My So Called Love Life.

Posted on 3 September, 2011 by Anne

This is one of a small collection of 'unpublished' blog posts I have half written this year. This one particularly amuses me because I recall writing it in a Alanis-inspired, wine fuelled, at-home dancing rampage. The original date on it was Tuesday (!!), 29 March 2011 11:22:16 pm, however I'm fairly certain that the bulk of it was written in late June.

I suspect the only reason it wasn't published at the time was because I did not have the access to the relevant YouTube clips. Also, I was drunk and not emotionally distant enough to hit publish (see, I told you I had a filter).

I have added links and uploaded a song so seemingly obscure that I had to rip it from the CD. Old school.

I have left the typos in for your own amusement. Enjoy!

————

To date my love life has been little more than a series of false starts and a string of disappointments. Frankly, if I broke down each and every one of my would be romances for you individually, we'd be here for hours. Suffice it to say that enough time seems to pass between each instance of so called love that I seem to feel it's after effects most acutely and yet seemingly constantly.

But I'm trying something new. I'm trying to be what some would term "glass half full". I'm not always entirely successful at this, but one must do ones best.

Like, do you remember that time I was in love with that boy and I discovered that band called speedstar*? Or that time I was in love with that other boy and discovered a band called Elbow?

And then there was that time that after bein rejected by a boy that I delighted in new friends and bought tickets to see Eddie Perfect (boozily on my iPhone). And there was that time when I was disgruntled in men in general (there're buttheads you know) and I fell in love with Dan Sultan. And then there was that time I was lusting after a boy to the max and I discovered Magic Dirt. Those were they days.

I guess what I'm saying is that despite ongoing heartbreak and a seemingly endless void of cranky angst, I've gotten a few good tunes out of it. So that's pretty rad.

Finding Greame.

Posted on 6 May, 2011 by Anne

A number of weeks ago I plonked my somewhat boozed behind on a friends couch and we began to watch The Goodies. As we watched, I commented that as a child I’d always had a bit of a crush on Greame.

You remember The Goodies, don’t you? Let me refresh your memory …

(to this day, I am still rather partial to those sorts of fonts)

As we watched an episode unfold in all of its politically incorrect glory I realised something. I realised that Graeme from the Goodies is the archetype of every man I’ve ever had a girlish crush on. Not counting the men I sort of liked just because they showed an interest/were nearby.

I was shocked. Utterly taken aback. But as I stared at Graeme, at his lanky frame in his brown cord suit, skinny tie and big sexy glasses, I still couldn’t help but swoon. Even though I know he is now just an old baby boomer that once ‘was’. You know, like my dad.

Oh, and in case you missed him in the above clip, he was the one skipping through the woods with the computer. But in his defence, he was in love.

Then I remembered that years ago, I kept seeing a car in traffic with a personalised number plate that said “Graeme”. And I remember at the time remarking to my friends that I just loved the name Graeme. I thought it was sexy. I loved it so much, that I even took a photograph of the car, and kept it in an easily accessible spot on my hard drive (the file marked ’2005′ to be exact).

I’m fairly confident that this particular Graeme was my father’s age. Alas, I think that most men named Graeme are. So while it may be that I’ll never find a man called Graeme, it has become very clear that I am looking for a man who embodies a certain ‘Graeme-ness’.

Indeed, I recently rated one of my gentleman callers on what shall henceforth be known as ‘The Graeme Scale’. He was a 3 out of 5.

The Graeme Scale is a score out of 5 based on a number of qualities, most of which are related to how dorky he is. Are you tall? 1 point! Do you wear glasses? 2 points! Do you like science? 1 point! Do you like computers? 1 point! Do you know what I mean when I say ‘ubuntu’ or ‘drupal’? 1 point! Do you pull off skinny jeans? 3 points! Do you like nintendo? 2 points! Do you drive a Volvo? 5 points!

Can you imagine what would happen if I ever met a man who met all of the Graeme Eligibility Criteria???

I think my head would explode.

It’s not surprising then that my latest foolish crush is a man who scores a mammoth 6 out of 5 on The Graeme Scale, based on height, glasses and skinny jeans. Who knows what he would score if I ever got to know him. Fortunately, odds are he’s taken, which would detract a whopping 5 points from his total.

Yes. My name is Anne. And I love dorky men.

What Is It About Me?

Posted on 7 November, 2009 by Anne

For those of you who know me personally, and if my site statistics are anything to go by that accounts for the vast majority of my beautiful readers (snaps for Facebook!), you know that I am something of an attention whore. Be it the witty quips at the pub, the sheer volume of my voice after a couple of drinks, the often inappropriate dinner conversation or my love of 'the stage', there are many elements of my life (and my behaviours) geared to draw the spotlight to my darling self. Some would even say the mere presence of this blog is another fine example of this, which reminds me of the time a particularly young sprite uttered the following to me . . .

"I have thought about blogging, but it just seems so self-indulgent" **

Tonight, as I watch and adore Glee and read some of the slightly more grown-up and socially acceptable magazines that I enjoy I find myself pondering – why? What is it about the spotlight that I love so, so much?

I am an extrovert to be sure. I love people, and as a social worker they are my business, my bread and butter if you will. And while I have never really considered myself to a social 'force', I am increasingly finding that is often how I am often perceived by others. Which is so strange to me – I know I love the spotlight, but the idea that people might actually enjoy watching me there? Talk about weird.

It is certainly not something I have inherited from my parents. My mother, a wonderful and incredibly witty woman is also quite the introvert. When people I know have encountered her they are often taken aback – they expect another 'Anne', but my mother is an entity entirely distict from me. Well, except in the realm of home organisation, planning, humour and fastidious laundry. In those realms we are quite similar. She confessed to me earlier this year that when I was younger, all of the other mothers from the various activities I participated in used to call her 'Anne'. She was so quiet they could never remember her name. Poor mum, she really is a rockin' lady, you just need to get to know her.

Perhaps my lust for the spotlight is from being largely ignored for 9 out of my 12 years of schooling? And always, always being picked last for sporting teams? But then I think "hang on, my entire work life is about helping others" AND "I went through a substantial phase where my friends had to coach me to not be a doormat". So maybe, maybe, my current lust for the spotlight is not as pathological as I paranoidly feel. Maybe it is merely an expression of a young woman finally coming into her own. And maybe I should just enjoy this 'self-indulgence' while it lasts. Goodness knows it could all change at the drop of a hat.

Eeesh. Another rambling self-indulgent self-reflection bought to you by three or more alcoholic beverages and a girl with a laptop. Happy Saturday all!

**I should also note that this was the same young sprite who once branded me homophobic, much to the shock and awe of me and mine. Then, wrote me an apology note a week later. A note.

Oh, I am Toasted.

Posted on 4 October, 2009 by Anne

You know, it has been too, too long since I have offered the world a blog post fueled primarily by my propensity for binge drinking. So. Here it is. Tiddly Anne.

Whoop!!

I should apologise for my week long lapse of posting. It has been a heinous week in the personal life of Anne. I wish it was the kind of week in which I had just been too busy shagging to think of writing a darn thing, but alas it was not. Fortunately for you my lovely, lovely 10-20 blog readers, I am getting my game back. Slowly, slowly.

Soon you will again be chortling at my observations of this silly thing called life, particularly the realm of dating. But for now, all I can safely offer you is a link to a song that has been floating my boat this week. Yes. Okay, it is a little bit one-night-stand centric. But it is a fabulous tune nonetheless.

Midweek Boozy Musings #372

Posted on 25 July, 2009 by Anne

(I thought about not posting this, but it was just too typical a boozy Anne moment not to. Good times.)

Tiddly. At the Sunshine Coast. – 10.26pm – 22 July 2009.

You know, I have this whole big wonderful list of things that I need to write about for my blog. But right now, I’m just a bit too boozy on a Wednesday night at a Sunshine Coast hotel to even begin thinking about it.

So what do I want to do you with your valuable reading time? Where do I want to take you?

…..

Not quite sure yet, but I have just made the most incredible mad-crazy playlist for my iPhone. As a consequence I would once again like to take a moment to re-visit what is perhaps my ultimate boozy dance time/stupidly descriptive of ‘me’ song . .

I really cannot overemphasise how ‘me’ that clip is. I’m not going to lie to you Interweb, not too long ago I was dancing down the street to that very song. In the rain. Whilst stupidly text messaging a boy.

And once again, I would like to re-state that the cute boy that eventually does chase me down the street is very likely to become the boy that chases me dancing down the street. Retrospectively, I probably should have added that to my selection criteria. But then again, selection criteria for a potential mate should always be an evolving document. Especially since knowing myself the way I do, I suspect the selection criteria could easily be thrown out the window provided the right combination of hormonal cycle and sexual chemistry should suddenly arise.

Urgh. I hate being such a slave to my carnal desires. But at the same time, it is kind of liberating to give into them. I really do think too much about life, relationships and everything. It’s nice to take a break from over-analysis sometimes. But then I begin to enter a new and incredibly ikky world of socially constructed guilt, which makes me even more grumpy.

Hrm, not sure what the answer is there. What I do know is that I am starting to see double and I am kinda hoping that I am in a well enough to attend the training I am here for tomorrow. And facilitate the activities I agreed to as part of the training. Ooofh.

Crushes, of the Teen Girl Variety.

Posted on 27 June, 2009 by Anne

I just thought I would take a minute to share with you two men whose babies I would definitely consider having.

The first is Chris, from Cute with Chris. And no, this is not just because he has given my cat Arnie infinite stardom. I have always been partial to his sardonic wit and all-round-fabulousness. Also I have quite the soft spot for North-American Accents. They just do things to me . . . *cough* Anyway, my Teen Girl crush on Chris has really taken hold since listening to his new project – The Chris Leavins Story Hour. Oh, and I am soooo excited about the forthcoming book. I do not even want to talk about it. Okay, and yes. I have CWC T-Shirts and Pen. And a thank-you note. Handwritten.

The second is Gary Lightbody from Snow Patrol. He has a wee blog that I enjoy popping by every now and again. It is not frequently updated but I suppose that is what happens when you are an international superstar musician. Whateverz. But when he does update he provides the world with these wonderfully extensive, occasionally ranty posts that I find myself enjoying more and more. And for the record, this is not an 'Irish' thing, it is totally a geek thing. I just find him so delightfully nerdy and talented. It also helps that I adore his music, which is saying something because you know how I feel about men with guitars.

So why share this information with the whole wide web? Well, when a lady finds herself at home alone after a disappointing Friday evening it sometimes makes her feel better to think about some of the high quality (alright, idealised) men that are floating around in the world. Surely the odds are that there will be one or two of similar ones living in Australia. The trick is finding them before some other woman goes and has their babies. And while I do not think I am officially in 'search mode', it is nice to conceptualise just what I might be looking for. If I ever start looking seriously. Which I might not. Argh. Men.

Hrm. I think I need some sleep.