My morals got me on my knees, I beg you please. Stop playing games.

Greetings! A rather exhausted Miss S here,

Oh to be young!

I have had quite the week! With my birthday, several random social outings, writing the graphic novel my younger brother and I create, nannying, figuring out my work schedule for the next six or so weeks, song rehearsal and last night attending my favourite indie dance club tradition, I have been left a bit of a little short of breathe.

So, to the point. I'm feeling a bit slack. My mind has been fairly drained of any creative juices in the last few hours of writing the graphic novel - which will soon have a blog of its own, when my brother and I get our act together.

I was thinking that today I would tell y'all a short embaressing tale and give you some links to ponder over... what do you think? *silence* I've got to stop with the rhetorical questions.

Oh ma gawd... did she really just do that? 

About an hour ago, I was preparing my lunch. Hmmmm roast veggies. Whilst cooking up a storm I came to the realisation that I was home alone and therefore indulged myself by singing and dancing about the kitchen loudly and frenetically. I of course (having displeased the gods at a young age, and therefore been forever scorned by fate) was caught out by one of my house-mates who had slipped in through the front door without my noticing. Funny thing is, I wasn't embarrassed - he was. Blushing he went into his room. I mean, I wasn't naked and I wasn't singing 'I'm horny' loudly and out of tune... so what's the fuss? My Best friend is one of these people that gets inherently embarrassed for others. She cannot stand to watch Bridget Jones' Diary or anything of that uncomfortable nature. If I fall over (which I often do), she blushes profusely as I lay on the ground laughing my arse off and will often quickly walk by and not check until later to see if I'm actually hurt. Why? I don't understand. If I fall over, even when I have severely hurt myself - I tend to giggle. All I can think of is how funny it must have looked. My brother is very much the same, we call it cartoon humour. When in your mind you turn every day events such as falling over into grotesque dramatisations in your head. We find this HILARIOUS! Funnily enough, people like my best friend actually see this events as grotesque and are hugely embarrassed. Personally, I don't find anything much embarrassing. This is just life, there's not much to be embarrassed about. Everyone falls over and farts at inappropriate times, you'll probably have someone walk in on you having sex at least once. Its all good. Be calm. No one honestly cares and if they do, they must lead rather dull lives.

That is all.

Ok, so this isn't as insightful and witty as previous entries, but back off! I'm not a performing monkey. I am le tired, I could do with a packet of Oreos and a jar of Nutella to dip them in. Whoa - there's a food-gasm if I ever conceived one.

By the way, this is the song I was singing.

Duffy - Mercy

I'm begging you for mercy! 

So pretty much all of us have been romantically burned at some point. What did we do about it? Probably wrote a nasty email *cough*, egged their house, simply cried about it, or spoiled their reputation as best we could. But to be honest, that all makes us look like arse-holes. Which we're not, we're just hurt. So, to not look like an arse-hole but still feel like you've accomplished SOMETHING, I suggest; 

http://partyvan.info/wiki/Ruin_Life_Tactics

This handy little website lets you know how you can do things like, order several hundred copies of the Koran to be delivered to the pain of your existence's house or the mormon bible. Now this is just a pain in the arse, its not vandalism, its not illegal its just randomly annoying for them, and hilarious for you. Now I'm not telling you to go out and do this... but if you do... send me some pictures. 

Ok, from this point on, consider our young heroine of bloggery (totally a word) Miss S to have had an aneurysm. If she were in a coma, these are the things she would dream about.

I told someone who asked that this wouldn't be in here but I'm not above lying. The below link is to a wikipedia article. I think that this is proof that something cannot be formalised.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother_insult

This needs no explanation

http://www.getonmyhorse.com/

With that, Miss S has flat lined.

Have a lovely day dear readers.

xx Miss S

Music is my boyfriend.

A slightly startled Miss S here,

Oh my! Definitions can be tricky and it seems there are some things that need to set straight. When I named this blog Miss S, The world through the eyes of a Melbourne mistress I was utilising the word mistress in the form of an old-fashioned address, as in;

a woman who has authority, control, or power, esp. the female head of a household, institution, or other establishment.

or

a women who is skilled in something, as an occupation or art.

or

a woman who has the power of controlling or disposing of something at her own pleasure: mistress of a great fortune.

NOT

a woman who has a continuing, extramarital sexual relationship with one man, esp. a man who, in return for an exclusive and continuing liaison, provides her with financial support.

Tut, tut! What a presumption! You wonderfully naughty minded people you!

What I do in my private life is my business... oh wait but I tell you all about it on here anyway. Well, if I start letching after well to do married men any time in the future consider all of the afore mentioned definitions to be true... and expect this blog to heat up. Does anyone per chance know any maharajahs that are a little bit into bubbly-buxom-brunette-bloggers? *silence* Didn't think so.

All By Myself

Thinking over the afore mentioned mistaken definition of my relationship status, I have realised something shocking! I have been single for more than a year now! WHAT?!
 
Up until the last fifteen months I have been notoriously known as a taken long term relationship type girl, having not been single for more than a few months since I was sixteen. I should point out that I was even engaged at nineteen... just to reinstate my point. I've not had many boyfriends, four to be precise. So how did this dramatic change come about without me noticing? I'll tell you how dear readers. Mid last year I moved from Adelaide, S.A. and left behind all of my friends and family. I (as this blog has strongly suggests) moved to Melbourne, Vic. I moved with the idea that I would take a year long sabbatical, see what it was like to be forced into the state of a social chameleon. I would be forced, having moved not knowing any one person well, to learn to actively socialise and meet new people. I did meet new people. I met new exciting, kind and delightful people. I also met a new way of life, shook it firmly by the hand and welcomed it to stay graciously.

So this doesn't explain why I'm single - I know... I'm getting there, be patient. I moved from Adelaide, where I felt I had fallen into a rut. I didn't feel as if my life was moving forward, or as if I was able to express myself. I was also BORED! I would constantly have to be in a relationship to be distracted from how unhappy I was with my life. Which is a shit reason to be in a relationship. Since moving to Melbourne I wouldn't say that I've taken great steps to make myself feel as if I'm moving toward one particular goal and although I have had my little love affairs and heart aches I haven't been bored and I'm happy. I'm happy with who I am - I haven't needed someone to entertain me. I can entertain myself. I have also rediscovered my absolute love of music. As some of you might know, I am a classically trained singer and grew up with a very musical influence in my father. Music faded into the background quite a bit when I had a boy to focus on although it was always still there, waiting for me. Now I go out dancing if I want to, or stay in and crank my favourite tunes loud. I know it probably isn't healthy but I think everyone needs a vice. Something they can turn to. Mine is music. Although it always has been, its nice that its no-longer overshadowed by my lack of confidence. I think music is my boyfriend. Actually I think music is my life partner. A love that will never fade.

Well that was all a little deeply analytical and serious...

Hey look... a distracting song.

CSS - Music is My Hot Hot Sex live in Paris

 

and if that wasn't enough to distract you

... A bunny!

Awww cute bunny... but that's quite enough of that!

On to a most pressing subject

Tea censorship

Tea, tea is a lovely wonderful thing. It is calming, refreshing and altogether pleasant... so for the amount of tea they drink why are the British so freaking grumpy? I mean honestly? If I were a Brit I'd be in heaven. For goodness sake! They have the BBC, the West End, Sir David Attenborough to listen to and royalty to laugh at. Why are they so freaking miserable? Well like anything and everything - I have a theory on this. I believe that nature has genetically engineered the Brits to be kill joys. Hey, someone's gotta do it. Australians are noted world over for their laid back approach to life (aka for being lazy bums), the German's for their efficiency (having a stick up their arses) and Americans for being very patriotic (racist). I think mother nature likes to stereotype people.

KIDDING! I don't actually think this at all. I have a sound belief that we as human beings are all the same in that we are varied on an individual basis. Cultural surroundings do attribute to our behaviour... this has nothing to do with our race, culture and race are different things, look it up. However reflect on the paragraph above. How much of that did you find yourself chuckling about and nodding your head to? If you were, why do you think that is? Is it because you think its true? Is it because you are racist? Or is it because you simply find the absurdity of racist accusations hilarious? Is it that you, like me imagine in your minds eye a nation struck by a pandemic of grumpiness? Do you imagine a race of people, a nation where no one is happy and even the dogs frown? Well I do! I don't think I am racist at all - if anything I am a huge racial equality supporter. But if you want to know the truth... racist jokes make me laugh almost every time. Not because I want to arm my self with a baseball bat and go 'paky bashing' or commit any sort of horrible race hate crime. Its because... the thought amuses me. There is also the fact that it is so socially taboo to engage in this type of humour.

So why do people get so upset?

I think its because they are scared to be honest. Scared and in a way a little bit bored. Society like controversy, we like the chance to form opinions and take sides, whether we like to admit it or not. Sometimes we go too far though. Sometimes, I think things get taken a little too seriously. Take for example the infamous sketch that pretty much ended The Chaser's War on Everything.

Make a realistic wish foundation sketch

This sketch is cringe worthy which is apt as it falls under the genre of Cringe Humour. It is ingenious as a cringe humour sketch. The thing is, it really was meant as a joke though. Did ANYONE for one second think that The Chaser meant that sick and dying children didn't deserve the best they could possibly be given? NO! They're comedians, its literally by definition their job to make the public laugh, and like most hard working people they will do anything and try their best to get the job done. This joke is funny because it isn't funny, which is what cringe comedy is.  Now I understand that this particular joke isn't for everyone. Its again very dark, but such an uproar over something that was actually made to make people feel better? Seems a little ridiculous. - aside from the matter of this having simply been a joke, there are other issues at hand. The public's uproar about this sketch soon saw the end of The Chaser's War on Everything. Instances like this are a huge problem when it comes to censorship in Australia. The fact of the matter is, no one is making you watch anything on public access television. No one has you strapped to a chair with your eyes wired open. So hey oh my gosh, I have this brilliant idea, if you don't like The Chaser or whatever is on the channel you're watching, you could like use that little remote thing-a-my and change it or turn the TV off. Leave the room. Go for a walk. Call your mum for a chat. All fine ideas but PLEASE don't ring up and make a fuss because you were offended are bored with your life and have anger management issues. Its not the Chaser's fault you have a different sense of humour. Is it? I don't like Dad jokes. I don't get dad's the world over silenced. I HATE Home and Away and its still on. Why ruin something other people enjoy because you don't get it?  Jokes were invented and designed to make us laugh. If comedy was made to sincerely insult or degrade on a personal level, comedians would be even poorer than they already are now.

Oh and if the internet gets censored. I quit. That would be fucking bullshit. Free country, yeah, right, whatever you say Mr. Bullshit Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Can you believe we don't even technically have freedom of speech in this country? - I can't even get into that right now. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. 

So glad I finally got that off my chest.

Night night

xx Miss S

I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

I,  Miss S have been struck down with a bad case of whimsical wonder about the world... well for today. In the aftermath glow of the annual bloodfest otherwise known as my birthday, I think I'm just really happy to be alive - I'll be back to my self indulgent-confused-cynical-whiny-mood swinging self tomorrow. Promise. So here it comes, are you ready? What I'm about to share with you are some tales, images, poetry, music clips and a fashion icon that I personally thoroughly enjoy, consider beautiful and even find moving. Yup... I must be feeling religious or hormonal.

Here goes...

Can't buy me love.

That comes to $34.55, would you like any cash out?

On a romantic and exciting note - last night whilst shopping for baking supplies to make my birthday cake I was stalked by a rather cute cyclist. Sadly I was too shy to say anything to him. Darn my shyness! *Shakes fist at shyness* "One a dese days Shyness, BAM, straight to da moon, one a dese days." What was I saying? Oh yeah... well whilst in the fresh food section of my local Coles, I happened upon a man with the kind of physical features that make girls my age so distracted they often forget their names, reveal their aces and break their faces by walking into plate glass windows. The kind of man that is, well... indescribable. As a brilliant first impression I made a rather embarrassing and large gesture that insinuated that I thought he was a bit of alright to the friend I was shopping with. Of course, knowing my luck he (lets call him Ernest as I'm oh so fond of the name Ernest) saw this.

*Face palm*

Then surprisingly this beautiful young man proceeded to coyly follow us around the super market. Until finally he met myself and my shopping companion at the checkouts and continued to (I'm not going to say stare but he was kinda staring at me) maintain a certain amount of eye contact. I, in the truly refined manner of a refined Melbourne mistress and fully fledged woman of the world bravely... blushed profusely and looked down at my black sequinned high-tops. Which at this point were on the checkout conveyor belt thing-a-my because they were rubbing my feet, so I took them off and was walking around the supermarket in knee high socks and a polka dot dress (yeah, I'm a real mysterious femme fatale). I managed to combat my shyness for a moment and look up from the engaging view of my foot attire briefly enough to see Ernest smile at me. I, like a nervous Japanese school girl giggled and looked at the ground.

*face palm* I need to stop being so romantically inept, its going to end in concussion.

My consumer driven sidekick and I then in silence paid for our baking goods and vacated the shopping centre. It was all over. All I know about this man - the wonderful Ernest are the small things I managed to observe during our short encounter. Ernest likes feta, capsicums, rides a bicycle (he had his helmet strapped to his backpack) and has the sweetest smile I have ever seen.
      Why didn't I say something? Why was I so shy? I'm not sure, but that smile truly made my birthday the best one I've had yet. Thanks Ernest or Uncle Jack or whoever you are you kind-eyed, sweet-smiling man.

I do love a bit of poetry. Give me your poetry. Don't stop!

This poem is A Thousand Kisses Deep by artistic genius Leonard Coen. For those of you who are more book on tape type people - This youtube version is slightly different to the original written version below it... but it has the wonderful Leonard himself reciting it with his distinctly haunting voice.

A Thousand Kisses Deep

You came to me this morning

And you handled me like meat.

You´d have to live alone to know

How good that feels, how sweet.

My mirror twin, my next of kin,

I´d know you in my sleep.

And who but you would take me in

A thousand kisses deep?

I loved you when you opened

Like a lily to the heat.

I´m just another snowman

Standing in the rain and sleet,

Who loved you with his frozen love

His second-hand physique -

With all he is, and all he was

A thousand kisses deep.

All soaked in sex, and pressed against

The limits of the sea:

I saw there were no oceans left

For scavengers like me.

We made it to the forward deck

I blessed our remnant fleet -

And then consented to be wrecked

A thousand kisses deep.

I know you had to lie to me,

I know you had to cheat.

But the Means no longer guarantee

The Virtue in Deceit.

That truth is bent, that beauty spent,

That style is obsolete -

Ever since the Holy Spirit went

A thousand kisses deep.

(So what about this Inner Light

That´s boundless and unique?

I´m slouching through another night

A thousand kisses deep.)

I´m turning tricks; I´m getting fixed,

I´m back on Boogie Street.

I tried to quit the business -

Hey, I´m lazy and I´m weak.

But sometimes when the night is slow,

The wretched and the meek,

We gather up our hearts and go

A thousand kisses deep.

(And fragrant is the thought of you,

The file on you complete -

Except what we forgot to do

A thousand kisses deep.)

The ponies run, the girls are young,

The odds are there to beat.

You win a while, and then it´s done -

Your little winning streak.

And summoned now to deal

With your invincible defeat,

You live your life as if it´s real

A thousand kisses deep.

(I jammed with Diz and Dante -

I did not have their sweep -

But once or twice, they let me play

A thousand kisses deep.)

And I´m still working with the wine,

Still dancing cheek to cheek.

The band is playing "Auld Lang Syne" -

The heart will not retreat.

And maybe I had miles to drive,

And promises to keep -

You ditch it all to stay alive

A thousand kisses deep.

And now you are the Angel Death

And now the Paraclete;

And now you are the Saviour's Breath

And now the Belsen heap.

No turning from the threat of love,

No transcendental leap -

As witnessed here in time and blood

A thousand kisses deep.

There is something wonderful about how openly expressive and emotive this poem is. Its almost so gritty that it shines. Few people can take heart break and make it beautiful. Leonard Coen does this with what seems to be such great ease. I envy and admire this great man. My band mate was lucky enough to go to the last concert that Mr. Coen held in Melbourne and recollects it frequently as the best night of his life... I don't doubt this.

If a picture paints a thousand words, then why can't I paint you? 

Below is a picture of the one and only Miss S, which was taken at a small tea party type shindig held at her living quartets recently. Now it is not that the image is indeed a picture of myself that makes me vainly rejoice. Its the thought behind it. This image was edited and crafted so beautifully for me by one of my delightful house-mates as a birthday gift. BEST PRESENT EVER! To my wonderful house-mate, I think this piece's creativity reflects a wonderfully kind person with LOADS of talent. -Yeah, so thanks!

I look scared because I'm on a diet and someone mentioned cake!

Anyone for a sing-a-long?

This next song is one of my most listened to in the last few years. Its like most things I find beautiful - very articulate, honest and sad.

Stars -'Your Ex-lover is Dead'

This video clip reminds me of a scene from one of my favourite art-house films - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (if you haven't seen it, please do and tell me what you think). This then in turn reminds me of Eloisa to Abelard by Alexander Pope the rather harrowing poem that the film borrows its name from.

Here is the quoted excerpt; 

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

For the full poem 

click here

From the girl who from birth had loose feet 

- that's an in joke, don't google it.

This song was shown to me by a friend whilst attempting a road trip down the Great Ocean Road. The attempt failed... but the song found a place in my heart. All together - "Awwwwwww."

Aqualung  'Broken Bones'

Turn to the left, turn to the right. Ooooh wap, fashion!

What to say? What to say? I LOVE fashion. Its the most socially acceptable and widely used aristic form of self expression there is, not to mention being the western world economy's best friend.
       Below is an image of some clothing designs by the wonderful Alexander McQueen.  Alexander McQueen is well known in the fashion industry as quite the extremist. His raunchy designs have earned him the title "l'enfant terrible" and "the hooligan of English fashion". In the nineties the western world was introduced to the low riding hipster jean, until then, fleshy hips and glutes were hidden away by high riding waist lines. This was quite the revolution for the humble denim jean. Then there was McQueen. Your hips might not lie but McQueen liked big butts and he could not lie. McQueen's aptly named and self describing "bumsters"soon hit the run way causing bare booty shaking mayhem. Followed by a collection entitled "Highland Rape" which showcased torn kilts. McQueen won a seat in the house of fashion that with bad-boy charm has easily been upheld. For being the most stunningly beautiful thing there is - brave, I commend Alexander McQueen and his contributions to outrageous fashion.

Trivia: There is an apocryphal story that McQueen once sewed the words "I am a cunt" into the sleeve lining of a suit he was working on for Prince Charles.

Some of Alexander's more conventional and elegant designs.

With that I am sick of pretty things and I'm glad that is all out of my system.

Night night.

xx Miss S

I've come to wish me an unhappy birthday.

Miss S here, sitting alone with slanted birthday hat and a plate that is cake-less... yes readers it is my birthday... oh yay!

Birthdays -

For some/most people birthdays they are a lovely thing. They are a day filled with presents, family, well wishes and cake... especially cake. For me birthdays are a thing of great despair. My birthday is just another reminder of how much no one seems to ardently care for me and how self centred I am. I've never made a fuss over the fact that everyone seems to forget my birthday, that I don't get any presents or that even my family forget to call. You know what though? I'm not as tough as I seem. In fact I'm not tough at all. I would love birthday presents, not because I want things but because I wonder what people associate me with. Which at this point I'm gathering are only bad things, why else would I feel so ignored? Anyway, with that off my sullen chest I will continue on and attempt wipe the mascara from my cheeks and salvage this blog from Emoville.

The tales of sex and intrigue I have promised;

There is a boy. Oh yes readers there is a boy! A boy who will not leave me alone!!! A boy who is just that, not a man but a boy (WAIVER; the afore mentioned boy is over the age of 18. Please do not be alarmed or presume Miss S to be a kiddy fiddler, the only kiddy fiddling she participates in involves violins). This boy is LOVELY, he treats me nicely, isn't pushy, takes me to the movies, pays for the movie and dinner etc. You'd think this would be an absolute delight, however... there is nothing there. I find him dull and uninformed. He is not particularly funny and his recollections and hobbies bore me. There is a complete lack of chemistry for me. He thinks I'm funny and entertaining... which is fine, but at this point I feel like a performing bear. Its hard to be the wit of a pair ALL THE TIME. Now at the tender age of 22 I don't know much, but I know a little bit about the opposite sex... just a little bit. I know by now that I go for men that are at least 8 or 9 years older than me. I find them easier to talk to, more interesting to listen to and oh so much better in the boudoir. So this all should be easy right? Tell Youngey McYoungfeatures that I'm not interested and simply move on to someone who is better suited to my mentality. Nope there's a problem - we have become friends. Hate to say it, but on a friendship level, he's a lovely chap to be about. He's easy to talk to and he listens. I don't want to lose this friendship, but I also don't want to lead him on any further than I feel I already have. So I guess bravery is the name of the game. I must confront the fact that in telling the truth I may lose a friend. Just quietly... sometimes life is really lame.

(WAVIER; Miss S would like to inform and remind you that she hardly ever keeps her promises. In other words, sorry about the complete lack of sex and intrigue in there... my bad.)

Fuck it! I'm still in Emoville. SOMEONE GET A MAP!?

Screw it I like being lost. Hey, lets go back in time and turn on the radio. Its the 27th of January 1988 and the number one hit in the country is...

http://www.take40.com/music/number-ones/date?day=27&month=0&searchYear=1988&n=3.20842

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!!???? Turn that off... NOW!

That just proves it. Wednesdays child is full of woe. (I've had) The Time of My Life - is one of my all time most hated songs, from one of my least favourite movies ever made - Dirty Dancing. No one puts Baby in the corner? Then why do they look so well acquainted? *murmurs* "Stupid freaking movie,". Now Footloose. Footloose would have been an awesome song to have been no. one on the day of my birth, seems the fates have scorned me once again. That said throughout the years the date of my birth has been graced with the birth of some rather prestigious personages that kind of make up for the shit number one. Such as;

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart "(1756 - 1791) Austrian composer; He was child prodigy who composed 600+ works - chamber music, symphonies and operas, e.g., ""The Magic Flute,"

Doretta Morrow "(1927) NYC, actress, (Because You're Mine)"

Pavel Nikolayevich Milyukov "(January 27, 1859 -- March 3, 1943) Russian statesman and historian, who played an important role in the events leading to the Russian Revolution of March 1917 and served as foreign mini"

Frank Miller "(1957) US, comicbook writer, (Batman-The Dark Knight Returns),

Jerome (David) Kern "(January 27, 1885 -- November 11, 1945) One of the major U.S. composers of musical comedy, whose Show Boat (with libretto by Oscar Hammerstein II) inaugurated the serious musical play in U.S"

Johann Nikolaus von Hontheim "(January 27, 1701 -- September 2, 1790) Historian and theologian who founded Febronianism, the German form of Gallicanism, which advocated the restriction of papal power."

KOSHAKU Togo Heihachiro "(January 27, 1848 -- May 30, 1934) Admiral who led the Japanese fleet to victory in the Russo-Japanese War. In the process he developed new tactics for closing with an advancing enemy f"

"Mikhail Yevgrafovich Saltykov, Graf" "(January 27, 1826 -- May 10, 1889) Novelist of radical sympathies and one of greatest of all Russian satirists."

Victor Moritz Goldschmidt "(January 27, 1888 -- March 20, 1947) Swiss-born Norwegian mineralogist and petrologist who laid the foundation of inorganic crystal chemistry and founded modern geochemistry.

Samuel C(hao) C(hung) Ting "(January 27, 1936) American physicist who won the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1976 for his discovery of a new subatomic particle."

Karen Velez "(1961) Rockville Ctr NY, playmate, (December, 1984)"

Lewis Carroll "(1832 - 1898) English author; He was a noted lecturer in mathematics, but best known as the creator of ""Alice in Wonderland,"" 1865 and ""Through the Looking Glass,"

Sir John Carew Eccles "(January 27, 1903) Australian research physiologist, who in 1963 received (with Alan Hodgkin and Andrew Huxley) the 1963 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine"

Mohamed Al Fayed "(1933) CEO, (Harrods)"


Ummm ahhh, anyone else thinking that I should do more with my life? That there is a gosh darn impressive list. From Playmates to Philosophers... January the 27th has seen some interesting people enter this world.

I should go do something... I guess. Blah... stupid birthday. FUCKING EMOVILLE... its like the Bermuda Triangle!

xx Miss S

Forgive the white rabbit Alice.

Heavens to Blog! An angry Miss S here, today I'm going to be discussing things that get my goat, sit it down in front of a large television and make it watch The View - now that's a pissed off goat!

On the agenda today - What if God was one of us?

I was recently advised to forgive the ex that (I wrote a creative email response to in my last blog) and everyone that has hurt me - by someone who has little to no idea just how badly this particular ex has treated me. Now, this is all well and good, a bit altruistic if not completely presumptuous, but now all I want to know is; where do people get off... of their high horse!? I mean, I know that there is advice to be dispensed and at times we really need it. But how does one combat someone who has not taken your advice, which was to stop advising you BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT FUCKING INTERESTED!? From what I've come to learn in my few years on this earth there is no one, not a single person who has been hurt romantically can honestly say that they haven't wanted to write a note telling the person of their romantic life's torment EXACTLY how they feel about them. Its only human! Childish, immature and completely normal! Anyway away from me attempting to justify my childish behaviour. I guess the real question here should be:

Should we forgive everyone that hurts us?

In an idealistic world - yes. Yes, it would be lovely to be able to forgive everyone that has hurt us but sadly this is not an idealistic world, this is the real world. In the real world it is oh so harsh but true that we can only give people so many chances before we have to decide whether they are no longer worth the time, energy and effort that we put into them. I in a seemingly inhuman way like to treat my relationships like I would employees in a business, the business that is my life. If one of my staff (friends) is hindering the business's (my life's) progress I do exactly what a business owner would do, I fire them and hire new staff (choose to move on and find friends that are good for my life). What do you do if an employee refuses to vacate (a friend doesn't get the message)? Politely ask again and then get the law involved (no need for translation, this is like the word brunette, it means the same in French as English).

I have politely asked the afore mentioned ex several times to leave me be... he's obviously deaf and illiterate. However there is no point in this instance to get the law involved. Its not annoying or dangerous enough to waste tax payer dollars on him. So instead I like to write humorous hypothetical emails telling him he's a prick to help me cope with the pain I'm reminded of by these unwanted emails. Less business like but gosh darn funny I tells ya!

My point in all this whining!? I guess was to try and impart my not so lordly advice to readers that being a little unforgiving is normal - don't feel bad, it doesn't make you a mean or unkind person (it does take you out of the realm of saintly) all it does is make you human. Its fundamentally human - self preservation is the strongest instinct we have, don't fight it, you don't always have to be a martyr. Especially when it comes to your emotions.


In other slightly less pissed off news,

Sometimes I get flash backs to my rather strange and eventful childhood... I think they explain a lot about the now grown socially awkward Melbourne mistress who is Miss S.

These flash backs include:

Memories of bunnies gone by.

Bunnies are AWESOME! I have been obsessed with the wonder that is the rabbit since I was a young girl. My first pets were two rabbits called Lucy - who was named after the Hanson song of the same name and Mitzy - who was named after Silver Screen goddess Mitzy Gaynor who was star of such musical motion pictures as South Pacific. Yeah, varied names from an eight year old for her bunnies, no Flopsy or Cottontail for me, but I've never claimed to be anything less than varied. Anyway, these rabbits were my first pets and I loved them very much. I would sit in our back garden in Port Lincoln, country South Australia and tell them about my dreams and sing them showtunes, they were my best friends. Sadly one day the next door neighbour's two large fierce Doberman hounds escaped and managed to find their way into our back garden, turn over my rabbit's hutch and rip my best friends to pieces. - This is yes a sad sight to come home to when you're a small girl... but to add to my obvious distress my father at the time was running for mayor of our city. I came home to find the local paper's photographer standing over the remnants of my beloved pets. I was then asked to pose with the bloody rabbit hutch. There were several pictures of me red faced crying my eyes out published in the local paper. I can tell you that if I had been old enough, I would have voted for the other guy.

This is the reason I love bunnies, fear large dogs and hate politics.


I think I have incoherently babbled quite enough for today.

Tomorrow I promise to write about sex and intrigue... which gives me something to research tonight... nudge nudge wink wink. :P

Happy Australia Day.


xx Miss S

Let me entertain you.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls (who are preferably over 16). Roll up! Roll up! Scroll down! Scroll down! You are about to happen upon my brand new blog! Its shiny and exciting, like a new car or a diamond ring or on a more culinary functional level... tin foil!

Hiya! Miss S here, wide eyed and bushy tailed I am full of cliches and surprises... like when you meet me and actually see the tail for the first time. This is my blog. Welcome!

Ok, so, for starters. Expect some harsh non-family-friendly language in this blog. I personally think that swears and curse words are going out of fashion as a social taboo. Most people don't find it overly offensive anymore. A loss of grace and dignity or not, it seems I must move with the times. To help my argument I would like to paraphrase a good friend of mine:

The word cunt.

Cunt it the new fuck...

And fuck is the new crap

Crap is the new oops

And oops is just fucking cunting gay.

Like a vulgar modern poem devoid of any beauty, this kind of childish language is exactly that, the speech of youth. As I am of a youthful age, you may have to come to accept the use of my fellow generation's dialect. Sorry, but suck it up OR read something else.

Also expect;

Naive bitching. Yeah, did I mention that I'm young? As I don't have an abundance of life experience when it comes to things like, romance, finance, politics, religion or most of society's happenings I will probably be making note of how much they come to frustrate me in this blog. I know that worldly people complain about these things as well... however while I'm young enough to blame my youth for my arrogant self expression about how "my life is so hard" I will.

Hypothetical hate mail:

Recieved yesterday;

Well Miss S,
Wednesday brings the 22nd anniversary of your entrance unto this world, so, I wish you a very happy 22nd Birthday. I hope you are doing well. It would be nice to see you again, I wonder if you're back in Adelaide anytime? for Fringe?

Anonymous-Ex-Douche-Bag


Response;

Dear Anonymous-Ex-Douche-Bag,

I have politely requested, suggested and demanded that you leave me alone so I can get on with my life and not be reminded of the horror that was our prolonged relationship. You have not only ignored this, you have stalked me and gone so far as to completely invade my personal privacy. So, with no further ado I have nothing left to say to you other than this; You are a dull, numb minded lump of socially pathological cheating dirt. PLEASE FUCK OFF AND DIE! I would rather spend an afternoon with Hannibal Lecter, basting myself with gravy than speak to you again. I DO NOT LOVE YOU! I don't even like you. I happen to despise you and your hateful gruel mouthed mother, who by the way, makes VERY un-tasty dry cake.
Lastly... you have shit taste in music. Anyone who doesn't like The Beatles, Queen, The Smiths, ABBA or Eric Clapton deserves to be castrated and permanently struck deaf. Your genetics are a detriment to society.

Miss S


- I of course am not going to send this. Any contact would encourage him, but gosh writing it makes me feel better.

Social commentaries;

In the olden days, actors were gods, rather than today's golden idols.

Has anyone noticed that back in the golden age of film the days of CinemaScope Techni-Color and the MGM movie musical, actors and actresses were expected to be able to do almost anything? And they did. They sang, they acted and gosh, could some of those feather footed fellas and dames dance?! These amazing people were paid nowhere near the amount that some of today's hacks are paid. I put this down to vanity. Too many actors and actresses get paid simply to be eye candy (in my humble yet stern opinion). Now I don't object to performers being pretty, but not at the cost of true talent and dedication to performance as an art... rather than an I'm hot, so I'll get rich quick fix. Now I don't think that just because a performer is beautiful they are untalented... I'm not a hotness hater, I just think that there is too much emphasis on the way performers look rather than the art they give to the world. You may argue that being beautiful and maintaining a certain image is an art. Honestly though, if I wanted to look at a preserved beautiful image that was made by someone else... I'd go to an art gallery. That said I personally think that ALL actors and performers at Hollywood Silver Screen level are paid FAR too much to start with! Consider this; George Clooney was several times the amount that a real ER doctor would be paid for PRETENDING to save peoples lives.

Brains or Beauty? Doctor or Dandy? Who would you give your money to?

There will also be; Stories of Mistress S's social escapades, Why I'm not allowed to have money and many other little tid bits.

For now however I am going to snuggle up in my chair of choice in the Melbourne share house that I've come to call home and eat some stolen gelati!

Night night world.