Too Many Hashtags

#whoopsie In November I spent two weeks in Samoa on a clinical placement for an unnamed university, who will remain as such because I’m paranoid that naming it will see me expelled. And I need this fucking degree: one evening, I was chatting to two students—Copper, an ex-detective; and Vag, a fellow enrolled nurse. Copper … Continue reading Too Many Hashtags

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Rant in C

This post must be prefaced by a confession that comes by way of an admission. I'm not an innocent within the realm of animal cruelty. When I was six, I had a dog named Magnum. He was this skinny, brown hybrid, and by ‘hybrid’, I mean: gorgeous, but dumb. Much like a high school P.E. … Continue reading Rant in C

Stairway to Hell

8am: I’m holding onto a vine, hanging from a mountain, covered in dirt, wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life. The vine snaps and I slide through the mud. My boyfriend reflexively catches a strap on my grey Herschel backpack as I pass. This’ll be the second time he’s saved me. Or maybe … Continue reading Stairway to Hell

Trawling Tinder

I've never had a good experience on Tinder. And yet, like a woman trapped in a co-dependant union, I keep going back. Because Tinder is fucking hilarious. Pockets of humanity lurk on there and trawling Tinder freaks has become a perfectly acceptable way to spend my weekend. He Gives Good Head Take this guy: Check out … Continue reading Trawling Tinder

A Shitty Thing to Write About

It was a bus shelter empanada that made me break that bathroom in Cartagena. Three hours before consuming it, I was in a seedy cantina with my new friend, Atlanta: an ex-army medic and survivor of the Fort Hood massacre. Atlanta’s PTSD had pushed him to the north east of Colombia where he volunteered at … Continue reading A Shitty Thing to Write About

Cropdusting Hipsters

It all started when I farted in yoga. It happened once, twice, three times a lady flatulist. Not many girls own up to a fart, so at first I pretended that the pop was simply a wayward hip joint being wrenched from its socket like a newly-weaned, puppy farm kelpie. It kept happening though: every class I'd cropdust … Continue reading Cropdusting Hipsters

Sufferin’ Succotash

As I write this, I’ve been in Puerto Escondido for nearly three weeks. This beautiful beach side town has made me it’s unintentional prisoner as I wait to receive a package from Australia. I underestimated Mexican postal services. I foolishly thought that an express post package that should arrive overseas in three business days would … Continue reading Sufferin’ Succotash

Kind-of, Almost Two Years Ago Today

Every year, on the anniversary of my divorce, I light scented candles, listen to Morrissey, cry, and play with myself. That's not true, silly. I just wanted a snappy opener. As boring as it is, I don't indulge in any bizarre, ritualistic behaviour on D-Day; but ironically, for the last two years, I have found myself on … Continue reading Kind-of, Almost Two Years Ago Today

The Adventures of CC and John West

Day of the Dead Sunday night, I found myself in the middle of a Day of the Dead parade, hurriedly looking over my left shoulder, with a pink iPhone shoved in my underpants. Yes. In my undies. Down the front. It's a sentence that will stop anybody from borrowing my phone ever again. Unfortunately for … Continue reading The Adventures of CC and John West

Death’s Door

I nearly stepped on a dead bird the other night. I wasn't paying attention. I had trudged downstairs into the cold to buy toothpaste,when I saw it laying headfirst in the corner of my apartment block. A magpie. It's distinctive black and white tail still ruffling in the breeze. I did what any normal Sydneysider … Continue reading Death’s Door