Married to the Facebook Mob

July 31, 2011

Firstly this morning I was greeted with some disturbing news over facebook…news of a husband supposedly cheating on his wife and their impending divorce. Now this may sound cruel or cold but I don’t care how fucking hurt you are I don’t waste my time fumbling through people’s unflattering facebook pics and status updates about the weather to be dealt hard news about infidelity…Seriously is a fucking social networking site the appropriate place to discuss your husband’s alleged affairs so you can have 40+ people “comment” with shock and support at your news. Gee I may as well hope I get a terminal disease so I can update my status with “oh man…death impending… oh and it’s raining hard fo shizzle” and wait for the minor acquaintance masses to leave me misspelled and auto corrected messages of strength and smiley faced support. I say NO.

Tomorrow I start my new job and to say I’m a little freaked out is an understatement. I just pray that I don’t let my nervous energy result in humiliation via over sharing, memory lapse and/or a bout of slapstick work related comedy such as tripping over in my fancy work shoes or getting stuck in the lift.

Send me positive thoughts internet world and expect a facebook update that reads something like “totes starting new job tomorrow, celebrating with a few bevies and totes devo I can’t sleep in anymore..”

Enid Out

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The Company Men

July 12, 2011

So it’s likely that I won’t start my new job until the end of July/ early August and as much as it is paining my bank balance at least I can use the time to brush up on my lit review and report writing skills..you know the ones I pretended to be so proficient at during my interview…little does she know I ain’t done shit like that since my uni days which were AHHHHHH 10 fracken years AGO. Still with a few weeks up my sleeve I thought I had time to reinvent myself into project worker Enid but alas I am going to be put to the test a little sooner than expected as I found a surprise email in my inbox today from my new Manager suggesting I come in to meet the team and go out for a coffee with so we can discuss project ideas and research etc. All good things for a normal person but in Enid’s mind it’s one big clusterfuck. I think this woman has got the wrong idea about me…

I think the reason for this is my interview happened just before my trip to America so I kind of didn’t give a shit. Once I finished the written test there were only three rather simple questions to answer and becauase I have already worked for this area of the health department as a counsellor I had a lot of back ground knoweldge… anyway to cut things short it was a Fluke I don’t really care interview and in my 30 minutes of misplaced confidence I came across as an ideas woman… I ain’t no ideas woman, I’m the person who comes up with a response to a question on the bus ride home, or at least that’s how it worked at Uni, to ensure I got the 10% participation mark during tutorials I would simply repeat a slight variation of something someone else had said.. or repeat what the tutor had said previously or when faced with an extreme situation drop out of the class entirely and enroll in the same unit as an online student and use the exact same methods as I just mentioned but with the soothing buffer of a computer screen, username and 4am postings while intoxicated from the sweet nourishment of a can of UDL and a bowl of easy mac. I am all about the gloss about not really about the content and follow through… I spent more time huddled in the Murdoch computer lab with Mark thinking of brilliant titles for our essays rather than focusing on quality of context, that was an afterthought.

Plus going for coffee with people in Mount Lawley always brings up my issues, like sitting at those tiny tables, encrouching on other peoples space, that fact that I don’t know anything about coffee and all those fandangle new ones like Latte’s….what is a latte? I don’t know, and don’t even get me started on ordering tea for two or tea for one, high tea. I grew up in a home where my mum added water to milk cause she said it was too strong but I swear it was just to stretch its use out. Oh and not to mention it is the scene of my one brief moment of conscious perfection…I sat in a coffee shop, Il Sotto if I remember correctly cautiously boasting with my friend about the fact that we both had partners and things were coming up roses only to find ourselves simultaneously dumped less than two weeks later, we had to flee the city and burn break up emails by the creek. You see this kind of rambling? this is also another thing I’m scared of, if I get to comfortable in a situation I can go from 0 to highly inapproriate in about a second. What if I start telling her stories like this? Arghhhhhh.


The most dangerous game

November 4, 2010

My count down to the ball continues… it’s actually this Saturday and while most women would be thrilled with the idea of dressing up and mingling with perth’s D-Z list celebrities, I find the whole idea nauseating. Last week in preparation I went to beauty salon to get my schizoid eyebrows waxed (they are bushy at parts and bald in others). Before walking into the little shop in an expensive suburb I repeated my mantra ..”don’t let them sell you anything” like the time you let a previous waxing women sell you $80 dollar shampoo) and “just get your eyebrows done.. nothing else” It was working up until the point where I was laying on a table and suffering through awkward conversation and the beauty therapist suggested I get my eyebrows tinted to make them fuller (ie- less bald). Instead of politely refusing I said “sounds great” just so she would stay busy and I didn’t have to talk anymore. When she showed me the results I feigned delight when in reality I felt like someone had just drawn on my face with an artline permanent marker. Then to add insult to my bald eyebrows injury when I went to pay she gleefully told the other beauty therapists “she just had her first brow tint” and everyone ooed and aahhhed as if I was a toddler who went poo poo in the potty for the first time.

Then I went to the dress shop for my final fitting and it’s at this point that I have to admit that along with all the other feminine things I fail at on a regular basis I am also a failure when it comes to shoes. I have no interest in high heel shoes or cute shoes…to me they are simply bags for my feet. I like feeling taller so I do wear wedges occasionally but I haven’t walked in a fancy looking high heel since my high school ball 10 years ago. Not only did my poor feet suffer all night but at the after party when I threw my shoes off I accidentally picked up the wrong pair of silver high heels when leaving. The pair actually belonged to one of the more “popular” bitchy girls at school. I didn’t realise until the next day when this bitchy girl and her cronies confronted me about the shoe switch at my locker and asked me to return the shoes. I swear they thought it was some deliberate plot at revenge on my part. It turns out the shoes were designer and very expensive whereas mine were from spendless so perhaps she thought I was trying to trade up in life. The next day I brought the shoes to school and when we did the swap she handed me my $29.99 shoes as if they were a balloon of heroin that just came out of someones ass. Anyway I digress the point to this was I thought I’d be proactive and practice walking which I have been doing on odd weekends since September and it’s been fine. However before the dress fitting I decided to park far away and walk down a long road as part of my practice regime and I swear by the first 50 meters I had pulled my Achilles tendon, I MEAN COME ON HOW LAME IS THAT! I was limping down that road at a snail pace. I’m telling you this is going to be a disaster because if I remember correctly there are stairs in this ballroom and a large dance floor I will be expected to boogie on. If there are a lot of stairs I might have to bring an arsenic capsule with me, it would be a much more dignified exit.

In other news my mother called me yesterday and said she had HUGE news, I straight away thought someones pregnant, getting married, she won big at the Melbourne cup or Nonna finally decided to give her some of her inheritance As the suspense built mum said with absolutely joy and amazement that she was voted “best hat” at her Melbourne cup luncheon and won a bottle of champagne and a handbag. I seriously haven’t heard her sound that happy in so long, particularly since her partner died in 2008. At one point she described how good she felt when everyone clapped as she walked to the front to collect her prize and show off her hat, “my heart was shaking Bennie” she said. As I listened I started to silent cry a little. It was a weird cry partly our of happiness for her and relief at hearing her sound so joyous for a change and another part sadness and frustration. Here we have a woman who has had a lot of bad luck and bad timing in life, she has come through more traumatic and unfair events in life than anyone else I know and remains mostly positive and always caring. I know those damn do-gooders say “life is what you make it” and to them I say blah fucking blah because while that is partly true, one has to accept that some people just have bad luck. My mum is pleased by such small things in life and yet these small things seem to come so few and far between for her and it makes me sad. If being voted best hat can make her feel this good why can’t stuff like that happen more for her. She’s obviously not asking for much out of life. Humph.

On a final note I have finally been stung by Facebook…out of the blue an old best friend of mine added me as a friend, interesting timing since I’m on this whole ..must be more sociable with humans kick. My friendship with this girl was the best thing since sliced break from the age of 11 to 15 and then we drifted apart only to reunite during one of my other “friend drives” when we were in our early twenties and I had just finished moving into my tiny flat in Yokine and as my luck would have it on my first shopping run after spending the day lugging my shit up 2 flights of stairs I bumped into the always glamorous looking S and as I stood stunned and sweaty she hit me with the final blow by flashing me the biggest diamond engagement ring I’d ever seen right in my face..she didn’t even say the words “I’m engaged” she simply shoved her hand and the ring in my face as if it was some internationally recognized symbol for my life is fab and you can go fuck yourself. After that blitz attack how could we not become friends again? considering my tendency towards masochistic behaviour.

So for the next year and a bit we returned to a very intense friendship, I was going to be her maid of honour and I kept her entertained and laughing when her partner was out. Then one day all of a sudden she contacted me and said she wasn’t happy, she thought her partner was cheating on her and had feelings for someone else. I never judged and I supported her through the end of her relationship and an ill-fated fling with a guy named Elvis (I’m not even making this up). Then shortly after Andrew and I started seeing each other again and I became less available to her and I guess for the first time in her utterly perfect life things hadn’t worked out the way she planned and for once her trusty sidekick was in the thralls of a happy relationship. All I can say is she FLIPPED OUT and one day I started receiving a barrage of abusive text messages telling me I was a bad friend and she didn’t want people “like me” in her life and that I was “obsessed with Andrew” and it was sick. I cried for a solid couple of hours and a few days later she sent me a text apologising and stated she was leaving for England to escape and commenting that she didn’t expect me to forgive her. I replied coolly and wished her well with whatever she had planned. Then no contact for 5 years until this little “S added you as a friend on facebook accept or reject” I thought about ignoring it but eventually curiosity got the better of me and I added her, but I swore I would ignore her, the she sent me an email and I swore I wouldn’t open it but who was I kidding I opened it, read it and replied as if she never hurt me and we had been in consistent contact for the last 5 years…seriously I need to take lessons in keeping a grudge. So I guess we will just have to wait and see what develops.

Ta ta for now
Enid x

p.s just over a month until my Marky arrives in Perth for a visit 🙂


Two Weeks Notice

September 21, 2010

Last week I was dealt a terrible and unexpected blow…dear old pickfords man was made redundant. That means in two weeks I will lose one of the few things that makes working at the hospital bearable…just. It all started a few years ago when a young man named Dave started delivering our records daily. He is a tall kind of gangly man who blushes very easily. Being the crazy bitch (and secret expert flirt) that I am I decided to set myself a goal when I accidentally stumbled upon how easily I could make pickfords man blush with a slight innuendo or comment full of praise..so each day I made it my mission to turn something he says during the course of our brief 7am conversation into something blush worthy. I have to say that while I fail at a lot of things in life this was not one of them… no matter how cranky or tired I managed to come up with a zing. Dave has already stated that even though he is glad to move on from his job he will miss my zings and the fact that I’m more than a little crazy and I never write the correct date on the delivery forms. Sigh.. I suppose I could always zing him on facebook but something tells me writing odd daily comments on another man’s facebook page may insight rage from my husband. Andrew already loathes pickfords man, in fact I often joke with the idea of pickfords man being the boogey man in our relationship..you better watch out or pickfords man will get me. It makes me feel a little less powerless to that fact that my husband works in a 98% young female profession. Now that I only have two weeks of pickfords man left I need to find something else to enjoy at the hospital besides the free stationary and the fact that my office is situated near the kitchen and bathroom making me privy to the secret conversation of other employees.

Today is the 21st of September which mean it is my 2nd wedding anniversary! I can’t believe how quickly time flies. It feels like only yesterday I was sitting in a room in my wedding dress while it rained so heavily I thought we would have to move the ceremony. I still can’t believe I found someone to have a relationship with and the insecure part of me is still waiting for it to all crumble as all the other marriages in my family have but as each year passes that part of me gets smaller and smaller. My relationship with Andrew says a lot about instinct. He came into my life out of nowhere, we dated for about 5 weeks and the relationship fizzled. A few months later we became friends again because of our mutual love of films and the rest is slow burning history. I remember sitting in a car watching Andrew get money out of an ATM and as he walked back to the car I watched him carefully and all of a sudden a feeling washed over me that this was the person I would spend the rest of my life with. At first it was very frightening but I believed it, my instinct never lies. Sure it took Andrew about a year to realise the same thing which was very painful at the time but aren’t women usually ahead of men in most things? 🙂 Life is a funny thing, when I was a teenager I wanted nothing more than to go to uni and complete a PhD and become a clinical psychologist working on research. When my world came crashing down during my honours year and I ended up in hospital due to my depression and anxiety I thought my life was over and a part of it was. During my recovery I started spending more time online talking with other sad, lonely nerds about movies and it was in that time that I met Andrew. If all those terrible things hadn’t happened then I may never have known the man who was to be become my husband so I guess sometimes when we plan a certain path in life, if it doesn’t work out the way we had hoped sometimes there is something even better waiting for you along another path.


Prom Night

July 18, 2010

It’s Sunday night and I’m experiencing my usual pre-week dread and anxiety. Tomorrow I will have to leave my safe little room and face the real world again…the Enid show continues. As the time ticks by tonight I will be overwhelmed by thoughts of survival, will I survive this week in tact? or will the curtain finally come down.  I’m like my own Sunday night movie of the week.

In happier news my friend Mark is fulfilling our nescafe big break dreams by heading to New York for a holiday. I’m filled with excitement and also I’m so proud of him because I know he wasn’t keen on the idea of traveling alone but he pushed through those doubts and just made a choice. He acted on his desires and ignored all the worries in his mind, hopefully I can do the same soon.

On Wednesday I have an appointment to try and find an appropriate evening dress for the Ronald McDonald house charity ball I’m attending later in the year. I’m sure this will lead to an interesting blog update since I am at my most awkward around strangers and fashion.  I have to admit to being one of the most poorly dressed people I know. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in  reflective glass when I’m out and about and I literally jump back a little in horror…  I have a closet full of clothes but for some reason I get stuck in an average 5 outfit rotation every week and I rarely vary from that. When I buy a new outfit it usually stays in the bag on the floor of my bedroom for at least 2 weeks, then I eventually move it into the closet and a few months later it will make it’s way into rotation. In other words- I’m freakin mad.

Perhaps my poor fashion choices date back to my teen years when I would often come home from school to find a garbage bag of clothes in my bedroom to sort through and take what I could use. The bags were usually given to my mum from her wealthier friends. the cast offs of their older children or sometimes the cast offs of someone who had recently lost weight. It got to the point that when I saw a friend or relative losing weight I wouldn’t shop for any new clothes, instead I would just wait in the shadows and bide my time before I would get my precious cast offs. On the other hand it probably didn’t help my fashion identity knowing that I was always the first stop before the local good sammy bin, it did however confirm my boganesque identity.

I will be leaving for my last Melbourne committee meeting on August 19th. It’s been two and a half years of travel and long boring meetings but I have to say I’m going to miss being a part of something meaningful. I’m also going to miss the feeling of peace and quiet I often experience when I’m on the plane and in the hotel room… no calls. no interruptions.

Finally this Thursday will see the release of INCEPTION my nerdy little heart can’t wait.