The Dirthouse Book Club

I love living in The Dirthouse, I love living with three beautiful and intelligent young women but sometimes I just feel like we're a hopeless bunch of school girls who need a good reality check especially on matters of the heart.

We are all currently kinda dating someone and have been dating that someone for months and even years now. Yet, none of us have really progressed past those initial stages of a relationship.

Queen L had a boyfriend but then he went away so it was put on hold, he got back about a month ago but he's not her boyfriend anymore because, time changed something or something but he still comes over and leaves his plaid shirt and esky in our living room.

Queen K is also seeing someone in fact she has been casually seeing him for years...years of foreplay has finally turned into something that resembles the beginning of a relationship but we can't know for sure because I have lived in The Dirthouse for years now and I have never seen this man she speaks of.

And as for me well, what problems don't I have in regards to my current relationship status?

So last Sunday morning all of us single gals found ourselves sitting in the lounge room in silence. Intermittently staring at our phones, then staring at the wall and then back at our phones and then to each other. Finally I felt obliged to stand up and say...

"What the fuck are we actually doing?"

Queen L then suggested that we read, because smart girls spend their time immersed in timeless literature and dumb girls sit on the couch and think about boys. So we all headed to the library in the dungeon to see what literary masterpieces we could find.

*side note - another reason why I love The Dirthouse is because we have our own library which is made up of random books that none of us actually bought. These books have been left here by single girls who have lived in this dilapidated mansion before us, kind of like they are handing down their knowledge to the next generation of DH Queens.

The first book we picked up was "He's Just Not That Into You"the incredible creation of expert dating duo Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo. Im sure you've all seen the movie, but nothing and I mean nothing can prepare you for the book which is wildly different, much funnier and million times more ruthless than the movie adaptation.

On opening this shabby book with its yellow tinged pages and suggestive water stains it soon became obvious that the girl/s who had read this before us couldn't handle Greg Behrendt's no bullshit approach, leaving evidence of their tears throughout the novel.

I'm not going to lie, it's fucking hardcore especially if you're currently making excuses for a man in your life. The main lesson we took away from He's Just Not That Into You is that "no answer is your answer". If he's not returning your phone calls, if he's not texting you first or if he's just straight up disappeared on you, his lack of participation in the initial dating process is your answer. He's just not that into you.

The rule "no answer is your answer" also applies when you want to hook a respective partner, this means instead of returning his phone call straight away the right answer would be to not reply for a considerable amount of time. This should supposedly keep him interested and in turn make him fall in love with you.

The second book we decided to take turns in reading was The Manual written by notorious bad boy Steve Santagati. Although it is similar to He's Just Not That Into You, it also gives you insight into the smaller details like why men don't like to cuddle, why woman should dress for men instead of other women and how to play little games in order to get a guy to fall in love with you.

"Over thinking is the root of all evil in relationships" was the winning line from this book. Over thinking is my main problem in life in general so this quote really resonated with me,

And Queen L...

And Queen K...

And in an attempt to take the advice we had just been given and stop over thinking about our current relationships we decided to stop reading the books. Yes they were highly informative, they were also incredibly confronting and the truth was not something we were ready to face early on a Sunday morning. So there we sat once again immersed in our own thoughts. The deafening silence was suddenly broken by the familiar sound of my phone vibrating. It was him. My heart started to race and I reached over to answer it but Queen L snatched it off the table.

"No answer is your answer!" she screeched.

I watched in anticipation as the phone eventually rang out.

Although I didn't answer the phone I didn't really think these rules applied to me. I mean I had been seeing the same guy for months now, we weren't in the initial dating process and I didn't feel the need to play games with him. But a few minutes after I purposely missed the call, he messaged me. I replied an hour later with something short and vague and he came back instantly with a more substantial response. I didn't reply. He then called me again that night and this time I answered. He seemed more eager to talk to me than he had in weeks.

I suddenly felt bitterly disappointed. This man didn't want me, he wanted to play the game. I tried to date someone older to avoid exactly this however in the end his level of game playing experience is what kept me blindsided for months. I stopped talking to him the next day.

This time I wasn't using silence as a weapon to get him back, I was using silence to take myself out of the game.

Like Mr Behrendt says "why waste the pretty"especially on some smooth talking schmuck who doesn't know what he's got until its gone?

That night I went to bed alone, well not quite...

The next morning I woke up feeling like shit but I knew that I'd made the right move. Now I'm 100% back on the market...but fella's please be made aware that I am no game of trouble , you cannot play with me...for if you do I will take this knife a cut you a large slice of reality.

My favourite quote out of both books in this weeks Dirthouse Book Club was:

“It's very tempting when you really want to be with someone to settle for much, much less -- even a vague pathetic facsimile of less -- than you would have ever imagined. Remember always what you set out to get and please don't settle for less. These guys exist because there are a lot of women out there who allow them to.” 
― Greg Behrendt

Maybe there's no denying that "love games" exist and you can't control the way that these rules affect your dating life but you can control the people you choose to play with. If you don't like how a man is making you feel then don't let him get away with it by turning a blind eye to his shit. You deserve many moons more than that.

I know, I know it sounds easier said than done but deep down they are just as lost as we are, I promise you.

Queen B's Weekend Away At Nelsons Bay

Hi guys - Queen B here,

As Queen D may have notified you, I did a dissapearing act from the hussle and bussle of crazy Sydney this past long weekend to flee to the beautiful beachy town of Nelsons Bay. My friend Miss S and I jumped in her Toyota starlet hatchback pretending we were instead in our sleek black convertible and hit the highway for a car ride of screaming out the lyrics to "Spice up your life" and "Be My Lover"...it was going to be an excellent weekend.

After 3 magical hours of spice girls power ballads we arrived at our exquiste modern mansion. 6 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, 2 kitchens, 2 living areas, pool, cabana...it was insane.

We greeted our fellow mansion friends and headed into town for some lunch by the wharf.

We then popped on down to Dutchmans Bay beach which was literally 10 walking steps from our house for some seaside ciders and beach cricket. (Bullshit about the cricket we left that to the boys and worked on our tan).

Miss S and I laid on the beach and schemed of ways in which we could make friends with people who owned yachts, boats and jet skis....we had no takers...yet*.

That night we threw a "P Party" back at the mansion which meant everyone had to dress up as something beginning with P.

Cue sexy Pochaontas and myself as Pamela Anderson. Just to be safe I brought three flotation devices with me that night in case there were any drunken midnight pool swims. I'm thoughtful I know.

Meet the P Party costume winner Miss J in her DIY protractor costume, we did a lot of "angle" dancing that night.

Oh heeeey Paper boy and Popeye cooking up a storm on the BBQ, we love us some sausages ;)

Paulie D from Jersey Shore flexing those biceps, not sure if I look impressed or unaware.

That Protractor had some flip cup skills.

Eat that tissue paper Spinach Popeye.

Shit got real later on in the night when Miss S and I started up our famous Pop Up Parties in our boudoir. Limbo anyone?

Then the paper boy got naked...nuff said.

We had such an amazing weekend and we all just wanted to sell our bodies for cash so we could stay there for eternity, but it was time to head back to the big smoke and bid farwell our fellow party people.

Pam will be back in the bay one day soon but this time with her beloved Dirthouse Queens.

Who has the better weekend? I think I did...I mean sailors are good but a combination of men all dressed up in P themed attire (one being popeye who is technically a sailor) is better, I mean you Dirthouse Queen may have gotten a kiss but I got a fully nude long-shot of a young man in a multi-million dollar mansion.

Better luck next time ladies ;)

Queen Bernie xx

International Fleet Review 2013 - An Officer & A Dirthouse Queen

I'm sure you're all aware that my main mission in life last week was to find a sailor during International Fleet Week and well...kiss him. I thought hey, how hard can it be with over 55 ships sailing into town carrying over 8000 sailors and one Prince Harry. Well I'll tell you right now it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be, for a few reasons...

Reason 1: I now have a job that requires me to be hidden away in a small dark box for many hours of the day.

Reason 2: After I finish this job at around 8pm I am too exhausted to even reach for the remote let alone venture out into the city and chase seamen around a bar.

Reason 3: Half of them don't even wear their uniform out and can easily be mistaken for regular men, which can be very, very deceiving.

Anyway Queen L and I decided to give it our best shot, at least for the sake of the blog (the amount of times that I have said that before allowing myself to do crazy shit).

After we watched the fireworks we decided to head to Cargo bar. I don't usually like going out in Darling Harbour but we figured that it's by the sea...and it would be the best place to find seamen in their natural habitat because they like the sea don't they? Excellent conclusion I know.

Queen L bought us a round and we proceeded to take our position...

Ready, Aim, Fire!

To be honest there weren't many seamen out in uniform at all...at least not at the bar we went to. The poor chap below even had a lovely girlfriend who was nice enough to offer to take this picture for us.

I was about to give up and head home to my comfortable bed when suddenly I felt someone approach me from behind. This move was perfectly executed and totally uncalculated by me and my trusty confederate (Queen L) obviously it was being conducted by someone will a little more experience than your average sailor...

Hello Officer ;)

It was a fleeting moment of passion, heightened emotions and burning desire...well for me anyway. By the looks of the picture below the poor wide-eyed officer had no idea what was coming. He walked away weak in the knees (probably not) and admitting defeat and Queen L and I high-fived each other like a couple of teenage boys. 

Mission accomplished.

Alone in the City

Its dreary day in Surry Hills today, which reminds me of something...

In high school I had a best friend who was a bit of a homebody. She kept me grounded throughout my senior years and when I did find myself in trouble with boys or other girls (which was quite frequently) her house became my refuge.

Sometimes we would wag school just to go back to her beautiful seaside home, eat ravioli and watch countless episodes of whatever her domestic goddess mother was into at the time. 

She opened my eyes to countless sexy soaps including Nip Tuck, Greys Anatomy, Desperate Housewives and Californication. 

Then there was one stormy afternoon, when I was feeling particularly unhappy and I remember laying in her bed with her beautiful white linen doona over my head when I heard a very catchy tune.

I then remember peeling the covers away from my face and seeing my friend perched enthusiastically on the end of her bed staring wide eyed at a curly blonde haired girl, who had forgotten her bra and looked like she was about to get hit by a bus. 

I remember her then turning to me and saying something along the lines of "this is the best fucking show you'll ever see."

And my beautiful friend was right. Like so many other women around the world after the first episode of Sex and the City I was hooked. I even failed legal studies in year 11 because I would sneak out of school early on Wednesday just to try and finish each series before mum got home. 

My love for SATC and its relevance to my life is so fucking cliche but I admit over the years it's saved me when I've been in some pretty miserable situations. 

Moving to Sydney is a perfect example...

Below is a photo of my very first room in Sydney. To put it bluntly this room was a nicely furnished cell, in a massive cold concrete building in Randwick. I arrived with only one piece of carry on luggage  which included a towel, a little red bag of makeup/tampons/vitamins, one pair of shoes, a dress and one sheet. The pillow in the photo I purchased on day two...on the first day I vividly remember sleeping on my arm for support.

I ate alone and I wrote alone. I had gone from living in a tight knit community where I had an awesome support system to having no family and knowing no one. For the first few days I was even scared of using the public transport system as I had no idea how it worked and was too scared to ask anyone, needless to say I got used to walking EVERYWHERE. On the third night I sat down to dinner (a bowl of Coles crunchy salad and a tin of tuna was the only thing I could make at 17...sad I know) and because I had no internet and no TV I was planning on watching a movie on my laptop until I found that they had all been accidentally erased by my little brother. 

All I wanted was to engage in something, anything that took my mind off being totally alone in the big city and when I found that I couldn't access any of the movies on my computer I lost my shit. I pushed the bland tasteless salad to the side and slammed shut my computer. 

Now I don't know whether it was the sheer force of the screen shutting or an act of jebus but I suddenly heard something ejecting itself from my laptop. Out of the CD slot appeared a little bloody miracle. 

The first season of Sex and the City.

I had no idea that it was in there the whole time but I tell you what I was so grateful that it was. That one disc, hands down got me through my first week in Sydney. At least until some of my shoes arrived.

As outrageously lame as it sounds the SATC girls were my only friends in the city until The Dirthouse Queens came along. They kept the dream alive on the days that I would catch the wrong bus and end up in the middle of nowhere or get ripped off by a cab driver who could smell my ignorance from a mile away. In hindsight I think it's funny and a little bit sick how much I relied on a cheesy HBO television show but whatever gets you through the day I say.

These days I'm incredibly lucky that I rarely ever feel lonely. I am so blessed to live with three beautiful girls who are always there for me whenever I need them. Thats not to say that I don't value my alone time, in fact if theres one thing that first week in Sydney taught me it would be to really cherish being alone and doing exactly what you want to do. Before you know it there will probably be several other people in your life that you will always have to account for, may it be a boyfriend, a best friend or a little further down the track a child or two. Saviour the time you have to be selfish and the time you have to answer to no one but yourself because this time is fleeting and when it's gone it's gone. 

Moral of the story is that sometimes its really good to be alone but on those occasions that you just want some girly company, you know where to find us...

At The Dirthouse of course!

Xx