! SELECT YOUR GAY FRIEND FROM OUR ONLINE CATALOGUE NOW!!!

oh dear. i think maybe - just maybe - i've had one too many lattes today.

*regrets*

oh, for fucks sake. grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

(against my better judgement i need to get all political and ranty on you today. i know i suck at it, but i'm just really fucking mad this morning. cope.)

*sips latte*

dear australian federal government,

how are you all? good? that's good.

before i start i'd just like to send a special shout out to my most favouritist brainless cuntmunchers liberal party members, vanstone and abbott. you guys rock. spa party?

and now to get to the point, cause i know you're all really busy with running the country and eating gourmet cheese and stuff.

firstly i would like to congratulate you all on what a superb job you are doing in this, your fourth term in office. what with the ridiculously high rate of immigration department fuck-ups abominable state of indigenous affairs increasingly conservative reproductive health policies continued involvement in a "war" we have no business being a part of um...well...johnny's trip to germany to visit the injured women's cycling team seemed to cheer em up a bit. so that's something.

i hear that now to prove to george bush that anything tony blair can do, john howard can do better in the wake of the london bombings, you are considering giving police shoot to kill powers as a pro-active counter-terrorism measure.

WHAT A FUCKING GREAT IDEA!!!

in fact, why didn't you think of it sooner? well, actually i assume you probably did, but you've just been waiting for the "right" time to introduce it into official policy. and now with all the perfectly legitimate immigrants and asylum seekers terrorists roaming freely around this sunburnt country, there's no time like the present, huh?

but why just stop with the terrorists? surely we could have solved the refugee and indigenous problems long ago if only the police could just shoot the buggers at will. not to mention the asian invasion and newly perceived "sudanese threat".

fuck it, why not give all white, british-in-origin, freedom-loving citizens semi-automatics and authorising them to shoot anyone with funny accents and too much facial hair (of course excluding europeans and queenslanders, that is).

but then again, why stop there? why only shoot to kill. surely we can do better than that. how about a 'karate chop to kill' policy? or even a 'curb stomp to kill' policy? we are a nation of high achievers, after all. just look at shane warne russell crowe our mary. i have no doubt the australian people are up to the task.

that'll show them foreigners terrorists who's boss.

i'll await my fully loaded handgun in the mail. please send it to my work post office box, its more likely to reach me that way.

keep up the good work,

la nadine

x

its just another manic monday

dear blogosphere,

i apologise for the following post. yet again i find myself trapped in a chamber of blogging indecision. there are just too many things i want to write about today. and i just can't decide which way to go. this is very unlike me, as i am usually quite the no-nonsense bitch woman.

also, i should really do something to reduce the mountain of work on my desk and therefore coming up with a whole post full of insight and playful snark is quite impossible today.

so i wanted to write something short yet sharp, something brief yet brilliant. of course this didn't happen, as you will discover if you choose to continue reading this crap.

so, what to write about on this most glorious yet manic monday morning?

should i write about the circumcision of my nephew that i just attended, thus provoking interesting religious/political discussion about the merits and necessity of this ancient practice in the modern age?

or should i take the superficial road and instead describe my recent experience of coming in second in the pash stakes to a woman approximately 15 years my senior?

do i ponder the fascinating conversation i had on saturday night with a clinically depressed genius. a medical/philosophy/psychology student who is less tormented by his actual depression than by the decision of whether to attribute it to a medical, environmental or existential precondition?

or do i rave about all the marvellous play readings i was privileged enough to attend last week, written and read by some of my favourite blogtor boys?

or what if i translate a conversation between my grandmother and sister about ways in which one should burp a newborn baby? a conversation in which my sister told my nanna "we don't do it like that anymore nanna. that's considered bad for the child these days", while my nanna stared at her in horror, obviously thinking "girl, i gave birth to your mother in wartime poland, and she turned out just fine. don't be telling me what's bad for the child."

but then again, i could just lash oodles of praise upon this most glorious film. a truly breathtaking cinematic experience that made me feel happy, hollow and horny all at once. go see it now. RIGHT NOW! and make sure you take someone whose thighs you can squeeze and tongue you can suck in the sexy bits. i didn't, and boy do i regret it*.

oh, i just can't decide. so much to write about, so few brain cells left to help me choose.

so how about instead i provide you with a list of links to some of my favourite blog posts of all time? its a cop out i know, but many of you may not have experienced the true genius that is these writings. and i'm sure the writers in question won't mind a bit of free publicity.

kranki: if i had an island

ms fits: politics for beginners

sherriff: hell of you get out what you put in

sugar: to all my pals in the carb army - word

elmos: a post about how wonderful i truly am. cope.

and that's only a few of 'em. there's plenty more where they came from.

happy reading.

love la nadine.

x

*which is not to say i didn't enjoy your wonderful company gorgeous girl. because i did. maybe too much. wanna date me?

the king is here. the king is here.

i am not comfortable with happiness. i always feel like an imposter when experiencing a run of contentedness and frequent fuzzies. every time i smile i wonder when the tears will begin again. and sure enough, soon they always do.

but in the last two weeks i have been so overcome with joy on so many different occasions that it feels like i'm having an extended vacation in happytown. and i really don't wanna go home to sadville. ever.

first there was my birthday of goodness; then a perfect day at the zoo with great friends; next came a surprise visit from my fave lady spa-buddies (and dear friends), fluffy and the fits; then an amazingly generous gift from all my melbourne beloveds to splurge on gorgeous things from here; then a champagne and cupcake pink party over at the house of tuppence; and also just an all over feeling of being loved by, an in turn loving, so many beautiful, wonderful souls (aka my friends and family).

and as of monday i now have something, or rather someone, in my life who will no doubt make me happier than any anti-sadness pills could ever possibly do. not that i plan to stop taking those any time soon. oh no. i'm depressed, i'm not fucking insane. well, not by diagnosis. yet.

thus, without further ado - because so many of you have been getting all up in my grill and demanding it - i officially announce the birth of my beautiful nephew: elvis, aka the baby formerly known as "buddha".

alas, much to my dismay, elvis is not his real name. but i am feeling all protecty of him and thus wish not to publish his real name in cyberspace. there are some freaking weirdos out there, if you hadn't noticed already.

the name "elvis" is due to in part to his uncannily long sideburns, and also to my determination to make him into the next king of rock. his parents wanted me to call him "aj", being the combined initials of his first and middle names. but ain't no nephew of mine being called "aj". that's a drug dealers' name. in fact, that's my drug dealer's name.

so elvis it is. cope.

little elvis is truly a wonder to behold. he seems to be a perfect mix of mine and my bro-in-law's families. with his dad's eyes, his mum's lips, my dad's nose, my hair and my mum's fingers and toes. i really think that the portrait artists over in neverland knew just how much his birth means to all of us, and how much we all needed him to come.

weighing in at 2.85 kilos, at a length of 51 centimeters, this tiny little gift from the gods may never comprehend just how many lives he has brightened just by being born. poor little bugger. only 4 days old and already under immense pressure to bring happiness to a family so ravaged by pain and grief. but he seems to be handling his duties with ease and grace. since his arrival i have seen my mother and sister smile more that they have in 2 years, and noone has mentioned "the badness" once.

sheesh! take the pressure down, aunty nads! give the bubs a chance to adapt to life outside the womb! he doesn't even know he has limbs yet for fucks sake!

*dismantles shrine*

*cancels record deal*

*returns white lycra pantsuit*

*SMILES*

spam and cheese

has anyone ever actually purchased viagra after receiving an email entitled something along the lines of:

"keeep herrr hapy alll nighit longg"?

just wondering.

I know its a cop out, but at least i'm posting, so get off my case already.

the most popular search terms used in bringing unsuspecting folk over to nadstown are thus:

- eye twitching superstitions

- teenage rainbow oral sex parties

- toby schmitz

- huge boobs

- spa parties

these are all easily explained as the major routes of traffic into this here one-horse town. the first two are due to posts written on the subjects of eye-twitching and communal teenage cock-sucking (great dinner party conversation, fyi). the next two are those topics i most often like to talk about. and the last term refers to my most favouritist pastime for evs.

usually when i check my stats, i can pick straight away which search terms led random googlers to which posts. however sometimes there are phrases that catch even me unawares. these are the types of phrases that have obviously been entered into google by middle-aged married men with ugly fat wives and pseudo-pedophilic fantasies. these phrases generally make me feel really fucking horny completely disgusted and ashamed of myself.

and so i have invented a new game: guess the blog post found from random search phrases.

its a wonderfully nerdy boredom killer, great for avoiding work/study/productivity of any kind.

its also fantastic for finding new and interesting porn sites you may never otherwise have seen. you know, if you're into that sort of thing. which i'm totally not, i swear. especially not celebrity sex sites. no sirree.

*deletes computer memory*

anyhoo, here's how the game works:

1) check your stats for search phrases used in luring people to your blog;

2) find the most obscure and/or bizarre search terms on your list;

3) guess which post on your blog the pervert prospective devout reader was directed to after entering a particular phrase.

4) give yourself a big pat on the body part of your choice (attached to the consenting adult of your choice) if you are right.

you should try it sometime, you never know what you might discover out there in cyberspace. on the other hand, you may not want to know in some horrible scat-esque cases.

here are some of the latest stumpers on the road to nadstown:

- boy almost kill a school hot naked girls by fucking them photos

- where can i chat to gay guys in nappies?

- when i popped my girl friend cherry it hurt her bad how can i happy make it feel better?

- she likes to be torture with cigarettes sado porn

- email my house and come around and fuck me

- naughty stories of girls being watched as they go to the toilet

hmmm...

i think that this list should be used by our government as an advertisement for just what a tertiary level public education can do for a person in this country.

"STAY IN SCHOOL KIDS. IF YOU WORK HARD AND GET GOOD GRADES, YOU TOO COULD END UP WRITING A NON-PROFIT WEBSITE FREQUENTED BY FREAKS AND PERVERTS, JUST LIKE LA NADINE DID."

i'm going to hell for sure.

whatevs.

i'm sure there'll be a spa down there to keep me happy while i wait for all of you.

x

so much to blog about, so little time.

i am insanely busy. therefore this week my blog-o-meter may rate somewhere between 'sporadic' and 'remember that chick la nadine who used to write that nadstown blog?'

cope.

the reasons for my current state of hecticness (its a word because i fucking say its a word) are threefold:

1) it is a very busy week in my office. this means i will have to do actual work for a change. thus i may not be so easily able to get away with blogging while everyone else around me is actually doing the jobs they are being paid to do. if only someone would pay me to write this crap, this would never be a problem.

2) some rude bitches showed up unannounced on saturday and surprised the bejeesus out of me on my "bonus birthday". and now they expect me to just drop everything and entertain them until they leave. sheesh! they think just because they flew all the way here just for me and made me feel all special and loved and tingly, they can thus place demands for attention on my precious time. well...THEY ARE RIGHT. from now on you can consider me ms fits' and fluffy's bitch. if you didn't already, that is.

3) today i am to become 'aunty la nadine' and everything i once believed to be important will cease to matter in the wake of my new newborn nephew's arrival.

i promise to blog about numbers 2 and 3 as soon as possible, provided that number 1 doesn't kill my soul and instill a morbid fear of computers deep within me.

but for now i will leave you with the thoughts below, to ponder and critique in my potential absence.

kisses.

x

REASONS WHY I AM ALL JIZZED-UP AND FLUSTERED OVER MY NEW PHYSIOTHERAPIST (WHO MAY JUST BE THE PERFECT MAN):

- strong hands. i have mentioned more than once before how these are a necessary component of any man's quest for my love and/or affection.

- during our first date session, he politely asked me if i'd mind taking my jeans off.

- he blushed when i said i kinda would.

- then he blushed more when i took them off anyway.

- he commented on the beauty of my harlot red toenail polish.

- strong hands. STRONG FUCKING HANDS!

- he wants to see me "as often as possible", at those times most convenient for me.

- he says we can take things as slow as i need too because he is "really afraid of hurting" me.

- he is "determined" to help me learn to relax, and is "willing to do whatever it takes" to ease my tension.

- he seems to want to talk about me all the time. which is great, because i too want to talk about me all the time. we have so much in common.

- did i mention his STRONG HANDS?!?

is it wrong that while he is massaging my thighs for purely medical reasons, i am thinking: "yes, that's it, right there. fuck me dead that feels good. oh yes. oh yes. now higher, higher, HIGHER!!!"?

i really its hope not wrong.

because how can it be wrong when it feels so very, very right?

*books extra sessions*

*has cold shower*

the muddleheaded woman and the case of the missing make-up

i have always been quite the organised and thoughtful woman. tell me your birthday and i'll remember it forever. come over for tea just once and i'll always know just how you like it. invite me to an event weeks in advance and i'll be there on time, and possibly with bells on.

and i never lose anything. not my wallet, not my keys, not my dignity. okay, so i lose my dignity on a weekly - sometimes hourly - basis, but i always buy it back again.

but in the past year or two - since "the badness" began - i have been a complete and total scatterbrain. i have forgotten appointments, missed birthdays and defaulted on bills with startling regularity.

i have also totally lost the ability to concentrate on any sort of intellectual activity for more than 10 minutes at a time. this makes reading books difficult and writing essays next to impossible. and this really HURTS. i LOVE reading and i used to be the QUEEN of essays. but no longer my friends. oh no, no longer at all.

recently i've also started losing things. it started with small, easily replaceable items. a sock here. a tub of hair gel there. whatevs. but now my condition has worsened and the misplaced items are becoming increasingly valuable.

i am seriously beginning to believe that i would lose my cans if they weren't surgically totally naturally attached to my body. and what a fucking tragedy that would be. for all of us.

in the past month alone i have lost my sunglasses and my make-up case. both of which i use daily. both of which i love on a deep, spiritual level. both of which would cost my entire weekly paycheque to replace. do you know how much a good mascara costs these days? yup, that's right, a whole fucking lot.

and if anyone out there has a problem with my bourgeois affection for material goods (i'm looking at YOU mr. anarcho-technocrat), just fucking cope already. i will not apologise for my love of gorgeous things. and you can't fucking make me.

miraculously, after losing my sunglasses somewhere between the library the cafe and the punk's boyfriend's parents' house, i have managed to reclaim them and they are once again resting happily on top of my head. i am putting this down to persistence and hope. it seems that if you complain enough about losing something, the gods will return it to you just to shut you the fuck up.

and then there's my make-up case. this i lost on saturday night somewhere between the pub the doggies the pub the other pub the other pub the seedy bar the awful club and the pub again. thus when i realised it was gone i was forced to retrace my steps on saturday night and remember how i went to several god-awful places in my drunken birthday quest for boys and booze. and then i had to call them all and ask if anyone had found a bulky bag of girlie shit, CAUSE ITS MINE AND I WANT IT BACK!

once again the gods of lost accessories were smiling down upon me and i managed to locate and reclaim my cosmetics case in the dodgiest bar you can imagine. and i think the shame of going back to this god-awful joint to pick up my stuff from a balding barman with no front teeth was my punishment for being such a boozed-up trash-hound.

slowly but surely, my muddleheadedness is killing my soul. i hate being forgetful. i hate being stupid. i hate being a crazy lady.

my therapist and several of my unregistered psychoanalysts (aka friends and family) say that all this is a natural part of the grieving process. and they may be indeed be right. but i am inclined to think that all this is a natural part of being a raging alcoholic. hmm. perhaps a little from column a, a little from column b.

anyway, thanks for listening/reading what might just be the longest, dullest post ever. sorry bout that, it just kinda took on a mind of its own and i was powerless to stop it.

i'm off to get a latté. now, where the fuck are my car keys?

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE!

*cries*

older and wiser. or not.

lessons learnt over my 24th birthday weekend:

- if you plan on going here and eating squid ink angel hair pasta with spanner crab meat, cherry tomatoes, olive oil and chilli, YOUR FAMILY WILL SEE YOUR CUM FACE!

- telling your poverty-stricken, inner-city dwelling, music-loving friends that your family gave you "diamonds and pearls" for your birthday will inevitably result in the response "i didn't know you liked prince that much".

- if you go out drinking on your birthday eve, know that your hairdresser will tell you that "you look a bit worn out, sweetie".

- commanding vague acquaintances in a pub to wish you happy birthday may not be the best way to make friends and influence people.

- this lady can challenge me to a destiny's child booty dance-off anytime. she gots da moves fo shizzle.

- there is little sexier than someone speaking passionately about their work. so to he who so beautifully described his latest offering to the script gods to me on friday night: for ten minutes you actually were the sexiest man alive and i did want to give you a hand job.

- making all your friends go with you to the greyhound races in the middle of winter is THE BEST FUCKING IDEA EVER!!!

- hearing the bogan announcer at the doggies wish you a "happy birthday, little lady" in between races truly warms the cockles of one's heart.

- baked potato with coleslaw, sour cream, cheese and beetroot. who knew the doggies was a gourmet's paradise?

- just because a boy thinks you are too forward does not mean he will not come to your birthday party. some people are just fucking weird.

- some people just don't really care that its your birthday. the fact they didn't text, call or come to the festivities does not make them evil. nor does it mean they hate you.

- okay, so it might make some of them evil and/or mean that they hate you. cope.

- "i want to have sex with your waist, woman" is the best. compliment. ever.

- telling a boy whom you have not seen in 6 years that you once saw him having sex in a bedouin tent in the israeli desert may not be the best way to say "thanks for surprising me by showing up to my birthday". especially not in front of all his friends.

- loudly stating that the shemale gyrating all over some poor shmuck near you is the "human equivalent of spam" is a bold, bold move at 4am.

- throwing a tantrum because you didn't get to pash anyone on your birthday because all your options either left early or brought dates will not win you much sympathy from large, surly irish cab drivers.

- its amazing the love that comes over you when a friend gets it just right with a birthday gift. this year my friends outdid themselves.

- there is no better way to spend the day after your drunken birthday fest than watching dvds and pigging out with your mum.

- best. birthday. in. years.

x

la nadine: a collection of my early works

(before i write today's post, i would just like to send a very huge, very LOUD shout out to all the ladies who graciously participated in yesterday's 'simultaneous blog discourse'. thank you to this most carefully selected group of my favourite women for lending their time and wits to 'the cause'. big ups yourselves, sisters. it will hopefully be the first of many coordinated lady-blogger efforts to come. cope.

and while i'm at it here's to mr. r. maze, who last night held his head high and his spirits jovial even after his hopes and dreams were sodomised on a football field in queensland. better luck next year, loser sweetheart.)

x

and now to the task at hand.

yesterday my beautiful mother gave me a package.

"WOW, LA NADINE, THAT'S LIKE TOTALLY AMAZING!"

shut up, haters. your base sarcasm is not welcome here. please leave now.

so anyway, the package contained several cardboard-covered booklets with snappy titles and exquisite illustrations. were it not for the writing on the envelope - 'nadine's primary school stories' - i would have mistaken them for classic works of literature.

so last night when i got home from the boozefest that was my night-o-origin, i started reading through the booklets. they were mainly from the years 1988 and 1989, when i was but a wee lass of seven and eight years old. some of them i remembered writing, some of them were a complete surprise. but all were obviously the works of a literary master in training. i.e. me.

there were original works such as the dark and hauntingly beautiful 'one dark stormy night'. and also lighter, romantic comedies such as 'why i love chips' and 'white wine the elf'. there were also a few tributes to the great classics among them 'peter pan' and 'the secret garden', the latter for which i received the highest of honours in primary school fiction-writing: the coveted 'excellent' crocodile stamp.

and now i would like to share one of these works of genius with you. it is a tragedy, a painful tale of war and loss, as seen through the eyes of a privileged child who at the time of penning had never even seen a gun. also, i feel that it can be read as a portend of my future life as a dedicated member of the anti-war latte left. just as 'white wine the elf' was quite obviously an omen of my future life as a dedicated alcoholic.

so without further ado, here 'tis, uncensored and unedited:

'world war one'

(written and illustrated by nadine *****

published by the ***** primary school publishing house

16th june, 1989)

chapter 1: world war one

the people came with all their guns,
and loaded bullets one by one.

they were ready to fight both night and day.
till the very day came when they discovered it was the beginning of world war one.

the children,
the parents,
the grandmas.

and all began fighting for their countries.
they didn't care that they were small.

i became very scared and my parents hid me in the land of the pharoahs.
i couldn't get free.

my parents came at least once a month with an apple pie and a sugar cream bun,
till four years later they told me it was the end, the end, the end.

chapter 2: world war two

three years later it started again.
it went for years and years on end.

I HATE THE WAR.

its such a bore.

my mother and father got killed in the end.
i got very sad and went to bad.

chapter three: world war three.

let's hope there's not one.

the end.

copyright la nadine enterprises pty ltd 1989

what women want

dear blogosphere,

howdy! how y'all doin' out there?

i know i've introduced myself before, but to reiterate my name is la nadine. you probably know quite a bit about me by now if you've been around here for awhile, and if you haven't, i'm sure you'll catch on quick. i'm pretty complicated, but at least i'm consistent.

i am a woman. i got tits. i got ass. i cry when i'm hurt and i laugh when tickled. i like shopping and getting my nails done. chocolate doesn't do it for me as much as hot chilli. i like babies but hate baby talk. i make my own money but still hope to marry rich. i like my men to have strong hands and a fiery wit. my girlfriends mean everything to me and my family more. my male friends are my pillars of strength and my loving arms to run to. i like talking about sex almost as much as i like having it. almost. i like watching porn but hate skin mags. i am painfully honest and fiercely loyal and expect the same in return. i worry constantly about my weight but i refuse to diet. i love booty dancing and detest yoga. i drink too much and smoke too much and dream too much and hurt too much. that's me. well, that's pieces of me. so ashley simpson right now.

hear me fucking roar.

so what do women want? tough question. with a snap of my fingers i can give you a list of things I want. three lists actually: 1) material things i want; 2) things i want from my men; and, 3) things i want from society in general. but these are MY things. my wants. my needs. my desires. they are in no way representative of the wishes of all females. i would never presume to speak for all women. i have been a student of feminist politics for far too long to ever dare to speak on behalf of my entire gender. that's just so not kosher.

so the following is one item from each of my three lists outlining what i want as i make my way through this long and winding road called life. some women will agree. some won't. that's their perogative. werd.

1) material things i want:

shoes. always shoes. boots, heels, flats, thongs, sandals, uggs. whatevs.

2) things i want from my men:

honesty. i don't think i need to elaborate on this point.

oh, and the admittance that sometimes you testosterone-fuelled fuckers are as moody and irrational as those of us with pussies. remember that time you felt like a steak but the pub had run out of t-bone? remember how you sooked for the entire evening and gave me the most half-hearted licking of all time?

pot. kettle. both fucking black.

and for fuck's sake, try a little tenderness. you won't regret it.

3) things i want from society in general:

to be respected for my talents and abilities because i excel in certain areas as a PERSON, not as a woman. we all know of three little words that can make a woman either rip off her clothes or run away screaming, but what about those three little words that make her blood boil and fists clench:

FOR. A. GIRL.

i swear on my bright red stilettos that everytime these words are uttered a fairy dies in sweden.

i'm not pretty good at something "for a girl", i'm just fucking good at it. full fucking stop.

and one more thing while i'm at it:

4) things i want that i can never have because they are impossible to obtain but hey a girl can dream can't she:

world peace; the end of human suffering; freedom of religion and political practice; a cure for cancer; no more rape, aids, murder, torture, abuse or exploitation.

and while we're being unreasonable, can i have my dad back and my mum not sick anymore? ta.

please remember that this is not to be taken as female gospel. women are individual and complex creatures and no two want the same thing. well, we all want our world's rocked by the best lover ever, but hopefully we'll all get that at lease once in our lives. i know i'm still waiting.

and if you really want to know what a lady wants, here's a thought: how about you try asking her? i'm sure she'd appreciate it, and i guarantee you you'll benefit for years days to follow.

kisses to you all and good luck out there,

la nadine

x

p.s. the following is a links list of the other talented, HOT women involved in today's "simultaneous blog discourse". please go to their blogs and read what they have to say. they are smart, strong cookies, each and every one of them. and if they haven't posted yet, well, maybe they just didn't want to. bless them.

clem: www.lightningstruckitself.blogspot.com

darcy: www.theseminakedtruth.blogspot.com

elmo: www.floatingsignifier.com

fluffy: www.fluffyasacat.blogspot.com

fucksters: www.fucksters.blogspot.com

jelly: www.jellyfishonline.blogspot.com

jess: www.ausculture.com/blog/

ms cynic: www.whingers.blogspot.com

ms fits: www.reasonsyouwillhateme.blogspot.com

mystiiix: www.textual-harassment.blogspot.com

sugar: www.themissingingredient.blogspot.com

ukelele: www.isthisthingstillswitchedon.blogspot.com

p.p.s big ups to clem for making the banner. she's more than just a hot pair of legs.

who's afraid of la nadine?

on the weekend i ran into a boy i know. this boy was once a "maybe", who for some reason never became a "yes". i was never quite sure exactly what happened, but after a few pashes and some rather heated text exchanges, he went awol.

so i saw him in a bar in the wee hours of sunday morning, and felt much "confliction" over whether or not to go over and bust his chops say hello.

i settled for sitting 2 metres away from him and his friends so that he would notice me and it would be his move to come over or not.

it worked.

so he comes over and babbles some crap about how good i look while touching my new top like a retarded child would a pussycat ("tho purrdy").

and then he says to me:

"so, how come we never got together?"

at this point i would like to take the opportunity to apologise to the lovely jessculture for spitting beer all over her as i reeled in shock from this most ludicrous of questions.

jess: i'm sorry darling girl, i promise to make it up to you in a way of your choosing soon.

so anyway, when i recovered from the impact of his pathetic attempt at naivete, i replied:

"well mate, you stopped responding to my messages. that's kinda gonna kill a thing".

and the boy had the audacity to deny this most undeniable turn of events. eventually however - after i loudly called him a liar and laughed at his attempts to win me over with his vomitous puppy dog eyes - he was forced to concede the truth to my argument.

and his defense:

"well, you scared me a bit. i've never met a girl as forward as you before. nor as hot, intelligent and funny*. you're hardcore."

(*parts of this conversation may be exaggerated for dramatic effect. cope.)

"hardcore?"

"HARDCORE?"

WHAT THE FUCK?!?

apparently the poor liddle baby got frightened by the big, scary lady with the big baps and curly hair.

apparently honesty is considered "a bit full on" these days. spare me.

he even went as far as to tell me its "okay" that i'm forward.

OF COURSE ITS FUCKING OKAY!

FUCK ME DEAD!

so anyway, the outcome of this amusing interchange was thus:

1) i was damned if i was going to let him kiss me goodbye;

and,

2) he is welcome to call me should he decide he is interested enough to handle my "scary" nature.

and if he can't, his loss. plenty more penis in the sea.

do you have it in black?

oh hi there.

my name's la nadine, and i'm a shopaholic.

i know this may come as a nipple-twisting shock to some of you on the basis of how incredibly intelligent you must think i am from reading this most prolific of blogs.

but i promise i am kidding you not. i am shopping's bitch. and my master has me whipped good and proper.

"but you seem so far beyond superficiality, la nadine", i know some of you would say to me were we actually having a face-to-face conversation.

"are you, like, totally serious?" i would reply to you, raising one eyebrow and putting my hands on my hips in the style typical of the popular bitchy girls in american teen movies. "like, shut u-up!"

for years now i have been in the grips of an over-bearing obsession, at times unable to afford bread and milk because of those items of clothing i just "could not bear to live without".

what can i say? i get an almost sexual buzz from a new clothing purchase. a 'storegasm', if you please. and when i ain't getting the real thing, i gotta get my jollies somehow.

there was even a time when i dreamt of nought but a new lover every night. a new item of clothing from the label lover that is. not a new hot, naked lover. although they're good too.

but due to financial constraints and a focus on more important issues in my life i have been forced to repress my urges this year, buying only the occasional item and masturbating over new label catalogues.

but on the weekend i went into one of my favourite stores and indulged in some retail therapy. and i swear that it had been so long that there was lady jizz all over than change room floor as i tried on gorgeous thing after gorgeous thing.

and i got to catch up with and stare longingly at miss nikki - the flame-haired shop-assistant and goddess of hotness who works at said shop.

i'm gonna cut to the point now cause this was meant to be a post dedicated to the lovely women whom i have met thanks to my unbridled superficiality. the shop assistants who keep me coming back thanks to their friendly, non-pushy ways and their extreme hotness. but, as usual, i got carried away on a tangent.

so here's to:

margie - whose unyielding sweetness and caring nature kept me coming back to this particular shop so many times that we eventually became great mates and i now consider her one of my closest friends. she also gave me a job when i needed one most. bless her heart.

peta - who works in the same shop as margie and is quite possibly the most beautiful woman i have ever seen in my entire life. i swear, she takes my breath away. i have written about her before. and i will probably write about her again. sigh.

nikki - she of the huge hawaiian lady tattos and hot rockabilly stylez. she who makes me tea and feeds me biscuits whenever i go to her shop. she who never fails to ask about my mother. she who gives me little freebies and asks me not to tell her boss. she who implores me to let her dress me up and then makes me do fashion parades for her. she of the beautiful smile and killer bod. she rocks.

these women make me feel like a woman. they turn a superficial shopping trip into a spiritual female-bonding experience. and i love them all dearly 4 evs.

*eats week-old bread and mouldy cheese due to extreme brokeness from new purchase*

posts i was going to write today but then didn't but that i might write another day if i get the urge but then again maybe not

- 'all hail lady bloggers: hear those hot bitches roar'

- 'the hell of keeping it together while everything else crashes down around you'

- '10 boys i wanna make the sex with and why'

- 'one more reason i love my beautician. suck my cock, anon.'

- 'old posts i don't think i got enough credit for cause i wrote them before anyone actually read my blog'