Thursday, 26 January 2012

Vegemite and beer.

Yep, it's that time of the year again. January 26th. Australia Day. Despite my constant complaints about our shitty summer, hot weather, and my country's Olympic-level racism, I am proud to be an Australian, and I do love my country.. most of the time. So generally on this day, I do what everyone else does: get absolutely drunk and sunburnt. But instead of going to the river, I do it in the privacy of my own home.

Today has been a pretty average Australia Day.  Last year I spent the 26th walking around an American high school trying to explain to people that we have our own version of their 4th of July. I asked my mum when the socially acceptable drinking time begins on Australia Day, and she said midday. I asked why it starts at midday, and not earlier, like 9 or 10 o'clock (I mean, what is more Australian than drinking when you first get up?). She replied "What is this, ANZAC day?". I laughed so damn hard, until I remembered that ANZAC day was sad.

Anyway, it's basically been a day of drinking beer, and gin and tonic. I haven't even had anything to eat today, but I've had 6 drinks. Whoops. Australia Day's nothing special, it's just a day off work where drunk bogans flock to the foreshore and gape at fireworks for half an hour. Yes, I'm pretty cynical. But I am honestly proud to be Australian. After spending a year (2010) away on exchange in the USA and Canada, it made me miss my country more than ever.

Now I am sitting here drinking, watching 30 Rock and doing crossword puzzles. Should I be doing more patriotic things? Like standing in the sun drinking VB? I would, but I'm one of those pasty, old-fashioned English-Australians. One of the downsides of starting drinking at midday is that everyone is drunk and angry by 5. Right now, I can hear arguing from the loungeroom.

I hope you enjoy your Australia day, despite the fact that most of you reading this are probably not in Australia (LOL, who am I kidding? No one's reading this).
Ciao for now.


Tuesday, 24 January 2012


Hey dudes.

Does anybody else wonder where accents and language come from? I mean, the origins of language are easier to trace/explain (I think...), but what about accents? Does it have to do with the types of climate people were in? I don't even know. I'm genuinely curious (although not curious enough to spend 4 years out of my life studying this sort of thing at university, it seems). If anybody has an answer to this (or a theory), let me know!

I mean, why are Canadian accents slightly different than Americans? Same with New Zealand accents and Australian ones. JE NE COMPRENDS PAS. 

In other uninteresting news, I cleaned my room today and my FUCKING BOSSYPANTS BOOK CAME. I haven't started it yet, as I'm forcing myself to pre-read some university stuff (but alas, to no avail quite yet), but I'm so excited to read it. Tina Fey is mah idol.

Ciao for now.


Saturday, 21 January 2012

reluctant frolicking.

Ah yes. The nightlife. Last night I went out for dinner with some friends, then afterwards, and very spontaneously, went to a couple of places in the city with a different friend I met up with. Although I am no stranger to clubs, the "scene", and the journey of a long, adventurous, and more often than not, tedious night, the whole thing was just a reminder of why I like to stay in more than I like to go out. Not that the whole evening was a waste. Let me share with you my evening...

I was picked up by a full car of my friends, and we went to Han's cafe (yay, culture). I always enjoy the food at Han's. As a joke, one of my friends and I suggested that after we finish up at Han's, we go for tea and cakes, then go to the donut place next door, then go to the ice cream place down the street. Turns out everybody thought this was a good idea, and we ended up doing exactly that. The place we went to for tea and cake was very nice, despite them having nailed baskets over their lights for effect.

After we went to all those food places (I actually didn't eat anything in the last two places, was pretty proud of myself), we then went to the bookshop I pointed out earlier (and suggested we go in there as a joke - it seems my jokes are manifesting themselves into legitimate actions further down the line). I ended up buying a book called "Wreck this Journal" ( You do exactly as suggested - each page has a different way of destroying the book. For example, "Poke holes in the book using a pencil" and "Rub dirt all over this page then tear it out". It's fantastic. My friend recommended it and said he has great fun doing it. Apparently it's a great way to procrastinate. For me, it'll be a procrastination method and a rage release! Two-in-one!

 After the bookshop, we kinda stood around chatting, waiting for somebody's mum to pick them up. This wouldn't be such a problem if we were in a better-established area. Instead we were in a suburb where somebody got their head kicked in a week ago, and somebody else got stabbed 3 days ago. My mind couldn't help but wander to those news headlines as we stood around on a dimly lit street, and I clutched my bag tighter as my eyes darted around. My friend's mum arrived though quite speedily, so then my friend (who drove all of us to dinner) dropped me off in the city. By myself.

Now, whilst I appreciate there are much more dangerous cities than mine, one can't shake the niggling feelings one acquires whilst waiting around by oneself. My friend I was meeting up with was about 45 minutes away by train. To me, that's a lifetime away. I didn't know what to do. I sort of wandered around aimlessly, until I walked to the train station to meet her. While I was waiting at the train station, a weird Balinese guy started talking to me and asking me the usual creepy-guy questions (have you got a boyfriend? Are you single? Where are you going?), to which my reply is usually "no, I have a girlfriend. I am not single. I am going to do drugs with her bikie gang. Have a good night". We chatted for a bit, I smoked a Balinese herbal cigarette with him (disclaimer: they are disgusting), and then his friend arrived, they started talking in Indonesian and I started praying to my non-existent god that my friend would arrive soon. Which she did. And so began our nice, but brief night.

We walked quite a distance to a place called "The Geisha Bar". Both of us had never been, but we thought we'd give it a shot because their sign said "This a girls and gay-friendly bar. No sleezy or homophobic men allowed". Love it. Anyway, the bar itself was half-decent. Usual story. $10 entrance. DJ. Dancefloor. Photographer. Girls wearing dresses up their arses. Pricey drinks. They get extra points though for the massive disco balls I've only ever seen in Bee Gees film clips, and the random arcade games in the corner. It was quite a high-class bar. It wasn't really my scene; I'm too white to dance (not being self-deprecating, I really am way too awkward and pale to be trendy), the music was so loud I started laughing at the idea of the bar maids actually hearing people's drink orders and the girls were dressed a little too.. uh, provocative for me. I don't know, I think it was just a reminder of how much I prefer pubs. Pubs are more relaxed, less noisy, more casual.. I felt so socially retarded sitting there with my librarian glasses and Harley Davidson shirt. I practically looked fucking Amish. Nonetheless, 'twas an experience. So after downing 4 glasses of liquid courage (delicious, expensive courage), it was off to one of my favourite cafes.

It's this great little place with great food and a cocktail menu to die for. It's like a cross between a bar, a diner and somebody's lounge room. It's amazing. Anyway, we went there for a snack and a drink. Now, at this point, as we sat down, I realised just how much fucking money I had spent. It's so fucking expensive going out. I couldn't believe it. I thought I had lost money for a fleeting moment, then realised that it was about right. And I needed at least $30 for taxi money (yeah. Not an exaggeration. I fucking hate taxis and their fares). So, instead of ordering a Caesar salad (I know, weird) and about 3 different cocktails like I would've loved to do, I settled for a banana split (which, you may be itching to explain to me, is not even close to a Caesar salad). It was rather delicious, but alas, not as enjoyable as my original choice.

Anyway, after that, I didn't feel so well, so we walked back to the train station (my friend was catching the train home) and I hailed a cab nearby. Taxi drivers are normally quite chatty, or at least, slightly inquisitive about your night, but this taxi driver was about as awkward and sullen as I was. Several times I attempted to discuss mediocre topics, such as the weather or how busy his night has been, but eventually I gave up and played Temple Run on my iPod to distract myself from the ridiculously fucking expensive meter which was ticking away at an insulting rate. Fucking taxis. In Singapore, taxis cost about $10 on average. Even if you want to go quite a distance, you'll end up paying no more than $10-$15 max. Here, it'll cost you about $30-$40 just to go down the goddamn highway.

So I got home at around 3AM, slightly tipsy and exhausted, got myself a drink of water (it's still ridiculously hot), and collapsed on my bed. Amazing how good your bed feels after a night out. And right now it's 2.30PM, and I am slightly hungover and very tired, and I am grumpily looking out the window at what is SUPPOSED to be rain, but is in fact a hot, sunny, fucking awful and humid day. Why do meteorologists and weathermen enjoy lying to me so much? I swear, I'm moving to Seattle asap. Sick of this hot weather. Maybe Canada. Yeah, Canada.

Apologies for the way-too-long, unnecessarily detailed post about my average night. I'm like an old person - I need to feel that somebody is at least listening to my complaining, otherwise there's no point. Ha ha. Ciao for now.


Friday, 20 January 2012

When it rains, it pours

Disclaimer: Cherish when I am happy or make a happy post, because it is a fleeting occurrence. 

Greetings. Today was great! For many reasons.
Firstly, IT RAINED. Do not adjust your screen. That's right, it rained here in Western Australia. Fuck yeah! I absolutely love rain and cannot stand the heat (good thing you live in Australia Ellen, I hear you say - to which my reply is 'Shut up, smartarse'). And it poured. Naturally, this was the day I decided to catch two buses in to university. I don't care, at least it rained!
Secondly, I got most of my university books second-hand (therefore cheaper!), and only had to buy 2 books brand new. I was so chuffed. What SHOULD have cost about $300 cost me $150. AW YEAH.
Thirdly, I love the smell of books and I have a sniff-fest now (is that creepy? I don't care).
Fourthly, I ran in to one of my best friends on the bus! Which never happens to me. She was the one who gave me a Slytherin scarf for my birthday (I love her).
Fifthly, my friend Cameron met me at uni and we had a nice day laughing our arses off whilst eating Aroma's billion dollar salad.
Sixthly (is that a word?).... I am sitting here with a gin and tonic. That's nothing really significant, but I have a simple mind and am probably a borderline alcoholic.

'Twas a good day. Although it's really hot again outside. I swear to god I belong in the Northern hemisphere.
Ciao for now, lovelies.


Thursday, 19 January 2012

Introduction pt. 2

Hey dudes, I'm back! I realised my bucket list wasn't enough for you to get to know me, so I'm going to present you with some basic facts about myself.

Name: Ellen. Obviously
Sex: If you can't tell by my name, I'm seriously doubting your intellectual ability
Location: Western Australia
Nationality: Australian, Scottish, English
Occupation: Full-time sexy
Fave food: Caesar salads and greek salads
Fave band: The Doors
Fave drink: Tie between gin and tonic, and tea

There you go. Now you know more about me. Do you feel a bit creepy now? Like you know too much? I would. But that's just me. I'll probably be revealing more about myself as the time comes, but all in due time, my dear. All in due time. Ciao for now.


Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Introduction pt. 1


This is my first post. I'm not new to the blogging scene, but my other blog was more of a travel one, rather than a personal one. So I suppose I'm new to the personal blogging scene. Anyway, a few people have said to start with a bucket list, and because I enjoy succumbing to peer pressure, I shall present you with a bucket list.

Ellen's mediocre bucket list

  • Live in Canada or Scotland for at least 2 years
  • Learn German, French or Spanish
  • Get a Harry Potter tattoo (or several?)
  • Travel to as many countries as possible, mainly in Europe
  • Go to a dawn ANZAC day service
  • Meet Daniel Radcliffe, Julianne Moore, Michael Sheen and Tina Fey
  • Get a book published 
  • Become an (esteemed) journalist and..
  • Report in a third world country
  • Volunteer at a charity shop/soup kitchen and animal shelter
  • When I live on my own, adopt at least two animals from a shelter (our current family dog was adopted from the shelter. Ideally, I want to adopt as many as I can)
That's all I can think of for now, but I have no doubt I will think of something else later...

I'm going to try and update this blog at least once a week, if not every couple of days (ha ha, who am I kidding? my life is not exciting enough to post that regularly). When I go back to university (I'm on holiday right now), most of it will probably be about that (university), and I may.. ahem.. slack off a tad. But I will try and make this a habit. The picture below is of me, obviously, because I don't really find pictures of women and post them online (that's my OTHER blog... kidding). I look a bit strange in this one, but I don't really care.You'll probably end up seeing worst on here anyway (poor you). Ciao for now.