Do you know what has the potential to be hilarious? Anxiety. NO.SERIOUSLY.

How is this. A little while ago I watched Fight Club for the first time and I got really excited about the parallels between Edward Norton and myself, and then when I got to the twist at the end my excitement turned to paranoia and I started thinking about all the people in my life I may have imagined. Then I realized that was fucking ridiculous and what was worse was the fact I saw similarities between Edward Norton and myself before I knew the twist was coming.

The point of my story is, that I have massive anxiety when it comes to myself and different relationships I have with people and it gets funny. When I say relationships I clearly don’t mean romantic ones because I’m actually a bit retarded in that way, and I never have romantic relationships that last past me having an internal debate in my head about whether I would be willing to convert to Judaism for the guy I just met who is already talking to someone else. I mean friendships and professional relationships and basic person to person interaction when it lasts longer than a fleeting hello.

I’m actually really good on first impressions, but it’s like I think I waste all of my good bits in the first meeting and all of a sudden I’m seeing this person again in a different situation and substance is expected and I think SHIT WHAT IF I DON’T HAVE ANY and then I  panic and turn into this horrid caricature of my high school self and bounce between being witheringly sarcastic and mean to determinedly cheerful with the front of ‘I’m Having A Perfectly Lovely And Very Busy And Important Time Without You!’

I’m getting to why this is hilarious I swear.

What is amazing is why this is incredibly helpful to me. As a writer, I write what I know, and so I end up pumping out these great, self deprecating yet arrogant characters that are all different versions of myself. And what is terrifying in real life is beautiful on screen. Just look at 30 Rock. And so I have this endless inspiration for horribly unlikeable, flawed heroes that are endearing once they’re watched, or read. It’s very comforting.

Many creative people have their demons, and feel insecure, anxious, depressed. But think about what it does for your work, and ask yourself if you would be a great creative artist without that Insane streak in you. There are times when I want to take my insecurities and anxiety out to an abandoned ship yard where I would brutally kill them with a knife I’ve named Jennifer. But I know I wouldn’t be able to write the flawed, withering characters I do if I did.

So embrace your crap! It makes a better artist out of you!

David Bowie is fucking awesome. This is a movie. I mean his movie.

This owl.

Now, it’s either fake rain, or really well timed rain. Did they have technology in 1982?

The background of her house looks like a slum. SINCE WHEN!?

WTF, I had a dream about a dancing girl like a SECOND AGO. Like a few days ago or something.

2nd beanie shot is SO in fashion.

Wow, they KNEW she was going to wish. How did they KNOW.

Toby stopping crying and the scene following is in the top 10 terrifying moments of cinematic history.

AS IF THIS IS RATED G!?

Nice vest Sarah.

The maze has the same consistency as the cookie in Honey I Shrunk the Kids! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?

That fairy is so pretty.

The fairies aren’t evil! They’re insects!

Sarah says her name so fucking retardedly.

Shut up Sarah you fucking retard.

OMG! Wtf eyes on stalks that sound like the aliens from Toy Story!

I like the first leg of the labyrinth, before she finds the corners and the worm. The snaily twig bits with moss.

Nic says why doesn’t she climb the wall. Yeah! Why doesn’t she just climb the wall!? Is she fucking joking? YOU’RE RETARDED SARAH!

THE.WORM.

Why do you still love the worm, even though he sends her the wrong way?

Bowie’s riding crop. Jesus. THIS IS SO AMAZING.

Nic: His haircut is off the charts.

His skipping!

Do you think they tested heaps of colours of lipstick to see which showed up the best?

Toby is smiling! He’s going to the other side! He’s getting that I love my kidnapper syndrome! Like that Charlie Sheen and Kristy Swanston movie. Where did she go??

This is so fucking clever. The door guys with the lies. I never worked out Sarah’s questions logic. That wasn’t quick maths.

WHY WOULD YOU GO DOWN!?

She hasn’t even got that far David. It’s like she’s been in there 10 minutes. Calm down Goblin King.

This Hoggle is an obsecenely well designed puppet. I can emote with this puppet!

This scene is like Return to Oz! Is this scene in Return to Oz? I swear it is. The exact same scene but with Dorothy in it.

Brilliant delivery David!

AMAZING jacket worn by Bowie.

Deliberately unlikeable characters. Fascinating for a children’t movie. Wouldn’t happen now.

Since when were the goblins Spanish?

Why is Ludo so retarded? His fur is a nice colour though. Oooh, I get it. It’s like Ludo has asbergers, but a friendly asbergers person. Like a really cute Down Syndrome kid.

One of the doorknobs looks like my Grandmother.

Omg, Ludo is actually so cute, his face is like a kitten’s.

Snow globes are so fucking weird.

These red goblins are a childhood breakdown waiting to happen. Are you joking Jim Henson? How are 80s kids all not seriel killers after watching this movie?

THIS SCENE IS FUCKED.

He can calling fucking rocks. Are you joking?

Out of all the dogs, why the paint dog? The dog in the ads about paint.

How good is being a fox and riding a dog around.

What the fuck is with the peach. She is TRIPPING.

What is actually going on in this insanely weird scene? He roofied her brain. This is mental rape. What the hell scriptwriters!?

You are SO HIGH Sarah.

What has happened to the plot?

Maybe the dog died.

That’s a fake dog. The dog must have died.

The pilot in the transformer looks like an ewok.

Hoggle just sounded like Luke Skywalker.

No seriously. The goblins are Spanish.

Those goblins are dressed like Mongolians. Whhhhhy, do they have a machine gun?

The fox is still riding the dog. It’s so good.

The dog has SO died. It was real before.

David Bowie on the stairs looks like Judge Doom when he gets steamrolled in Who Framed Roger Rabbit. What the fuck.

Toby is the Trainspotting baby.

Sarah sure floats a lot in this movie.

BELTING OUT THAT OUTFIT DAVID!

Why are goblins at the end of the movie party? They were at WAR.

This is the best movie EVER.

~ Fin ~

Image from: http://walrussinclair.blogspot.com/2011/07/labyrinth-david-bowie.html

Anyway, I’ve invented a new thing that I’m going to start cataloguing here. I like to call it: Watching Movies While Stoned And Writing Notes About What I’m Watching. I’d like to think that I can come up with a better title than this but we’ll see. So read on to the next post, and see what I’ve come up with.

Now, I am going to offer a PRIZE to anyone who can explain to me why people are so obsessed with ladybugs as seen in the below screenshot of search terms people type in that leads them to this blog.

Or you could just tell me why YOU are searching for ladybugs. I would appreciate it.

And for first time visitors: this blog, ASTONISHINGLY, is not actually about ladybugs.

People also clearly like red heads. Of which I am now again.

…

I don’t think that was entirely grammatically correct. “Of which I am… something something.” I was trying to say my hair is red again. I feel more like me. Which is weird. Because in real life I’m blonde.

I also want to know the life story of the person who searched for ‘Get off bitch I’m doing science”. Cos that person would have an awesome life story.

From: Jorge Alberto Betancourt Delgadillo <zeratul95@hotmail.com>

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Take good care of yourself.^o^..

My reply:

Dear Jorge

http://thebloggess.com/

It’s so hard when someone is kinda you, but like, better and so much more awesome. She even outswears me. That’s amazing.

* I realise this is kinda like being a pushy stage parent. Or you know, one of those mothers who emotionally bullies their kids into studying something kill yourself boring like accounting. But then I also realise I’m talking about my blog, not a child, and I could actually stop being so fucking weird.

Printer man: This one can scan negatives.

Mum: Oh, she’s too young to know about negatives.

Me: Mum, I was born in ’83, not ’93. I used to keep my weed in an empty film canister.

…

Mum: Oh.

About two months ago, all of a sudden I was getting hundreds of hits a day, out of the blue. I’m thinking okay, this is weird, but I like it. What’s going on? It turns out all the hits were from people searching for ladybugs. And I mean, SEARCHING. Searching for ladybugs, picture of ladybug, ladybug on leaf, ladybug in garden, ladybug flying. Any variation of ladybug you could think of, people were searching for it.

Which led them to a post I wrote about a year ago, in which I expressed my dislike of ladybugs. You can read it here.

WELL. Talk about bringing out the hate. I think ladybugs are kinda creepy, true. I would prefer a Daddy-Long-Legs in my house (as we all know) than a ladybug. It turns out this opinion makes me a Monster who Defies God and blah blah etc etc. Though from the longs bits of Wikipedia text on the merits of ladybugs have been informative and appreciated. These people really like ladybugs. Like, LOVE ladybugs. And that, to me, is a bit creepier than the, what I thought, was a PAINFULLY tongue-in-cheek narrative on them.

But the CREEPIEST thing about all this is the following:

Why the HELL are all these people searching for blogs on ladybugs? I’m talking hundreds a day. And all of a sudden. Did a ladybug save some kid’s life in another country and it just didn’t make the news over here or something? Am now picturing a SuperHero Ladybug in a cape swooping down and saving a cherubic child from a burning building. In which case I totally understand the public obsession with them overnight.

But if that didn’t happen people… well. You’re all pretty weird. I await your outrage with anticipation and glee.

Ever since the time I murdered the Daddy-Long-Legs by trying to save it’s life, I’ve become a bit ridiculous in regards to spider safety. For example, if I find a Daddy-Long-Legs in my shower, instead of trying to save it (because we all know how well THAT turned out) I now try and angle my body so the minimal amount of water spray gets on it. Which makes my shower insanely uncomfortable. I tried ‘pretending’ I didn’t see them and so if, oh well, my shower spray sent them spiralling down the drain I told myself it wasn’t my fault. BUT IT WAS.

I clearly have problems.

Just now, while going out to enjoy a summer evening cigarette*, I noticed a spider, a white one, not sure what kind, perched by my doorway. Surrounding it was a lot of little spider-babies. After my initial freak out, with the thought of them growing up and running around my house, I’ve decided I’m quite fond of them. I certainly can’t kill them. THEY’RE CHILDREN. And so one half of me hopes they grow up really quickly and leave home to seek their fortunes, while the other (and I admit, more imaginative half) has dreams of creating a Spider-Baby Army in which they obey my every whim. The picture in my head is very a la Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets:

With a bit of Aladdin thrown in. The Aladdin part is where I picture myself riding the biggest spider under a canopy, languidly** waving my arms to command my Spider-Baby Army.

It’s all pretty awesome.

* Enjoyment is a strong word, as I’m smoking the second rate Champion Ruby as the IGA in the sticks that I was forced to go to had run out of Golden Virginia. What the hell? Who smokes Golden Virginia outside of Europe apart from me?

** Languid should clearly be in the list of words to be used as often as possible.

Images from: harrypotter.wikia.com and atomicmail.com

Today I got my hair cut. I look as saucy as can be. But this is not my point. My point in the inanity of hairdressers. Again.

I get my hair cut at a different place from where I get it coloured (Oh Mieka, can you do no wrong?) on recommendation from my little sister.

My sister, who is rad, is getting married in less than two weeks. As I was getting caped and gowned by my lovely ‘stylist’ (you’re not supposed to call them ‘hairdressers’ any more) the woman who cuts my sister’s hair recognised me.

Woman who cuts my sister’s hair: Oh, I recognise you! Your Mavis’s* sister!

Me: Yeah, I am! She recommended this salon to me.

Woman who cuts my sister’s hair: She’s coming in soon to get her hair done for the wedding! How exciting!

Me: Yeah, we’re all pretty excited about it.

MY stylist, who had been listening to this, stops short, mid cape buttoning, and gazes at me in the mirror.

My stylist: Your sister is getting married?

Me: Yes, next Sunday.

My stylist: And she’s okay with you getting your hair cut so close to the wedding?

WTF. Was she serious? I thought she wasn’t, so I laughed. And then I realised she WAS. And then there was a very interesting conversation in which I explained that my sister was actually one of those amazing creatures who DOESN’T CARE if her sister’s hair doesn’t match her squillion dollar wedding shoes and if her best friend’s nails don’t match the flower arrangements she will not have an apoplexy because my sister has the common sense to understand that weddings have NO NEED to be the retarded circus that so many insist on them being.

I find it ASTONISHING how many people can’t wrap their heads around the simplicity of the coming ceremony.

Random person: So… wait… you’re not a bridesmaid? She’s not having bridesmaids? But… but what flower arrangement is she getting? THE FLOWERS ARE NOT GOING TO BE ARRANGED!?

As much as we all love the look of flowers that look like they’ve been bred in a science lab and then hair sprayed together (see above), no. They are not going to be arranged.

I would like to take the time to a) apologise for initially calling my ‘stylist’ inane, because clearly this is an issue that she’s had to deal with many times before. She even told me her sister made her grow out her fringe for her wedding. Clearly her sister is not as amazing as my sister.

and b) thank my sister for being the awesome person she is.

* My sister’s name is not Mavis. That is just what I call her sometimes to piss her off. As she sent me a text message today saying ‘hi penisbreath’, I think I am allowed to Mavis her up today.