you know those silly little 'if we're not married by the time we're 30 we'll get together' kind of pacts? well, i never made one. and im starting to think i should have. im kind of old school like that. my mum and dad married young. really young. i came along after just a few months after my mum walked up to my dad in a nightclub at the ripe old age of 22 and said 'im going to make you breakfast'. best pickup line ever. i've tried it once (or twice). but they're still going strong. they still shag on the couch on a sunday afternoon (just ask my sister who got an awful shock - though my mum will still deny it to the death) and are still so madly in love it makes me sick.

i got another wedding invite the other day. well not so much a wedding invite, twas a hens night invite. now dont get me wrong, i love a good hens party. too much penis paraphernalia to even attempt to poke a proverbial stick at. but another year and another hens party and a few weddings later and im still here doing my thing - renting a house, being a crazy (young, but almost teetering on) old cat lady, no responsibilities, getting drunk on school nights and turning up in the morning to my dead end job. 

although i've decided not to have children, i can still feel my proverbial clock ticking. dont try and talk me out of the no kids thing - too many people have tried and failed dismally with the whole 'oh, its just a thing you'll grow out of' or 'you'll want them one day'. i wont - never have wanted them and never will. i dont have the normal maternal instincts. its strange though - i HAVE planned out my perfect not so white wedding (in vegas no less) - from the walk down to aisle to ben gibbards acoustic rendition of brand new colony right down to here comes your man by the pixies as our first dance. dont get me wrong, i do like kids - i'd pretty much walk in front of a bus for any child. and i'll gladly babysit (people ACTUALLY trust me with their kids - unsupervised and everything). but its never been in my agenda to settle down and have a brood of little people running around. settle down - eventually, yes. play the happy house wife and cook dinner and iron and clean -  hell yes. where do i locate the sign up sheet? i've spent way too many hours ironing pointless things and cooking roasts and cleaning and playing martha fucking stewart pouring though cookbooks and choosing a meal thats going to make my man satisfied to turn back now. its pretty safe to say i have almost done the hundred hours learner licence thing in the housewife world. its about time i settled down and made my happy little 'paisley curtains with matching couch covers, 5pm dinners and interior designer ikea trips on a sunday morning' life with the man of my dreams. 

but as soon as i meet the perfect boy (there have been a few in my years - been and gone. some though my doing, some through no fault of my own) i start picking them to pieces - and then i talk myself into thinking the grass is always greener. ugh - the grass is never greener. it doesn't matter what side of that electrified barbed wire fence you're sitting on, you'll always want to be on the other side. but as soon as you're there, you're all sitting there wondering what the fuck happened. now i can sugar coat it all i want, but some people i've walked away from because they're douches. plain and simple - douchebags who took me and my wicked cool housekeeping skills for granted. and then theres the boys where you sit back and wonder what if i didnt push them away? 

ever since i was a little girl not making pacts with boys about being shacked up by the time we're over the hill, i've always believed life takes me where i need to be. and as silly as it sounds im convinced that if i didnt let that happen and follow my gut instincts then maybe i'd be knocked up with a guy i didnt love with 3 little rugrats running around named accident, mistake and regret.

it's important to listen to the people who know me best, and at this 'coming of age' stage in my life, its me. and while i have a handful of different me's - deep and philosophical wine bianca, cocaine cut with god only knows lets fuck whats your name bianca, down and out on life bianca and  happy go lucky throw caution to the wind bianca, at the end of the day, its still bianca. and while i may be freaking out because another friend is set to walk down the aisle and i cant even commit to where i'll be next saturday, happy go lucky bianca is telling me to look at the positives - at least i still have the option to take home a groomsman. 

since when did the gold coast become so. darn. superficial? 

i've spent my whole entire life living here, the longest stretch ive ever spent away from my beloved stomping ground is 4 months. i moved to broome for work mid way through last year - for those of you who know nothing about the place, its basically a tropical paradise in the middle of nowhere. but its the kind of a place where everyone is their own person. theres no judgement. i rocked the pants optional every other day of the week and walked around most of the time with bikinis and a t-shirt on. and not much else - there was no judgement. because even though it was probably offensive to most people, no one cared. no one judged. it was pretty much awesome. while it was fun and enlightening and i learnt more about who i am as a person in the little while i spent there than i had in the last 4 years spent living my life on the gold coast, it was great to come home. to my wonderful friends, my mental family and my soulmate in the form of a furry baby i call lola. but shit, the it really did open my eyes as to how truly fake this part of the world is. 

every other person is a photographer, a designer, an aspiring scene kid, whatever. kids who i often see around the hood from time to time have turned into douches. and to be completely honest, it makes me a little sad. do people honestly believe that they need to change who they are just to conform, to be one of the cool kids? there are people out there who create this image of themselves, then ditch it as soon as the fad changes. the kind of people who were listening to commercial music no less than 18 moths ago. theyre now the exact same people wearing jeans so skinny im all 'where the fuck is your penis dude? do you tuck or tape?' and walking around with vintage cameras around their neck taking obscure pictures of shit like dead leaves on a pavement - trying to be individual. you dress and behave exactly the same as 98% of the rest of the population. there is nothing individual about this whole 'look' you have going on. 

who decides the fad of the season? is there some kind of coolest of the cool kids sitting in his or her cool kid throne who hands out the orders for gold coast style. i imagine this person to be sitting above the crowd on a vintage op shop chair at a gig in a warehouse somewhere, bellowing at the crowd - this season, cool kids, we shall wear 60's wallpaper inspired attire. the music of the season is german trance. we shall all get addicted to herion, but be prepared cool kids. you'll have to kick the junk as soon as i decide pills are cool again. and i've heard its not easy. we must all drink gin. and only gin. and tattoos aren't cool anymore. so for those of you who went out and got sleeves and neck tattoos -  sucks to be you. you're out of the club.

i am who i am - be my friend. or dont be. its no skin off my nose. im the same person i always have been. give or take a few major milestones. a few major fuck ups. a few major mistakes. and a few major achievements. but i am me. and while im still paving my way through life learning about who i am and what this world is all about, im not reinventing myself at every corner just to impress people i dont know. and to be brutally honest, i wouldn't have it any other way.

ah, the infamous work party. the only time of year where its acceptable to spew in bushes, drink beer out of a jug, walk around with no shoes, take your clothes off, pose for photos with award winners' hands on your boobs and talk shit to the people you spend 5 days a week with. i fared pretty well compared to previous work parties - i didn't wake up next to anyone i have to face on monday morning. i didn't spew. and i didn't fall over. i did however do some pretty lewd things in a elevator with a mexican dude who was convinced it was fate we met. but thats ok because i have no intention of ever seeing him again. and i woke up in the morning with only a smallest sense of regret (mainly because in my beer filled haze i forgot lifts have cameras. and i may be able to track myself down on an amateur porn site in the coming weeks). 

admittedly, i've woken up next to more than my fair share of boys and wondered what the fuck i was thinking when i had a little heart to heart with myself at 2 o'clock in the morning and decided i was going to take him home, get naked, shag, wake up the next morning, fall in love and live happily ever after. with age comes a little bit of knowledge, a looking back there at LEAST 3 things wrong with that - 

1) sex is never good when you're drunk. more so when its the first time

2) no one has ever met the love of their life in a nightclub at 2am after drinking their body weight in alcohol

3) the boy you kiss in the above situation is not going to be the boy you wake up with the next morning - and you sure as hell aren't going to be the hot chick he went home with either.

for you see my friendS, beer goggles are real. and i'd love to be able to show you an example of how real the beer goggles were on the saturday night just gone. but i cant do it. just ask my sister how she wee'd a little in her pants when i said the boy was a bit cute. 5 minutes and a facebook creep later - and i wee'd a little too. and so did emma. and jai. and lara. yep, it was THAT funny.

i haven't been laid for 139 days. maybe thats also helping to cloud my judgement. i hope thats also helping to cloud my judgement. and while i did wake up next to a fairly average mexican, it could have been worse. a LOT worse. i could have shagged a colleague. i could have shagged someone that would have gotten both of us in a dickload of trouble (excuse the pun). and i probably would have if sober bianca didnt open palmed smack drunk bianca in the forehead and have a good talking to her about the repercussions of doing such a thing. 

and sitting here today im so very glad im shagless. even if it is valentines day. because im happy being single. it fucking rocks. i can do myself better than any drunken one night stand can. and i love waking up next to only my cat every other day of the week. she doesn't cheat. she never talks back. and at least i know she's hot - even when im sober. 

since when did music festivals become fashion parades? bitches be all up in their finest club wear. at a music festival. a fucking music festival. back in myyyy day (cue the mid life crisis panic attack) we came, we saw (sometimes 2 or 3 of everything, and sometimes shit that wasn't even there), drank straight vodka, rocked the fuck out and embraced the tragic way we looked after a big day spent listening to music in the sun. none of this getting dressed up in sequins, a sad excuse for a pair of denim shorts that sit tighter than a pair of french knickers, a full face of make up and the whole spring summer range of diva accessories. no sir. theres a time and a place for picking up boys. its called surfers paradise. and its every other day of the week. 

at the ripe old age of 25 *cue collective gasp* i actually feel out of touch. and its not just the festival scene either. its almost like overnight the passionate romance i had for so many years with 'tequila shots on a school night, riding home in trolleys at 4am and different beds for different days' told me it wasn't working, packed its shit and left me. and i rebounded straight into the arms of 'saturday nights spent on the couch with a glass of red and a good book' how mundane. ugh. don't get me wrong though - i can wake up at the marriot with a boy whose name i almost didn't know, and drink beer until the sun rises. but its not really the same when you pick up and theres a good chance you're wearing a pair of nancy gantz pants under your dress. 

those little sexcapades and adventures are getting fewer and further between. not always by choice either. everyones shacking up and its lifes big game of music chairs - the music has stopped and im left standing alone and chairless. whoa. backtrack. im having fun enjoying my own company. but being the third wheel every other day really does drive the point home - 25 most certainly is teetering on the edge of adulthood. and its scaring the shit out of me. 

after much deliberation, many a freak out - some mild, some massive - i have come to the conclusion that i guess thats just life. and i guess im just travelling along my own little journey. and i guess thats ok. because as fun as it sounds, one really cant stay young forever. otherwise you just end up like one of these creepy middle aged women who parties with people half their age, using dated terminology like groovy and going steady. and if saturday nights spent drinking a decent drop and reading literature for the rest of my life means its going to relinquish me from being that person (a fate worse than death perhaps) then i guess you can count me the fuck in. 

hi, my name is bianca. i have a cat, no boyfriend, a mental family, a lot of ex lovers and what feels like an impending mid life crisis. im a book nerd, i dont often think before i speak and i have no hand eye co-ordination.

i also have some pretty amazing friends. friends so amazing, in fact, that they didnt  judge me when i made an off handed remark about how i'd totally do the guy off the ashley and martin commercial (for the record - he's totally not do-able. and i haven't ben laid in months.)

so on the advice (and complete peer pressure) of said friends, i've decided to start blogging. within these pages will be all my sexcapades, embarrassing moments, daily observations and general life fuck ups. it gives me the opportunity to vent anonymously to complete strangers about the poor life choices i make. and because i figure you need to be able to laugh at yourself, and why not have the whole world join in too?