Random Thoughts

This post was inspired by Paul, who’s been an inspiration since as long as I can remember. No wait. Since he happened to create Paulo, the disaster-prone but oh-so-loveable (pasta?) chef.

So every time I get sick, it’s like my brain doesn’t even know what to do anymore.

Normal people take their meds, go to sleep. Not me. I drink way too much coffee and start tripping. Not good. I know. Not good at all.

Random thought #1:

Just because I’m a doctor, the first one has to be something related to being a doctor. Right? Wouldn’t it be easier to cure axial myopia with let’s say, hygroscopic eye drops that soak up the extra vitreous in your eyeball’s posterior chamber? That way the axial length could decrease and voila, myopia cured.

#2: Out of all the words on the planet, why pick “Kwaussie” as the official Australian word of the year? I know there’s problems concerning citizenships but still. Why not pick “Barramundi?” It’s been around longer. Come on.

#3: Panic attacks are scary.

#4: Trump could get trumped over some stupid tweet. Ooh la la.

#5: I’m scared of kids. I didn’t know I was scared until now. I always used to think it was more like some sort of dislike, but turns out I’m scared of them. Specifically, scared of dropping them when I’m holding them. Oh yikes.

#6: I’m a shit liar.

#7: Most is the stuff they taught us in school? It was all purely unnecessary. They should teach banking. Politics. BASIC HUMAN BEHAVIOR.

#8: I wish it was Christmas everyday.

#9: I spoke to a kid from school and he turned out to be a bigger Potterhead than I am. Boy do I hate losing.

#10: UNO is super addictive.

#11: 2017 went by quicker than 2016 ever did. Does that mean I’m ageing faster?

#12: And speaking of ageing, why do men age like fine wine and women age like chocolate? Good with time and bad with time, respectively. I’m really unhappy about this.

#13: Gillian Flynn and Sophie Kinsella should co-write a book. It’d be spine chillingly psychopathic with bits of humour thrown in, like a perfectly made tequila shot.

#14: No I don’t drink, but my imagination does.

#15: If Aliens wanted to show up on Earth, now would be a good time. They’d be blown away by all the Christmas lights.

#16: SAD is such a sad thing to be suffering from, and I realised many, many of us don

#17: Tinder and other dating apps have ruined the spirit of romance. Whatever happened to the good old meet cute that actually happened in person? Hmmm, hmm?

#18: Treadmills are bad. They could make your knee caps pop.

#19: Everything tastes so much better with marshmallow. Heck, I’d eat a marshmallow/chicken sandwich. Yum. Or I’m just plain simple crazy.

#20: If our pets could talk, we’d be in serious shit. All of us.


When I Love You

Everybody loves differently. And there are different kinds of love. There’s the platonic kind. The sexual kind. The obsessive kind. The forbidden (by society) kind. The one-sided kind. The toxic kind. The twisted kind. I could go on.

Let’s talk about the toxic/one-sided kind. Which is probably the worst.

You give and you give and you give some more. There’s no end to it. It consumes you. It sets you aflame. It destroys you. It’s a whole different level of hell. And yet you feel nothing, because there’s hope shining bright inside of you. Hope that keeps you alive. Hoping against hope. Hope that trumps all negative thoughts. I know this because I speak from experience.

And I haven’t changed. I’m still the same. You’d think I’d learn from my mistakes.

I give too much. When I love you, I give more than just my all. I give you the right to perform an emotional autopsy on me, as I lay there with my heart opened to you. And I let you take me apart, over and over. I don’t complain.

I let you push me. When I love you, I let you push me off the edge because I hope with all my heart that you’d be catching me at some point. Maybe you won’t actually push me off the edge, maybe you’d never even take me to the edge. But you push me anyway and I let you. I don’t and I won’t complain.

I let you punish me. When I love you, I let you punish me for being too sweet. I let you treat me like I don’t matter, like some sort of impassioned doormat just waiting to have feet rubbed on it. I don’t complain.

I let you walk away. When I love you, I don’t hold you back. I let you walk away. I don’t ask for much. I don’t complain.

Because hope is a powerful thing and I have a lot of it left in me still.

Bipolar Britney’s Buttday Bash

It’s December. Holy fucking shit. December. Already. You’d think we’d see a dip in the temperature. You’d think the weather would pull one of the bipolar numbers on us. Considering it’s the Queen’s Birthday. I mean, Britney Spears. Which brings me to a lame inside joke between me and a friend of mine, involving the butt and a lame Buttday song. Which goes something like…

Happy Buttday to you.

May the Kardashians bless you.

Many implants to you.

Many G-strings to you, hey!

Happy Buttday to you.

Jesus. I don’t know what’s with me and my head and my rambling. But I bet Britney would be super proud. And hey, don’t get me wrong. I love Britney, we all do. Toxic and the butt naked costume with a few strategically placed rhinestones she had going in the music video was EVERYTHING back then. But then she also managed to dramatise bipolar disorder to epic proportions and the weather should have changed to reflect her personality. Know what I’m saying? It should have at least fluctuated a fair few times between pleasant and downright frigid.

And it didn’t. So I’m wondering if Britney was that much of an icon at all: I mean if you can’t influence the weather how are you a God even, right?

Too many lame jokes falling flat on their already flat asses at this point – and NOT one of them have made you laugh. I suck as a comedian. Now, TF AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE, bro!? On a serious note though, I love Britney because, growing up, her songs did help me get through so much teenage drama. Here are a few iconic numbers by Britney that helped me though several major lows – and highs, albeit few – of my life. Most of these are very early Britney, well because I feel like most of her her best hits were from her initial clean cut, pop-princess years.

10. Womaniser.

When I realised that all men were shit and I was done with them and I didn’t want anything to do with them anymore. Also, when I realised that bangs and glasses and a red lip were all über sexy.

9. Toxic.

Ah, the song that started it all. My extremely stiff-as-a-board body’s obsession to try some extremely fluid dance moves. Minus the bodysuit. Britney slayed.

8. Work, Bitch.

This song had pretty much became my anthem soon after it came out. Even had it set as my ringtone… for my extremely sassy aunt. No my aunt does not ever dress like this. Thank you but stick your lurid imagination elsewhere. Up your butt maybe.

7. Born to make you happy.

Ah, first love. Actually, no. First crush. I don’t know how I managed to gather the balls to go tell him, but as soon as I did, he vanished for two whole weeks and when he showed up at school again, he never spoke to me. And that, bitches, is how you kill friendships dead.

6. Sometimes.

Such a beautiful, coming of age song, almost. I’d basically get all emotional over this one.

5. Girl in the mirror.

This song and the next one I’ll mention still feel like they tell my story or something. Everyone says I’ve got everything going for me, but I haven’t. Not really.

4. Lucky.

I can’t talk about this one without literally having a meltdown. The emotions on this one. Holy. Mother. Of God.

3. Perfume.

Coming in at number third spot we have the – in my opinion – anthem of the scorned current girlfriend. Who’s being lied to. And I’ve been there and seen that. It’s shameful and people really need to stop cheating. Jesus. Too much Jesus in a rant post. Don’t come for me.

2. Hold it against me.

Read at your own risk: this was the iconic moment in my life when I liked the concept of eventually “popping it like a hood.”

Do not judge me, you freak.

1. Baby One More Time.

The list would have been incomplete without this number. How many times have I wished I looked that cute in schoolgirl braids? A MILLIFUCKINGION.


What’s your favorite Britney song? And sorry for the number of times I’ve said ‘iconic’. I just love the word. So much.

Things 2017 Has Taught Me

2017 is basically done.

It’s been such a learning experience. This year, right from the moment it showed up, and right till the moment it’s ending. And to be honest, it’s hard to not feel like a failure all the time.

• 2017 showed me that my folks are, after all, pretty chill. Someone my age would have been married by now. As proved by my classmates back from high school, who all seem to be getting married within days of each other. My parents? They’re not even looking at dudes any more. Either they’ve given up, or they think the single life is the way to go. All they’re concerned about is my post grad at this point. Honestly, I couldn’t be more thankful. A brown girl my age who’s still single would’ve been a pain in the neck in most families, but thankfully not in mine. Love you, Mum and Dad!

Which brings me to the next thing I’m gonna say…

• While my parents aren’t really concerned about marriage and associated labor pains, they’re very concerned about my education. Dad just wants me to pursue higher studies, and if you’re in the field of medicine you’d know that there’s no limit to higher studies. And once you’re in, there’s no way out. Now I don’t really want to be a doctor anymore. I can be honest with you guys, right? I just want to pursue writing full time. Go to cosmetology school.

At a point you gotta just let go. Let every damn thing go. Attachments. Commitments. Love. Hatred. Senses. Conclusions. Contemplating. Just everything. Let go, breathe, live. How hard is it to just live?

I know the answer to this question is “Very” but I had to ask.

• No one is worth your time and effort and energy if none of it is being reciprocated. Fuck one sided feelings. Don’t catch feels. Nip those feels in the bud because you gotta listen to your heart. That bitch don’t lie. If your gut says someone ain’t worth it, someone ain’t worth it for shizzle. And if your gut says this ain’t the right time, listen to it. No one can look out for you better than your own goddamned gut.

• Friendship is beautiful, and it’s the real deal. If you’ve got a mate that looks out for you, goes places with you, pulls you back by the collar when you’re teetering on the edge of life, trying to jump of a cliff – stick to them like a wart plaster. They’re worth everything.

• Money can buy happiness. Sure, it’s momentary, but it can. I can be the happiest at Sephora. I can be the happiest after I’ve blown away a whole year’s savings on Tom Ford, while eating glazed donuts and giving myself a sugar rush. I’m my happiest and my prettiest at that point. And if you’re here to take that away from me, I won’t hesitate to cut you.

• 2017 also, and finally, taught me that if everyone else is doing something – it sure makes it a trend but you don’t need to jump on the trend bandwagon. It’s okay to be different. Okay to be you. It’s okay. And if you have a brain that never rests, don’t let it. Write what you feel. Tweet. Tell people. Someone out there will always be around to listen and appreciate you. The key? Never holding back.

On that note guys, HAPPY DECEMBER!

Biggest Disappointments of 2017

Technically, I should not be rounding up so soon because we still have a month to go before we embark upon 2018, BUT…

2017 disappointed. A LOT. Starting with my favorite things first.


2017 was all about unnecessary, fuckwit trends that resulted in one enormous clusterfuck that’s just determined to keep on keeping on. Like, who the fuck thought it was a good idea to make weird eyebrow trends – like feather fucking eyebrows, McDonald eyebrows and squiggle eyebrows – a thing? Or even smudged lipstick? Eye gloss? Nose hair extensions!? FOR CHRISSAKES.

Here’s some monstrosity for your viewing pleasure.

Photo courtesy: Google

I can’t with all of this.

Then there’s the frequent launches. Often brands will come out with very weird stuff that they claim you NEED in your makeup bag. Brow primers. Multi-colored highlighters. Glitter face masks. Unicorn makeup that may have appealed to a two year old from the eighties. Maybe. Two bajillion eyeshadow palettes with the same repetitive colors. The limited editions that never seem to stay limited, often being restocked over and over. I blame Kylie Jenner. She comes out with new lipstick colors so bloody similar even pros like Kandee Johnson recently had trouble telling them apart. Look what you made our bank accounts do, bad, bad Kylie.


Whatever happened to actually wearing clothes that keep you warm? 2017 saw the worst and most impractical fashion trends out there. For starters, we had this sweatshirt.

It seemed to have been chewed off by Norman (her dog: yes, for someone that hates the K clan, I do keep up – gotta have my references handy) who apparently got so full after eating the body of the shirt that he left the sleeves alone.

2017 also saw a surge in the clear plastic shoe trend. Which, besides being impractical, also seem really unhygienic to me. Think of all the sweat and the stench. Jesus H. Macy. And the sock boots. Oh God, the horror. And the denim boots. YIKES. The famous butt rip jeans. And the cruel shoulder pads that Thierry Mugler made so huge way back when.


Love didn’t really Trump hate, as the loudest orange in the universe was elected President of the United States.


Annabelle Wallis continued to in bring her bad juju, resulting in the utter floppage of both King Arthur and The Mummy. DC happened to objectify and destroy what could have potentially been one of the greatest movies of all time. Justice League saw the objectification of BOTH Jason Momoa’s Aquaman, who did nothing much apart from being eye candy and throwing in a few “MY MAN!”s and Gal Gadot’s Diana Prince. Steppenwolf has to be the mildest tempered super villain in all of history as all he does in the movie is acquire the mother (fucking) boxes and proceed to do absolutely nothing with them.

Which leads to the making of several memes. Naturally.

I could go on. And on.

But this post would be ten feet long and y’all would probably burn me at the stake. Anywhozie, for those of y’all that actually want a part two to this post, let me know!!


It’s not your fault. It never was. It’ll never be.

You only fell out of love. The love that never was. The love that I thought you felt for me too, but I was wrong. Pretty much like always. I was just so wrong.

You wanted to be a stud, live your life a little. You weren’t wrong. Everyone has needs, everyone’s got fantasies. I didn’t know you well enough, I suppose, as I went with it. Indulged in all your whims. I was okay with being pushed to the side because I didn’t make the cut on your priority list.

They said it takes no time to recover and be shiny and new again. Trust me, I gave it time, I did. But those wounds, they never seemed to heal. You broke me – no you didn’t break me – I broke myself, believing you as you lied through your teeth. I often sit by myself and dig deep, and try to remember.

I let all the hurt you threw my way just bounce off of me. I thought I just let it all ricochet. But I didn’t see it all coming back hard and thick and fast to burn holes into me, tear at my composure and leave me to bleed out emotionally.

They say you take twenty one days to get over someone, scientifically speaking, but I will never get over what you turned out to be. All I’ll do instead, is be fake happy and tell the whole world I’m fine and just leave it at that. This holiday season, I’m gonna lie.


“It’s not your thing. You pick the wrong thing, every damn time. The wrong person, the wrong situations, the wrong thing to do. Give up and go back to being a nobody.” 


I remember the times I wanted to be loved, and only wanted to be loved. It was a compulsive need. A thirst, a hunger I couldn’t satiate. Always falling short, never giving up, believing in the next guy and living the broken heart story, over and over. I lost my self respect, lost my head. Before I knew it, I’d fallen out of love with myself. I despised what I’d turned into. A love-hungry monster. Every time I read my texts to him, which quickly escalated from being nice and sweet to desperate, I know now, I won’t lie. I was smothering the both of us. Investing in feelings that didn’t matter, really. While Taylor Swift made songs out of her heartbreaks, there I was – making a fool out of my heartbreaks. 
Someone told me you needed twenty-one days to recover from a burn like being spurned by the wrath of unrequited love. The burn of having being used emotionally, among other things: but then I realised that I couldn’t really blame anyone but myself. Why would I ever think that anyone needed me just for the purpose of needing me, and not for selfish reasons? And the dark well that I fell into was a nightmare. I was a zombie. Just alive but not really existing. It got so bad, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror anymore because the revulsion that rose inside me like vomit each time I looked into my own eyes, was too great. I couldn’t bear it anymore. But then I realised that living this way, not having lived at all, was a total waste. I needed to breathe, move on and leave the toxic waste behind.

So how did I come out of it? 

I forgave myself. Self-acceptance is the first step to everything. At the end of the day, the only thing that matters is what you think of yourself. Not what the guy that screwed you over thinks. Not what he discusses about when he’s done with his booze and pot and his hangover is messing with all his senses. Doesn’t matter what people say. Doesn’t matter if they slut-shame you, or try to hurt you with words because in the end it’s all just words. As long as you love yourself, a man’s opinion on you doesn’t matter. He may be all over your ass like a fat kid eating cake but talk rubbish behind your back when he’s with that other girl, but that doesn’t matter either. It’s on him, not on you. 

That’s all you gotta do.

You do you, because you’re awesome and beautiful and pure and nothing can take that away. Love yourself and it all goes away. Sometimes all you need to do is stay strong, and believe in yourself. 

Have a little faith.

You gotta love yourself.