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DAY 135: Becoming a psycho Chiko chick
I’M going for my citizenship test soon, so I’m keen to immerse myself in as much Australian culture as possible – particularly since a question on this national delicacy is bound to come up in the...
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DAY 150: Being silly at a tattoo convention
Dave pretending to study a bottle. WHEN I ask people what the bird I’m getting inked on my arm should be holding between its feet, suggestions range from a chip, to a worm it has pecked to death,...
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DAY 228: Bathing in minerals
THERE’S a particularly hoity-toity neck of my woods famed for its hot springs. Unfortunately, they’re shut, so we wind up visiting an expensive mineral bath (read: swimming pool) that’s salty enough,...
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DAY 232: Learning Indian Head Massage
THERE are few things as whimper-worthy as an Indian head massage (not to be confused with a Chinese head massage, as I found out to my cost), so I buy a book that’ll coach me on the matter. After a...
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DAY 263: Getting cupped within an inch of my life
I'm either really bruised or I've been spammed. IF I could get up and do a runner I just might, but I’m forced down onto the practitioner’s table with the pressure of an Acme anvil. I know bugger all...
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DAY 265: Getting my ears candled
Not me. OH HEY! CHECK OUT THE NEW BLOG: THE SNAKE OIL SKEPTIC! I FALL asleep immediately, so I’m not sure what happens. According to this article, though, “the negative pressure needed to pull wax from...
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DAY 281: Discovering I’m allergic to cigarettes, goddamnit
THIS WEEK, my eyes are puckered little pissholes in the snow, itching like they just got out of jail. I’ve got no idea what’s going on. I decide to get tested for allergies at the MindBodySpirit...
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DAY 314: Getting shellacked
SHELLAC is a revolutionary new product! But only for your nails. It comes in colours like ‘Fedora’, ‘Red Baroness’ and ‘Negligee’. I plump for ‘Tropix Pink’. The salon’s in Chadstone, and Jenna paints,...
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DAY 342: Getting stroked to death in my lunch break
THIS is horrible. I’m grimacing through the little head-hole in the table and clenching my fists as I get slathered up for a 15-minute massage down some basement in the city, staring at my masseuse’s...
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DAY 343: Wearing high heels to work
Motherfu-OW! I’M filling in at a magazine where four-inch heels are protocol*, so I manage to track down a beginner’s pair I can walk in without looking too comedic. Pencil skirts, cinched waists and...
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