That one time we got duped by a poet for charity

This is a retro post from 2016 – found it in my drafts and it made me laugh so decided to post it as a reminder as to why I no longer support charities of any kind – they always turn out to be a scam!

This is Pinky Agnew.

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She is a poet, a celebrant and all round delightful woman.

She was our “mystery celebrity guest” at an SPCA fundrasier I attended where we were treated to delicious meals from some of the most famous Wellington chefs in exchange for a few donations and our reward (apart from the delicious food) was to be joined by a stranger for the duration of the meal.  Someone of public notoriety, who would donate their time in the name of a good cause.

Pinky was a brilliant addition to our group of yoPro ladies as she talked to us about our careers, our relationships and our lives.  By the time the seventh course was laid down in front of us in the form of a cheese platter (that we could not finish but still ate because no one says no to gooey brie) Pinky truly felt like one of the gang.  In an act that should’ve have been a sign of things to come, Pinky wrapped up her portion of brie in tissues and folded it into her bag, encouraging us to do the same.  We had a friendly laugh at her antics and some of us even considered following suit.  Cheese in bag, Pinky quickly began to bid as farewell and we all revelled in the good fortune of having had a blessed evening with a perfect stranger.  As Pinky slinked into the night we were all inspired to take more time to make new friends in our lives and be open and willing to invest time in people outside our usual circle of safety.

And then we realised she didn’t pay for her 3 glasses of Chardonnay.

A drink that she had declared as “THE perfect winter white” was now left abandoned on our bill, waiting to be taken care of by her new friends a.k.a us a.k.a the biggest fucking suckers of all time.

Thanks for ruining chardonnay and charity for me forever Pinky.





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Wellington, it’s been a year

Guys, i’ve been in Wellington for a whole year!  What the fuck just happened…..?

1-Wind happened.  Everywhere.  All the time.

BUT i’ve learned how to live with it.  No one embraces the wind but with the right jacket, head gear and moisturiser you can learn to live with it.  Pocahontas might try and convince you to paint with all the colours of the wind but that basic obviously never made it to Wellington in September……


Me.  All day.  Errdaayy.


2-Cooking happened

I’ve learnt how to cook pasta sauce and not end up with crunchy carrots

3-Dairy happened

The cheese here, the ice cream, the butter even just a plain old glass of milk.  It’s fucking delicious.  I don’t know why because I’m not one to do research but all I do know is that all of my already favourite foods just got more favouritier.

4-Beer happened

Beer gut also happened.   But it’s a craft beer gut so I feel like i’m still on fleek.


Where most of the craft beer gut came from

5-Space happened

No where is ever crowded.  It’s magic.  Walk into a really cool bar, there’s always a table.  Walk into a really cool restaurant, it’s never a long wait.  Driving down the road, people are still jerks (can’t win them all)


Me surveying all the space I have and pretending that one day I will own it all………(nb: this photo was taken on the only non windy day of the year)


It’s been a slow burn, a long road but Wellington….you’ve finally won me over


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Mazzing at all ages

“We are making vibrators for women with arthritis!”

Grace-Frankie-mic-drop-e1463807333213Everyone should watch Grace and Frankie for no other reason than it gives you hope that it is never too late to change the way you live your life……

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Welcome to Wellington Bitch

If you had told me 5 years ago that I would end up choosing to live in Wellington, New Zealand, for a whole year, I would have cackled in your face.


But somehow, here I am, in middle earth.

Well not really somehow….after three incredible months of traveling the world to visit old friends and making new ones, eating merrily, drinking debaucherously and being molested multiple times by multiple taxi drivers across multiple continents I was offered a great job in New Zealand.  And after googling the number of taxi driver related sex crimes in Wellington (which to my relief was very low) I decided i’d take the job and move to a city that I had never been too and knew nothing about.

This is actually the first time I’ve ever made a big life decision purely based on my career so it feels very adult because it’s all about the business.  Just this weekend I had to buy a car for the first time ever in my life (read: mega spoilt brat whose amazing family has just handed cars to her for her whole life) and I made a pasta sauce from scratch and even though I didn’t let the carrots cook for long enough so they are a bit crunchy which is totally weird but I kind of like it but anyway my point is that now at the ripe old age of 28 I feel like I’m finally a real grown up person*


The old, non grown up me

So because I am in a new city with few friends, no love interests and far too much time on my hands I’ve decided to start writing again for my friends and family who are wondering how I will survive in this windy windy windy city.  Seriously it is so windy here, my hair is a perpetual disaster……..


*a grown up person who has just spent the last weekend getting over a hang over by surviving off two burgers and a tub of ice cream and I actually haven’t showered since Friday morning.  So I still have some learning to do…..

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Can relate…….


“I did everything right and I am still getting it from you! You know what? You are not mad at me, so shut up!”

The deeper I get into Mad Men the more I realise I am a Peggy, not a Don.  Totes gonna go tell loads of people to just shut up tomorrrow.

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Take a look at this photo…….



And then please answer this question:


Apparently 1 in 5 guys who messages me online thinks that this tattoo is real……..and then proceeds to LIE by telling me they think it’s ‘cool’.

Please be honest with me folks – am I being too harsh about this?  Because in my opinion, unless you are blind there is no good reason to think this tattoo is either real or cool.  It’s clearly drawn on in biro and quite obviously hideous.

I understand these boys inclination to use it as a conversation starter but why would you think it’s beneficial to either of us to start any kind of relationship with a BOLD FACED LIE.  And if you’re not lying, and you are a person that genuinely thinks this is a cool tattoo…..then you are an actual moron.  And that’s coming from someone who has devoted her life to worshipping unicorns.  But no amount of devotion, drugs or drunkardness could ever compel me to get something so ridiculous looking permanently etched into my arm.


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Gimmie that beep beep

This is the remix to Ignition……..


Soz we aren’t going to talk about R.Kelly’s 2003 smash hit.  Although if i’m being honest, I could actualy talk about the genius of Ignition for h.o.u.r.s.  The song is dance floor perfection, I mean, it’s impossible to NOT dance when it comes on….I’ll bet you are rollin’ dat body just thinking about how good this song is.  And while it’s easy enough to revel in the hip grinding glory of this supberb  piece of work we should all remember that R.Kelly did in fact pee on underage girls…….which does tend to taint one’s enjoyment of the song just a tad……..

So on the topic of haneous sex crimes, I have not engaged in any kind of physical intercourse since 8:03a.m Saturday 17th January 2015.  Now I’m sorry if this is T.M.I for you but honestly in this post SATC era I just assume that everyone is comfortable reading about a young ladies sexcapades (or lack there of).

One of two (well actually a few) things tends to happen when girls don’t get laid:

1 – they get cranky and irritable for no reason and it’s kind of like they have PMS all the time

2 – they develop a new found obsession with running, pilates or yoga.

3 – they start baking.  a lot.

And above anything else when you stop having sex sometimes you actually just stop feeling sexy all together.  And when you stop feeling sexy, you start doing gross things like chewing with your mouth open and not being ashamed about audibly farting in public because you no longer give any fucks at all.

Lately I have been in the alarming but not too dangerous ‘unsexy’ zone of not washing at all on the weekends unless I go out.  It started innocently enough with me thinking “well i’m not seeing anyone today so why bother getting ut of your pyjamas?” which progressed too ” well if you’re not getting out of your pyjamas then why bothering even showering?” which then escalated too “well it’s not like your friends haven’t seen you in your pyjamas before so why don’t you just put a jacket over your pyjama top and head out for brunch?”

Now I know it’s anti feminist of me or whatever to base my ‘attractiveness’ on how much attention i’m getting off guys but I don’t think that’s the point of our dilemma.  I think sometimes it’s natural to feel like you’re in a slump and even if Ryan Gosling himself tried to crack onto me while I was in this frame of mind i’d still have second thoughts “hmmm but is he reaalllyyyyy worth washing my hair for?”  usually I am happy to embrace these periods of gross sexless-ness because I know that it will pass.

This recent bout was honked right out of me by strangers in garbage trucks.

The first time was when I was walking back to the office after lunch and a loud honking disturbed my thoughts.  I looked up and a guy in a garbage truck stuck his arm out and waved at me.  Even though it was a gross sexist act, there was a small part of my ego that suddenly pinged back to life as I thought “yeah gurl, i’ve still got IT” and I strut back to work fiercer than Beyonce dominating a red carpet.




She owns it, everytime.

The second time was on the weekend when I was out for a bike ride.  I look like a mad dork when I go for bike rides because I don’t have proper ‘biking’ clothes so my outfit usually consists of yoga pants, a tshirt and a sleeveless grey vest I have to wear because it’s the only thing I own that has pockets to keep my ipod and keys in.  Oh and I also wear a helmut.  Hotsville central.  Population, me.  And garbo number #2 agreed because as I had pulled over on the side of the road to do up my shoelace another, different type of garbage truck drove past and beeped me.  At first I thought they were telling me to get off the road so I looked up just as the truck drove past me and the driver cheekily winked as passed me by.

Usually, the normal me would be so angry about being objectified on the side of the road by some yuck dude in a truck but in my current vulnerable state I was just glad to know that someone thought I was attractive enough to go to the effort of beeping at me as they drove past…..

And now, I feel attractive again.  And yes, it is inappropriate that it took 2 horny garbage men to make me feel this way but whatever, fuck it, i’m feeling like Beyonce (pre Blu Ivy) again and I am ready to get freaky with Ryan Gosling (o.n.b.o.)


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Valentines Day



Being single on Valentine’s Day means you either spend the day as crying Ralph; depressed about your singledom or the girl sat next to him giving him mad side eye who’s throwing epic shade and trying not to give any fucks (but secretly you wish someone would cho cho choose you ffs)


If you are lucky enough to have someone in your life that actually likes spending time with you and is willing to put up with your shit for the forseeable future, please take some time today to appreciate how fortunate you are*


*and spare a thought for us lonely mongrels who do not have the privelege of regular sex – which let’s face it – is the primary reason any of us get into ‘relationships’.  You lucky lucky bastards.

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Apparently if you don’t check and respond to your online dating profile messages for an extended period of time, men just assume that you are a hooker……….

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I was tempted too talk to rockyrock17 until I got his number and then put him and nite_rida in touch with tgreis13.  Imagine THAT threesome.  Like seriously…… who needs porn hub when you can imagine that sweet sweet sexy hook up.

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Important first world problem

I had to run for my bus today.

It was undignified and I hated every second of it but I had to do it because if I missed it the next bus wasn’t going to come for another forty minutes.


Like what is the point even of having a bus route if the bus is only going to come every 40 mins?  Why is this the ONLY bus that can take me from Chatswood to Mowbray Rd?  Why doesn’t the Sydney bus situation have more than one route option available to me?  Why does the Sydney bus system have to be a situation?  Catching a bus in a well developed city should be reliable and straight forward and not reminiscent of a final challenge in The Amazing Race.

Seriously though my family did not migrate from India to Sydney just to have me hailing and running after buses like some maniac.  That is one legacy my grandfather distinctly wanted our family to leave behind.  And at least on the buses in India you can buy snacks.

It’s times like this I really miss London.  Those double decker buses know where it’s at and you never have to wait more than 15 minutes for one.  AND there is a screen that tells you what each stop is so that you don’t have to spend the entire bus ride anxiously sweating because you’re terrified that you’re going to miss your stop and end up in Gordon.

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