The New Girl on the Block - Queen P

Things change, people grow and sometimes life steers you in a different direction. The trick is not to resist change but to go with the flow. Everything that is happening now is happening for a reason.

If only it was that bloody easy hey! The day Queen K told me that she was leaving to dance on cruise ships I cried like a baby. And then I made her a burnt piece of fish and some Coles crunchy salad in hope that somehow she'd be blown away by my culinary skill, forego her dreams and want to stay in the Dirthouse forever. 

Guess what the outcome was?

The day Queen K left The Dirthouse we went for breakfast at St Judes and then I helped her pack the rest of her Surry Hills life into the back of her little green car. Before she left she handed me her key, looked up at the old house and then looked at me.

"You'll find someone else and everything will be fine" she sighed.

And she was right. 

There's no way we could have just gotten any chick to move into The Dirthouse. In fact like most tenants looking to fill a vacant room we had a list of what we wanted in a prospective flatmate.

• Must be able to recite the chorus to Dr Jones by Aqua
• Must have no problem talking openly and honestly about The Three P's (pooing, periods and penis size)
• Must identify the line between discussing The Three P's and over sharing
• Must bring something new to the dynamic as fiery redhead, blonde bombshell and Dirthouse analyst are already taken
• Extra points for owning any of the following: Vitamix, dehydrator, magic bullet.

And by some random stroke of a miracle we found her. Introducing...

Queen P

At first glance you'd think that this social butterfly was too fancy to move into our dilapidated premises on Bourke street. But don't let her love of designer things fool you, great quality extends way beyond her collection of Mulberry handbags. 

Not only is Queen P one of the most genuine, selfless and beautiful people I have ever met... but the girl can eat!! This is how we bonded on our first night together in the DH.

Although I hate to admit it I was rejecting her like I did with every other form of change when she walked past my room with which could only be described as the most amazing looking pizza ever.

New girl's got herself a tasty pizza hey I thought to myself cooly, maybe I should go downstairs and make sure she doesn't get any of the tasty pizza on my shitty old nice couch. 

So I followed the hypnotic smell of hot salami downstairs where after a few minutes of me lingering awkwardly in the kitchen she kindly offered me a slice.

One slice turned into four and before I knew it I had basically eaten the entire thing.

"Shit, I'm sorry I ate so much" I said highly embarrassed by the fact that I couldn't control my own mouth.

I was also ashamed because over four slices of pizza I had gotten to know a little more about this pretty stranger who turns out was a lot more like me than I thought. The fact of the matter was that she was actually very lovely and I'd just eaten the only food she had in the house.

"No worries" she shrugged

"There's another one in the oven that should be about done" she got up off the couch and opened the oven, the tantalising smell of meat and cheese erupting into the house.

"Oh, do you you have a friend coming over?" I asked suddenly aware that Queen P may have friends outside of the DH.

 "Nah I usually eat a whole one by myself and didn't know if you were going to be home or not so I made another just in case".

Oh. My. God.

"By the way do you like magnums?" she smiled placing the second pizza down on the coffee table in front of me.

And that was it.

We instantly bonded over our love of food and our superhuman ability to eat ALOT of it, a gift that we are now using for good not evil. 10 days Paleo and counting!!

But how did she get her nickname? What does the P stand for? Well you'll be happy to know that it has nothing to do with The Three P's.

You might remember a post Queen B wrote for HOB at the end of last year. It was a recount of her weekend away at Nelsons Bay. Believe it or not Queen B met Queen P during the weekend at a P themed party where B went as Pamela Anderson. Ring any bells? Refresh your memory here.

Queen P stands for Queen Protractor! She was the legend that turned up decked out in a giant piece of cardboard.

I like to think that I'm a pretty tough chick when it comes to life. Public speaking - love it, job interviews - bring it, breakups - break what? But as soon as you mention the word change there's no telling where my head will be, usually in between my legs as to relieve a panic attack. 

The thing we need to accept is that change is constant and is completely necessary for individual growth and development. Well thats what a tuck shop lady once told me anyway when I refused to buy the new school uniform and nearly sent myself into cardiac arrest. 

"THE SCHOOL COLOURS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN BLUE WHITE AND GREY, NOT BLUE WHITE AND GREEN!@!@#@#@#$$"

Although I miss Queen K dearly, like the school uniform incident sometimes change is inevitable and although its hard to see at first it's usually for the best.

 Now I realise that green actually compliments my skin tone, indirectly making me more attractive in the Tinder photo where I'm wearing teal. Similarly as a direct result of change I now have a new friend in the city.

Moral of the story is whatever change you're experiencing now, embrace it! Although it may be challenging at the moment, you might find that it's exactly what you need to steer your story in the right direction.

Welcome to Heaven on Bourke Queen P

Xx

5 Ways to Stop Feeling Sorry for Yourself on Valentines Day

Rule #1 – of being a big girl in the big city

Minimise the amount of times you stay at home feeling sorry for yourself.

So your tall, rich and handsome lover has gone to Costa Rica, your other handsome, funny and incredibly witty guy is spending the night with his kid, your ex who was meant to take you out to dinner gave up trying to find a reservation because he’s hopeless (but hey you already knew that), two of your best friends are going to a party dripping with gorgeous bachelors and your other best friend looks like this:

Because she’s going on a date with the man that she’s deeply, hopelessly in love with.

None of this means shit because a little voice in your head is telling you that you lost your only form of ID for a reason.

But as you look out your balcony onto the city street below you realise that the reason isn’t going to be easy to find. The first thing you see is a vendor selling perfect long stemmed roses to men on their way home from work. A girl in a figure hugging satin red dress is hailing a cab to take her to a reservation at Café Sydney and even the homeless man in the park is wearing a red hat in celebration of this day of love.

And here you are standing in the dark with no new messages, no declaration of love and worst of all no proof of identity so you cant even get sufficiently shitfaced by yourself.

Sorry what was the moral of this story again? I was momentary distracted thinking of ways TO KILL MYSELF. 

Oh yeah now I remember. One should not feel sorry for ones self especially on Valentines Day. But how exactly do we go about this?

5 Ways to Stop Feeling Sorry for Yourself on Valentines Day

1. Throw away your phone, or put it in a shoe at the back of your closet. Looking at pictures of Roxy Jacenko's excessive floral display on Instagram is not going to make you feel better about yourself.

2. Do not permit yourself to lay across your bed and look out the window longingly for more than 30 seconds at a time. This includes throwing head down on pillow in a dramatic manner. Just don't do it.

3. Whatever you do, DO NOT SIT ALONE IN THE DARK. Put the bloody light on please love.

4. Start feeling sorry for someone else (e.g. watch any reality TV show preferably Kim Kardashian and Co)

5. Realise that this feeling will pass!!! Valentines Day doesn't last forever (thank fuck).

Above is a picture of me currently taking my own advice, minus the phone thing...what if the love of my life tries to contact me tonight?

Thanks Dad.

Valentines Day...is Shit

So I met Mr R for breakfast in Potts Point

Which turned into a private salsa dance lesson in Surry Hills. 

And then somewhere between the cuban basic and the dile que no I realised that all of this was just Mr R's way of buttering me up to tell me that he was going overseas again. 

"Where?" I scoffed as the instructor walked over to the CD player to restart the track.

"Costa Rica" he replied sheepishly pretending to adjust his arm in the mirror. 

"And whenever you're ready" said the instructor somehow sensing the tension in the room. 

He pulled me towards him, a look of distress growing rapidly on his face. I couldn't tell what was bothering him more, trying to stay in time with the music or me. 

With ten years of dance experience under my belt I was able to put all of my focus into showing him how pissed off I was. 

back middle, forward middle, back middle, forward middle. Like the true Aires I am, I soon grew impatient and attempted to steer him into one of those cross the body moves. 

and like the true man he is, immediately after I changed direction he fucked up. 

"Paige you need to stop trying to lead" the instructor sighed.

"He will take you into the dile que no when he is ready".

"What does dear-le-care-no mean anyway?" I pouted.

"Tell her no" said the instructor giving Mr R a look as if to say mate you need to keep your bitch under control in my studio. 

The instructor walked back across the room to restart the music and I took a step closer to Mr R who was trying his hardest not to look at me (which is fairly easy when you're 6 ft 6). 

I dug my chorus shoes into the floor and wrapped my arms around him. 

"Did you hear that lover" I whispered

"dile que no is what you do when one of those hot Costa Rican babes come up to you and ask if you would be interested in some hot local sex."

He laughed. But we both knew that I wasn't joking.

And that is the story of how Mr R left me for Costa Rica the day before Valentines Day.

That is a picture of the roses I received last V-day, a gesture of love that I certainly won't be getting this year. 

Any girl who says she doesn't care about Valentines Day is lying. In fact I'm fairly sure that V-day was invented just to make life harder for single girls. You can't go out of the house without seeing big red hearts plastered over shop front windows and its near impossible to get a dinner reservation on the 14th of Feb let alone a brazilian bloody wax a week leading up to the nonevent. 

Ok so I was mega hating on Valentines Day that was until I found a way to make this Valentines Day as painless as possible. 

Yep a Tinder party, genius! 

The perfect antidote to a seedy love ridden day - a beachy Bondi bar full of sweaty single men. 

And then as I was retrieving my credit card from my wallet (to purchase a sexy V-day dress of course) I realised that my licence was missing. 

For three hours I turned The Dirthouse upside down in hope that the piece of plastic with my mugshot would reveal itself. 

Gone. My only form of photo ID.  

Even though I'm well over the legal age I knew that there was no way I was going to be let into Bucket List without it. Even Bill gets asked and he's a middle aged dad who has lived in Bondi for 20 years. 

So that was that.

The girls were going to go to the Tinder party and I was going to be forced to stay home alone on undoutably the worst day of the year. 

I don't know how long I flailed on the couch for, long enough to make my eyes swell up to the size of golf balls. Suddenly the sound of my phone ringing cut through the wall of pain. 

"Hello" I answered without identifying the number

"Well, well, well look who finally answers her phone" said the all too familiar voice.

Fuck. My ex. The reason why I steer clear of Waterloo Coles, don't eat mandarines and am allergic to Scorpio men. The only man who I have ever truly loved and the only man who can cause me more pain than an episode of Deal or No Deal. 

"What do you want?" I accidentally let out a throaty sob - not attractive.

"What's wrong with you?" He questioned immediately.

"Lost my fucking ID, left my passport in Noosa and will now be forced to spend Valentines Day alone in my piece of shit house." as you can tell i'm never one to hold anything back. 

"When's Valentines Day?" He asked in true sociopath style.

"I'm going" I threatened miserably.

"Ok, Look. Let me take you out to dinner we'll go wherever you want." 

I paused for a very long moment.

"Where ever I want?".

And that is the story of how I agreed to spend tomorrow aka Valentines Day aka the day of love with the man I hate most in the whole world. 

Yay.

Happy Valentines Day to all my lovely ladies. 

The Tinder party is open to anyone with the app. 

And please all my single girls with legitimate photo ID go forth and grind on many men on my behalf. Unless of course you are a single girl spending V-day in Costa Rica and in that case the tall, uncoordinated man is mine. 

Until next time.

Xox

Back to Reality: Noosa - Sydney

Another month in paradise gone in a blink of an eye. You can't say that I didn't get a lot done this Summer, in fact I managed to tick a lot of things off my list.

• Went to a festival
• Which reaffirmed the fact that I do indeed hate festivals
• Visited Byron Bay
• Took The Queens to Noosa
• Performed "I Touch Myself" to my high school peers drunk at the Noosa Heads Surf club
• Stayed in On The Beach's luxury ocean view suite...
• With a boy
• Used the resort's pool for the first time as a guest and not as a delinquent trespassing teenager.

Thanks to Mr R and The Queens I felt as though I was seeing Noosa for the first time through fresh eyes. Yeah the Hey Bill snow cone bitches on the beach still push my buttons (only because one of them used to bully me in grade 9) but my appreciation for Noosa certainly increased as did the size of my bum after five days of fine dining. 

I didn't want to leave and seriously considered changing my flights many times but the fact that my life and the mysterious Mr R were waiting for me in Sydney was enough to eventually get me on a plane.

I couldn't part with Noosa completely so I put my best friend Alana in my suitcase and brought her back home with me.

As soon as we landed we dropped off our luggage at The Dirthouse and headed to Bondi Beach.

A coffee from Icebergs and a lengthy perve at the local personal trainers was enough to get us back into the Sydney spirit.

Later that afternoon we reunited with The Queens, who were ready to show Alana how to (for lack of a better phrase) get loose.

We started off with a bucket of beer at The Bucket list...

And another....

Then changed from beachy (sandy) chic to city (a little more cleavage + higher heels) chic to meet with fellow Noosa girl Rita at Pelicano.

And then Somewhere between a mojito and a margarita I saw him.

"Holy shit" Queen B spat.

"Remain calm" Rita hissed.

All four girls eye balled something behind me. My stomach did a backflip, a front flip and finally a bellyflop as I suddenly felt a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Look who it is" said a familiar voice.

I turned around. And there looking handsome as ever was Bill. We said a few things, the girls said a few things and then just like that he was gone.

Double Bay is Bill's neighbourhood so I should have known. Maybe I did know. Maybe I was hoping after two months I'd run into him and with the support of my four best friends I'd be ok.

I wasn't. Very soon margaritas turned into tequila shots and I was really ready to show Alana a good time.

Sometime between 2am and 5am we found ourselves attending an intimate party at The Shangri-La.

A food party that was...

And the rest is just a blur of spag bowl and duck fat fries.

The next morning we woke up with sore heads and tomato sauce stains on our dresses. Feeling less than fresh we dragged our sorry asses back over to Bondi for the Saturday farmers markets. While most of the local talent were sipping green juices and nibbling on bliss balls Alana was busy ordering 'sticky ribs'.

You've got to give it to her...the girl can eat!

We ended the weekend with some drinks at Cruise Bar. After a couple of ciders I was feeling alive again.

Cheers to Sydney!

Cheers to girlfriends!

Cheers to...

*Beep Beep*

A text message flashed up on my screen.

Happy to have you back in town x

That c*nt. 

*Beep Beep*

And then another but this one was from someone else.

Hi gorgeous, can't wait to see you. Dinner tomorrow? R

A good friend is a friend who agrees to one or ten more rounds of drinks in a time of emotional distress. Let's just say that Alana is the best friend in the world. 

                                                                                   *

The next day I watched Alana get in a cab and drive away in the direction of the airport. I really wanted to go with her but I knew that I had to stay here. 

Eventually I covered my disgusting puffy face with sunglasses and a visor and got in a cab to Bondi. 

He was waiting for me at the Icebergs with a fresh coconut.

I wanted to tell him that I loved him but he looked distant,

yep back to reality.

Outfits Men LOVE - All Under $100

I don't write about fashion or what to wear because it isn't really my area of expertise. Growing up in Noosa there were only a handful of affordable boutiques to choose from, style savy girls took this as an opportunity to use their imaginations and put together cool op shop outfits or even make their own clothes. Unfortunately when I was caught wearing Supre over the age of 15 I realised that this form of expression didn't come naturally to me.

That is when I started swearing and writing about boys.

As I've gotten older and moved to the city I have definitely developed more of an appreciation for clothes. Not so much for cutting-edge fashion but for rare apparel with the ability to instil confidence into a woman and fear into a man (in a good way of course).

As you all know I like to go on dates. It's a good way to meet people in the city and check out new places. To me one of the best parts of dating in the city is that moment you first walk into the bar/restaurant/social event. The moment he sees you from across the room and his face immediately lights up.

I'd like to think that it's my vivacious personality radiating from within that attracts his attention as I walk through the doors. But I know that it's more likely to be the outfit I'm wearing, the outfit that I have carefully selected for this moment.

So what should you wear if we want to really capture the attention of a man? I think the answer is this: something that you feel wildly confident in.

We all have that go-to outfit for dates, that one dress or skirt that fits us perfectly and makes us feel unbelievably sexy. This ensemble is unlikely to be the most fabulous or expensive piece you own but the one that gets the most praise from the opposite sex.

Whether its the cut or the way you wear it there are just some pieces of clothing that men love. Here are a few of the DH Queen's favourite clothes that have accumulated a dozen jaw dropping moments over the years.

Exhibit A: For the love of (sexy yet classy) bodycon

When I was in college I was all for the generic skin tight Princess Polly dresses. And as soon as I moved to Sydney and met the Queens they were the first thing to go. 'Either tits or legs - never both'.

This is when I discovered the sexy yet classy bodycon dress. Strategically placed panels give the appearance of a slimmer waist and sophisticated colour combinations to draw the eye into the centre of the body.

The Dress above by Aussie label August Street has received more praise than any item of clothing I have ever owned. TV personality Bill notorious for never giving compliments once said that it was 'really nice' which was massive coming from him. Mr R said 'that dress always looks amazing on you' one Friday night as we walked into Rockpool. 'Look at you' were the exact words my ex boyfriend expelled from his poisonous mouth the night I ran into him at Double Bay wearing the super flattering number. The list goes on. It's something about the neutral colours and perfectly placed lines that make this dress simple yet sexy. And we all know that its better to simplify things when it comes to the male species ;)

The best thing about this dress, coincidently called the 'Queen' dress is that it is currently on sale here for only $64.95!!! With free shipping. I've already ordered my second one!

The night Queen B captured the attention of one of Sydney's most eligible bachelors at Palmer and Co she was wearing this super sexy yet incredibly elegant black and white number. This dress named 'Striker' puts a curve clinging twist on the classic LBD. Perfect for the petite girl the striker dress gives the illusion of a slimmer waist and longer legs. 

Over the years I have spent shit loads of money on LBDs that barely receive a second glance.  Something about the subtle peek of thigh makes this number truly unforgettable and at only $70 you'll have money left over to by a sexy pair of heels to go with. Grab this dress from Showpo Queen B's favourite online store.

Another place thats perfect to purchase sexy yet classy bodycon dresses and the slimming vegan leather number above is Wilde Willow. A great site for good quality outfits on a budget.

Exhibit B: The super sexy (yet incredibly comfortable) heel

A jaw dropping outfit isn't a jaw dropping outfit without a really sexy pair of heels. Men love beige heels and for good reason, a great pair of nude shoes give the illusion of super long pins. Queen L gave me the shoes above for Christmas and although I've only had them for a little over a month I have now dubbed them 'my favourite shoes in the world'. Not only are they super comfortable but they are perfect to wear during the day and well into the night.

Oh and did I mention that the hairy chest man god above commented on them not once but twice. 'Those shoes make you look fucking smoking hot' he said as I strutted into Cafe Le Monde last Friday night. They also made an appearance last Sunday sesh and no words were needed as he saw them before grabbing my hand and leading me straight to a dark corner of the bar.

Enough said? Enough said. These bad boys are Wittner and are currently on sale. Yeah! Grab a pair here 

Keeping with the sexy beige theme. These strappy black and beige heels are the perfect finish to any sexy outfit. The block heel and adjustable velcro strap makes them super comfortable and this style is always a winner with the boys. 

Better yet these Wittner shoes are also on sale. Stick with me and you'll never pay full price again! Fancy a pair of these? Click here 

Exhibit C: Hair and Makeup

Truth be told you can have the sexiest outfit in the world but if your hair and makeup isn't up to scratch you might as well cancel your Tinder date now. Queen B is a beauty editor and my go to girl for hot date hair and makeup. It's common knowledge that men don't like caked on makeup and would take Scarlet Johansson over Charlotte from Geordie Shore any day. If like me you aren't blessed with flawless skin you'll be happy to know that the products below will soon become your best friends. Cunning creatures aren't we? Using makeup to give the illusion of no make up.

Below are a list of affordable makeup products that Queen B uses religiously. With these beauty bargains you can create the look above - unfortunately fantastic boobs are not included.

Foundation: L'Oreal Paris True Match Foundation in Golden Natural
Blush: Bourjois Blush in Rose Ambre
Highlighter: NARS Highlighter in Copacabana
Brows: Benefit Browzings Brow Shaping Kit (eyebrows shaped at Benefit brow bar David Jones)
Eyes: Benefit Bronze Eyeshadow Palette, Sportsgirl To The Point Liquid Eyeliner, Benefit They're Real Mascara
Lips: Marilyn Monroe for MAC in Scarlet

Hair wise you want to opt for natural curls. Queen B's fool proof method:

1. Curl hair with GhD and spray the shit out of it with CEDEL firm hairspray

2. Brush out with a bristle brush

3. Spray the shit out of it once again

The nights I've always received the most compliments from men and women are the nights that I go out feeling a million bucks. My love affair with clothes began when I stopped wearing clothes made for very thin girls and started wearing dresses that enhanced the female form.

Funnily enough men also love figure hugging dresses but they love them even more when you leave a something up to the imagination.

I used to think that girls who had the most fun creating cool outfits were girls with petite frames and slim limbs. But now I realise that creating an outfit is less about the aesthetic and more about the feeling you get when you wear something you really love.

Regardless of what this article suggests, the magic of a great outfit happens even before a man tells you, you look amazing. If the cut of a dress or the perfect height of a pair of heels gives you the confidence to walk into a bar you've never been to, to see a man you've never met, you know before you even reach the table that you look gorgeous...because it's all about the beauty you project.