I was unaware I even had this page still till about 5 minutes ago.

You can find me here for the time being:

www.imalwaysright.co.uk

I will probably come back here for my personal musings as some stage though.

x

Last night, the love of my life (who's feelings for me are only that of the love a very good friend has for another friend) rang me up as he was walking home from a night out at the pub. He's quite aware that my 'crush' on him is a little more than a 'crush', but for some ungodly reason, last night, during a rather drunken haze, he went on to tell me about the girls who gave him their numbers, and the other girl that kissed him and bought him a drink during the evening.

You know when something so terrible happens that you wish the world would just swallow you whole, never allowing you to return for your own safety? As I was driving myself home last night, listening to the guy who I would, quite frankly, take a bullet for if his life was in danger, tell me about some chick he picked up... My heart crumbled apart in my lap, and I so wished for about 2 seconds that my car would spin itself out of control, and that I'd smash into an electrical pole. I went from being extremely happy to be hearing from him, and laughing at how drunk he was, to giving him one word answers and hanging up half way through him wishing me a goodnight.

And the thing is, it was about a month ago I'd realized that nothing would ever happen between us. And I seriously thought i'd gotten over the whole "I almost sort of love him" thing and settled myself into a simple crush again.

So why have I been randomly bursting into tears since last night? I mean, for fucks sake, I'm at work, sitting in my office, and about 10 minutes ago I just broke down. My dear boss came in shortly after, bless her cotton socks, and I had to lie and complain about an allergic reaction to some eyedrops.

It's always the wrong guy. Always.

And to add to all this bullshit, the news that Madonna won't be touring Australia has devastated me to no end.

Bah!

I am in such chaos mode right now.

The site is down, and I have absolutely no other option but to wait for the next god knows how many weeks for Blogger to email me back and even attempt to fix the problem. It has sent me into such a spin that I forget to email people back, I cannot even be bothered sitting online.

Thank the heavens for Liz.

I've also been doing Breakfast Radio for the last 3 weeks, with another 3 to go. Every single morning when the alarm sounds at FIVE BLOODY A.M, I want to smash everything within my view for about a 30 second period. I can safely say that after this radio "experiment", I will definitely NEVER turn into a 'morning person', no matter how long I try to adjust to it all. This is just not normal.

On top of all this, in exactly 10 days, It's my birthday. I didn't really have a birthday last year because I was in hospital getting my lung "fixed up", so i've been trying to organize a bit of a ho-down with some mates, and head out to a serviced apartment in Melbourne's CBD for the weekend.

I put the deposit on it today, and I swear to god this better be a good birthday event because I am fucking BROKE for the next ten days because of it.

Thank the heavens once more for Liz. I think bed will be slightly easier to manage after getting all that out.

There seems to be a boy entering my life. This boy seems to be the most amazing guy I've met in my life. This boy seems to feel the same way about me. Neither of us are man enough to act on any kind of feelings we may or may not have for one another, so we'll continue, no doubt, for the next 6 months to torture one another and stay "mates", until of course I completely send myself crazy, lose the fucking plot, cry myself to sleep for a week and eventually spill my guts to him. This could go either way but quite frankly, I am not typing away madly to discuss hypotheticals.

I just need to get off my chest how much this guy challenges me on a daily basis. Yes, I'm about to have a Madonna moment.

We are solar opposites. This guy has a borderline EMO/Skater hair cut, listens to - and shockingly - enjoys Death Metal, he skates and does dangerous things he often calls 'Kamikaze', detests Pop Music (!!) and values The Beatles (!!!!) and Pink Floyd (!!!!!!!!) as musical gods/legends.

Now anyone who knows me is well aware that the 'crazy' punky-skater look is the ultimate turn on for me. However, if you asked me to name any more than, oh, let's say three Sex Pistols songs, I would probably stare blankly at you with a severe ounce of silence flashing about. I hate death metal, it either makes me cry or wish to take a nap, I like watching skating but that's about as far as it goes, Pop Music is the greatest genre in my eyes, I find the Beatles ridiculously underrated and Pink Floyd to be quite boring, and I find Madonna, Girls Aloud, The Pet Shop Boys and Melissa Tkautz to be musical legends and pioneers of brilliance.

He chose Dave Grohl over Courtney Love. For god sakes why am I still speaking to this guy?! He is the only friend in my life who doesn't know who Xenomania are. This makes me sad, do you see?

But then there are the things we do agree on. And my GOD they're something. Our connection in regards to the outright obsession we share with The Doors is scary. There are so many other things but, quite frankly, I am getting bored of listing such nonsense.

So i'm not sure what's going to happen. I am spending every waking moment with him pretty much. He constantly calls and texts. When he doesn't, I call or text him. We've both given up the weekend "habit" of smoking a bit of marijuana. We've given up "Together". Isn't that disgusting? It is like we're a couple already but I'm not getting to feel his tongue in my mouth.

There's also a slight gap age diff... he's a few years younger than me and it wasn't an issue until one of my friends pointed out how old I was and how old he would have been when "Spiceworld" was released.

Well.

I'm fucking burnt now aren't I? Not only that, my goddamn shoulders are - no joke - on the verge of crumbling if I make any sudden unplanned movements.

That said, the Big Day Out was unbelievable. Seriously, what an awesome day. Pity about the venue, the disgusting heat, the seriously disturbing amount of sweat that came from my body, the horrible feeling I had pissed myself every time I moved my leg to the beat, "etcetera".

So you're probably thinking I actually had a miserable time, when in truth, despite all the horrific circumstances that really could not be avoided (well, I could have stayed home, yes), it was - without any doubt - the best Big Day Out I'd ever been to.

I saw M.I.A. and got a kiss from her - not before JUMPING 0N STAGE WITH HER. Yes, it was all too much for little old me, so much so that when I was climbing over the secure (!!!) partition to get to the stage, I tripped over my own foot and smacked my head against a rather horribly large speaker. Blood gashes and what not did not stop me from getting back up and lunging myself at the stage.

Vitalic was mind blowing - as you'd expect. Better than the first times 2 times I've seen him - outstanding stuff. The White Stripes were everything I'd hoped they'd be (IE: quite good), and hearing 2ManyDJs play ONJ's "(Let's Get) Physical" was quite possibly the greatest highlight of my entire life (without it actually being so).

I remember being given some interesting, er, 'things', and almost breaking my foot and actually partaking in some dancing in the boiler room. I now feel like I've finally worn down the bones in my ankles.

Full report this week over on the website, with photos to come here later... Ugh... so sore.

It has been one of those days.

Maybe it's the heat from the last few afternoons, maybe it's the lack of funds sitting in my bank account. Maybe it's just me being stupid and insecure about a million things, I'm not sure. I can't seem to pick it, so I guess it could even be a combination of all the above mentioned.

Just having one of those days where I'm thinking it's all a bit shit. My writing, my site (I often have those days where I wonder why I haven't shut it down), my shitty job...

It's got to be the heat that is making me think like this. The heat always depresses me.

Maybe tomorrow I'll have a long island iced tea for breakfast and spend my day of leisure drunk and in front of an air conditioner.

So this week saw the dawn of my serious "I'm going to focus on getting fit/losing weight/eating right/etc" regime. It seems to be going well considering it is about 600 fucking degrees and exercise in such heat pretty much kills me.

I have somewhat found a love for doing weights. Which will probably not benefit me in the slightest but by god, they're fun. Yesterday I attempted to push my limits and go for pressing 35kgs instead of my usual 20. I still cannot raise my arms higher than my chest - if I do, they begin to shake and I cannot feel them.

I'm hoping this is a good thing.

I'm fucking sore, but that'll teach me for taking a one month "break" from going to the Gym. This can only be put down to extreme summer laziness.

I've had ongoing - over the last few years - a slight (ha) problem with my fluctuating weight. I go up, I go down, but then go up again. I tried bulimia once but I kept forgetting to throw up, so that turned out to be a waste of time. I tried the speed/coke diets at separate times of my life, but eventually I got my body used to eating food whilst on such chemicals.

This time I'm determined to shed the pounds before April though. You see, my Cousin - who comes from my fathers evil family - is having his 21st in April, several weeks before my 23rd birthday. Every single arsehole and cunt that I dislike from my Dad's family (ie: all of them) will be in attendance and the thing that will be spoken of for weeks is how i've not lost any weight since they last saw me.

Which, mind you, was in a hospital bed in March 2005, but there you go. These people are RUTHLESS.

So the plan is, to rock up in April looking quite slender wearing my - hopefully by then - very baggy - Girls Aloud T-Shirt. I'll then proceed to get really drunk and tell everyone what I think of them.

How fun that will be.

So this weekend marks the one year anniversary of the Busted split, and I'm quite surprised at how much of a shitty mood i've been in for the entire day. It baffles so many of the people around me how things such as a pop act splitting up can still affect me, even though I'm now in my bloody near-mid-20's.

As much as I'd like to sit here and blame people like Charlie Simpson (who I could simply not stay angry at for long, god, look at him, how could ANYONE? etc etc) for starting off what would be the shittest year of my life on such a fucking bad note, I know that he had his reasons and Fightstar needed to happen.

Mind you, Fightstar could very well be the only emo band I will ever tolerate.

It's all very high school like and I feel like quite a dickhead for spending my Sunday wallowing around listening to "Year 3000" and such. Guess I'll never really grow up will I?

Let me get into detail - without sounding too much like Pete Doherty - how my New Years progressed.

NEW YEARS EVE...
Quiet BBQ at a friends place - which resulted in me watching everyone else get drunk, almost hitting an uninvited guy slash loser for being a disgusting pervert. He was trying to get his hands along and around places on my female friends body that she simply would not have allowed if she could actually see properly.

Then I had an inner-battle with my digital camera, which I had just been given by the parents. Turns out Lithium batteries dont die within 3 minutes when put in these high-tech machines, so there you go.

Quickly visited the folks at the party they were getting drunk at, had my mother so pissed she wished me a happy birthday (!!!), followed by my late-30-something year old Aunty - in quite the pissed fashion - put "My Humps" on the stereo so she could show us her Fergie impersonation.

It was breathtaking, I am quite certain I have never laughed so hard in my entire life.

Bed called at 2:30am - but of course because it was about 600 degrees that night, I couldn't get to sleep and decided to begin my substance abuse a little earlier than expected. Two sleeping pills later and the heat managed to win once again - the last time I saw the clock it was 6am.

NEW YEARS DAY...
Off to Scumshine People at the Melbourne Docklands - an alternative to the infamous Summadayze festival. Technically, I was there to work - on reviewing duties for a local rag. Within 30 minutes of indulging in something white with a friend, I had lost my bloody mobile phone in the toilets. I tried calling it for 3 hours from various peoples phones, and finally, a rather chipper raver with highly offensive colored pants answered the phone (Of course, I could not see the pants at the time) and met me to me virtually about to burst into tears of joy and thanking her like she had just fed me after not eating for 6 weeks.

I saw Zombie Nation - he played Divine's "Native Love". Blackstrobe were awesome, and Richie Hawtin is still - in my eyes - a minimal techno god. Meanwhile, outside, it was pissing down with rain - faster and harder than my comedown was approaching.

One extreme hissy fit in the car park later, and I was off to friends place, complaining of the rain, the smelly ravers and nasty double crossing DJs who claim to be friends over many years of time, only to fuck you over etc etc...

After a shower, some sleep and a shitload of green tea, I was off once again....

JANUARY 2ND - 3AM ONWARD...
Myself and two very close friends, sitting watching TV - one of them came up with the then rather amazing idea of obtaining some acid.

The next few hours involved watching my mates brother make an absolute delight and arse of himself, entertaining us to the point I thought my jaw was going to remove itself from my face and smash to pieces. Hearing him say "I'm a great dictator, but I don't take dick" will forever be itched into my memory as the most defining moment of my new year experience.

BEST. DAY. EVER.

So my New Year took a while to get half decent (simply stoked I got my phone back though - I can't believe she didn't keep it for herself, whatta champ!) - but once it got rolling, well, etc etc.

Now let us never speak of this again.

...about that hideous cat on this journal. It was the only skin available that looked somewhat nice.

Really off-putting.

The 16 year old screaming girl inside my 20-something year old male body is currently squeeling at an almighty high pitch.

Normally, about 2pm, the mailman comes past and inundates me with Bills, bills, bills (Thank you Beyonce, Michelle and Kelly). Today, he gave me two slightly bulky packages.

One of these bulky packages contained a DVD a good friend of mine had imported from the UK for me in time for xmas...



McFly's "Wonderland Tour" on DVD.

Again, here goes that school-girl scream again.

How very un-sexy is this?

Earlier this year I suffered a horrid case of Pleurisy, which saw me in hospital getting surgery etc etc. It was quite unpleasant and something I'd rather not experience again.

Well I just found out that I have developed a new case of Bronchitis, and could very well end up hospital-sick again.

Fanfuckingtastic.