Miley you minx

hellllooo miley!

Finnnalllly I saw it. Finally I got to see the wonderous beauty that is ‘The Last Song’. Yeah yeah mock me all you want you losers, I’ve heard it all before and I will stick to my guns. Miley aka my future wife is ah-mazing and that beau of hers I would think twice about saying ‘nah sorry I like chicks’ too. Seriously he’s banging.

(Note the use of the word ‘banging’, it’s like better than rad, so you know it’s good). Don’t worry sometimes I tell myself to shut up.

The movie was what it was expected to be. A PG film where teen agnsty Miley is forced to move, hates everyone, meets smokin hot man, falls in love, they fight for some reason, dad gets sick, dad passes away and smokin hot guy reenters to support no longer angsty girl. It’s totes up there with 17 again and She’s The Man. Seriously. Wow. Big call.

That Dear John thing, doesn’t even compare. And I still hold it against those two young ladies who made me forfeit my time with Miley to see Channing Tatum. I still don’t get it. Those chicks were dykes. And Channing Tatum got picked over Miley. Wtf ? Maybe we were having ‘we hate chicks’ moment. Oh don’t get me wrong Tatum is de-vine, but seriously fuck.

However I’ve discovered my love for Miley doesn’t run as strong through the old Mudgee crowd. Apparently putting on five Miley songs on the juke box will cause me to be yelled at and me to get embarrassed. Seriously I thought we would had been closed by the time they came on. Alllll of the came on. Awkward Turlte. ps. The Climb. BEST SONG EVER. (who are you Megan Kennedy?)

Hayley you’re so predictable

 

did you ever really doubt me?

Soo despite being a little off on my game in Mudge of late. This one I knew for sure. It’s confirmed. Miss Warner is totes a homo. Natasha Grab you sure can scope em out. 

A friend of my mine who’s in PR informed me that my dear Hayley was attending one her events and was in fact bringing along her ‘Girlfriend’. Boom. Nice one Kennedy. Girlfriend – mm slight technicality. Whatever. She’s turned 18 right? 

Ya big minx Warner. Big les minx

The only les in the village

 

Balls I was wrong on this one.

 

Apparently my gaydar isn’t as amazing as I thought. So much so I am now $20 poorer thanks to a failure on part at the wonderful establishment that is the Oriental Hotel.

‘She’s a les for sure,’ I claimed. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah check out that hair, for sure.’

Four hours on. My potential les spotto is macking out on the Waratah dance floor with a dude. Fail Kennedy Fail. Jeez man, this country air is affecting my scent of smell. Shiit. I’ve been out of the game too long.

Don’t let this hiccup deter you. I’ve proven my worth in the little saga that is the Mudgee les scene prior to this minor hiccup. People doubted my claims. But inklings prevailed and the little innocent girl was in fact a flaming homo. Scores are even.

I recently caught up with a group of my boarding school buddies. How the hell they put up with my psychotic episodes and erratic mood swings for four years is beyond me. But I thank them for it. They’re rad. Like rad to the power of ten.

I’ll admit I prior to our catch up weekend was ‘that friend’. You know the ‘shit one’ that never goes to anything or speaks to anyone except for the odd Facebook chat. I had made other friends and apparently forgot how friggen cool these chicks were. So no more schoolies. Being with them just reminded me how much I friggen loved them and how much fun they made living in jail/school.

And before you wonder. No I was not a flaming les at boarding school. So all-lesbian schoolgirl fantasies can stop. Oh I’m sure they happen, but I unfortunately wasn’t involved. Anyway. The whole ‘gay’ thing was a big surprise for my school friends. As it was for everyone.

Mmmm Ryan ya big stud

 

I was way into dudes. Mad for them in fact. Not like Mad Slut into them. But like you know. Leonardo Dicaprio definitely had a special place in my heart. My mother did at one stage claim my obsession with Ryan Girdler was a bit of a worry. Argh I remember the day she found the box of pictures of him I’d cut out of my brothers NRL magazines. I think I even stalked him in Sydney once. Actually I’m a 100 per cent sure that actually happened.

Anyway so when the topic of my new found sexuality popped up, so did the ‘sooo like what do you do?’ ‘Can you explain?’ questions and those intriged eyes. Seriously why is everyone so interested? Wikipedia is good for every other definition. Why not give that a crack. I unlike some other homo’s isn’t really bothered by the inquisitive nature of the straight folk.  It humours me to watch their facial expressions. Or their shock, which was written all over that poor 17-year-old innocent child’s face.

However I was completely out done. My stories compared nothing to what I heard from a few certain individuals. I was shocked and I think I blocked a lot of it out. The one thing I do remember: Harbour Bridge in a cubby hose. This is totally not ok.

Or the other common conversation. “Oh your gay? I have a gay friend (just the one). You should meet her. You’d be great together. You know what mate. I have a straight friend as well. You two would be great. Just because our sexualities align doesn’t quite mean we’d be prancing down the aisle anytime soon. Oh wait that’s not legal. Thanks for the back up Julia Gillard. You ass. So you don’t believe in God and your not a Christian, but homosexuality is wrong. Oh I get it. Douche.

Oh and thanks the goodness of Facebook stalking I’ve been informed by not one but eight friends I have one friend who takes everyone’s fancy in the looks department. So much so that I should date her asap.

My response: But she’s a friend. So she’s hot. Buutttt we’re friends. Just because we both dig ladies doesn’t mean we’re going to start macking out. Friends who are gay are pretty much like straight friends I have. Obviously except for the one minor difference. They’re straight and like dudes.

But she’s hot Meg I don’t car what you say. Ok. Hi Nicole. Everyone thinks we should date. Ok Meg. Let’s date. Wtf?

This is Alice. This is my girlfriend. She's Ah-MAZING.

Julia you bitch face mole. How could you?

 

sorry Julia I didn't have a choice. YOU DID THIS

 

Julia Gillard. How could you? How could you do this to your best friend Kevvy? The kind man that took you under his wing and got you an easy ride into Parliament. The man you stood next too and pretended to share your little inside jokes with, the man who said only kind words about you, the man you said you wouldn’t dare steal his top job, the man that was too kind for you and your deceitful ways.

You can saunter off with that awkward laugh of yours and your BAD hair Julia, but we know what you did. You were mean and sly and how dare you have the NERVE to inform Kev you will happily offer him a Senior Cabinet position AFTER next election. What? No no he doesn’t deserve a minister position after you tore the rug out from under him. After you stabbed him ever so silently in the back. It’s like you were waiting, waiting to pounce. Did you not see him cry Julia? I did. Bitch. 

If I was Kevvy I’d tell you to shove your senior cabinet minster position up your ass you ungrateful woman. Clearly

My name is Kevin 07 Rudd, PM to an unforgiving nation, leader to an ungrateful party and senior to a backstabbing deputy. But I will have my vengence.

Yeah that’s right Julia Golia, IT’S ON

Kevin didn't see it coming

Devon. Now why did you exit my life?

Seriously. One day you were there and we were great together, you kept my company on those lonely lunch time dates, we complemented each other and sometimes you were even waiting for me when I arrived home from school.

But then without warning, you left. No more lunch dates, no more afternoons together watching Totally Wild  and making fun of Ranger Stacey. There was  nothing. It was as if I meant nothing to you. As if we shared nothing together. As if  the love wasn’t real between us. I was merely a forgotten memory. A thing of the past.

When did it become so  ’normal’ to enjoy the oh so yummy goodness of Devon and sauce sandwiches, to something I should be ashamed of. Yes the obvious reasoning – the ingredients. They are a mystery to us all  and to be honest something I keep right at the back of my head. It sits in comfortably right next to my heterosexuality.

Irregardless of its genetic make up Devon is rad and Devon and sauce sandwiches are even radder. (I’m 120 per cent sure ‘radder’ is defiantly not a word).

I brought up my long-lost love and my desire to rekindle our love affair and it was met with disapproving eyes and looks of disgust. “Yuk, that’s gross. It isn’t even REAL meat.” Yeah well your face doesn’t REALLY look like that in the morning but no one is judging you for that now are they?

Besides as if everyone didn’t enjoy devon at some stage. Maybe it was a prime  poor families lunch snack? Feeding five children doesn’t come cheap you know! Whatever it was, I wasn’t complaining. My mother would even give us a small container of sauce we could apply to our fresh bread and devon combo, to fend of the onslaught of the ‘dreaded soggy bread’ drama that plagued so many children’s lunch boxes.

Do kids still eat devon? Or is it completely frowned upon now in the days of ‘fresh and organic’ produce. Fairly sure those ‘real’ potato chips your eating or the MSG fuelled rice crackers aren’t on the top of Heart federation tick list, I’ll give you that hot tip.

Devon + Sauce = Amazingness.

And don’t for one minute even think that poor excuse of a poultry product ‘Chicken Roll’ is even on the same level. That shit is rank.

Onset of MD

 

this is how i feel today

 

So I knew it was coming, in fact I wondered when it would arrive. It arrived in the form of a ridiculously large hangover and a huge ‘Oh God, I moved back to Mudgee’ slap in the face. Where was it hiding for the past month? I have now welcomed Mudgee depression back into my life. 

Up until now, it’s been quite the novelty living here again. Dinner’s cooked for me, minimal spending, friends coming to visit, alcohol galore, smoking minimised and up until the inclusion of a traffic light last week it would only take me max 5 and half minutes to work. Following said traffic light, it now takes eight or depending on whether the loser in front of you stops when the light turns orange. Idiot. Come ooon man, I just don’t have time for  this. I allocated a specific amount of time and now thanks to your ‘over cautious and idiotic driving’ my schedule is completely thrown out.  And I think the excuse of the ‘Traffic Light’ for being late doesn’t really work after the 4th time it’s used. Fail).

So basically the novelty has worn off and mopey Meg has entered the paddock. Awesome. But apparently one month is unusually fast for the onset of Mudgee Depression. ‘It took me 4 and half,’  a friend at work said. ‘Eighteen months it took me,’ said another. Shitt man.

This recent change in mindset brings me to the thought. WTF AM I GOING TO DO FOR THE NEXT TWO MONTHS! Shhittt Kennedy. Splendour in 45 days. Focus on the task at hand Megan. 

Also, ok amyl nitrate is not called Rush. It’s called plain old ‘amyl’. You can’t try and wrap it up with some rad ‘street name’ and make it sound better than what it is. It’s dirty and it is the reason behind the dreaded Amyl Headache, which you know you’re in for once sniffing begins, but still you can’t refuse. There is no such thing as a Rush Headache so stop telling me I’m wrong. Just like I’m getting over the hair comments. I’ve taken to counting them when working. Saturday night I got up to 29.  I promised myself number 30 would walk away with a kind reminder of me that came in the form of a forehead slap. Anyway back to Ruuuusshh. I found myself screaming at some poor stranger on Saturday night. Approximately 18 years of age. ‘Wow is that Rush?’ Um no you idiot it’s Amyl. ‘Wow, chill out babe’ ‘Don’t tell me to chill out BABE’. It’s not effing Rush alright? Luckily my friend intercepted and I was dragged away from the scene and being told to ‘let it go’.  I’m 75 per cent sure this is were the onset of Mudgee Depression/anger towards anyone kicked into second gear. 

Wow this week is going to be fun. 

Note to self: putting toner in your hair and then falling asleep will in fact make your hair ‘shine’ purple. Awesome. Get used to being single Kennedy.

DRAMA SQUID

That just happened!

Lindsay this is not ok!

Who knew working in a small country esq  pub that things could get so out of hand and so bizarre. Seriously fuck.  At one stage I was standing behind the bar wondering whether or not I was in the scene from Mean Girls. You know that one when that unfortunate looking  teacher pronounces to the minxy principal that  the ‘girls have gone WILD!” However in my case it wasn’t an endless array of ladies going crazy, but in the form of testosterone fuelled union and league boys. Rad Saturday night really.

One classy las, not a day over 60 found it necessary to flash and jiggle her breasts for the entire bar to see. And no gravity had not been kind. This happened at 9pm and again at 11pm.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I continued on my empty glass hunt, where I found myself thrust into the centre of the dance floor. ‘Oh ok dude, you need to put your pants back on!’

Seriously fuck. This behaviour is not acceptable. Or is it? And I just missed that memo! Not to mention a certain character who for the past six months was under misconception he was the cause for my apparent like for the laydees.  Woah. Awkward Turtle. Baaaaackkk awwwwayy.

Or after my apprehensions of wearing a flanno out to a pub were attempted to be soothed by a kind coworker. ‘ Don’t worry, everyone was wearing flanno’s here tonight. Oh wait they were all guys. Shit. Um nah you look great.’

So convincing. Thanks babe.

Note to self. When removing segments of a pipe underneath the sink to look for a lost jewel, maybes don’t pour the water from that pipe down the sink and turn on the taps. Use your head Kennedy, the pipe is in your hand, where do you think the water is going to go? Correct assumption – The Floor. Awesome.

Study. Now. Shit. Exam. Fail.

Hayley ‘I’m a Les’ Warner

So this post is only going to be humorous to two (three if I’m lucky) per cent of people who bother to read this poor excuse for a blog. (Ebba stop stealing my followers)

What's that you love ME Hayley?

 

Anyway, (wow I must be excited I just had to sit up and get comfy to get typing) Hayley Warner aka runner-up of Australian Idol. Before you ask, no I am not an avid supporter/viewer of the Karaoke program. However! It happened to be a night of red wine, deleriousness and a lack of television stations to choose from, when I found myself watching the 2009 Australian Idol final. And I must say I was pleasantly surprised with what I found that night. 

Obviously Michael Buble (the little minx) was avidly showing off his little hip pops all over the place, but with the first sign of super sharp, super straight hair do, skinny leg jeans, oversized singlet and flat shoe combo I was a goner. ‘She’s a total les,’ I announced to my Buble loving housemate. ‘I think she’s rad,’ I continued. ‘No way she is,’ my super straight gay loving house mate responded. 

‘She’s wearing flats and skinny jeans, every other straight chick would have a make over and come out looking like a glamour in 6-inch heels. Just ask Susan Boyle.’

‘Come onnn, look at her, she looks like every second chick at The Bank Wednesday.’ 

I was convinced she’d rock out with a Tegan and Sara song for suuureee. She didn’t of course. She followed up with her ‘debut track’ called “Good Day’ (FAIL).

First and foremost I noticed Hayley couldn’t dance for shit, so I’d have to give her a few lessons before taking her to Girlthing and  more importantly that in the second verse of he super rad hit, she utters the words ‘I deserve more than the attention span, Of a boy pretending he’s a man.’ 

Seriously what? You’re kidding yourself Haylz!!!

Alas, Miss Hayley wasn’t so open about her les status. And the next thing I find out….she’s 17…… I admit, I felt a little dirty. It  wasn’t my proudest moment. 

So I left it. I left it for a few months, I tried to forget her. Forget she wasn’t off the legal age. Forget she wasn’t  yet able to vote. 

The months dragged by. Hayley became a distant memory. Then just yesterday Hayley fell right back into my lap thanks to a The Black Veil, a Tumblr Blog I follow who posted 45 photos of Hayley. I was just MAD for it.

Then being the avid detective I jumped straight onto my Facebook and typed in Miss Warners name in the search bar and went straight to our ‘Mutual Friends’.

DING DING DING DING

WE HAD THREE. And you know what. LES, LES and BIG LES. 

Thankyou and I’m done here. Mission One: Complete. 

Mission Two: Track her down. (yeh yeh she’s 18. Fair game now)

Watch out Warner. 

(NOTE: Generalisations run rampant through this post. Deal with it)

Here she is. 

sushemo

 

look at it taunting me on it's pretty plate.

Calling any Japanese sushi chef who wants to move to Mudgee to be my personal chef. I will pay you in anything but cold hard cash.

Was Mudgee left off the list of cool places to visit by Japanese tourists? Yes, yes before you whinge about me complaining and not doing anything about it. I have. I’ve enquired about a Sushi Train franchise opening here. And apparently I need to find chef’s first. I posted a call out on Gumtree. Now we wait. 

Minor detail – figure out how to finance it. Mum and Dad were approached and asked. They scuffed at me (usual occurrence) and said eat an apple. So I ate an apple. The craving for sushi goodness was still apparent.  I voiced this to my mother once more. She scuffed again and said ‘make your own then’. Good call Caz.

I then made the frightful journey into Woolworths again. Sidewards glances apparent. And possible Les sighting. Interesting and noted. Wandered down to ‘Asian World’ aka Asian cooking aisle of the supermarket. Grabbed my sushi kit and raced back home. I made it just like I would watch the cute little chefs do it at Sushi Train I even yelled whatever it is they yell at you when you walk in and made my parents line up to eat it.

I’ll be honest. It sucked. Plus there was no ‘fresh wasabi’ and no coloured little plates and my water didn’t have ice. Hot tip for next time Kennedy, you live three hours from the ocean salmon sashimi equals bad idea.

Can you courier sushi train to Mudgee? Could I put it on a real train and train it  too me? Now wouldn’t that be fun. Oh wait Mudgee is without a train station aswell. Awesome. 

I now go by the term Sushemo. Don’t hate me because I have feelings.  You just don’t understand me. I’m dying my hair black and taking up Japanese.

Distant dweller. Aka. loser in the Gee.

After talking  about, deliberating about names and titles and about me’s , I’ve decided (possibly due to laziness ) just to start a simple yet ‘effective’ blog for  so you all don’t forget I’m alive. Then you send it around and everyone loves me and I become world famous and I forget we were ever friends. Rad right.

So basically now you get Kennedy goodness at a daily (lets hope) rate. I’ll probably rant and rave about FOMO and you’ll think I’m a life hater but it’s all in the name of Megan getting off her ass and becoming an actual ‘writer’ not just one she creates in her head.

We’re up to day 14 in the wonderful land of Wine and Honey aka Mudgee aka M to the Gee (hence the domain name) and its different here from the last time I moved. Yes yes this time I’m a raging les with a half shaved head and an ‘identity problem’ (thanks Daddy) but things are a changing in the Mudgee town. No we still don’t have traffic lights and no movie theatre, but I will discuss over time how this place baffles me.

Number one baffle story. Awake at some sensible hour  of the morning and I was required to venture into town, something I don’t like doing in the first place because obviously that involved leaving the house and getting off the heated floors. But things needed to be bought and I needed to buy them. Apparently my mother doesn’t take well to me leaving my shopping list on the fridge entitles ‘WOMAN get this for me will ya’. Anyway off to Woolies and its 8:30am, I’m dressed in jeans, t-shirt and hoodie. No ‘I’m a raging LESBIAN’ t-shirt, no face tattoo’s no ‘I support Prop 8’ poster – just normal attire. First man I pass clutches tightly to his three longnecks. Next passerby casually opens his cask of fruity lexia whilst walking out the supermarket doors and the third passerby struggles to rip the plastic off his not one but two cartons of Holiday cigarettes. Note being its 8:30 in the morning. And each of these three classless individuals had the nerve to look at me up and down and with a confused/weirded out looks.  Seriously fuck there is something wrong with this picture.

until tomorrow. When you think of me. Message me. Comment me. If you think I’m not bored. You’re 98 per cent wrong. 2 per cent of the time I’m sleeping. Can  you be bored when sleeping?