Ryan: You’re funny. And not just for a girl, but for a person too.
Me: I am a person.
Ryan: Yeah, with a humour-killing uterus.

Me: Come to yoga with me.
Ryan: Will there be chicks there?
Me: Probably.
Ryan: I can’t sit there grunting and sweating while wearing skin-tight lycra pants in front of a bunch of chicks.
Me: You don’t have to wear lycra.
Ryan: Fuck, Annik, if I’m going to do yoga, I’m going to do it properly.

Ryan: John and I came up with the best pick-up line. You go up to a girl and say, “Hey, do you want my number?” Before she has time to answer, you say, “Of course you do.” Then you hand her your number and say, “Why don’t you give me a call later, when you’re not acting like such a bitch.”

Ryan: We should download a bunch of female stand-up comedy and then turn it into a drinking game. Every time they make a period joke, we chug.

SHAMPOO IS BETTER!

Last week, I went for a run. Because I’m fit. As I was jogging through Hyde Park, I noticed a man sprawled on a bench, seemingly unconscious.

“Junkie,” I thought, and continued running. However, as I got closer, I noticed he was reasonably well-dressed and clean-shaven. His head was thrown back and his mouth hung open. Like a corpse. As I jogged past, he did not move at all. When I got to the end of the park, I turned around to look once more. The man still hadn’t moved. I hovered for a few seconds, then a possum ran in front of me and I chased him because I love the possums in Hyde Park. They make me feel like a bush ranger. I ran home, then ate a can of corn and played Diddy Kong Racing. After all,  I am a grown up.

The next day, the man was gone. I wondered whether he’d simply woken up, or been gently pushed into Sydney harbour by the city council. Had I run past a dead body and not noticed/cared? It was entirely possible. I live in Darlinghurst. I pass smacked-out junkies more often than I buy toilet paper. I have frequently seen homeless people brawling, interrupted doorway poops, witnessed various acts of vandalism, and been a spectator to more than a few domestic disputes. On top of this, I get asked for money every time I leave my house. But enough about the Red Cross, because the junkies are pretty annoying too.

Sometimes, I’ll see a couple fighting, and the dude will push or hit his lady around a little. I’ll think, “How could he!” but my default reaction in these situations is to always look the other way. Sure, I’m a post-feminist/alkaline or whatever (I was born under the sign of Taurus), but I’m not prepared to get glassed in the face to save one of my sisters.

Am I a bad person?

Don’t answer that.

I’ve been on the other side of the spectrum too. I was once attacked while waiting for the bus, because I looked at a person. Nobody seemed to mind much. And I once tried to fight someone on York Street, which attracted a few stares, but not so much as a comment from passers-by.

Have we become desensitised? Or are we just tougher?

I don’t know, I’m from the Hills. We used to kill bees when we were bored.

This post is for Aleisha McCormack. She asked me to write about my hobbies, because I am a glamourous blogger who works in advertising and lives in the big city. It took a lot of reflection over quite a few weeks, but I’ve finally put together a comprehensive list:

• peeling other people’s sunburnt skin
• drinking
• licking the salt off rice crackers
• putting things in the bin
• reading books about shipwrecks
• loling
• getting up during the night to make sure the stove is turned off

I think that’s all. Sometimes I also write limericks using rude words. I guess I’m just a fun/crazy gal!

Ryan: Women always cry. It’s the only way they know how to deal with pressure.
Me: That’s not true. I binge drink.
Ryan: That’s bloggable.

Ryan: I really don’t understand why marijuana isn’t legal. Have you ever heard a stoner go, “Man, I’m so baked, let’s go out for a cheeky rape”? Or, “I know, let’s go bash someone to death”? No. They just eat pizza and watch Tim and Eric.

Ryan: Why are you dressed in Matt’s clothes?
Me: Because I wanted to feel closer to him.
Ryan: Are you wearing his retainer?

Me: I find the guy on the drink-driving ad really attractive.
Ryan: Of course you do. That’s your weakness. You accept any flaw in someone if they’re beautiful.
Me: No, I don’t.
Ryan: It’s fine, everybody does it. If Natalie Portman asked me to marry her, and she said, “By the way, I’m a meth addict and I have AIDS, is that cool?” I’d be like, “Totally okay. Let’s do this.”
Me: Really?
Ryan: Of course. If she said, “I also poo out my mouth and I never brush my teeth,” I’d be like, “That’s fine, babe. We’ll work it out.”

Me: I don’t know what to do about this weird chick.
Ryan: Skelty, this is all I’m going to say: once, a guy threw a lemon tree in my bed while I was asleep in it, and I never saw him again. Know what I mean?

Ryan: When I was a kid, I dated the hottest girl in school. It was right before she got anorexia, when a girl reaches her absolute peak of hotness. Like when she’s still eating, but right before she gives up celery.

Me: I saw an infographic on semen today. Did you know there are 20 calories in a load?
Ryan: That would explain why that girl I hooked up with on the weekend was so fat.
Me: And did you know that sperm can live inside a woman for 5 days, or on a toilet seat for 3 hours?
Ryan: What about on a girl’s face?

Matt: My roomie is on her way with a friend.
Ryan: Is her friend hot?
Matt: Kind of.
Ryan: Dude, I can’t talk to a hot girl right now. I’m about to eat pudding.