Things I’ve learnt from my hangover

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My friend from work, Nat, messaged me this morning and asked how I was feeling. I sent back this picture because I didn’t feel as though words could correctly capture the carnal shame I was feeling. My hangover was a constant reminder- a voice in my head that would pop up and say “YOU IDIOT!!!!” when I’d try and tell myself that “it wasn’t that bad…”.

My Christmas party has become a blurry memory. I’m glad I don’t have to see anyone I work with for 2 weeks, because I have too many reasons to feel embarrassed. I wish I could go back in time, to the moment when the group yelled out “SHOTS!”, and I ran straight over and drank that tiny glass of poison. Tequila. That’s what did it for me. It was the little Mexican that came to the party too late and ruined everything for everyone.

So as I was spewing my guts in to the work toilet that I use every day- I began to wonder how I had gotten to this place. Who was I? What was the point of my life?

The best thing I got out of the whole day, was that- I am glad I have such wonderful work friends. I got bruises on my arms from when my friend Nat was holding me back, while simultaneously hailing a taxi to take me home. I was trying so hard to run away, while screaming “I’m not even that drunk! Im gonna catch the train! “. And if bruises from trying to restrain someone from making a huge mistake doesn’t mean friendship- then I don’t know what does.

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Anyone can be a friend

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I’ve only ever been to one other work Christmas party before. It was when I was working at Priceline, and we all went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant. I had only been there a few months, so it was interesting to see a different side of the people I had been working with. I guess alcohol does that to you.

It’s strange, because when I first started here, I didn’t think I’d have anything in common with my colleagues. It’s reminded me of a very important life lesson: sometimes your friends dont have to be the same as you… you can make friends with anyone (as long as they aren’t ass-holes, psychopaths or douche lords).

Gov

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I have a question. And I’m not being impatient, I’m just genuinely intrigued by this conundrum. Why is it that any government owned entity are always so DAMN SLOW?

Do you want to know how long I waited to buy stamps today? 25 minutes. And they had 3 people behind the register. I really don’t feel like it should have taken this long. I mean, yes, there are the occasional ass hole-customers that decide to try and get retail workers to bend over backwards for them, but seriously… I feel like civil servants have the job security and the RIGHT to tell people to shut the hell up and get out of their line. I would.

Maybe I’m just being a bit crazy, but I feel like there is always a long line of annoyed people at any government building. If government funded trades are allowed to charge a BILLION dollars for 5 men to stand around all day doing nothing, then places like Aus Post and Centrelink should be able to hire actual motivated people who don’t hate their lives and don’t value the time of Australian citizens.

Cold

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10850749_10152880733101885_759480431_nIt was so weird going to work today. I feel like everyone is just looking at each other like we are at school and our teacher went skitzo. We always thought we were exempt from stuff like this, because we are in Australia. And nothing bad happens here. I feel like people are making eye contact with each other, trying to send a message: saying “Thank God it wasn’t us”.

When I woke up this morning, I remembered the hostage situation, and I ran to turn the tv on. A weight was lifted from me when I read the words I’d been praying to see “siege is over”.

I had a bad feeling all morning, like this is the beginning of the end. And then I saw this piece of art on an old building, and I felt cold inside.

Guilt

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What an awful day it has been. I became aware of the hostage situation at about 10.30am from my mother in law who frantically messaged me “DONT GO TO THE CITY”. I had taken the day off today, and was lying in bed (my arms in agonising pain after my triple shot saga.. Guess I won’t be getting Tetanus, Typhoid or Hep A anytime soon), watching in horror as a crazy man held my whole country hostage. I watched from my bed and I thought about how I would have felt if I had gone to work today. I work about 5 minutes away, so I wouldn’t have been in any danger- but when people starting talking about bombs in the Opera House, I would have been freaking out hardCORE.

I thought about how lucky I was, that I was tucked up in bed with my dogs.. and the knowledge that all my family and friends were safe. I can’t imagine how the relatives and friends of the hostages felt. They would have just been waiting around for the unknown… Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

It’s really silly, but I felt guilty because I was so comfy in my bed while these innocent people were pressed up against the windows, fearing for their lives for 17 hours- with a crazy man waving a gun around.

I’m turning in to my grandparents

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Look at my cute little Christmas Tree. I feel bad for my husband because he didn’t get to have a big green plastic tree in our tiny house- but I just think it’s a waste of money to buy plastic decorations that will only be up for a few weeks. I REFUSE to be a part of the commercialised “Xmas”- So I literally spent $4 on Christmas related decorations this year. I bought a big roll of the Christmas wrapping paper you can see in the photo.I wanted to use newspaper, but I think I’ll just ease my poor hubby in to this transition.

This tree cost me nothing. I went bush bashing through our investment property, and found this branch that had snapped off one of the trees. Then I borrowed white paint from my dad, used a handsaw to get rid of grubs and other weird knobbly bits- found an old plastic pot behind the house.. and used stones from our pathway to secure the tree in place. And when I’m done, I’ll reuse the stones and the pot.. And I’ll probably make a cute mobile out of the branch.

OMG I’m turning in to my grandparents.

Mi Madre

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I saw this miniature dog on the beach today. Ok, so maybe it was a puppy. But it was like, a miniature jack russel x staffy. It was so cute I couldn’t handle it, and I shed a few tears when it ran over to me and jumped on my lap. It made me think about my mum and how there are so many things about her that would surprise you. Let me tell you a few (sorry mum):

– My mum is obsessed with miniature things. She has this whole shelf in her bedroom that holds all of her little statues. One time, I went to Thailand and bought her this tiny porcelain set of a mother duck and 10 ducklings. I never knew what joy a 50c present could bring until that moment.

– When she was little, my Oma was doing a spring clean and put one of her dolls in the incinerator, because she thought my mum didn’t play with it anymore. When my mum found out, she was distraught because she used to think her dolls had feelings.. Anyway, a few years ago she went on ebay and found the EXACT same doll, and bought it.And thus began my mothers seriously insane obsession with dolls. She went to a doll fair once and that’s when I had to stage an intervention. I told her she had to get rid of some of her dolls (they were literally SPILLING out of the cupboard), and she told me I was mean.

– She falls over. ALL.THE.TIME. Like, I’m not even exaggerating. A few weeks ago, she was cleaning the glass fence around the pool, went to step sideways- MISSED- and fell half in the pool, half on the tiles.  It was probably one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, but I won’t go in to that. Another time, she was running to answer the door, and she went to take a step down the stairs and she missed, and flew/slipped down all 20. Then she just stood up, all flustered and opened the door like nothing happened.

hope you enjoyed my short list of things you didn’t know about Susi Coles. Sorry mum.