Ladies: Switch off the Porn & Read Erotica.

To my dismay Qn B recently made the executive decision to phase out all erotica in Maple boutiques. 

I can’t say I’m a massive collector of the sophisticated smut that lines our velvety walls but I do appreciate it’s place in our lives.

If you’ve ever read erotica or as my high school english teacher once called it “naughty fiction” you’ll know that shit can be pretty damn hot!

Particularly for women.

You see our brains don’t work the same way as our male companions – as I am sure you are aware.

Without repeating what relationship self help books have already engrained in us, men are visual and women, well we are all in our fucking heads.

Yes a good porn flick can be wildly entertaining but it still gives us time to think which, in turn can deter from the intensity of the fantasy.

Scenaro A

It’s been a long week at work and you come home to your beautiful, respectful, strong lover…the rabbit.

You open your computer screen and click on the most recent upload in Redtube or whatever is readily available to you.

Roll the cinematic masterpiece which is 21st century porn.

For a male the ride stops here (the mental ride that is) with his d*** in his hand he mentally checks out and just immerses himself in the tits and ass until a quick climax sends him into a short term coma. 

Unfortunately this isn’t the case for you.

You on the other hand begin watching the film and immediately start constructing mental notes about…

The actress’s appearance, real boobs? Nah fake. 

Oh a landing strip – that looks good. 

God she’s a bad actress, but you have to give her props because 

Ah! Not up the a**

Hmm actually...

Ok this other position is nice.

Maybe I can search for something more specific "role play" – A officer and a gentlemen perhaps?

Unless you can find something specifically targeted to women with more chest hair and less fake "Oh Yeah's" it  becomes a mission within it's self to do something that ultimately is mean to excite and relax us.

Scenario B

It's been a long week at work and you come home to your beautiful, respectful, strong lover...the rabbit.

You open a book of erotic short stories written by women for women and start reading about an illicit affair between a girl and her superior.

Did I just see your ears prick up you naughty girl?

Erotica is great because when you're reading you don't have the capacity to analyse every little detail. In fact with every suggestive, descriptive and just down right dirty word you begin to create your own fantasy, just the way YOU like it.

His tall, broad stature, the texture of his hair, his big muscular hands. The intensity of his stare and soon the ideas you paint in your mind become directly responsible for what you feel down there.

Oh yeah...down there!

I get it, these days reading is so old school. Why concentrate on reading a book when you have super fast wi-fi and can watch real people doing it for free!?

Because unlike porn, when reading erotica there is still room for imagination.

Like we said in lesson 1 ladies - When it comes to arousal imagination isn't as integral for a man and that's why porn is greatttt for them.

In his perfect sex scene there is a girl, with a vagina, that works and when he's done she squirts! Hooray roll the final credits.

In her perfect sex scene there is a build up of intense, undeniable sexual tension. There is a sideways glance, a cheeky smile, then the slow yet firm undressing and depending on her book it's anywhere from there.

One day someone will make great porn designed to stimulate the female brain and it will be easily available for every woman and her rabbit.

When this day comes porn will win in a naked mud wrestle with erotica hands down.

But with all the anal bleaching and fake orgasms in the world I don't see this day cuming anytime soon.

Get it!?

Cuming!!

Ahha.

Anyway if you want to stimulate your brain and your hot spots head to your favourite sensuality boutique and pick up some erotica today. Only $5 a pop at all Honey Birdette boutiques. Thats a steal.

Love always,

me x

Heaven on Earth

The first thing I thought as I stepped out onto world famous terrazzo full of rich Northern Beaches socialites dressed in fresh pastel colours was shit, I wish I wore a bra.

It was a bright Sunday morning and Mr P.S thought it would be a good idea to whisk me away to a surprise destination for brunch.

I threw on a thick knit jumper and a pair of blue jeans, my black hair tossed and tasseled from a night of romping rom cons (Orange is the New Black is currently at the top of my list).

Sans bra and make up I jumped into his sleek convertible, hungry for some great banter and bacon... 

True to his mysterious ways Mr P.S chose to disclose nothing about where we were heading and therefore I assumed we would only be traveling up the road to our local joint.

50 minutes later.

“Champagne?" Asked the hostess politely. Her perfectly pressed white servers shirt and immaculate nude manicure intimated me. 

“No, coffee is fine” I said giving Mr P.S the eyes. 

“Coffee and then champagne” he said cheekily placing his hand on my leg. 

Mr. P.S isn’t my usual type. Yet I find him simply intoxicating and mystifying. P.S is something that you put at the end of a letter, Mr P.S is someone I look forward to at the end of my day. 

He adds that extra element of excitement to my new career girl life, without taking anything away. Outings with him are always fun and spontaneous, most of which take place late at night or on the weekends. But this blog post isn’t about him, it’s about something else, a big name who attracts more super models and Sydney socialites than any B grade celebrity. Without further a due I introduce to you...Jonah. One of the top 10 places you have to visit before you die. 

My advice to you - bypass the formal dining area to the spectacular cliff hanging balcony...and dress like you're Grace Kelly lazing by a pool in Monaco not like a14 year old boy who's just thrown on a jumper, jeans and some old boots at mums request. I did not get that memo (thanks Mr P.S).

No matter who you are or what you wear the first time you visit Jonah's I promise you'll be in awe of this heavenly oasis and the beautiful people who inhabit it on a sunny day.

We sipped our coffee's slowly while admiring the view and ease dropping on other people's conversations. Before we knew it two glasses of champagne arrived at our table, tiny bubbles dancing in the sun light.

After we finished our drinks and a couple of chicken bacon baguettes we decided it was time to take our little party down to the garden. As soon as we sat down on the two white sun chairs we were greeted by yet another friendly member of Jonah's wait staff.

"Why not try every damn beverage in this joint?" I said to Mr P.S, slipping comfortably into the roll of Queen of the world.

Your wish is my command.

Secretly battling with the urge to go to the bathroom I sipped my glass of wine and listened to Mr P.S talk about his past, something he did with a great sense of caution. I knew it wasn't because he had something to hide but rather because he preferred to live in the moment. I don't think I have ever dated someone as perceptive as him, Mr P.S's intense green eyes always seemed to be on me and at the slightest sign of trepidation on my face he would always ask if I were ok.

Of course the answer would always be yes and I would often wonder how I could be anything less than 100% in his presence.

The next thing we knew it was late afternoon and the warmth formally being generated by a bottle of red was beginning to wear off.

"Would you like a blanket?" a young girl asked promptly.

Would we ever...

Blanket tick, wine tick, exclusive seating tick, view tick, great company tick tick tick! The only thing that was missing was something to nibble on. Low and behold Jonah's serves food all day with plenty of delicious things to pick from. As we'd already demolished chicken bacon baguettes Mr P.S decided to order us something lighter...

Followed by something simply decadent.

There's no denying Jonah's got all the moves and he even has an award to prove it. Jonah's is the only Relais & Chateaux hotel in Sydney which after a little googling I realise is a pretty big deal. Relais & Chateaux is the most prestigious hotel association in the world and there are only four in Australia! Read more about it here.

After spending the entire day at Jonah's I now understand what all the hype is about. Everything from the friendly and attentive service to the magnificent views of Whale Beach is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I believe that above everything what makes Jonah's truly great is the attention to detail. Everything from the blankets on request to the cufflinks on the servers shirts is undeniably refined, which makes everyone who walks in the door (even those wild braless folk) feel like royalty.

I highly suggest you escape to Palm Beach and visit Jonah's next time you're looking to escape the city! You won't regret it. Reservation are required for in door dining but don't fret if you haven't booked, you can hang outside on the lounges like we did for as long as your heart desires. For those of you who are cashed up why not stay the night in one of Jonah's exclusive rooms? That is definitely going on my bucket list.

As for Mr P.S well he scored some very big points for introducing me to this little piece of heaven on earth. Next week it's my choice where we go. I can choose anywhere. Anywhere! Where would i most like to go in all of NSW? Well that's easy. Let me give you a hint: I will not only have to wear a bra but a harness as well ;)

Exciting times ahead...

Until then lovers!

Grey is Back - The Official Fifty Shades of Grey Trailer

I don't know whether it was the bit when he puts her hands over head at 1:11 or the euphoric sound of Beyonce smashing it again either way my spaghetti bolognese has ended up all down the front of my shirt.

So thats a yes from me.

Now excuse me while I go err.. check for bed bugs... in my bed... in the dark... with my door locked.

Got me loooookkkkin so crazy right nowwwwwa!

10 Ways You're Fucking Up Your Chances of Landing Your Dream Job!

So you’re a hot young go-getter who wants to land a lust worthy career?

Or maybe you’re not hot, not necessarily young but just need a job anyway?

Either way there is only one thing standing in the way of you and that sweet pay check...

Your initial job application!

Notice how I didn’t say resume or CV there? That’s because the world is a change'n and girl, to be successful you must first learn to adapt – which means giving the recruiter exactly what they ask for.

Let me explain…

I have many roles at Maple HQ one of them is to recruit nationally for this prestigious brand. 

When I first started screening applications I was SHOCKED at what us, girls between the age of 18-30 were sending in.

Three months later and I’m not even surprised by the 100s of generic job applications we get a day, instead I am ESTATIC whenever I find an app that actually gives us what we asked for in our initial ad.

It seems a little unbelievable right? That you could not be getting that all important call back because you simply aren't doing what was asked of you in the first place.

Time is of the essence when applying for your dream job so lets cut to the chase shall we?

10 ways you're fucking up your chances of landing a dream job 
(with a lashing of sexual innuendo here and there to keep things interesting)

1. As mentioned above, some people just blatantly fail to give the employee what they want. The first thing you do when you see an ad for a position is you read it, thoroughly. Read that ad like it is a magic ancient scripture telling you how you give your love interest the orgasm of his/hers life. Take in every little detail, understand it and then give them exactly what they want! Yeah baby, do it...just like that!

2. They ask for long rhythmic strokes and you bite down hard on the tip. No, no, no, no, no!
In our ads we ask specifically for video applications, instead we receive about 70% electronic resumes. Thats 70% more time I end up having in my day to do things like err read magazines and eat chocolate because we ain't reading it if you can't be bothered giving it to us in the format we asked for.

3. 'Oh but I don't know how to make a video and send it'
I once read a surprising statistic that 65% of people will make a sexy tape at least once during their lifetime. Making a video application is a very similar process (the uploading part) but I recommend keeping your clothes on for this one...

4. Over sharing. Shit your employee doesn’t want to know:

• Your marital status: No one cares if you’re married, single, divorced, kinda still seeing that guy you tried to break up with 2 years ago from Saturday
• Past past past employment: In 2001 I worked every first Sunday of the month at the Eumundi markets selling hammocks to fat smelly middled aged men. Skills acquired: I expertly handled the fannypack full of money.
• Every achievement you’ve ever had: Won the shortest skirt competition is high school? Well done Paige. Leave it in the year book.

5. Why it doesn’t matter:

• Your martial status: unless asked to provide (which I highly doubt) it doesn’t ever matter. Your employer wants you to be married to one thing and one thing only...your job. 
• Past past past employment: I’ve had 11 jobs which range from dance teaching to chocolate factory supervising. I only put the last 3-4 on my resume, the ones which are relevant to the organisation I want to work for. 
• Every achievement you’ve ever had: Mum and dad will never forget your employees however will always remember you as the person who wasted 5 minutes of their valuable time if you choose to include irrelevant information. 

6. You're sending out a million generic applications because you think it will give you a better chance at getting a gig.
It should go without saying here that when you're sending apps it is all about the quality not the quantity. If you really want the job you should not only tailor your app to meet the demands of the ad but to also compliment the brand. People who think they have a better chance of getting a job by flicking the same resume to 100 different organisations - you're not fooling anyone. In my world this act is regarded as being professionally slutty. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock...

6. Wrap it up! Keep it short and sweet with the most important information at the top. A one page resume is ideal but let the employer know that you can provide references etc on request. 

7.  Check the formatting! I come across many encrypted applications on a daily basis. Truth be told I don't waste my time trying to open them, I just move on to the next one instead. Hint: send it to a friend first & get them to check. While you're at it get them to have a flick through - Would they hire you?

8. Leave out points that don't matter...Like this one. To be honest I couldn't think of anything important to say for number 8. Sorry number 8.

9. Don't be discouraged if you don't have experience. How do you think I got my job in the first place? It wasn't by being an incredible publicist thats for sure. It was by being incredibly eager to please.

10. It's not about what you say but how you say it...

Ok so sending cupcakes isn't mandatory or even recommended (it can be considered a form of bribery opps a daisy) but it certainly pays to be different.

How do you do this? It's simple - hit your recruiter with the unexpected...A application that follows the above criteria thats all you need.

So what are you waiting for? Find the ad for the job you want, print in out, follow it line by line

answer each question  (it will make it easier if you tick as you go) and get creative with it.  Send it off when you feel as though you have created an app that is a great reflection of your personality and your work ethic.

If you don't hear back? Get on the phone and call! My number one piece of advice to you is not to be afraid to follow up on an application, ever.

I know it may seem intimating calling the company you want to work for but 9 times out of 10  the gate keeper to your dream job isn't the CEO or the MD it's just someone like me waiting for a smart chick like you to take initiative.

Those are the girls who stand out and end up kicking some serious fucking goals.

Now it's time for me to go to sleep!

Plenty of potential models & maple girls to see tomorrow.

Big Kisses!

P

Career Girl - Exclusive Behind The Scenes Footage Of 'Buckle Up'

I know I haven't been posting - But don't worry! This isn't because my house has finally decided to fall down on top of me it's because I have been busy being a full blown career girl!

Here's the first glimpse at our latest photo shoot that I was lucky enough to see through from inital model casting to the super saucy end when we realised the seductive new styles into boutiques nation wide.  

I nearly fell off my seat when I first saw the final product. I suggest you press enter on the full screen function now and turn your speakers right up high. There are boobs and bums and private jets galore...not to mention the incredible lingerie that I get to see being designed and produced every day. Oh and Aussie godness Renee Somerfield is an total babe and an absolute doll in real life.

What even is real life? My life is f*cking unbelievable right now!

Shop the new styles here

Enjoy ;) xx

Luxe & Love

It's early Sunday morning and I'm standing outside Kepos Street Kitchen trying to juggle my hot latte, my house keys and my iPhone.

My keys slip out of my grip and fall onto the side walk, I manage to scoop them up but accidentally press the master button on my phone which activates Siri aka the electronic she-devil.

"What can I help you with?" she yells from the depths of my smartphone, my brain pounds against my head from one too many red wines the night before.

"How about an extra hand?" I mumble under my breath.

"Alright here's what I've got" she says almost condescendingly.

A Wikiapeadia definition of  'hand' flashed up on my screen:

A hand (med./lat.: manus, pl. manūs) is a prehensile, multi-fingered extremity located at the end of an arm or forelimb of primates such as humans, chimpanzees, monkeys, and lemurs.

I ask for a hand and all I get is lemurs. This feels like the story of my life right now. I'm constantly asking questions but no matter how hard I try I can't get the answers I want.

I've asked the girls to stay several times, but the answer is always no, we love you but we have to go.

Ms P is my saving grace.

I get home and make the stupid mistake of trying to open our temperamental front door while still holding the coffee. As the door finally jolts open the paper take away cup crushes in my hand and hot liquid spills everywhere.

"Shittttt" I moan throwing everything on the ground like a dramatic 12 year old. Ms P hears me and walks down the corridor to my rescue.

"What the fuck" she says shaking her head and kneeling down to collect my keys.

"Thanks, where are the girls?" I ask bending down to help her.

"I think they went to the travel agent."

Again this is not the answer I want to hear.

We walk into the living room and I sit down on the couch. I'm defeated and it's only 10'oclock.

"Go have a shower and get dressed we're going to get coffee with a side of love." Ms P says pulling me  up.

I agree to the coffee but as for the love, well I think I need more than just a side serve right now.

20 minutes later we're dressed and waiting out the front of The Dirthouse. I turn to head in the direction of Crown St when Ms P leans forward and waves down an approaching cab.

"Get in grumpy" she says to me as the Uber car pulls over along side us.

"We are going to have breakfast somewhere new remember."

"Where?" I ask feeling slightly annoyed that we can't just go to one of our usual places

"Queen Street Woolarah thanks" she tells the driver.

For the millionth time this month I receive another wrong answer. Great, we're off to have breakfast with a bunch of assholes.

It doesn't take me long to realise that I'm the only asshole around.

Luxe (or the place with the love heart coffee cups).

If you're an avid Instagramer like me you'll be familiar with Luxe Sydney (a popular Sydney eatery) because of it's clever branding and delicious baked goods.

The Luxe coffee cup gets hashtaged more by Sydneysiders on a Saturday/Sunday morning than a Woolarah housewife visits The Brow Bar in a lifetime (thats a lot). In fact a morning coffee at Luxe is somewhat of a ritual for many of Woolarah's wealthy residents.

We are are neither wealthy nor residents but in the name of adventure and good caffeine hit Ms P decides we would be the next coffee lovers to hashtag #luxesysdney on this cool Winters morning.

If you like people watching this is the perfect place for you! As we arrive we are asked to put our name on a list and wait with the rest of the Australia's next top model contestants. Prada, Givenchy, 3.1 Phillip Lim, Givenchy. Each girl is dressed to the nines (70% sports luxe) and is accompanied by her favourite designer handbag of the moment. My YSL and I have had quite the love/hate relationship (to be explained later in the blog) but today she acts as my protective armour as a handsome male waiter finally allocates us a seat between a group of little girls with baby chinos and some other privileged locals.

To my dismay nothing we order comes with the iconic Luxe branding, not even a napkin and therefore our iPhones remain switched off. 

So how was it? The coffee - well it was good, not amazing. But maybe we are missing something? As I look around it appears that the coffee alone is enough for most customers with no plates of food in sight apart from the odd croissant at the kids table. This doesn't deter us from ordering the two naughtiest things on the menu. Chocolate filled French toast with pear and corn fritters with maple bacon. Maple Bacon!!

It takes a while to receive our breakfast but it also gives us some time to people watch. While we wait we spot: Roxy Jacenko PR guru & her stylish toddler Pixie, an ex Home & Away star and then the best sight of all - our plates of food being carefully placed in front of us.  

Is that it? Is my initial thought when I see the French Toast I paid nearly $20 for. 

I take back this snooty remark as soon as I cut open the golden puffy toast and put a slice in my mouth.

It is for lack of a better word. Simply luxe. 

The toast is buttery and decadent and the glazed pear gives the entire dish a perfectly light sweetness. Yum!

Unfortunately Ms P's breakfast isn't as impressive. For us (obviously two very important breakfast connoisseur or just two very poor hungry bitches) there is no bang for your buck here. It is delicious but hardly worth the wait and the $20 price tag. 

Having said that we demolish both plates before ordering some warm beverages to go. After a few minutes two coffee cups arrive at our table, each with a big red heart. This time I make sure I'm extra careful not to crush it as we head off for a walk down a side street.

It is a nice change wondering around the tidy streets of Woollahra lusting over the beautiful houses and fancy cars. This is one thing that Ms P and I share in common, despite our dilapidated house we both love real estate and indulging in long meaningless conversations about one day owning some. 

As well as taking a sneaky photo or two...

After an hour I am in a completely different head space. To be honest it is nice to get out of the Surry Hills bubble and discover a different part of Sydney.  

 We eventually find a park bench and sit down while still holding our cups, not wanting to throw them out just yet.

After a few minutes of silence Ms P turns to me and smiles.

"So where in the world are we going to live next?" she asks.

I laugh and fling my arm around her accidentally knocking the cup out of her hand. We both watch it roll into what can only be described as a giant dog turd. 

"Oh noooo you bitch!" she cries before we both burst into a fit of laughter. 

"Did you get enough pictures for the blog?" is her second question as she flicks through the photos on her phone.

"I hope so" I say looking around at all of the beautiful terrace houses.

I take in the cool Winter air and for the first time in weeks begin to feel content with the way things are unfolding rapidly but with great purpose, I somehow suspect. 

All is made easier of course by the fact that Ms P has been here every step of the way, ever since I found out about the house and the girls.

I guess the moral of the story is that it doesn't really matter what answers you get as long as you always have someone in your life asking the same questions. 

Ms B and Ms L they have always told me how much they want to travel, discover new places, spread their wings and one day leave the place they grew up in. I guess I'm happy that they finally found the right time in their lives to do it. Like I did when I first moved to Sydney over three years ago. 

It sounds awfully lame but I truly believe that everyone comes into your life for a reason and sometimes you find that people will suddenly leave your life for a reason too. 

For now I'm happy spending most of my salary on over priced maple bacon in the snobby Eastern Suburbs of Sydney and living in a shitty share house and I am so lucky because I think Ms P is too.

My advice to you -  whatever comes let it come whatever goes let it go and don't forget to cherish those who are with you right now, those people (the ones who truly believe in what you're doing and take the time to support it) are the gateway to great things and unlocking the unlimited potential within you. 

Ms P I'm sorry I made your cool coffee cup roll into a pile of poo - I fucking love you!

Tuesday Night Dirthouse Shenanigans

What else is there to do on a Tuesday night but watch Usher's new music video 'Good Kisser' and count how many times he can make four girls scream.

You ready Queens?

0:42 - 0:47 Usher plays the drums topless - 4 x screams

1:20 Usher grabs his penis - 3 x screams + the contents of 1 x Paleo burrito falls down the front of Ms P shirt

1:26 Usher makes a cunnilingus hand gesture and looks directly into the camera - 126 screams

By the end of the film clip all four of us are standing on the couch doing the move you see at 2:24

Wow! Thats the most action I've had in a long time. 

Now tell us how you go...

The Story Continues (Continued)

My mum thought it was very impressive that I booked for us to stay at QT Sydney on the opening night of Sydney Film Festival. 

"You know how much I love Guy Pearce!" She squealed like a groupie trying to catch a glimpse of the action from our suite window.

It would have been very PR girl of me to book this hotel purely to get amongst the action, unfortunately I'm not that smooth. 

Once I realised I was in the direct firing line of a dozen photographers and about to be arrested by a big brawny policeman (who was obviously more on the ball than everyone else), I made a dash in the direction I came from. I did however get to see the back of Edward's head - It was nice.

(The photo below was taken by a Maple girl on her break, Rob is directly below the S on the State Theatre sign that I should have seen when I checked in - on arrival I assumed that the barricades were there merely to stop dickheads like myself from falling into the street).

After my little trip down the red carpet I decided that I'd had enough excitement and the only thing I would be doing for the rest of the weekend was bathing and ordering room service.  

Naturally I went for the sweetest most expensive thing on the menu (Affogato with crispy hazelnut pieces and another shot of Cafe Patron).

What? I was upset.

Mum decided to take a break from her regular Paleo regime as well and got the same thing sans espresso and tequila. Boring!

In no time at all we were living it up like R Pat. Complimentary Vogue? Don't mind if I do.

Mum and I talked into the night about everything that was going on in our lives. I promised her that once I made it big I'd buy her a holiday home in Vaucluse with a hot pool boy who looked like Usher circa 2000 to keep her company.

The next morning we woke up ravenous from all of the shit talking. Although we were meant to meet friends for breakfast, I begged her to stay in the hotel so that I could soak up as much of the cleanliness and admire the solid ceilings before returning to The Dirthouse. The beauty of holidaying in your own city is that you know where to get exactly what you want!

Coco Noir in the Westfield serves The Grounds coffee and gives fab discounts to those who work in the centre. My time as a Maple boutique girl certainly paid off! As they were preparing my order I ducked into the lavish David Jones food court to get fresh pastries and a handful of juicy grapes as well as some date logs and a couple of bottles of mineral water.

Ta Da! Breakfast in bed...

The rest of the weekend was spent reclined watching movies (free with most of the rooms at the QT Sydney) having long baths and...

Thinking about that all important question - what next? 

Guess I better find me some new housemates, why not a new lover while I'm at it?

The Story Continues

What do you do when you're fighting with your housemates who also happen to be your best mates over a house that is about to be deemed unliveable?

A: You call your mumma and get her to fly down from Noosa so that you can stay in a nice hotel and get some good old fashioned life advice.

I've been wanting to stay at QT boutique hotel for some time so I was excited when a friend gave me a great deal on a deluxe king suite.

I love that it's not like most hotels in fact it's the Mick Jagger of hotels with more personality than you can poke a stick at...

A pick-up stick that is.

"Look they have pick-up sticks in the mini bar and DIY espresso martins!" says mum holding a bag of multi-coloured sticks.

"You can have those and I'll have the martinis." I say grabbing both glasses.

"Sweetie" she purrs – the woman is like an exact clone of Eddy from Ab Fab but with jet black hair and a sun tan.

She sits on the bed and gives me that look.

"Tell mummy what's wrong" She says.

I explain to her in detail the situation with The Queens and how heartbroken I am about everything that has happened. During the long winded recount of unfortunate events I  pour the two mini bottles of Patron into the glass and begin to sip the alcohol straight. It tastes like shit but I know that mum will insist on covering any extra charges to the room and getting drunk for free sounds like a really good idea right about now.

"It’s fucked because I feel like I’m not only losing my best friends but the blog too, what will I write about when they’re not around?" I ask her flatly.

"It is fucked" mum says - I've always loved her candidness.

 "But it’s going to be ok. You know that you can’t go to Europe with them anyway - you’ve got this fantastic job now"

This is true however I don't know how fantastic I'll feel when I see pictures of them soaking up the Tuscan sun while I'm back here working a 50 hour week.

"And they will always be your friends you just have to accept that it is what it is and be happy for them.”

I know she is right but I don't want to accept anything let alone be happy for them. Ms L and Ms B are my best bitches, my main partners in crime I don't know what I'll do without them.

"Yeah but what about the blog?" I say sprawling myself out beside her on the white linen sheets.

"Heaven on Bourke was your idea, it's something that began long before they came along… sure you may have to live with other people or move somewhere else but the essence of your blog will never change."

 I must not look convinced because she continues in that soothing maternal voice...

“Sweetie you’ll find other things to write about, after all it’s your adventure and your story will continue with or without them – didn’t you see that quote mummy tagged you in on Facebook?"

I roll my eyes and get up to give her a hug. She is right, my life has never been short of things to write about so why would it change now?

And then much like that classic scene in any children's Chirstmas movie when you first see Santa's slay come into sight, something weird, wonderful and magical happened right before my eyes.

The Story Continues

The QT hotel has a great central location, especially if you LOVE shopping. Although I wasn’t in the mood for shopping I told mum that I wanted to pop out quickly before dinner to check on the girls in our Maple Flagship store. While she ran a bath I grabbed my coat and headed down the elevator (which was playing some seriously cool beats) and out towards the main entrance.

By this time the double shot martini had begun to work it's magic and I decided it would be a great idea  to send a cheeky text message to Mr R.

I wanted to write "hey big boy can I move into your swanky new Bondi apartment?"

Instead I wrote "hey big boy,c  ;)?"

Maybe I should have eaten lunch.

The entire time I was writing the message I could feel a bunch of people buzzing around me. Preoccupied by the battle that was taking place between myself and autocorrect I kept my head down, blocked out the noise and pushed forward heading in the direction of the boutique.

"Excuse me..." I heard a man say at one point

"Nope, sorry" I murmured still looking at my phone pushing through the crowd at a steady pace. Those damn homeless guys are always trying to unnerve me.

Well it ain't gonna happen. I'm unnervable, I'm an unnervable city chick with the world at my feet.

Feet. I stopped suddenly and glanced past my phone at my Tony Bianco's. The black leather looked even richer against the red. Red. Why is the ground red?

I looked up and my heart stopped. For some reason I was in the middle of a red carpet. I tried to move forward but 10 or so meters ahead I saw the exit blocked off by a dozen police men and countless members of the press.

I peered to my right, a gorgeous young journalist gave me a confused slightly irritated look. I broke eye contact with the woman and swung around to my left. Instantly I felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over me as I glanced across the street. 100 or so people were squished behind a long blue barricade all staring at me. Except they weren't staring at me they were staring at something else next to me.

"Are you ready?" said the journalist

"Here he comes." she positioned her microphone in front of her mouth and the camera crew took their stance.

Here who comes?

The crowd across the road suddenly erupted, female voices filled the air. Girls screamed and whistled wildly. In the drone of cries I made out two very distinct words.

ROBERTTTTTTT! ROBERTT PATTERSONNN!!!!!!

Fuck me dead.

TBC...

Farewell Queens - Part 2

I am sitting in my room with my laptop on my lap trying to write when I hear a knock on the door.

Two hour has past since the roof fell in and I am beginning to forget about the argument that took place downstairs.

"Hey can I come in?"

 It's Ms L.

"Sure." I say remaining fixated on the computer screen.

"Writing for the blog?" She asks taking a seat on the end of my bed.

"Yeah" I say looking over at her, her face seems lighter more content. The storm is over.

"I've been thinking..." I continue placing my computer beside me and sitting up in my bed.

"I want to move too, we can start looking now and find a nice place up the street for all four of us. I think there's a new place just opening up on the corner of Devonshire." I smile and she looks down.

Something is wrong. I must admit in the last couple of months Ms L and I haven't been as close as we used to be. She is seeing Mr H Hanson again and has been staying at his house.

"I don't think I can live in Randwick again" I sigh trying to give her more.

"It's ok, you don't have to" she says finally, I feel instant relief.

"Ms B and I have just had a big chat about something we've been considering for a while."

I don't even know what she's going to say but a wave of sickness quickly consumes me.

There is a long sunken pause.

"We are going to Europe Paige."

 I don't understand what she's saying.

"We are quitting our jobs and moving overseas for a bit. We both have dual passports so we can live there and just travel around."

For some reason I laugh.

"Ok, but this isn't for a while right?" I ask and now she's the one looking down.

"We leave in eight weeks."

Bang.

"But in the mean time Ms B and I are going to move out to our friends place around the corner. She has two spare rooms for really cheap so we can save money before we go."

Bang, Bang.

I begin to feel really fucking angry. A million thoughts are racing through my head. Where is Ms B? why is she too much of a coward to say this to me? Who am I going to live with? I don't want to live with anyone but the Queens. Why wasn't I invited to go to Europe? Why do they want to move out without me? Who are my friends? Who is this horrible person sitting in front of me?

"So you're leaving me in this house, a house that is falling down, what am I meant to do?"

"I will put up an ad tomorrow and we will find someone really great to take our rooms, you know I wouldn't make you live with anyone you didn't like."

I want to be sick, I want to run away.

"Ok" I say my throat begins to crack and I feel a river of tears threatening to spill out from my eyes.

"You need to fuck off now" I manage before my whole body starts shaking.

She leaves and I curl into a ball and cry until i'm too exhausted to cry anymore, I fall into a deep sleep riddled with bad dreams.

Nearly 13 hours later and I feel defeated. There's nothing I can do. I can't force "The Queens" to stay especially not when our house is falling down around us.

But I also didn't expect them to leave me high and dry for their own European adventure.

Right now I'm worried about a lot of things, losing my house, losing my place on Bourke Street, losing my friends but there is one thought that plauges me most of all...

Losing my main inspiration for this blog.

What is The Dirthouse without it's Queens and who am I with out my best friends in the city?