#pub jobs sydney

[digenerate-trash]

YAN VALENTINES HEADCANNONS

love interests and a couple extras

Robin ❤❤❤❤❤

Robin is enamored with Valentine's Day. He loves it so much and he wants to celebrate with you. He wants things to go well so he's invested some of his money into flowers. Chocolates maybe some movie tickets for you two. 

Wants to go all out and spend the day with you. 

He might ask you to do some somewhat weird things for him since it's a special day. (he wants to suck your tits gn) 

Will skip school today just to keep you two home

If you don't want to spend Valentine’s Day with him he's just gonna cry and beg. get ready for a guilt trip

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Whitney ❤❤❤

Shoves a stuffed animal in your chest as soon as you see him. Brags about stealing it. (it cost him 30 bucks) 

He hates the lovey-dovey part of Valentine’s but he's a big fan of the PDA that comes with it. Is gonna fuck you more than once on school property 

Gonna leave bite marks bruises hickies and burn marks all over your skin. 

Good luck getting anywhere near a classroom today. Whitney is not going and neither are you. 

Don't expect a romantic date. You're going to the pub and getting drunk with Whitney. 

In the morning you wake up hung over and Whitney is still with you snoring loudly and holding you in a vice grip. 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him that's too bad. Says that's fine theirs plenty of sluts just like you. but he's just gonna drag you along anyway. 

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Sydney ❤❤❤❤❤

Corrupt or pure Sydney is just expecting you to spend the day together. 

Pure Sydney is up for some wholesome fun. He’s bought candies for you and gotten you a very thoughtful card corrupt Sydney has done the same but has written the dirtiest fucking message in the card and he's waiting to see your expression 

Pure Sydney wants to maybe share a kiss with you. And corrupt Sydney wants to wreak you over the library desk. 

If you work at the shop corrupt Sydney is asking you which heart-shaped toys you like. He keeps insisting that testing them on you is part of the job

Both of them want to go on a date after school maybe to the cafe for a nice meal and to spend more time with you. 

Both Sydney have to be home by 8 pm. 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him that's fine. There's always tomorrow. But he is gonna be passive-aggressive about who you love instead of him

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Kylar ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Valentine's Day with Kylar is awful ngl. 

Your locker is stuffed with drawings and candy and cards of all his most devious thoughts about you. 

Every time you interact with anyone else ++jealousy 

Kylar is all over you. Kisses, grabbing your arm in a death grip telling people you are already married, trying to fuck you any chance he gets. 

Overexcited will do anything you ask (will not leave you alone tho) 

Wants to go on a date and will take you back to his home and try to cook for you (oil fire) 

The date is a disaster He is a mess but he still wants to make today special (he lasts like 10 seconds in bed and has head trauma afterward) 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him he's got enough piosin darts and rope to keep you secure. Then every day can be romantic!! 

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Mickey ❤❤

You get one of those little emails with a digital card. 

He doesn't get Valentine's Day

He does invite you to the pub. He wears a mask the whole time and doesn't talk much. He hates being outside. 

Happy to see you. You get a kiss on the forehead

It's only once you both head home that you get the most depraved sick anonymous emails that describe how they want to ruin your body and rape you over and over again until you can't move

Mickey can help block them though. don't worry. 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him he doesn't mind too much. Unless you're spending it with someone else then he's pissed

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Eden ❤

Doesn't care that it's Valentine's Day. You both have things to do. 

Too busy hunting and getting his shit sorted. 

If you decide to make the day special he's going to feel a lot better about today.

Wants to help with dinner

The most bear-like sex of your life. 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him. To bad.

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Avery ❤❤

Has offered to pay you to spend Valentine's with him. 

Fancy restaurant. The hotel was booked afterward and a small gift of chocolates was. 

he's just running through the motions. This day is kinda below him but he's willing to indulge to keep you happy

Indifferent the whole time

Still makes you get the salad

Will break if it turns out you got him a gift as well and suddenly feels horrible. 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him he offers you double the payment. If that doesn't work he throws a fit and assults you. 

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Black Wolf ❤

Has no idea the significance of this day and doesn't get it when you explain it's a day for lovers. he's still confused 

he's happy you're spending it with him though. 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him, that's fine. He doesn't understand the holiday 

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Great Hawk ❤❤❤

Lurker dinner. 

Stolen items for a gift. 

Romantic screeching bird sex. 

he's the perfect gentleman 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him devastated. This is a holiday, especially for couples and you don't wanna??? he's gonna cry

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Alex ❤❤❤❤

Gift of chocolates and a card. 

Spends the whole day leaning on you and kissing you. Never wants to let you go 

Good luck getting work done today

He makes dinner and watches a romantic comedy with you 

Going to fuck you halfway through the movie

Gonna be confused about the plot of the movie after he's rearranged your guts

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him he's kinda insulted. Get ready for an interrogation. 

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Bailey ❤

don't give him anything. No gifts no candy no card no nothing. he's gonna yell at you. 

He will also stash it for later but you'll never find it. 

Extra pissed off at you today. 

Locks you in your room 

Doesn't explain why 

Gonna cut you open tonight. 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine's Day with him: Good. 

✦•·······································•✦•·······································•✦

Harper ❤❤❤❤❤❤

Kisses!!!! 

Harper gets you a card and tells you to come to his office today

Then drugs you with aphrodisiacs!! 

The whole day is a blur and you have no clue what's transpired. But youre marked to hell with hickies and youre hooked up to an IV 

If you don't wanna spend Valentine's Day with him it turns out that youre not mentally fit to be by yourself. he's already called the asylum. 

#yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #tw violence #tw blood #tw rape #tw drugging #tw doctors #tw malpractice #harper the doctor #bailey the caretaker #alex the farmhand #eden the hunter #great hawk #black wolf #avery the businessperson #mickey the hacker #robin the orphan #whitney the bully #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #kylar the loner

[capseycartwright]

to be irish is to leave -

i know this, i’ve always known this. i was raised on stories of emigration and of new dreams: american, english, australian, dreams of a house of your own, cities bigger than anyone could imagine, a career you’d never get to have at home. the songs sung at the end of the night in cosy pubs were always lamenting - songs grieving those who left and never returned, songs that told stories of what it means to be irish: to leave, to build a new life elsewhere, and to still be irish at your very core. because we leave, we do, but we never shake off our irishness, finding community in corners of the world filled with other irish people, thousands of miles from home but finding solace amidst your loneliness with the neighbour who grew up ten miles down the road.

it’s no country for women - that’s what they used to say, why they left. it’s no country for young people, now. we say it, over and over - with your family, as they welcome you home for christmas. with your friends, over christmas pints, the conversation always turning to emigration - she’s left too, you know, to sydney, and there’s a gang of them in london, and he’s gone to canada. our hometown is quiet now, a generation emigrating all over again. they say that leaving is in our blood but it’s not there out of a joy travel and a desire to see the world - not just that, at least. no, no, leaving is in our blood because this country we love so deeply doesn’t love us back.

this country raised me - the green fields and rolling hills and waves crashing against the shore are all embedded deep in my DNA, the very core of who i am. this country raised me, it shaped me, it’s one of the biggest parts of who i am - irish, i say, when i’m asked when i’m from, even though i haven’t lived here since i was 22, even though i have built a life in another country and i don’t know if i see myself coming back. we all feel it - raised to so fiercely love a country that doesn’t love us back. “i’ll never afford a house here.” “i didn’t think i’d be living with my parents this close to 30.” “it costs too much to build a life here.” “if i want my dream job - i have to go.”

i have to go, i have to go, i have to go - i knew this from the moment i settled on a dream: a career i could never pursue in ireland the motivation behind the one way ticket i booked all those years ago. i love this country - we all do. i fought for the betterment of this country, i marched and i led campaigns and i voted over and over for a better future for the country i love so dearly: and still, i ended up standing in the airport, suitcases in hand, and i got on a plane and left. because to be irish is to leave - and so i left. i left, and built a life elsewhere, gave that love and passion to another place, and the ache for ireland lessens, day by day, but i still ache for home, ache to be able build a life in the land i love so much.

ireland will always welcome you home, is the thing - with wide open arms, and a bright smile. this year marked the seventh christmas i arrived home to a choir, to news cameras, to a rapturous reception of carols and clapping, strangers happy to see ireland’s children return home. ireland will always welcome us home - but she waves us off just as enthusiastically. january comes and the airport is full again - tearful goodbyes, suitcases of presents and all the home comforts you never learned to live without, and the plane always leaves: taking you back to the place you’ve built your new life, ireland in the rearview mirror.

you learn to live with the homesickness, rugby matches in irish bars and monthly drinks with familiar accents a salve for the part of your heart that will always ache for home: because to be irish is to leave, yes, but to be irish is to leave and to always long to come home to ireland’s shores. and to be irish is to know you might never come home at all.

#in which i ramble #me and my complicated feelings about emigration are back #my writing tag #complicated feelings i say as if anger isn’t the clear emotion in this

[sewer-freak]

[This is a roleplay blog for a DOL character created by @macabrecravings.]

General Degrees of Lewdity Warnings apply (Under 18 DNI, rape/noncon/dubcon) As well as heavy warnings for psuedo-incest fuckery (Morgan), bullying, medical malpractice, delusions/derealization, TBA… (Ask to tag more!!)

Reminder: Evangeline is intentionally transgressive & I do not hold the same values, views, or kinks that she does. ^_^

#oc: evangeline || pinterest board || spotify playlist

General Info:

• Unsocial Moth.

• Generally makes people uneasy. She’s visibly disturbed & clearly unstable which makes people uncomfortable.

• It doesn’t help that she’s an avid thief & people don’t like having their things stolen.

• Has poor hygiene due to her mental state, which is only made worse considering the places she hangs out (She… reeks. </3)

• Her teachers aren’t too fond of her. She’s not a delinquent by any means, but she spends more time daydreaming than anything.

• She also… stares. at them. Has a thing for older men / authority figures and it’s. obvious.

• Meek & submissive as fuck </3

• Works at the office building as a temp, but occasionally does housekeeping jobs around town

• Spends her free time in the forest, moor, smuggler’s cave, the sewers. When it comes to the orphanage, it’s all or nothing. She’s either locked herself in her room or avoids it like the plague.

• Has substance abuse issues. Cigarettes, alcohol, stimulants, aphrodisiacs…… <- Big fan. You can find her stealing stimulants & aphrodisiacs all over town, (even if the punishment she gets for doing so isn’t often worth the high).

• Very Much a Recluse. Doesn’t go out of her way to interact with people. Still, heres how she feels about certain NPCS:

• MORGAN — Met Morgan while artifact hunting for Winter, and it. fucked her up. She originally went along with him out of fear, but took to him quickly. He’s the father figure she’s never had. The only one who “understands her”.

Her name rhymes with Charlene, and she bares a resemblance to him (gingers. that’s it.), but it’s enough for her to delude herself into thinking that she hypothetically could be Charlene. (She’s not. & In a more lucid state she would accept that, but. Alas.)

• HARPER — Used to avoid their therapy appts at any cost. Morgan got in her head about him, so she was resilient & slow to warm up. But, deep into treatment at her first asylum visit, she became enthusiastic.

**Looked forward to bathing every day** (because it meant he would touch her and get her off). Liked the way his medicine made her feel, and loved his attention even more.

• KYLAR — A genuine friend. One of the only people she likes being around. Prefers when he’s silent and not overbearing. Keeps him at an arms distance because he’s a little… too into her.

He’s made it very clear that he wants to be more than friends/friends with benefits, but she ignores his feelings. She doesn’t want to date him. She doesn’t want him to “fix her” or “keep her safe”.

• WHITNEY — Evangeline is easy to throw around & take advantage of. She does what Whitney asks of her, little to no resistance.

Not close enough to him to drink at the pub with him & his buddies, but would if he allowed her to. Same with smoking with him. Hypothetically, they could get along. But they don’t.

• MICKEY — Fond of from a distance (They help cover up her tracks and are mysterious. It’s..: appealing :))

• ROBIN & SYDNEY — Not close. Doesn’t interact with them other than what’s necessary.

• WINTER — She helps out with the museum & also wants him carnally. Who cares if he’s a “fossil” or “as old as those antiques he collects”? Not her.

• SIRRIS — Another object of her lust. A seemingly perfect father to Sydney, not to mention hot. She’d do anything to be a demonstration on his home videos, if you catch my drift!

• LEIGHTON — To be determined

#introduction. #last edited: feb 3. 2024

[warningsine]

In October 2017, when the New York Times first published allegations against Harvey Weinstein, Australian director Kitty Green was on campus at Stanford University interviewing students for a film about sexual assault. “I had friends at the Weinstein Company so I immediately started texting them.” Within months she was shooting The Assistant, a drama about working for a movie mogul. It followed a day in the life of Jane, played by Julia Garner, whose boss is a sexual predator with a volcanic temper. He was never seen, only ever referred to as “him”, but was without a doubt modelled on Weinstein.

The Assistant became the definitive film of the #MeToo era: a horribly realistic portrait and a forensic examination of how a culture of complicity in some companies enabled men to abuse for years. Its release in early 2020 was a bit muffled. Because of Covid? Green nods. “Also, I think it was so raw. We shot it and released it quite quickly, so people were still almost afraid to speak about it.” Lately, she’s noticed its impact. On a recent trip to Japan, women told her it might have been set in an office there. In New York, where she lives, the city government uses The Assistant in its compulsory sexual harassment training.

Green’s latest, The Royal Hotel, is another #MeToo film, and another story throwing young female characters into a sexist, aggressive environment. “No agenda!” says Green. “But I always end up there somehow.” The Royal Hotel is the story of two American gap year backpackers, played by Garner and Jessica Henwick, who run out of money in Sydney. An agency finds them work in a remote mining town’s only pub. “You’re going to have to be OK with a little male attention,” warns the recruiter. When they arrive, someone has scrawled “Fresh meat” on the chalkboard outside the pub.

The Royal Hotel is inspired by a grim 2016 documentary directed by Pete Gleeson, about two Finnish backpackers who got jobs in an outback pub in Coolgardie – a town feminism never reached. The brazenness of the misogyny takes your breath away. What made Green want to adapt it? “It was the way the women handled the situation. They didn’t accept the men or their behaviour. They said no, stood up for themselves in little ways. That strength was interesting. Adapting it, I was thinking, ‘What do I want to pull out of it? For me it was really important that we said, ‘No, that’s not OK.’”

She goes on: “The Assistant was about acceptance of the system being rotten, about trying to speak up and realising you can’t. Approaching this one, I was like, ‘How can we make it a narrative about strength? How can we make it a film about women saying no?’”

Behind the bar at the Royal Hotel, the women endure endless microaggressions. The first time they meet the landlord, played by Hugo Weaving, he puts one of them in her place with the words: “You think you’re a smart cunt?” One regular sits at the bar night after night staring at one girl so creepily it makes the hairs prickle on the back of her neck. Another gets her name repeatedly wrong. The punters lock horns over who gets which girl first.

It’s a film about the corrosive effect of male entitlement. We see the environment through the eyes of Garner’s character. How safe does she feel? Is that guy staring creepily? Is she crazy for thinking he’s dodgy? “This is what we have to navigate as women,” says Green. “The decisions we make minute by minute, trying to figure out what’s a threat.”

The men don’t let up with the harassment but Green did not write in a full sexual assault. “I felt like this behaviour is enough. It was important that it never crossed the line. Otherwise male audience members could say, ‘Oh, that’s not us. We are not like that. Those men are villains and that’s not us.’ Instead, if it’s about behaviour that is very common, a joke here and a weird gaze there, then it’s harder to dismiss. We need to have a conversation about that behaviour. How we can stop it from escalating into sexual violence?”

The fact that no woman gets raped or murdered has baffled some audiences. When Green was raising finance, a few backers told her the film was missing something. “They wanted more violence, which is so crazy,” she says, wincing. She has been disturbed by some of the responses to the finished film, too. “We’ve gotten a lot of, ‘It simmers away but never reaches boiling point.’ I think there are a lot of reviewers, particularly male reviewers, who are waiting for that scene” – she mimics an explosion – “that really overt act of violence, be it rape or whatever. And I think that frustrates them. It’s awful, wondering what it could be that they not only expected, but desired. We’ve had enough of that in movies. We definitely don’t need that scene.” Green pauses. “That conversation has been interesting,” she says looking a bit pained. “And a little upsetting to be honest.”

I tell her that I can live without seeing another rape scene in a film. “Exactly. I don’t want to see it. We’ve seen it enough. The history of cinema is full of men making movies where they’ve included that. We don’t need to put up with it any more.”

Green decided to become a film-maker aged 11, and started making films in her back yard. “It’s just always what I wanted to do.” Both her parents are artists and teachers; it didn’t feel like an impossible goal. “No one told me I wasn’t allowed. My dad was always like, ‘If you want to do something, do it.’”

After graduating from film school, Green packed her camera and laptop and flew to Ukraine, where her mother was born. While living in Kyiv for two years, she shot her first documentary, Ukraine Is Not a Brothel. Later she moved to the US, directing the documentary Casting JonBenet, about the world’s obsession with the murder of the six-year-old beauty queen JonBenet Ramsey.

The Assistant was her first feature film. How difficult was it back in early 2018, I ask, getting funding to make a story inspired by Weinstein? “Impossible. It was still too fresh for people. Everyone was a little afraid to touch it. We’d have female executives read the script and say, ‘We’re going to make this! Trust me we’re going to make this movie!’ The next day I’d get an email saying, ‘I’m sorry, my boss used to work at X company and doesn’t feel it’s appropriate.’”

Have things have changed? Green nods. “I think it’s very different. We didn’t even have the language to talk about misconduct and harassment. I feel like it is definitely a safer world for everyone. But we still have a lot of work to do.”

#kitty green

[ms-hells-bells]

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING FOR EXPLICIT DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND ABUSE

My name is Jaime. At 15, I left home due to the abuse going on there and I became a homeless runaway living on the streets of Melbourne, Australia…

Within days I met apparently friendly older men around the age of 20 or so, who offered me a hotel room to stay in if I helped them sell newspapers on the corner. At the time I thought they were being kind. It was soon made very evident that there was an extra price for this roof over my head. There began a steady stream of strangers coming to my room and expecting all kinds of sex from me. It was a tiny room with just a single bed and a bedside table. I was not allowed to leave it for any reason other than to use the bathroom down the hall.

All I can really recall from those days are the smell of bad breath, body odour and fresh cum as the faces and ages of these men all intermingle in my nightmares. I cannot even tell you how long I was trapped in that hotel, as each day and night blurred into the next.

One night I was bundled in a car and driven to a house just outside the CBD. I was instructed to stay with the man at that house. It was made clear to me that I was expected to have sex with him. The fact he spoke English and had a lovely looking home made it seem not so bad compared to where I had been. I lied and gave him a false name and said I was 17, almost 18.

A couple of days later, he drove me back to the city hotel so I could gather the clothes and things I’d left behind. It was empty and I had nothing left to my name but the clothes on my back. So I accepted his offer to stay with him as it seemed like a better option than trying to survive on the streets.

I tried to live a normal life of getting a job at Coles and leaving my past behind. One day, my lies about my age and name caught up with me and I was put back into the government foster care system as a ward of the state. I was put in a home with much older residents and was again raped and abused, so my sense of worth was zero. I felt it was all I deserved.

At 16, I was allowed to move out of the system and back to the “home life” I knew. That is where I really began joining in with the full-on drugs, alcohol and porn/sex trade scene. Surrounded by adults who, for them, it was normal, by 17, I was stripping and nude modelling and quickly became addicted to the money. My face and my body were the only assets I had to sell.

Not long after my 18th birthday I began work for an insurance company. Another attempt at a normal life. I was subjected to sleazy bosses and customers who didn’t want the insurance I was selling. They wanted my mouth, my tits and what was between my legs.

Months went by and suddenly the homicide squad from Sydney NSW were knocking on my door. They were unsure if I was dead or alive as they had photos of me on the same roll of film as a young woman who had gone missing from the streets of St Kilda and was presumed murdered. It turned out she had been kidnapped, drugged, tortured and photographed naked and then killed by a man, who had come to the studio I worked at months earlier.

To this day I’m grateful I said no to his offer of more money to leave the studio to go to the beach with him for further photos – or my story would have ended there. Except as a google search for murdered sex workers in Australia.

Because of my lack of confidence that I could do anything else, I spent months stripping around the pubs and clubs of Melbourne. Private gigs were always the worst as there were more expectations of the acts we were asked to perform. Live sex acts with bucks party men. Lesbian acts were expected, condoms were not. Drugs and alcohol were a standard part of my life.

By 21, I was a single mother struggling to pay my rent. One morning, after dropping my child off at day care where I knew they would care for my child better than I could at the time, I came home in tears and picked up the paper and looked for a job. Every one of them wanted qualifications and an education level I didn’t have.

I then saw an ad for massage girls. Due to my past experiences of nude modelling and stripping, I knew what the ad meant. They were offering an immediate start. So, with my pride pushed aside, I called and arranged to go to a legal brothel in the eastern suburbs of Melbourne.

My idea of legal brothel work was a nice clean place, nice men who would pay good money to have sex with me, and a safe working environment because it was all legal, right? I’d been having sex with men I didn’t like for years so why not get paid for it in a legitimate business?

A friendly lady met me and took me inside and showed me around the nice-looking spa rooms and explained I could earn a lot of money being a fresh face and so pretty. At $80-90 an hour, I thought how hard could it be? I had arrived just before lunch time and was told I could start immediately as they were expecting to be busy.

I quickly learned that there was such a thing as a 15-minute booking for $50 cost to the punter – of which I received $25. There was no nice spa room for that. Instead, I was put in a tiny little room with a huge two-way mirror. My first john was a scrawny elderly man who, as a regular, was given first choice of me being fresh meat. Reeking of garlic, and with very long fingernails, he demanded I get naked and get on my knees to suck his dick. His nails dug into my head as he fucked my face and I tried not to gag at the smell of him. It was over within five minutes and he left me to clean up.

For the next two hours, I was in and out of that room faster than a swinging saloon door as men on their lunch break came in to get their rocks off as fast as they could. Sucking and fucking till I was feeling dizzy and sore. The other girls assured me it was normal for the lunch time rush and I would get used to it in a day or two and don’t forget to use as much lube as I needed.

As I walked out of there with just over a couple of hundred dollars cash, I said I’d be back tomorrow. I had two weeks rent in my pocket and I could feed my child that night. That first week I went home with enough to take my child shopping for winter clothes and shoes. I filled my fridge and pantry and, for the first time, I was a month ahead in rent and my bills were paid on time. I had a new addiction. Money of my own.

I bought new clothes, lingerie, gowns, shoes, make up and jewellery to make sure I was the prettiest girl on shift so I would earn the most money. I also bought lots of alcohol and weed to numb myself after work. I was given a work name – so I became her and she became me and we were strong empowered women earning our own money in a legitimate business, not relying on a man to pay our bills or way through life… From legal brothels to escort services, I was doing it all, except where it was illegal: on the streets.

Meanwhile the rest of my life was falling apart. I had sex with old men. Ugly men. Savage men, who would pin me down and grind their hips into my thighs till I felt like they would dislocate. Drunk men who would get angry and demand a refund because they couldn’t cum after an hour of sucking and fucking. Entitled men who felt they had paid for the right to use my body in any way shape or form they wanted to. Perverted men who paid me more to wear a school girl uniform and call them daddy. Strange men who paid extra for me to fuck them anally with large dildos while they masturbated. Bastard men who only wanted it doggy style so they could attempt to slip the condom off. Men coming straight from a factory job covered in grease and dirt with filthy hands and nails wanting to shove as many dirty fingers into my vagina as they could. Men who were offended when I told them I needed to perform a visual STD check for crabs or herpes before the booking could go ahead. Men who were even more offended when I refused to service them due to suspicious looking critters or lesions on their dicks and told them they could return when they could supply a doctor’s certificate.

I was booked to go to men’s homes, workplaces or wherever they were. My driver I hear you ask? Surely, I was safe with a driver waiting outside? More often than not, I drove myself as the escort company’s one driver can’t drive six women to different parts of the city or suburbs all booked at different times or lengths of booking.

So off I went. Never knowing if tonight was going to be my last night alive if I displeased the john with no-one to intervene. Would my child be left growing up to discover Mum was a dead prostitute? I learned how to negotiate enough to get myself out of some pretty scary situations with johns who were drunk or high. I guess that’s one good life skill. What I use it for these days is not much, but hey, at the time, I was an expert…

Especially with the guy high on crack who was holding a large Crocodile Dundee size knife when I came back from doing a safety check of the hotel bathroom. Thankfully, he was only using it to cut the TV cord for the copper in it. But I swear in that moment, I thought I was dead and I prayed…. To Everything… Then I spent three hours fucking him so I could walk out without further incident as the image of that knife constantly flashed before me.

Every month I went to my doctor for STD tests to prove to my bosses I was fit for work, and every three months, a blood test to hopefully prove I had not contracted HIV from a john. The anxious wait for the all clear still sits in the hallowed hell of my memory bank.

I was in and out of legalised prostitution from the ages of 21 to 32. Do you know that the only kind of promotion I got in all those years was to go from the rooms to behind the counter, helping to sell other women like myself. I hate myself for that. To me, I was no better than the pimps and thugs who trade in women and children for profit.  But it was all I knew and there was no real tangible support to help me turn my life around.

There was so much shame and fear associated with coming forward even to a GP, because they all seemed to think it was my choice to work as a prostitute. In some ways, it was the only choice. I knew nobody wanted to employ a woman who puts “sex worker” on their resume to fill in the 11-year gap in their working life when they attempt to reclaim some semblance of a “normal life”.

Almost none of the helping professionals I have seen over years of therapy has ever asked how this job has affected me. Even today after all these years. Instead, they try and diagnose me with borderline personality disorders or schizophrenia or bipolar and put me on medication – which never worked, by the way. If anything, they made things much worse as I was bounced from one medication to another as doctors tried to squeeze me in a neat box and tick me off as cured.

Only one got it right – in 2004. I live with Complex Post Traumatic Stress (CPTSD) and Dissociative Identity Disorder, and chronic lifelong back injuries, and vagina and rectal trauma. I’m not crazy. I’m not mental. My name is Jaime and I am the hidden result of the real horror behind the closed red doors of the sex trade industry here in Australia.

It is my lived experience that gives me the right to say that sex work is not a job like any other job and nor should it ever be seen as such. The deaths and long term mental and physical illnesses caused by this industry are ever growing and uncountable in monetary terms for society as a whole.

There is a minute percentage of people who may come out unscathed from their time in it, but I’m here to tell you an unpopular truth: I’ve personally met well over a hundred women over the years who will never have a normal life again. Beaten, bashed, raped, killed – and that’s just me.

I can’t help but think of the thousands of stories women tell each other every day as they wait in some dingy waiting room hoping to pay their rent, bills, school fees, etc. And I haven’t even started on interviewing the men/boys/trans people who have similar life stories to mine.

I don’t even know how to try and get a “normal job” – because I’ve tried – only to have to deal with men who trigger all my old memories with their sexist misogynistic views on women, their “boys will be boys” attitudes, and their locker room jokes.

After over 20 years of quietening my voice, hiding my life in shame and being frightened that no one would believe how damaging this was to me and the loved ones around me, thanks to the love, support and empathy shown towards me/us from Wahine Toa Rising’s founder, Ally Marie, I now feel safe and have the courage to speak out publicly.

Decriminalizing prostitution in countries that I know, like Australia and New Zealand, has sent the message that it’s OK to buy and sell people like pieces of meat at market. My observations of it since leaving 20 years ago, is that it’s caused an explosion in men or women with large amounts of money, mostly obtained through illegal activities, to invest in the creation and building of more brothels to fill the demand of men who want the freedom to abuse and commit violence towards people. I’m saying people as a whole because it’s not only women who are caught in the sex trade.

They target the most vulnerable ones in our societies and exploit them for profit that fills their wallets and, I promise you, the tax man barely sees a cent from them due to the front cover businesses they run at a loss.

Our elected officials are tasked with a duty of care towards the population they represent and to work in the best interests of a happy and healthy society. But they are allowing the sex slave industry to flourish unchecked. This beggars belief to someone like me and others I speak to.

As I stand here today, I implore you to look within your hearts and ask yourself, is this what you would want for your family, children and grandchildren?

To be lied to, tricked, coerced, sold, kidnapped and trafficked to strangers, numerous times a day. To be abused, raped, develop substance abuse issues, be beaten or at worst murdered, by a society that accepts this as a risk of the job that is deemed legal despite overwhelming evidence of the long-term negative ramifications.

Would you feed your family asbestos? Would you advise they take up cigarettes or drink DDT? No. Why not? Because time eventually proved the sickness and death tolls are too high.

In closing, I also ask which side of history will you want to be known for standing on? The one that ultimately destroys humanity or with the ones who did whatever they could to save it.

I know where I’ll be. For I was once taught, that if you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything.

Thank you for your time. I pray you choose right from wrong.

#wahine toa rising is an nz women's anti prostitution group that aids survivors #they have contact with australian women too like this

[jtmportland]

Another Thursday, another old scan. And this one dates all the way back to April 1988. I had just arrived in London for university. My programme was initially painting and later graphic design, but I always carried a camera around for inspiration. This photo was snapped in my newly rented flat in South Kensington. A prime location, just blocks from the Gloucester Road station, but the place was a bit of a shambles. An old Victorian mansion block divided into a dozen one room flats. The shared bathroom (one of those creepy cast iron clawfoot tubs) was on the floor above me, and the toilet downstairs. In the hallway just outside my flat was a coin telephone. The Australians in the building would phone home in the middle of the night due to the time zone difference. Of course I listened to their conversations ... how could you not? I can still hear that Aussie twang ("...but mum, I just need enough money for a flight to Barcelona. I’ll get a gig teaching English and pay you when I’m back in Sydney... That London pub job? It ... erm ... didn’t work out"). I loved that place. The landlady, Mrs. Fortunato, was an intimidating figure. She lived in another building round the corner where I had to drop off rent every Sunday (£60 a week). Each time she’d accuse me of feeding the pigeons on the front terrace. “We do not feed the vermin, do you understand?!”  Anyway, I’ll post more photos and stories about that flat some other time. That's me in the mirror. The Argus Seventy-Five was a gift from my dad. It used 620 film (and I think there was a way to convert it to 120). I don’t remember what the other camera was, except that it had a light leak that created interesting effects. 

#tbt #canon ae-1 #ilford xp1 #london #selfie

[holidayvisa]

15 January 2024 - I woke up to a text from my cousin Josh, who asked if everyone in my family could hop on a video call to celebrate my cousin Kayla's and her husband's fifth wedding anniversary ... in 15 minutes! I jumped out of bed, threw on a button-down shirt, and was ready just in time for this video call. Kayla and Prateek had done a photoshoot at the venue where they were supposed to have had their wedding in 2020. Kayla was in her wedding dress, and Prateek was in a tux with a bowtie. They both looked so lovely! It was such a lovely call!

Marie drove me and Daniel to the Tetkas' house in Manly because they needed help moving their couch. Yes, the same couch as before. moving-the-couch-part-2. It took Daniel and me two minutes to move the couch out to the street, and an additional 6 minutes to move the rest of the big, heavy things to the curb. After an exhausting 8 minutes of brutally hard labor, the Tetkas rewarded our heroism with ginger beer and cheese pastries. Daniel had explicitly told the Tetkas not to cook us lunch, so they went ahead and cooked us snacks instead 😂.

We headed back to Dee Why, and I caught a bus into Sydney to meet Paul and Kiara. The three of us had dinner together in Sydney, and it was SO MUCH FUN! Paul treated us to dinner at a pub, and we all three got an Aussi pub classic, chicken parmi.

I'm feeling very buzzed. I had four drinks with Paul and Kiara. I had a GREAT time with them! They were so easy to talk to and get along with. They're both very smart, and clearly educated about world events. We talked about Kiara's teaching at schools since COVID, American politics, Australian politics, COVID lockdowns, engineering jobs, camping, cultural differences, traveling. Kiara is very fun, intelligent, and interesting. It was fun to learn more about her and get to know her better. Paul is very funny and so intelligent and aware of current goings on; it was really fun to get to catch up with him. Kiara said that she didn't feel tired or worn out, and that my company was easy to get along with. They were both so warm and welcoming and fun!

Drinking is fun. Drinking lowers my anxiety and makes me easier going and fun. I like being easy going and fun.

Maybe life is about, "dinner's on me." You are the host. And you get to pick and choose who you keep.

We closed down the pub at 10 pm. We walked back to Wynyard together where we said our goodbyes and well wishes. Paul and Kiara hopped on a train back to their house, and I hopped on the bus back to Dee Why.

I got back home at 11 pm, and Daniel was still awake. We decided to watch one episode of the Star Wars TV series, Andor - the episode where they escape from jail. It was nice to hang out with Daniel, even though it was just watching tv together. Daniel really enjoyed it, I could tell.

I'm grateful to Josh, for organizing this family video call. I'm grateful for my family and for the opportunity to video call with everyone. I'm grateful for the opportunity to help out the Tetkas. And I'm grateful for the Tetkas' love. I'm grateful to Paul and Kiara for meeting up with me in Sydney and the wonderful company. It was quite an experience just hanging out and talking and drinking and eating at a pub in Sydney.

[witchybiitchy]

c’est ça l’amour | l.n

fic masterlist

chapter 9

Sydney’s phone screen reflected the pleasant Austrian sun as she sat on her hotel’s balcony. After a few too many plane trips spent in total boredom, and after informing Daisy of this a few too many times, she’d finally downloaded Instagram and TikTok onto her own phone (with notifications muted of course) and was now enjoying the warmth of the sunshine as she scrolled mindlessly. It was the Tuesday morning of her second week in Austria, the double header allowing the air to take on a taste of orange flare from the Super-Max chanting spectators. It was also the morning after her 21st birthday, and the sun seeping through her pores almost made her able to ignore the mildly nauseous feeling in her stomach, like it was cleansing her body from the outside in.

She closed Instagram and opened her camera roll, attempting to regain some memories of the night before. It wasn’t that she was blackout drunk, but usually big nights out, like the one after her first podium, took on a sort of blurry cross fade in her head, with each recollection fading into another. After Pierre placing P6 and Sydney P7 (not to mention Lando snagging P5), her birthday pub crawl through the relatively small Austrian city of Knittelfeld was definitely celebratory for other reasons.

Scrolling back to 6:28pm, Sydney, re-lived her night from the posed smiling shot of her and Pierre in the hotel lobby, hair coiffed and shoes shined, through to her 4am plate of chips in a family owned tavern, an orange Max Verstappen flag tied around her neck like a cape, each arm around the said family owners, a genuine smile on her face and eyes glinting with the flash. However, Daisy had been responsible for her phone for the entire night, tasked to ‘enjoy herself but take enough photos that it doesn’t matter if I black out’. Looking at most of the photos, Daisy had definitely done her job well.

Sydney had been slightly concerned about her dress choice, but looking at it now she had never been more pleased with herself. Despite her own worries of not matching her ‘image’ of the well-mannered, smiley, and focused girl, sometimes on the quiet side, Daisy had managed to convince her that hardly anyone would see the dress outside of her actual friends, and that she looked good enough it wouldn’t matter. The dress was a warm yellow with swirls of pinky purple, made out of a mesh material just opaque enough to hide what needed to be hidden (with the help of Daisy’s boob tape instructions through the bathroom door). The stretchy fabric tied in three places down the front, with the fabric ends hanging down to the bottom of the mini dress, the hem stopping in just the right place. The sleeves went past the wrist with a flare, and in every photo she looked like a fairy. Her hair was silky and her expression was carefree, the pieces of fabric moving with her in a way that made her look so young.

The yellow of her dress made her stand out amongst the predominant number of men in button ups in every photo, and the motion blur of every picture brought the night to life again. But despite all this, there was one photo she knew she would think about an embarrassing number of times every day. It was at pub number 4, around 2am, and she was dancing on an ornately carved traditional Austrian table. Well, she had been in the moments leading up to the photo. She was barefoot at this point, shoes long lost on the streets of Knittelfeld. Clearly, drunk Sydney needed a breather and had sat down on the edge of the table, legs dangling over the edge as everyone returned to their own dancing. Everyone except for Lando. He stood in front of her, beer in one hand and the other resting on her knee, head leant back in laughter. She had leant forward, also laughing, her forehead leaning on his shoulder and turned in to fully display her shining grin to the camera. Her hands had come to rest on his chest, and one was clearly clutching the fabric of his white button up shirt. Nobody else could ever see this picture, because, as much as she really did want it to be true, they looked like they were in love. She so badly wanted to be able to set it to her lockscreen, be able to post it on Instagram, because not only did she look hot, she looked happy. Instead she settled on clicking the heart down the bottom of the screen and closing her phone. She tilted her head back and felt the sun prick the backs of her eyes. The warmth was nearly as nice as what she felt when she was around Lando.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-one.” Sydney heard Pierre sing loudly from outside her hotel room door. She would cringe at his volume except for the fact it was nearly 1 o’clock on a Tuesday and most people had left the hotel (or were still asleep). She opened the door for him in her sports bra and pyjama shorts and greedily snatched the McDonald’s bag, turning her back and making a beeline for the deck again before any words were exchanged.

“Mm, good morning to you too, my little cauliflower. I take tips by cash or card.” Pierre said as he sipped his own coffee. He didn’t even flinch as Sydney lifted her feet up to place them in his lap, both of them settled on the deck.

“Your tip is my love.” Sydney replied, mouth full of mcmuffin.

“Oh yeah, I’m really feeling it.” He rolled his eyes before they came back to rest on her knowingly.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Sydney said accusingly.

“Did you have fun last night?” Pierre asked, a suggestive undertone in his voice.

“Yes, why are you saying it like that? Did I lose my job over it or something?” Sydney’s eyes went wide but Pierre just laughed.

“No, I was just looking through my photos this morning to remind myself of the night and…well you definitely had fun.” Sydney smiled internally at their similarity but grimaced externally at his implications.

“Show me, you sound dodgy.” Pierre’s phone was already halfway out of his phone at her request. While most of his camera roll was focused on Charles, Sydney spotted a flash of yellow in nearly every photo, and it made her feel a little bit better that he had been nearby all night, even if she didn’t realise.

Pierre settled on a video a fair way through his collection, which she soon realised was her table dancing escapade. As he turned up the volume, Sydney could only vaguely recognise the song playing in the background, but her drunk alter ego in the video was singing along to every lyric with a very strong French accent.

“I know I’ve got a big ego, I really don’t know why it’s such a big deal though.” Pierre sang along in a high pitched voice as screen-Sydney moved her hips to the rhythm. Clearly he’d watched this one a few times in the past 10 hours.

“I literally don’t know this song, how am I doing this?” Sydney asked in disbelief.

“I think the question is why, not how.” Pierre cackled as Sydney hit him across the chest.

Thankfully she noticed the video jumped around when the beat dropped, meaning that everyone else was also dancing, not just standing and watching in disbelief and second hand embarrassment. As the song came to a close, there was rapturous applause from the ‘audience,’ and just before the video ended she saw herself sit down and basically sink into Lando, his hands travelling from her knees, as seen in her treasured photo, to around her waist. His head came forward to whisper something in her ear, and her drunk self was mid-laugh when the video ended.

“Do you want that video?” Pierre asked.

“Sure.”  Sydney laughed, trying to sound nonchalant but desperately wanting to replay the 2 seconds of her in Lando’s arms to try and replace the missing memory in her mind. Before she could quiz Pierre more on his adventures from the night, her phone began to buzz. The drop of excitement mixed with terror in her stomach when she saw it was Lando calling was embarrassingly strong.

“I’ll be back in a sec.” She said to Pierre, grabbing her hash brown and sliding the door to the room closed behind her as she sat down on her bed.

“Good morning Lando.” Sydney said as she pressed the green button, trying to sound cool.

“Morning.” His voice was raspy and there was a rustling of sheets in the background. God help me, Sydney thought. “How are you?” He asked.

“I am good, us French can hold our booze.” Sydney said softly, bringing her knees up to her chest as if she was in bed with him. Which was an inappropriate thing to think, but who can stop an overactive imagination.

“I wish I could say the same.” Lando tried to laugh on the other end, but it sounded pained.

“Pierre’s here right now, but I know he has things to do later and is just being a lazy dick, so I could bring you some panadol when he leaves.” Sydney tried not to sound overly keen, but she desperately wanted to be with him again after seeing the proof of their night time interactions.

“That’s alright, I’m a big boy who can get his own drugs.” He audibly turned over in bed, and Sydney laughed despite the drop in her stomach.

“Is that all you called for then? To allow me to acknowledge my superior genetics?” Sydney chuckled. She noticed herself playing with the hem of her shorts, and it was so incredibly schoolgirl of her she almost physically cringed at herself.

“Well, of course. But no, I was wondering if you could send me any photos you took of me last night? I mean, wait.” He said hurriedly as Sydney began to giggle. “I know that sounds bad, I just have genuinely one photo and it’s of you and a plate of chips from 4am and Charlotte wants to post something not driving related and she says I’m making it difficult for her because I have no life.” The speed of his speech nearly doubled, and Sydney would’ve felt bad for making him panicked if it wasn’t so cute.

“I would be happy to Mr Norris. Anything else?” She smiled to herself absentmindedly, already thinking of the picture. Not that any PR agent looking for permanent employment would ever post it, but still.

“Mmm, I think that’ll be it for now. I need to sleep for about another 3 days.” He mumbled, probably into his pillow. It made Sydney blush, as much as she wished it didn’t.

“Sweet dreams then.” She said. She was nearly whispering from how gentle she felt the urge to be.

“Mm, only if you’re in them.” He mumbled again.

“Bye Lando.” Sydney said, trying to convey her appreciation of his words without explicitly saying it.

“Bye Syd.” The sudden loss of connection left her feeling slightly empty, as well as the realisation that he was probably just flirting at the end for a bit of fun, and didn’t actually want to see her today, and that it was almost definitely because of this girl he had a thing for that Sydney kept forgetting about. Even though she was basically invented by her own overthinking, but whatever. Even Pierre heard him talking about a girl. A knocking on the glass brought her out of her spiral, her previously giddy mood darkened to almost sadness.

“I’ve finished eating already, you’re a terrible hostess.” Pierre whinged as he went on his phone, not looking up as Sydney sat back down.

“Sorry, Lando wanted some photos from last night.” Sydney said tentatively, looking up at Pierre’s face to see his reaction at the mention of the English boy. Oddly enough, his face was frozen and his hand was stilled over his phone, and not a snarky syllable left his mouth. “Pierre, you okay?” Sydney asked as she polished off her mcmuffin. Pierre’s fingers began swiping and tapping again but no words were spoken. “Pierre, you’re being annoying, what is it?”

After a few more taps, Pierre looked up with a concerned expression on his face. He turned his phone to face Sydney and for a few moments she didn’t process what she was looking at. It was her tagged instagram posts, but every photo was the exact same one. Clicking on one, she realised with a sick feeling in her stomach what she was seeing. Her phone began to buzz and she knew it was Daisy but she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the call yet.

“Please tell me I’m hallucinating and that’s not what I think it is.” Sydney said. Pierre just looked at her with a pitying gaze.The photo was a little bit grainier than hers, and a little bit more over exposed, but everything was clearly identifiable as a pub full of Formula 1 drivers, engineers and a few team bosses. It was the same pub from 2am, the carved table exactly how it looked in both her photo and Pierre’s video. Except instead of her dancing on a table, instead of her hands scrunched in Lando’s shirt or his hands on her waist, it was something infinitely times worse. He had put down his beer bottle and now both hands were on her hips, venturing to bum territory. Her hands had risen up to his neck, fingers interrupted by his brown curls as they clearly scrunched around the hair. And instead of shit eating, purely joyful grins on their faces, they were connected at the mouth.

“Fuck me, I’m gonna vom.” Sydney said, already feeling the blood drain from her face.

“Sydney-” Pierre began to attempt his ‘it’s-not-that-bad’ talk but Sydney was already running to the toilet. She dropped to her knees and barely felt the cold tile jolt her bones as she began emptying her stomach of this morning’s breakfast and last night’s chips. Pierre’s hands smoothed up the sides of her face and collected it in a sloppy bun after extracting a hair tie from her wrist, now using one hand to rub circles on her back and the other to flush the toilet periodically. Once her heaves produced nothing except air, Pierre ripped a few pieces of tissue paper and wiped her mouth.

“How do you feel, love?” Pierre asked, accepting her gentle sniffles as answer enough while she leaned back into his chest. Sydney’s phone was still buzzing on the bathroom counter above, and she reached up to grab it. She had 7 missed calls from Daisy alongside 16 text messages, another 4 calls from Lando and 8 messages, as well as 2 emails, one from Alpha Tauri’s admin system and another from McLaren’s, both to schedule the same meeting at 2:30pm that day. There were another 10 missed calls above all that, from people like Charles and Daniel and a few unknown numbers. Her phone read 13:42, giving her under an hour to reconcile the end of her career and accept that she’d managed to fuck up her entire life’s work over something she couldn’t even remember.

And fuck, she wished she remembered it. She opened her phone to call back Daisy, instead being met with the photo in question. It was an objectively awful photo, if not for the yellow dress (fuck that fucking yellow dress) and Esteban being unfortunately very visible in the foreground, it could’ve been anyone pashing on that table. And yet, she could just see the hint of a smile at the corners of Lando’s mouth, could nearly feel his warm hands on her hips, barely separated from her skin by that godforsaken dress. If she’d remembered the kiss, then maybe it would’ve been worth it.

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t even see you. I don’t think anyone did.” Pierre said quietly, handing her a glass of water she hadn’t even noticed him fill up.

“Thanks P.” She replied even more softly, trying to hold back full on tears. “I don’t even remember it.” Her voice cracked and she couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’ll be fine.” Pierre whispered into her ear, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders as they stayed sitting on the bathroom floor.

“Syd, are you in there?” Sydney heard Daisy’s voice accompanied by frantic knocking on her hotel room door, along with a few other voices murmuring in what were noticeably stressed tones. She knew it looked really, really bad to be crying in her hotel room with another male driver people thought she was in a relationship with after what had happened, but she also needed Daisy to comfort her, even if it was sugar-coated.

Upon opening the door, Sydney was met with Daisy’s concerned face front and centre, then Charlotte, Lando’s PR agent, directly behind her. Leaning against the opposite wall was Lando, his eyes meeting Sydney’s straight away and not moving away. It wasn’t anger or resentment though, it felt comforting. It felt the same way his hand had felt when he had gently guided her around the cinema in London. She felt, whether or not it was justified, like he was going to take care of her.

“Oh, darling.” Daisy said as she saw Sydney’s puffing, tear-tracked face, and hugged her firmly while leading her back within the hotel room. The three of them sat around the small table in the room and Sydney understood that this was some sort of pre-meeting to whatever was about to go down. Pierre smiled awkwardly at the two PR agents before giving Sydney a final squeeze and seeing himself out. Sydney only realised upon feeling his hands on her bare back that she was still in a bra and shorts, and internally gave herself a smack upside the head. Could she look like any bigger of a whore?

“Now, I think we should start this by clarifying that neither of you leaked this photo, nor do either of you know who did?” Charlotte said, her and Daisy both retrieving their laptops. As professionals, they had both become focused and clinical, contrasting Lando and Sydney’s sombre faces. Lando just shook his head tiredly, and Sydney fondly remembered that he was probably in bed 10 minutes ago. 10 minutes ago when she still had a career. He looked up from the table and met her eyes again, and she just wished that they could talk about this alone, as much as she appreciated Charlotte and Daisy. Sydney also shook her head, and both women began typing.

“Okay, well, as both of you would’ve figured out that this is time for us to figure out our approach before the big boss meeting, because as we love our jobs Charlotte and I both know that we’ll only get talked over by the big men in the room once we enter it and unfortunately for you Sydney, they’ll probably want you to apologise and let Lando escape without a scratch. You know, sexism and that.” Daisy said, ending her sentence with a loud keyboard clack.

“Why? That’s such bullshit, why do we have to apologise for anything, let alone put the blame on Syd?” Lando said, huffing and leaning further down in his chair.

“Because this is what this looks like, from the average Formula 1 fan’s perspective. Sydney, a young, female rookie, has gotten a bit too drunk on her 21st and pashed the first attractive driver she could get her hands on, which happened to be you, Lando, and they’ll assume that it went a whole lot further than that, which I’m fairly confident in assuming it didn’t.” Daisy gave each of them a knowing look. “And now, if nothing is said, Sydney will be framed as a party girl who doesn’t take her opportunity in Formula 1 seriously, and who is willing to endanger the careers of other drivers as she does so. Despite the fact that she’s driving well this season, she probably won’t have her contract extended to next year, and that will suit everyone’s big bosses totally fine because as much as they don’t want to admit it, a female driver performing well in F1 puts their job, and the jobs of every man who is overly represented in this sport, at risk. So, this is our strategy meeting to prevent that from happening. Are you both okay with that?”

Lando and Sydney nodded, the latter sniffling to keep tears from reforming in her eyes. Lando’s sock-covered foot found hers under the table and stretched out to rest their calves next to each other. It was surprisingly very comforting.

“We’ve gotta ask you both a few very personal questions now, but it’ll save you sorting out your relationship details in front of your bosses.” Charlotte said, and both Sydney and Lando’s heads whipped up at the word relationship, and Charlotte smiled subtly to herself.

“First, have you two ever performed romantic or sexual acts together prior to last night?” Even though Charlotte was clearly reading from some kind of template she had made, the question made Sydney blush. Although her mind cast back to their hug after her podium or their lowkey cuddle in the movie theatre, Sydney knew she had to shake her head, no matter how romantic she wanted those acts to be.

“Are you two currently in a romantic or sexual relationship?” More shaking heads.

“After last night, do you two intend on pursuing a future romantic or sexual relationship?” Sydney met Lando’s eyes across the table, and she noticed that he didn’t move his leg from beside hers. He began to fiddle with his bracelet, and she sniffled again, but neither shook their heads. His silence, as much as she wished it didn’t, made Sydney’s heart soar. Maybe he wasn’t just flirting for his own amusement. Maybe he really did feel the way about her that she felt about him.

“Okay, well, whether or not either of you have certain…feelings that you don’t want to express at this point,” Daisy began, “If you’re in this kind of grey area it’s usually easier to just pick a side, black or white. It’s easier to communicate that and avoid repetitive questions if your stance is unchanging. And whether it’s how you really feel or not, Charlotte and I think that, in this situation, asserting that last night was just two drunk 21 year olds having a good time and that nothing more will come from it is easier than your alternatives.” Lando’s blue eyes flicked between different parts of Sydney’s face, and she did the same, looking for answers from his silence. She wished they just had one minute together. Both nodded their heads.

“Okay, well other than marriage we probably have the easiest situation to deal with then.” Charlotte said. Sydney thought she might’ve been making a weird, PR agent joke, but she seemed dead serious as she typed up notes on her laptop.

“Sydney, I’m not gonna lie to you, you’re gonna cop a lot of flack for this. You’re probably gonna be called a slut, people are probably gonna comment on your dress and your drinking, you’re probably gonna be blamed for distracting Lando or for throwing away your career, but as long as you stand your ground and assert that you did nothing wrong, and as long as you keep driving the way you are, this whole thing’s gonna be fine. I promise.” Daisy’s kind eyes made stern contact with Sydney’s, and it took all of her willpower to not break down again.

“It’s 2:05, so you guys can have 5 minutes to talk before you both have to get dressed and leave for the meeting. Don’t be late.” Charlotte said, staring at Lando. Sydney just noticed that he was wearing a Valentino Rossi t-shirt and loose boxer shorts, not that much better than her. As the door shut behind Charlotte and Daisy, Lando’s hands closed over Sydney’s. As his thumbs rubbed over the backs of her hands, she couldn’t hold her tears in anymore and tilted her head down in embarrassment. She felt Lando’s hands leave hers and she was worried that she’d imagined his comforting gaze and his knee against hers underneath the table, and that in reality he was furious with her for creating this nightmare for him just as he was on the up.

“Syd, look at me.” Lando’s voice sounded from next to her, him having moved around the table to be closer to her. Her glassy eyes gazed up at his as their hands connected in between them.

“I’m sorry.” She said, voice trembling as if it was about to shatter.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault, the whole thing is just so dramatic for no reason.” Lando said, and Sydney knew his sharp tone wasn’t directed at her even though it made her throat clench out of dread.

“Even so, it was my birthday, I probably started it, knowing how I am when I’m drunk.” Sydney laughed half-heartedly.

“So you don’t remember it either? Thank God.” Lando breathed out, and both of them let out a genuine laugh.

“Although, I maybe wish I did.” Sydney said, looking down at their intertwined hands.

“Sort of.” Lando said.

“Huh?” Sydney replied.

“Instead of maybe, you say sort of.” Lando said, mouth forming into a grin.

“This is not the time, Lando.” Sydney scolded, but she couldn’t hold back her grin.

“I maybe wish I remembered it too.” Lando murmured after a few moments of silence.

“We looked like we were having fun.” Sydney said, smiling to herself.

“Yeah.” Lando trailed off. Their foreheads were now resting together, and it reminded Sydney of her original photo. Opening her phone, she was still met with the sight of Instagram, and even when she opened her camera roll to the photo she had favourited, a pit opened in her stomach. But the sight of them laughing, leaning into each other, it made her happy that they existed like that somewhere. Her phone was between them so Lando could see it too. He titled his chin up to kiss her forehead, bringing her in to rest her head on his shoulder as it was in the photo. They stayed like that for what felt like only a few seconds before there was more knocking on the door, and a yell for them to finish up.

Lando stood up reluctantly, not letting go of Sydney’s hand. She leant her head against his stomach and let out another loud sniffle. His hands came to rest on the back of her neck, and she felt his stomach vibrate with his words without actually hearing what he said.

“Hmm?” She asked, standing up and leaning against the table to get closer to his face.

“I said, I’m sad that our drunk selves ruined this. I think sober Sydney and Lando would’ve been much smarter about it.” Lando said, smiling sadly. Sydney internally cursed herself. There was no other girl, he wanted them to be together just as much as she did. And now, because of their stupid, drunk selves, that could never happen.

“I think so too.” Sydney said, feeling butterflies swarm in her stomach as Lando’s hands came to rest on her hips, nearly on her bum, and hers rose to tangle in his hair. As his soft lips connected with her own, she nearly let out a tear at what could now never happen. Despite this, she couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, her smile widening as she felt him smile back. Another knock on the door interrupted them, and Lando fully extracted himself this time, barely looking back as he left the room. It was better that way, Sydney thought to herself. She wouldn’t have let him leave if he started to say goodbye.

#Formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris x oc

[ladyaislinn]

His father, Bill, an Australian animator (who worked on "Yellow Submarine" and "Roobarb And Custard") was not the greatest role model: " He was a bumbler with change falling out of his pockets and holes in his trousers. An artist who would forget to provide the things that were necessary but would turn up with presents." He married three times, and separated from Sewell's mother Jo early on, leaving her to support Rufus and his brother Caspar with pub jobs and a vegetable delivery round. "We would live on what was left over. I remember it being, like, slightly rotting artichokes with everything for a week."

In the late seventies, Bill took to wearing kaftans and following the Maharishi Yogi. And when Rufus was 10, he died. He had always told the family that he was an only child, but then came a letter from an Australian sister, who had spotted the Sewell features when she saw Rufus in a film and made the connection. "Suddenly I've got an auntie Sydney who is married to a de-frocked priest, and about five cousins, who all look so much like me and my brother. They've all got these green eyes." the guardian, 1997

#ladyaislinn #rufus #sewell #rufussewell rufus #rufussewell #ladyaislinn69

[pirefyrelight]

Riddle Time

What do they have one of in Honolulu, one in Moscow,

Four in Sydney, and a couple of in Kathmandu?

Hint: If you find it you'll always have a job

[Video ID: The song "Irish Pub Song" by the band The High Kings. The chorus is:

They've got one in Honolulu, they've got one in Moscow too They got four of them in Sydney and a couple in Kathmandu So whether you sing or pull a pint you'll always have a job 'Cause wherever you go around the world you'll find an Irish pub

/end ID]

#Answer under cut #Pire thinks she's funny #pire.txt #Youtube #Irish Music

[filoviet]

September 7, 2023

started unlike any other day I have had in Sydney. I woke up at 7AM in so much excitement – without an alarm. I wanted to make sure that I was available in case he messaged me that he was free at an earlier time. The day before he told me that he had to go get his RSA and RCG competency card and that his aunt will be driving him to Paramatta to get that. I messaged him Good Morning and he replied to me with Mo nin (Vietnamese pronunciation?), he messaged me around 10:20 that he was headed home. He said that after getting ready, he can get to Wolli Creek by 12:16PM. On the way to Wolli, he told me that he needed to leave by 5:20 because he need to go to a pub to meet his uncle or one of his uncle’s friends who will help him look for a job. I was kind of sad that we won’t be able to eat dinner together – but as is with life, we all have different priorities.

I had also asked some of my friends for help on wardrobe before leaving. I packed pringles for snacks, an extra heattech uniqlo sweater in case he got cold, an extra jacket in case he didn't want to wear a sweater. Backup clothes in case it rained or I spilled food on myself.

My train was 6 minutes late, but I was lucky enough to arrive 3 minutes before he did… because we’re getting on the same train that he was already on in order to get to Chatswood. He told me that he has never been to Chatswood; and we both like Salmon so – to Sushi Kaido we go. I was super excited to see him, I don’t even remember what we talked about initially. I was just so happy to see him. I told him that my surprise is going to be at 4PM since he needs to leave at 5PM. He was initially surprised because he just got off the train and now I forcibly made him go back to the same train; then, we transferred at Redfern to take a different train line to Chatswood.

While we were in the train, you keep saying that you’re “bloody Australian mate” and joking about the different Aussie accents and slang.

We got to Chatswood and I brought him to the Chatswood Interchange. I told him to take a photo and he told me that he doesn’t take photos of everything - just in places that are peaceful. We talked about so many things while going around and I pointed to you different Asian cuisines in Chatswood – I brought you to Sushi Kaido which was surprisingly across a Vietnamese restaurant. We ordered Salmon Sashimi and Salmon Avocado Sushi.

An important thing that happened was the song Somewhere Only We Know played inside the restaurant and I said that it's one of my favorite songs - he surprised me when he said "it's mine too, and it has many different versions". He also mentions Sunsetz by Cigarettes After Sex as one of his favorite songs.

We went walking around Chatswood and took a different route to go back to the train station. I asked him to get whatever his favorites are and -- we got some Earl Grey Milk Tea with White Pearl and Oolong Tea with White Pearl. I don't remember which one I liked more, one tasted more like tea and the other tasted more like milk.

You let me have the more milky one and I was fine even with less sugar and less ice. (Which looked like it surprised him because I can have 25% to 100% sugar).

While we were walking, he took photos of trees that were yellow. And, I told him that I liked trees that were more green, more alive and vibrant. He told me he liked neutral colors more - I said that I liked the vibrant colors because they represent me also - I don't necessarily dare to be different but I like to be a vibrant color in other people's lives. Life feels so colorless and I want to be more "alive".

I said that I didn't like trees that didn't have any leaves - it looked like it was dead or sad; you responded that there's this Buddhist belief that you cannot appreciate the vibrant ones without knowing what you're missing - "without sorrow, there is no joy". It also alludes to the fact that "All good things take time". It may be a bare tree now, but it will eventually have leaves again once winter ends.

Another one of our discussions is him mentioning the ways of working - being a doer, thinker, feeler, seers (https://www.stablevalue.org/four-ways-of-working-and-why-your-team-needs-them-all/) and how I said that this applies to me on all accounts. The discussion was ignited by how I said that I operate to ensure that I am not misinterpretted by other people; I choose to be sensitive to everyone as much as I can be.

I am a doer - I continuously check schedules and maps to ensure that we have a path to our next destination.

I am a thinker - I am constantly recomputing the checklist of things to do in my head as our time needs to be flexible (Sushi, Art Gallery, Park, Surprise of the Sydney Tower Eye).

I am a seer / visionary - I need to ensure that the experience is smooth; I told him "for example, we need to go to sushi kaido, it needs to be a good experience both visually and physically - not a lot of people, the weather should be great."

I am a feeler - I make sure that what I do is not misinterpretted even cross-culturally. I make the effort to understand and be properly understood.

A photo you wanted to take of me because it's ALBERT avenue.

We decided to try and chase the Art Gallery of NSW, but it was already 2PM and we had to ride the train to Town Hall. I told him that we might not spend a lot of time in the Art Gallery and that he would actually just enjoy Hyde Park since he has never been there.

We were almost at the train station and we saw an asian guy who smiles and jogs to his girlfriend. He mentioned that it was cute, the guy was excited because he was running to the love of his life - my response was very reactive "so, is that what I looked like when I saw you?" - he said "wait", and I just made an embarrassed face because I realized that that was kind of a confession?

Another question he asked when we were already at the train station was "aren't you afraid that people are going to take advantage of you? that you make yourself vulnerable to other people and you might get hurt?" - I responded that "it already happens, it actually happens a lot to me because I try to be nice to everyone. how will I know what happiness is without sorrow right?". He smiles at my response as to how I reference to his own Buddhism quote.

When we were in the train, he put his head back because he was getting a bit dizzy. I wasn't sure if it was a joke or not, but he said that I can put my head on his shoulder -- I obliged because why not? there wasn't a lot of people on the train. I put my head on his shoulder and I closed my eyes; every now and then I raised my head and just smiled at him.

I remember the train was on the North Sydney Bridge when I just grabbed his hand. I wanted to hug his arm while my head was on his shoulder. But I did something that surprised even me - I took his hand, and he said in his cute Vietnamese accent "What are you doing? --- what are you doing?". I said, "taking your hand". He initially talked about palm reading, the 3 lines on the palm from the thumb to the pinky denoting lifespan, learning and lovers. He said that "the longer the top line, the more lovers you have in your lifetime".

The North Sydney Bridge was so romantic, I couldn't help but interlace my fingers in his hand. And then, I asked him "is this okay?", he replied "50/50" - I replied, "because we're in public?" -- so I bring his hand down to the seat, and I held it the rest of the way to Town Hall. It felt... really warm and romantic. I just rested my head on his shoulder and when we were almost at Town Hall, I told him "I wish this train ride would never end." I took off my sweater and put it in my bag because it was really hot in the train (environmental and sentimental reasons).

We walked through Town Hall to Hyde Park. I don't remember all the things we talked about on the way, but it was mostly laughing about different things. The most notable parts that I should not forget is - he told me that he is also the youngest child, he is tired of beaches because his hometown is 5 minutes away from the beach. But before he did go to Sydney, he lived in Ho Chi Minh City / Saigon. (He was surprised that I knew that Saigon was Ho Chi Minh).

We took a bunch of photos in Hyde Park, and we sat on the bench by the fountain. I held his hand and asked if it was okay to which he responded "it's not... it's not because of other's opinion but it's just something inside that doesn't like to in public". We just took photos instead because even then, it was somehow romantic.

Photo in front of the Archibald Memorial Fountain in Hyde Park.

We walked around and even went to St. Mary's Cathedral; he took photos inside - and I explained to him some of my knowledge about Roman Catholicism (as I am on paper, though I don't practice). We talked about religion and he told me that he didn't have one. I told him that although on paper I am Roman Catholic, I despise it as much of the traditions are against the LGBTQIA+ Community.

After going around the Church, we went around the back side through the gardens of the Church and took photos there at my behest.

Him being so damn cute.

And, he took photos of me too...

The amount of shame in my body couldn't deal... so I decided to hug him. He hugged me back in a "buddy buddy" kind of way and said that "a girl is laughing when she saw us hugging". I apologized because I was just really embarrassed at having my photo taken.

By then, he had guessed my surprise to him, we were going to the Sydney Tower Eye at 4PM - the tallest point in Sydney.

Whilst walking there, there were occurrences wherein people weren't following the "left priority" causing us to slow down in our walk as we had to let people pass. He jokingly remarked "idiots" - I told him that "I found this very funny because I also say the same thing in my head when there are simple things that people cannot follow. I used to say this about people in the Philippines and my friends told me that I was really harsh for doing that."

We were walking to the escalator that goes immediately to the 5th floor of the Westfield connected to the Sydney Tower Eye and I asked him to carry my bag as I wanted to wear the sweater again. While I was putting on my black sweater on top of my red polo shirt, he decides to hug my bag tightly - to which I respond "I never thought I would say this, but I wish I was a bag right now". He responded with "so many pickup lines today!"

When we got to the extremely tall escalator, I was behind him and took this photo while cuddling against him.

Then... I wrapped my arms around his stomach from behind and tightened my embrace - he once again exclaimed "what are you doing?" to which I responded "just cuddling your fats". He was a bit conscious of other people seeing us, but luckily the person that was behind us was quite far. I made him move away from the escalator after we got to the top so that we wouldn't be seen / recognized by the people behind us.

We went to the Sydney Tower Eye lobby through the food court in Westfield - and he asked me "is the entrance free? you told me it was free". I replied, "yeah, it's free for you - not for me! it's my treat, and my surprise to you".

We took a photo before entering:

When going to the top of the Sydney Tower Eye, you take a photo at the photo booth and it gets edited on a green screen. Easily my favorite one is this photo:

When we got to the top, I asked him if he liked my surprise - and he took in the view. He took a lot of photos. We went around and around to take in different photos from different angles. We sat down a few times;

and, when we finally sat down to eat the pringles in my bag - I was surprised when he said a heartfelt "I'm really grateful that I met you, thank God for Enabling right". I told him that "I understand you have your own support system already here in Sydney, but add me to that list, know that I'm here for you to support you and help you succeed". That perhaps has been the sweetest thing I have ever heard from him as he doesn't always say sweet things.

At 5PM we left for him to go home, when we were headed down to the ground floor, the escalators were reversed and I joked to him "idiot, idiots everywhere" and he jokingly replied "designed by an idiot". I told him that I can ride with him to Marrickville in the same train line to Cabramatta because I need to buy something from a Filo store.

We unfortunately took the worst time to ride the train, it was jampacked because it was rush hour on a Friday after work. We were able to sit in the train but he had refused any kind of hugging or hand-holding since the train was full.

I missed my Marrickville train station and asked him for one more station, Campsie, he said "ok, but keep your word" to which I agreed. When I was going down from the train, I asked "could I hug you one more time?" he said adamantly "No" - I gestured to him with my hand and he just shook it in such a professional way - I said "is that really how you're going to say good bye to me?" - the last thing we did was interlocked are fingers for a few seconds just before I went down Campsie.

I went to a Filo store to buy the Crispy Fry for fried chicken; when he got home before he had to leave again, he messaged me:

he still had to network and submitted his resume for a service attendant job.

I asked him when he was free again, to which he responded "Thursday - but it depends if I might have to work on that day".

With all these feelings I had, I ended up writing a letter to him that night.

[andrexi1]

Australian Gothic

- The northern territory is filled with loose cannons. They walk in their meat hangers. You ignore them and have a longneck. The Mozzies won’t go away.

- The politicians are all newbies. They target crocs instead of key issues. You think they are oxygen thieves. They all speak pigs arse.

- You sit on the front deck of the house. The postie is delivering all the letters to you but none are in your name. At least he's not sleeping on the job.

- The potato man spits the dummy about vaping. The guilty condemn the guilty about rewarding terrorism. No one is straight up and down. You go to the parliament house.

- The faceless men want to strip the dead of their orders. It's all pig's arse to the voter. The Pub Test doesn't matter anymore.

- You decide you don't want to live in sydney anymore. The airport has no other destination. You are told all flights go to Sydney. You decide to stay home. The sands of bondi beach are all you know.

- You sit out back at the ranch. You are drinking coopers. The family member is dead. You can never escape the Eastern Brown Snake.

- The trees aren't singing tonight. Men in white trousers were in the forests. They went bung,

- The drinks were too strong. You were raging the night away at the shivoo. Don't fear the booze bus.

- Someone offers you thongs. The sand is broiling the land dry. You're too legless to feel the fire.

#australian gothic #literature #australian literature #quotes #regional gothic #land down under

[poppiesandamber]

Flower Delivery in Manly Sydney

Flower delivery in Manly Sydney is easy and convenient. All you need to do is swipe your Opal card on trains, buses and public ferries.

Catching the ferry over to Manly is an adventure in itself, it feels like you’re visiting a little island away from Sydney. The walk to the main beach is stunning and the Corso overflows with boutiques and restaurants.

Manly to Spit Bridge Walk

The Manly to Spit Bridge Walk is a popular coastal hike that offers stunning harbour views and secluded beaches. It's best done in the cooler months and requires a good level of fitness. The hike is around 10km long and can be completed in about three hours, depending on the pace and number of breaks. You should bring a water bottle and comfortable trail shoes for the hike. You'll find a snack and drinks kiosk at Clontarf Reserve, about an hour into the hike from Spit Bridge.

Several swimming beaches are located along the walk, including Clontarf Beach, Forty Baskets Beach and Castle Rock. If you're feeling refreshed, you can take a dip at these beaches or swim at the lifeguard patrolled Manly Beach. During the hike, you'll also pass beautiful rocky headlands and walk through rainforest areas. Make sure to wear long loose layers and factor 30 sunscreen. The hike will also involve many stairs and steep hills.

Q Station

Q Station (formerly North Head Quarantine Station) is an extraordinary site of heritage and environmental significance, set within the stunning hectares of Sydney Harbour National Park. It offers stylish accommodation, unique group activities, restaurants and conference venues.

Spacious deluxe accommodation rooms look out over the Australian native bushland or spectacular Sydney Harbour. A heritage wharf, picturesque picnic areas and a private beach are all part of the experience. Its wild tranquil beauty has attracted a wide variety of wildlife, including endangered eastern long-nosed bandicoots and the native sunshine wattle.

It’s a perfect spot for nature lovers and explorers, with walking trails to immerse yourself in the natural surroundings. You can also learn about Australia’s quarantine history through a series of interactive tours and activities.

The Corso

The Corso links Manly Cove to the beach. The short pedestrian walkway is lined with Victorian facades housing restaurants, bars, cafes, surf stores and three shopping arcades. It was designed by Henry Gilbert Smith, the earliest developer of Manly, to resemble Via del Corso in Rome.

A Cane Corso needs serious exercise and a confident, authoritative owner who serves as the alpha dog in their home. This intelligent working breed thrives when given a job to do and needs mental as well as physical stimulation or undesirable behavior can occur. Many compete in agility, obedience, dock diving and protection sport events.

From high end couture to funky boutique and market 'originals', find fashion, food and homewares along The Corso or discover hidden laneways during weekend outdoor markets. There's also a selection of pubs and cafes serving breakfast, lunch and dinner. Children can splash in a series of water fountains set into the footpath that rise up a half metre and then die down at regular intervals.

Manly Beach

Fringed by Norfolk Island pine trees and a stunning harbour beach, Manly is a famous destination along Sydney’s Northern Beaches. It has a lazy, relaxed vibe and is home to some of Australia’s best surfers including Layne Beachley and Barton Lynch.

Enjoy a stroll down the lively Manly Corso and watch street performers. It’s lined with boutiques, cafes, ice creameries and restaurants. If you’re there on a weekend, be sure to check out the Manly Fresh Produce Markets.

The ocean beach at Manly is beautiful and calm, with a great rock pool for the kids. You can also walk to Shelly and North Steyne beaches from there or go up to the lookout at Queenscliff. It’s also worth checking out the secluded harbour beaches around the cliffs at North Head. They’re not as popular, but just as pretty! Located just 17 kilometres from the CBD, Manly is a popular tourist and surf beach destination. It was named after Governor Phillip’s encounter with the local'manly' aboriginal tribe in 1788.

#Flower Delivery in Manly Sydney

[kyndaris]

Lab Specimen

Following the death of Queen Elizabeth II and the coronation of her son and heir, King Charles III, the public holiday on the second Monday of June that is celebrated in most Australian states was rebranded to the King’s birthday. As it was another day off, I used that time to meet up with suitor number 10. 

Honestly, when the dating gets going, it’s like back to back dates. And when times are slow, it’s as dry as a parched watering hole in the middle of an El Nino drought.

Not that I think this is something I want. Dating is hard and every time it feels like I’m at a job interview, being vetted to see if I’d be good dating material (spoilers: I’m not). Everything is so artificial and forced that it’s a wonder that anyone is eve able to relax and let their guard down.

My immediate reservations about dating aside, texting Mr White Coat was a challenge in and of itself. While I may not have inserted questions for him to respond to, I did prime most of my responses with openings that he could have used to pose a question about my interests or provide his own example to possibly relate to. But as with all instances of my inability to communicate well (at least according to one of my friends), he either did not pick up on those cues or he just decided to stop chatting for a good few days before asking something else entirely.

It truly can be hard to have an engaging conversation between minds when people either don’t commit to the bit (occasionally failing to realise there’s a bit) or they just go silent for days on end. Not that I’m complaining. It’s always time I can put towards gaming.

But when it all comes down to it, the crux of my issue with Mr White Coat was the fact that he was a poor online conversationalist. Beyond that, the way he attempted to ask me out truly irritated me to no end. And I’m sure, dear readers, that you are mightily curious of what this poor man has done to earn my ire. Well, then, I shall oblige.

Let me build the scene:

We had chatted for a couple of weeks. During our chats, I established early that I didn’t drink alcohol because I didn’t like the taste. I may have possibly mentioned that I didn’t drink coffee either (although checking through my messages, I didn’t actually mention this at all but the way he asked me out seemed to imply something on that level). He, on the other hand, told me he couldn’t stand the taste of chicken. Whether or not that actually caused a severe gag reaction remained a mystery. For all I knew, he could have stomached it but chose not to eat it.

Yet, despite the fact that CHICKEN was a big no-no for number 10, Mr White Coat, in his temerity said: Now normally for a first date I suggest meeting up for drinks either at a cafe or pub, but clearly that’s not going to work here. So what does a first date usually look like for you?

Excuse me? How dare you? How in the love of all that is reality does the fact that I don’t drink alcohol mean that I cannot go on a date to a cafe or pub? RATHER, the fact that you don’t eat chicken or like the taste of chicken means that you have a far PICKIER palate than I.

In the end, instead of exploding at him for such a poorly worded question to ask me out, I pointed out that when I have gone on dates (count them, multiple! You are, of course, suitor number 10) I’ve circumvented the need for alcohol by ordering water or juice. If it’s a cafe, I can order water or a hot chocolate if the person I’m meeting is a coffee aficionado.

There are, in fact, a multitude of ways that I can go about this.

Unlike you, Mr White Coat, where the option of KFC, be that Kentucky or Korean, is not a viable option!

The audacity of this man!

Still, despite his missteps, I agreed to a date with Mr White Coat. Our meeting place was one of the many Oliver Brown cafes in the suburbs of Sydney.

Although I had initially wanted to take public transport for the date, I was forced to drive to the meeting spot as I had a further engagement later on in the day to catch-up with friends. For which, I was actually grateful as it served as the perfect excuse to call it quits if the date went sideways. 

Of course, it wasn’t quite the disaster that I imagined it but it did feel like much of our conversation went nowhere. I suppose the problem was that I wasn’t all that curious about his life, nor was he that intrigued about mine either. Additionally, we never found a topic that would allow either of us to divulge deeply on.

But back to the date!

Despite my initial concerns that I would be late, I arrived with time to spare at the cafe. White Coat showed up a few minutes later as I was perusing the menu.

Once we ordered, we sat down at a stable and started on the long process of getting to know each other. And while I was irritated at his online persona, Mr White Coat was much better at the art of conversing in person. Which, in all honesty, isn’t saying much given how he absolutely dropped the ball earlier.

As usual, we talked about our jobs (although he didn’t really pry much into my occupation - which was a little odd now that I think on it), and where his family were located. We didn’t talk much about his hobbies but I did raise the topic of books as I stated that I had recently finished The Frugal Wizard’s Guide to Medieval England by our lord and saviour: Brandon Sanderson. I believe he told me that he got into Robin Hobb at an early age and I said that I fell in love with Trudi Canavan’s Black Magician trilogy back in Year 6.

In fact, most of the conversation was just surface level chatter about a few books that had caught our eye but it never went any deeper than that. Usually, when I talk about books with my friends that are receptive to the topic, I can talk about them for goodness knows how long. 

It and writing are probably the two topics that really engage my interest and have me going on for a good hour if I was allowed to. 

Of course, it’s not just everyone that I get so worked up with.

And with Mr White Coat, there was no spark or chemistry that was keeping me engaged. So, I didn’t talk too much and neither did he. Before I knew it, the churros I had ordered were gone and I was very non-discretely checking my watch.

To be fair, I had informed Mr White Coat earlier that I would have to leave early as I had arranged to meet up with friends later in the afternoon (as I said, it was an excellent excuse) and after 50 minutes in each other’s company, I was headed down to the southwestern suburbs of Sydney to enjoy lunch and friendly chatter with friends that I hadn’t seen in a while.

That and meet up with a fairly docile greyhound named Buttons.

Will Mr White Coat and I go on a second date? 

Yes. Because at time of writing up this post, he’s asked me out on a second date and we’ll be checking out the French Food Festival at Circular Quay. Time will tell how well that date goes but I’ll be sure to keep you, my dear readers, updated on my dating shenanigans.

Oh, and if you’re wondering why Suitor Number 10 is called White Coat, it’s because he’s a lab technician at a high school. So, he’s not even a teacher! BUT he gets to enjoy all the school holidays and not have the stress that comes with a poorly compensated secondary teacher. 

And because he’s a lab tech, he has numerous white laboratory coats. Hence the codename I’ve decided to give him.

#personal blog #dating blog #fantasy books #bad conversations #oliver brown #I've met 10 different people dating #who doesn't like chicken?

[captainstevenjohnstonme]

Rocking Horse

Six year old Cindy Watson is curled up in her bed too afraid to make a peep.

Her parents are out in the living room having another argument about money 'Bob why can't you get off your big fat arse and get a job, you have a family to support in case you haven't noticed.'

'Give it a rest Gail, you know that I have a bad back and the doctors have told me to take it easy for a while.'

'Christ Bob it has been nine months since your accident and don't think that i haven't noticed that you have no trouble bending over to get a beer from the fridge every hour.'

'Please Bob first thing tomorrow morning I want you to drive into town to see what jobs are going because money is tight and doesn't grow on trees as you well know.'

It is the summer of 1976 in North West NSW Australia and the heat is stifling and Gail Watson is frazzled trying to cope with the heat out in the middle of nowhere trying to make ends meet because of a good for nothing husband who just wants to sit around drinking all day.

When they got married seven years ago in Sydney Gail was a striking 20 year old who worshipped the ground that her husband walked on.

He was a stockbroker with a bright future and Gail planned on becoming a nurse but a few months after they tied the knot Gail fell pregnant and Bob had a great idea to move out to Dunnedoo to escape the rat race.

But now Gail is struggling to cope without a support group of family and friends to lean on and also Bob's promising future is now nothing but a pipe dream.

Cindy finally drifts off to sleep around midnight but it is a restless sleep because listening to her parents argue and bicker every day is starting to get her down plus now she is having nightly nightmares.

Just after sunrise her mummy shakes her awake 'Time to get out of bed sweetheart, I have made your favorite, bacon and eggs and with baked tomatoes and onions.'

'Don't forget to do your chores after breakfast than hurry back inside because you wouldn't want to miss the school bus would you.'

Mother and daughter share a smile because they both know that Cindy would rather stay at home and ride her rocking horse all day.

'When you have finished the chores go and have a wash and change into your school uniform than you can ride your rocking horse until the bus comes.'

Even though a strong breeze would probably blow her over Cindy scoffs down a huge breakfast before she scampers outside to the chook shed where she collects a basket full of eggs, feeds the horses out in the stable than she washes up and changes into her school uniform before rushing out to the front verandah where the rocking horse waits for her.

The horse is old with chipped paint with a missing ear but to Cindy it is her whole world.

She is afraid of the horses currently eating fresh bales of hay but the rocking horse doesn't bite or kick plus it listens to her without interrupting her while she pours her heart out.

Patting the horses neck Cindy whispers 'One day I will leave this place and go to Dubbo where I will rob a bank like the bushrangers did back in the old days and give every dollar to mummy and daddy so they stop fighting and perhaps find time to give me a baby brother.'

Cindy continues to chat away for a while before a flash of yellow catches her eye and reluctantly she climbs off the rocking horse after saying goodby to her parents Cindy runs down the driveway and boards the school bus.

She is a pupil at the Dunnedoo Public School where she studies hard most of the time but like all kids sometimes her mind will wander and Miss Walpole an old battle axe with a temper of a mule will chastise her 'Cindy Watson stop looking out of the window and concentrate on the lesson because if you don't you will end up being stuck out here with few prospects but farming or working in the pub.'

A few of the other kids laugh at Cindy's discomfort and she is tempted to give them the finger but she decides to ignore the brats and knuckle down while she waits for the school bell to ring.

Six years have passed and Cindy Watson is now 12 years old and she is no longer a little girl with pigtails and a fondness for Barbie dolls and chocolate now she attends Dubbo High School where the kids are all bigger than her but they treat her good except for one of the school bullies 14 year old Elizabeth Hardcastle who face a face like a bulldog and smells like a blocked outhouse.

But on a positive side her father has given up drinking and works in the local bank while her mum manages the supermarket.

But unfortunately she is still an only child.

She only rides the rocking horse once or twice a week these days but when she rides Cindy still talks to her horse and dreams about moving away she also asks the rocking horse for advice about how she can get back at Elizabeth Hardcastle who makes her school days a misery.

The latest idea is to swap the bullies lip balm with super glue which should keep her quiet for a while.

But deep down Cindy knows that she could never hurt anyone no matter how nasty they are so she closes her eyes as she sways back and forth on her rocking horse and the built up tension drains from her body.

Soon Cindy goes inside for dinner and to watch the 'Brady Bunch' her favorite TV program.

While she eats and watches her show Cindy is unaware that a young aboriginal boy has been watching her while she rides the rocking horse.

Fifteen year old Warren Mundine knows that the girl has a desire to move away and start a new life someplace else.

For the past month he has waited until the lights inside the house were all turned off than he would walk up onto the verandah and sprinkle sprigs of Banksia and Bunya Pine all around the feet of the rocking horse.

Under the moonlight Warren would perform a ceremonial dance that his ancestors have been doing for thousands of years.

Adorned in ochre paint and lithe of limb Warren would dance for hours until the sun started to rise in the eastern sky.

Suddenly storm clouds gathered and lighting crackled and fizzed and under natures light show the wooden rocking horse began to began to sway back and forth of its own accord.

'Lightning by name Lightning by nature' the lad whispered before disappearing into the landscape like a ghost of times gone by.

Cindy wakes an hour later, which is strange for her, because she had to be shaken awake especially on a school day.

She smells the morning air and her nose picks up a strong scent coming from the front verandah.

She takes another whiff and recognizes the scent of pine which is strange because there aren't any pine trees within a hundred miles from her house.

Cindy opens the front door and notices that the rocking horse is standing in the center of a ring of different kinds of sprigs and leaves.

That is strange she thinks but because it almost looks like the sprigs have been put there by somebody but when she realizes how stupid that sounds Cindy climbs onto the wooden horse 'Good morning Lightning'.

Instantly Cindy's mind recoils Why did I just call the rocking horse Lightning?'

Than she remembers the dream she had last night where she dreamt about how the rocking horse grew a pair of wings like Pegasus than took flight carrying her away from Dunnedoo taking her to every corner of the world giving her a glimpse of what is out there.

Also in the corner of the dream a small aboriginal boy called out and named the horse Lightning before just as quickly he vanished in the mist.

Cindy's skin tingles in the cold and her eyes gaze out beyond the front fence to where orange dust twists in the wind.

The aboriginal boy looked so real, could he really be out there somewhere?

After another boring day at school Cindy is eager to get home to see if anymore sprigs have been left on the verandah.

When the bell rings she squeals in delight and quickly boards the bus that will take her back to Dunnedoo but the trip will take at least an hour.

In her hand she clutches a report card that doesn't make for good reading C in English D in History and an F in both reading and writing.

She is tempted to throw the card out of the bus window but the headmaster told all of the pupils at assembly this morning that all of the parents knew that the report cards were due today so Cindy stuffs the card in her school bag and mopes the rest of the way home.

When the bus stops outside her house Cindy says goodbye to her friends but when she goes to thank the bus driver the boy sitting behind him turns around and Cindy gasps 'Holy shit you are the boy who was in my dream last night but when she takes another look the boy is nowhere to be seen.

Mister Green the bus driver is keen to be on his way 'Are you okay Cindy, you look a little pale.'

Cindy splutters 'Mister Green where did the aboriginal boy who was sitting behind go to?

'Cindy there are only ten kids who get on the bus and none of them are aboriginal.'

One hundred yards behind Warren hides amongst the scrub beside the road, he now know that tonight will be the night to kickstart a thousand tomorrows.

Not quite believing the bus driver Cindy exits the bus and walks inside the house leaving the report on the kitchen table than she goes outside and has a look around but there are no new sprigs.

She climbs onto Lightnings saddle and yells 'Alright Lightening why don't we ride all the way to Sydney because I have a feeling I am about to get yelled at.'

As she rides Cindy thinks about the boy on the bus today, she is positive that he doesn't attend her school so why was he on the school bus? But also how can he have disappeared into thin air?'

While her mind is working overtime Cindy doesn't at first notice the wooden horses hooves jitter as he prepares to take off.

Suddenly Lightning rears up on his hind legs leaving a pile of rocking horse shit behind before taking off in the direction of Merriwa.

'Woah boy not so fast we need to make a detour first, swing a left here than a quick right.'

'There should be a yellow house just up ahead, there it is Lightning now walk into the front yard and wait 'Hey Elizabeth, are you home you ugly fat scrag, come outside before I go in there and drag you out.'

Elizabeth Hardcastle the school bully races outside to see who would have the nerve to come to her home and call her names 'Well if it isn't little Cindy Watson and her nag.

The nasty schoolgirl makes the mistake of reaching up to drag Cindy from her mount because instead Cindy grabs her by the ponytail than tells Lightning to take off.

Lightening unfurls two golden wings and raises into the air with Elizabeth screaming her lungs out.

Cindy whispers into Lightnings ear 'I don't want to hurt her but I need to teach her a lesson so on the next block there is a huge eagles nest on top of a tall Bunya tree,

Lightning quickly locates the nest that appears to be abandoned and slowly swoops in and stops a couple of feet above the nest, Cindy tells Elizabeth that it is time for her to get off but the bully isn't keen on that idea and clings on for grim death.'

Lightning swings his head around and grabs the screaming girl by the top of her jeans and drops her onto the nest fifty feet above the ground.

Cindy in all the excitement fails to notice a small aboriginal boy running behind Lightning but he can't keep up and soon vanishes from view.

BIZZ BIZZ BIZZ BIZZ BIZZ

Twenty six year old Cindy Watson still half asleep hits the snooze button to silence the annoying sound.

As she gets dressed Cindy vaguely remembers dreaming about a rocking chair that she used to ride when she was a kid.

Cindy still lives in the same house that she grew up in but sadly her parents are no longer alive to give her guidance to their only child but their presence lingers in every room even though it has been eight years since they perished in a car crash on their way to visit relatives down in Victoria.

After finishing her morning routine Cindy looks around the old farmhouse and she is glad that she stayed in Dunnedoo because this is her home and where she belongs.

At 8.30 she locks the front door takes a quick glance to the corner of the verandah where the rocking horse stood pride of place than she walks the short distance to the pub where she works pulling beers for the locals and travelers alike.

As she wipes the bar clean only half listening to one of the regulars as he tells a story about his time living up north hunting crocodiles Cindy often gazes out the window thinking about what her life would have been like if she everworked up the courage to leave.

But at the same time Cindy loves her sleepy little town and really wouldn't want to live anywhere else and hopefully one day she will meet a man and settle down in Dunnedoo.

She takes one last look outside before getting back to work and remembers an old saying 'It doesn't matter how close you get to the horizon because it will always be in the distance.'

In a storage shed on the other side of town an old rocking horse sits forlorn and forgotten, covered in dust and spider webs.

It has been fourteen years since anyone sat in his saddle, fourteen years kept in the dark.

In all of that time his wooden black eyes have stared blankly at the roller doors waiting for them to open.

The rocking horse knows that sooner or later the door will open, the sun will stream in and he will run like he has never run before.

Three doors down from the storage shed a young aboriginal man is bent over the bonnet of an old Holden ute as he tries to fix a faulty fuel hose 'Hey Warren when you have finished with the ute come and give me a hand over here.'

Warren is good with his hands and can repair just about anything and he is glad that his boss gave him this job a few months back because it is hard for any aboriginal man to find work anywhere 'Sure thing Nigel just give me five minutes and I will be with you.'

As he stands up straight to flex his back Warren looks longingly across town to where his favorite pub is located.

It will be good to sink a few beers after work but the main reason to visit the waterhole will be to walk in and work up the courage to finally ask the barmaid Cindy Watson out on a date.

THE END.

Patr Two is on the way so hold your horses.

#australia #dunnedoo #rocking horse #revenge #aboriginal #pub

[comedyinsydney]

Congratulations to our 🎤 Sydney Comedy School Graduates “ Angus Boyd, Ryan Evans, Gary Richardson and Romy Palan”. Tonight it was a sold out event, we apologize to those who couldn’t get seats. The students came with the laughs ( we knew they would 😄) thanks to our Special Guest MC “ Rob Andrews” and guest comic“ Henry Zhu”. It was a great night. Thanks to the management and staff at the 3 monkeys Bar 🙈🙉🙊 for keeping the drinks and food flowing. If you missed out on seats, we’re back for our next graduation show on June 8th. Tixs already on sale. Great job everyone 👏🏽 🎤 Australia’s School of Stand Up Comedy Grad Night“ Where we showed them,how to tickle their bones 😅“ https://www.comedyintheraw.com.au 2023 Next Comedy School Course Dates: Sydney : June 4th-8th and July 16-Aug 13th. #bonkerzcomedyaustralia #standupcomedyschools #comedyclubssydneycbd #comedy #sydneycbd #comedyclubs #comedysydney #sydneygeorgestreet #comedyschoolmelbourne #laughter  #bonkerzaustralia #sydneypubs #liveperformances #comedians #comedyschooladelaide #festivals #comedyfestivals #fringefestivals #comedyschoolcanberra #openmiccomedysydney #bonkerzcomedyaustralia #standupcomedyschoolssydney #comedyclubssydneycbd #comedyschoolbrisbane (at 3 Monkeys Pub) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqaY48kvd9X/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#bonkerzcomedyaustralia #standupcomedyschools #comedyclubssydneycbd #comedy #sydneycbd #comedyclubs #comedysydney #sydneygeorgestreet #comedyschoolmelbourne #laughter #bonkerzaustralia #sydneypubs #liveperformances #comedians #comedyschooladelaide #festivals #comedyfestivals #fringefestivals #comedyschoolcanberra #openmiccomedysydney #standupcomedyschoolssydney #comedyschoolbrisbane