God Save The Chest Hair!

I think I'd like to be the first one to put up my hand and say - what the fuck happened to hairy men?

I'll admit when I was younger chest hair didn't do much for me, in fact I thought it was reserved for very old people like my dad and a creepy swimming teacher I once had who looked like chubaka in his speedos.

Oh, how the times have changed!

These days I cling to the hope that the man I'm seeing has really anything to cling to at all may it be a small brown tuft or a blonde glimmering shag pile.

Now boys, I'm not saying that i'd go crazy for a chest that rivals Alec Baldwin's in his glory days...

...although I probably would mind if you were equipped with a big gun ;)

But, all I'm really asking for is some proof that you have passed the boyish Aaron Carter stage and you're well on your way to becoming a man. I do understand that some men can't grow chest hair and many won't sprout their first crop until late into their twenties however, I find this all the more reason to cherish what you've got.

If you don't have chest hair, hey don't worry because you still have several other areas of your body that are absolutely covered in the stuff! - Wrong.

When I was in year nine I had a friend named Fiona who was honestly a bit of a sluz (sorry fi fi) and she would take a razor to school in case her legs spontaneously decided to get hairy between the hours of eight and three thirty. One day we were sitting on the oval and I looked down at my semi hairy legs (mum forced me to wax up until around age 15) and I turned to Fiona who was discretely running a dry razor back and forth over the tops of her legs and I found myself asking her something along the lines of - why the fuck are you doing that?

And I remember her looking at me like I was the most ignorant, pathetic person in the world (it's weird I actually got that look a lot from people when I was 14) and then she grabbed my hand found an obscure spot on her leg and rubbed my hand up the bare piece of skin (no this did not result sexy girl on girl action) and then she said -  see Paige although it looks soft it's actually spiky and boys don't like girls with spiky, hairy legs.

Mind blown.

Like, I knew boys don't like full blown hairy legs but even a little bit spiky was out of the question?

Flash forward nearly a decade later and I'm on a date and I'm performing all the right moves to show him that I'm interested - the laugh then the subtle hair flick and slight arm graze and what!? wait a second, that shit is spiky as hell, not just Fiona slight regrowth leg hair spiky but full blown abrasive. And then I look down at my own arm where there is an abundance of hair, its blonde but its hairy and for the first time in my life I think shit, should I be getting rid of this too?

No, the answer is no! If you also answered what the fuck, and are you fucking serious you'd also be correct.

Since when did we all get so hell bent on removing all the hair from our bodies? If you're lucky from me you'll get smooth legs, underarms, a nice eye brow wax and a very well maintain chu cha but my expectations of men are a lot less. If you're up with the times you might man scape every now and then but other than that I just don't care.

I know that I speak for a lot of women here when I say that one of the main reasons why we are attracted to the male species is because they are not high maintenance creatures. Since the beginning of time men have had hairy chests and for good reason, an abundance of chest hair was probably like a fury cloak to protect against colder climates or a wiry trap used to catch flying insects and stray pieces of food. Obviously times have changed but I promise you there is still a massive place in our hearts and beds for hairy chested men. In a world where men are beginning to wax their chests, pluck their snail trails and shave their balls it seems that to have even a splash of hair on your chest is becoming taboo especially for the younger generations.

So as a very concerned 20-something year old girl I want to take a stand and say no! Boys don't let hair become confined to the chests of gross old swimming teachers and the occasional super hero (Henry Cavill let me lick you) rock a bit of growth next time you're hanging out on the beach or wearing a nice tee because like the ancient fly trap mechanism you'll find that women are just waiting to get caught up in a llll that manliness, much more than they're willing to get injured by your spiky regrowth.

If that hasn't convinced you - ladies, men, but mostly ladies I have got two words for you...

Oliver Jackson-Cohen

The things I would do to you...for a better look I'd highly recommend you'd take a look at this clip. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipOvhIx-NhM

You're very welcome ;)

Sober Sunday

Crouching on the ground, scrambling through the contents of my bag at 6:45am on a Sunday morning I could have easily been mistaken for a crack whore wildly searching for her next hit.

Fortunately that wasn't the case. After emptying half of my shit onto the ground I finally found the small silver key which had slipped between the pages of my second hand hermes notebook.

Success!

I swung open the big old Dirthouse door and made my way into the living room. It was a spectacle to not only see the DH in perfect living condition, not a bottle or pair of panties in sight (the usual reminisce of a big weekend) but to come home to a completely empty house. Where were the Queens?

Well Queen L was at the snow, Lady B was at her parents holiday house in the Blue Mountains and Countess K was on tour for her mini dance production. For the first time in longer than I could remember it was just me, severely hungover and alone.

I looked at my face in the mirror and instantly shook my head. The truth was I hadn't been home for some time either. Two day old make up, dirty hair and sore chapped lips, the fact that I had barely slept a wink over the last two days didn't benefit my complexion either.

The next moment I took to do all of the things that a girl can simply cannot do in the company of the one she admires. I removed every slither of make up, before going to town on an abundance of blackheads that had miraculously appeared all over my nose. Flossed my teeth in a painfully slow and indulgent way and then made myself a huge mug of coffee that I was hoping would send me running to the toilet.

After a long hot shower I took some pain killers, drew the curtains and slipped into bed.

There's a certain luxury about being in your own bed, in fact I can't imagine what it would be like to share that intimate space with another slightly larger human day in and day out.

I had decided long before this moment that I wasn't a relationship person, sure I can pretend to feel clean when I get out of your shower that is barely equipped with a bar of soap or use my finger to brush my teeth however I can only really unwind and feel at ease when I'm alone raw and bare and relaxed and free.

I woke up five hours later, it felt like a lifetime. I slowly unravel myself from my sheets and prop my laptop up on the bed.

I want to write about you but I draw the line at this:

If we could stay in this moment forever I'd be content, in fact I'd always be happily satisfied in every way but sadly, this is not how the world works. Sometimes relationships continue to grow, they get better and stronger and more intense but more times than not they deteriorate not long after the first kiss. When you first set your sights on someone mystery and suspense creates a tightly wound knot in the pitt of your stomach but eventually those intense feelings begin to unravel until you're left with nothing more than unfulfilled expectations. If I could just leave it here and never speak to you again it would be an honourable move, it would be the defining point of how far i've come in my small yet robust experience with love and all emotions in relation to it. But something tells me that I'll just be flaking out on a marvellous story, the next chapter of self exploration in my life.

The heaviness of what I've just come to realise makes my head spin, what better way to not deal with this situation than to just go back to bed. In fact I think thats exactly what I might do.

Goodnight all x

Candy Cafe - The Ultimate Hangover Cure On Bourke

Quite frankly Lady B is going to kill me when she sees that I've actually posted the picture above. If it's any consolation Lady B, you aren't the only one who is guilty of getting absolutely blind drunk and waking up looking like you spent the night in a bush. Ok, so maybe we have never passed out in a bush (touch wood) but we do often wake up with a killer hang over craving 1. liquid of any description and 2. the biggest greasiest breakfast ever. When I was 16 my very wise dad pretty much guided me through my first stinking hangover, being the avid surfer he is he told me to take the pain as it comes and the best way to get through the hangover is to ride the wave (he then used to  make me a massive breakfast with bacon, lots and lots of bacon and that helped a lot too). Unfortunately now I can't just head over to dads place when I'm feeling like a good hearty breaky, but lucky for the Queens and I just down the road from the DT is the next best thing.

Before we can head off to our favourite hole-in-the-wall breakfast spot we find it helps to dress in homeless person attire. Queen L usually takes the cake with her highly inventive outfits.

If you follow the bum in the pink hat you'll eventually arrive at a saviour of a place called Candy Cafe 780 Bourke Street. Although this isn't technically in Surry Hills its located towards the nicer end of Redfern and serves breakfast all day! Don't be fooled by its incredibly outdated exterior this place has the cheapest breakfasts I've seen in Surry Hills yet and the food is pretty damn tasty too!

If you don't believe me about how cheap it is just take a look at the breakfast menu. Free range eggs done however you like, bacon, roast tomato on sour dough is not even $10!

Pretty much every Saturday & Sunday we sit on a table out the front looking like a bunch of hideous pale corpses. Do be warned there is a male waiter there who loves picking out the hungover people from the rest of the patrons and he'll usually say something like "shit you girls are so hungover hey!" or "Oohh I think someone had a big night last night" - I think he deserves a prize for picking up that we're severely on edge or still slightly drunk because obviously most regular people couldn't tell from the pictures of health below.

I ordered the bacon, eggs, tomato combo minus the toast with a side of mushrooms and avo. If you are eating bread (can you believe I'm actually sticking to this whole paleo thing!) then I suggest you order an extra slice of toast as these meals only come with one piece of toast and if you're anything like me its nice to have enough bread to soak up your eggs (it's unlikely that they will charge you extra for this).

Bernie also got the bacon, eggs and tomato on sourdough combo plus hash browns and a whole bottle of BBQ sauce. She won't admit to you she has a problem.

Queen L was too quick and I didn't get to take a photo of her meal before she dived head first into it. L gets the same thing every time - poached free range eggs, potato cake with spinach, hollandaise sauce, she also ordered a side of bacon and they chucked a tomato and some toast on there for good measure! Man I love it when Candy just surprises you with a freebee. 

Queen L and I both had a delicious juice (made fresh - no bottled shit!) and Lady B opted for something more er...artificial...whatever does the trick. Truthfully I'm never 100% satisfied with the mushrooms, theres just something about them that tastes a little bit off. But the eggs are always cooked pretty spot on and the bacon is crisp and delish. Candy Cafe also has some of the better coffee on offer around the Surry Hills area and you can always expect friendly service and your meal to be delivered to your table within 10 minutes which is pretty good for Surry on a Sunday. I highly recommend Candy Cafe not necessarily for the atmosphere but for the tasty food at crazy cheap prices. Its quick and easy which is exactly what you need when you're suffering from a dirty hang over! 

After we bid Candy farewell (the lovely asian woman who owns Candy Cafe) we decided to head to Moore Park to soak up some sun.

Frost Fruits are also another hangover essential!

Unfortunately none of us were up for having balls in our face, especially Queen L who could have scared the fairly cute footballers off with just one glance. By this time of the day she looked like a mix between a scarecrow and a carrot - hot!

We managed to wonder home relatively unscathed from the night before, nursing only a slight head aches and a BBQ sauce stain on Lady B's dress. We though it would be best to leave the homeless looking redhead where she belongs - on the nature strip.

We'll be holding auditions for the next Queen L at the Dirthouse this afternoon, if anyone is interested please see the "contact" section of this blog for enquiry details. We're looking for someone curvaceous, outrageous and a little bit filthy. Good luck to all applicants - we'll be in touch. 

Dirthouse Queens x

Lucky Ivan

So, how do I put this...

I'd been separated from my queens for just over two weeks, apart from a measly group text conversation there was no shit talking, no binge drinking and especially no Saturday night shenanigans. So as you could imagine when I got back from Noosa I was keen as a bean (pretty fucking keen) to spend the whole weekend drinking, laughing and preying on men and women for that matter with my girls.

Therefore, we accepted an invitation for a 4th of July party on the Friday night and tried our best to conger up some Americana themed costumes. Before long it was pretty obvious what the three of us were going to be.

Oh, hold on a second. How absolutely rude of me not to introduce you to the new Queens. I'm not going to lie I had my doubts about them, especially since I don't like bitches cutting my grass. But you've got to give it to this first one, she has an ass like sunshine and hair like er...sunshine also.

So without further ado let me present to you the new, newly single and improved ( I thought she was perfect to start with) Queen L...

BOOM! Jessica Rabbit is in town with a fineeeee derriere. 

But wait...who is that beside her? There ain't never been a blonde living under the DH roof before - what? No! It can't be - is it? Lady B...

Praise the dirt!!!!

I've come home to two smoking hot new roomies who are more fun, filthy and fabulous than ever. It's safe to say I'm one very happy Queen. As for my hair you ask well I was a brunette when I was born and I'll be a brunette the day I die - darkness runs thicker than these luscious locks of mine.

So, have you guessed what american icons we're going to be yet? Well let me give you a hint...

Good morning, Charlie...

Ladies, phones and guns are Friday night clutch essentials

Don't shoot, don't shoot!

 And if our costumes weren't American enough for you Lady B's manicure should do the trick!

 Bang, Bang.

It's safe to say we were in for a wild one...

It was probably the funniest most spontaneous night I've had out with the girls in a while, I think a little recap for your reading pleasure is definitely in order:

• Arrived at 4th of July party exceptionally sloshed
• Cruised through a sea of sweaty young boys, flashing our pieces (industry word for guns) if they refused to move
• Shots, shots, shots USA style
• Leaving 4th of July party and escaping into a shiny black car
• Being taken to an underground bar 
• Salsa dancing with a tall dark and handsome type
• Two stock brokers and a journalist  
• The journalists name was Ivan, Ivan writes about debt
• Champaign, cocktails and more shots
• A drunken call to one of the stock brokers biggest contacts 
• Drunken ramblings with an advertising tycoon
• A vanishing act
• Wait, why is Ivan in the cab home with us?
• VERY, VERY, VERY lucky Ivan

All i'm saying is that this was the kind of night that called for an emergency meeting on the stairs in the morning.

Moral of the story- Ladies don't immediately assume that when you meet a man wearing a pink shirt, impeccably maintained facial hair, speaks with a flamboyant twinge and is most importantly named Ivan that he is heterosexual. Gay or not Ivan was the lucky one who ended up taking home a fiery redhead, a vivacious blonde and a mysterious brunette that night and there under the rusty roof of the dilapidated mansion they all passed out peacefully, three Queens and well a Queen. 

TBC...

Honey's I'm Home!

And it's although I just clicked my heels together and I'm back home in my bed feeling the familiar surge of freedom rushing through my veins. What do I do now?  I keep my mind occupied by sharing stories of the last two weeks with the girls. Before I know it we're in stitches talking about Queen L's new best friend (to be revealed in a later blog post). As my flight arrived pretty late at night due to unexpected delays we decide to all call it a night. As we walked up the stairs to the very top of the DH in single file my phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket. I slip my hand into the depths of my deliciously warm robe and retrieve the cold metal object - one new message.

"Did you get home safe?"

My heart meltsssss, you're no longer so far away...in fact if I wanted to I could walk to your place right now and slip into your hairy, manly, wildly muscular embrace. 

But I don't, I shed my robe and slip into bed - the light goes off and I suddenly feel exhausted and with every moment I sink deeper and deeper in my sheets - goodnight Bourke Street.

Next thing I know my alarm sounds, Good Morningggggggggg.

I realise where I am and smile, I stretch and rub my aching body against the firm mattress (fuck that mountain of heavy luggage). I meet the girls in the living room for a warm cuppa before they head off to work. Hmm what shall I do today? In all honesty I can't afford to eat out but I crave a good Surry Hill's breaky so badly, I opt for the next best thing and catch a cab to Coogee for a warm home cooked meal. 

Mr. J is in bed. I press his buzzer several times before he lets me in. I walk up two flights of stairs before I reach his apartment, the door is unlocked so I slip in before any of his prudish neighbours can see me. 

His apartment is dark, I look around but can barely make out a black leather couch.

"I'm in here" he groans.

I make my way to the bedroom and walk past his bed where I notice he is laying half naked and draw the blinds. 

"It's a beautiful day," I sing

"Just look at the beach!"

He explains to me that after losing his job as a business man of some description who works on Pitt St (I couldn't really tell you what he does because I myself don't even really know) he's gotten into a very productive habit of drinking and sleeping. I comment on his new couch before suggesting he regain his strength with a hearty breakfast that he would make and we would enjoy together on his balcony. 

We eat breakfast, it's devine and then he suggests we go for a run to Bondi, I agree and then we set off over the hill. Every girl running the opposite way gets caught off guard when they pass him, why not he's talk dark and handsome and has a cheeky boyish face that any girl could love and trust! 

He wants to stop and do exercises and I'm too worried that i'm going to bump into the guy I actually like, we stop and I pretend to be his personal trainer. 

"Come on boy, harder!! Wait stay there, thats a good picture".

"I'm feeling pretty lazy/creepy just sitting on this rock watching you".

 Where was I you ask well If you look carefully at the picture below you may see the delicate silhouette of a Victorias Secret model - Yes that giant blubber of shadow is me.

 Ok time to stretch it out...

Look, I must admit I was pretty impressed - I felt like I might have found my calling as a PT, I congratulated him on his hard work and rested my arms on his legs like the proud compassionate lover than i'm really not!

Oh Sydney, I'm so glad to be back. You may not be as beautiful as Noosa but you're full of exciting characters to play pretend with!

*If you'd like me to be your personal trainer please contact the dirt house immediately as positions are filling fast! ;)