Formal Attire

Nobody panic. I am still alive. Contrary to popular belief. And contrary to my blog presence. No. I haven’t been killed. No. I haven’t gone walkabout (not yet, anyway). But yes. My fan club did get concerned about the fact that I haven’t written to you for a while. And yes, I have a fan club. It consists of three people. I’m a minor celebrity. So here I am, to divulge the inner workings of my twisted mind; to splash my emotional sob story all over the pages internet (because what better way to do it?). And procrastinate. Because what better time to start writing my blog again than half way through my exams.

Literally me.

I would apologise, but fuck it. Apologies are for pussies (unless it’s warranted, in which case, apologising is not for pussies). Although, I apologise for not having a sob story. Although, perhaps I’ve made some people cry, but they haven’t talked to me about it. Ignorance is bliss. I can offer a bit of an explanation as to where I have been all this time. It’s not that I haven’t had the time. I have. In fact, props to me, I have watched 8 seasons of TV shows in the last 2 months (these are the kind of skills that pepper my CV - can’t understand why I’m still unemployed?!?). Anyway, part of the reason why I sometimes find it hard to write is because I have this internal conflict about whether or not writing a blog is entertaining or horrifically pretentious. I rule it as horrifically pretentious, and therefore have to overcome quite an internal barrier before publishing my life story. However, it would appear that, seeing as I haven’t written anything recently, I am not doing so well with my warring mind. It can also be a challenge to write anything when ones life takes a turn for the mundane. Exceptionally mundane. Like yesterday, I had brushed my teeth. And while my life hasn’t become more interesting yet, it is going to (now you’re hooked right? What is she talking about?). In the near future. Maybe. Hopefully. We’ll see.

Hobbes has it sorted

But first of all, looking back… I left you when I was having my pre-mid life crisis. A real cliff hanger, ae. Yeah. Well. Nah. Probably the biggest news of the semester is that I have recently employed some people to hang out with me on occasion. As part of their employment contract, they had to attend my Formal Attire 22^nd Birthday Party.  By the way, holy guacamole, you should see what the ageing process has done to me – not good. Because I’m a girl and a feminist and believe that women should be objectified; ‘who was I wearing?’ you ask. I have absolutely no clue, but it was full length and red and velvet. And any event where full length and red and velvet is not ridiculous must be fantastic, right? Except there was that one guy who showed up to my Formal Attire Birthday Party in shorts. Since when were shorts formal attire? I mean a more appropriately dressed individual was wearing a three-piece suit. Admittedly shorts-boy was not from New Zealand. He originated from some other land.  My advice for you - don’t ever go to a formal event in shorts.

'Nuff said

The real highlight of the birthday party though, was my delightful mother cranking out the old guitar, song lyrics and ensuring that everyone present sang along with the ‘Steph Lambie’ rendition of ‘The Yellow Submarine” by The Beatles. As if an embarrassing story at my expense would not suffice… It was very sweet, and if I was a crier, I would have cried. But I’m not a crier, so I didn’t cry. I’ll tell you what though… Having friends has it’s pluses and minuses. Plus, I no longer have to eat lunch alone everyday (just Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays). Minuses, I often hear faint ringings of ‘we all live in the Lambie bungalow’ throughout the chemistry department.

My new ride

I actually don’t know what I have spent the last 2 months doing. That’s worrisome. I am becoming more goldfish like everyday.