Whatever you do, don’t fire me.

People get fired for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes they make sense and sometimes they don’t. One thing is always true. We aren’t wanted anymore. For whatever the reason, we aren’t wanted anymore. Let that sink in; you aren’t wanted anymore. “But I still want to be there.” It doesn’t matter. You aren’t wanted there anymore. Shake the dust off and walk on. What’s the dust? Resentment, anger, hostility, regret, bitterness…shake off these dust particles. They’re heavier than you think. They’re also unsightly. People look and wonder why you’re covered in dirt, not wanting it to rub off on them. Shake it off. Scrub it off. Do whatever is necessary to get rid of it. – David Horsewood.

It sounds punchy and very hard hitting but the message isn’t to wound or cause distress. It’s almost a little bit of tough love to get you on your next step in life quickly. So you can look back and say, ‘well … that was a blessing in disguise.’

I’ve been thinking about how I would cope with this kind of rejection and long story short, I wouldn’t. Being a people pleaser by nature, if I’ve invested even an inkling of effort into a relationship or job prospect and it doesn’t work the way I want, I feel deflated and crushed.


Side note to highlight the extent of my people pleasing
When I first moved to London I applied for what I thought was a reception job at a (bullshit) company called DS Global. After going through the three step interview process which involved scouring the streets and knocking on people’s doors asking for charity sign ups, I didn’t feel comfortable walking away. I knew I didn’t want this job and I felt duped that they would advertise it as a 9-5 desk job but I really wanted to prove to the interviewer that I was the right candidate. My competitive nature also contributed to me completing the interview course and getting the job but that main reason as to why I didn’t walk away on the first day was because I wanted to show I was the one. The one person they were looking to hire and that I could fit any mold that was presented to me. I quit 3 days later.


The idea that someone in the world wouldn’t want me for my skills, personality, talent or time is a really distressing concept that just doesn’t sit well with me. And it doesn’t extend to people either.

Fiancé and I went to Lady Dinah’s Cat Cafe to sip tea and stroke the cats one Friday afternoon. I was so excited because I had been waiting for one of these cafes to open since they first became ‘a thing’ in Japan and the day had finally arrived. After sitting patiently for half an hour it was clear the cats weren’t interested in me or sitting on my lap. The rejection completely killed me and drove me to thinking all sorts of crazy things like, ‘why don’t they love me? You’d think they could just pretend to like me. I thought I would be a great crazy cat lady? Great, now I can’t even get that cat Matt promised me when we move to Australia because it won’t even like me. Maybe it’s my perfume? I think it’s too warm in here so they don’t want to be near anyone … no it’s definitely my perfume.’

See! I can’t even cope with the rejection of a cat. Even reliving that experience is making me feel tetchy.

When I saw this quote it really made me think about what I would do if I was ever sacked. I’d like to say I would be able to cope with like a rational adult but the reality is (even after hearing this quote) I know I wouldn’t. I can see it now. I would start out frantically trying to explain all the reasons this was a bad move by the company in hushed tones. Throw a public fit. Smash some things. Lose a shoe. Accept that I’ve burn all my bridges. Emotional eat my way to a size 32. Live the rest of my life with seething aggression towards that company and the people who fired me.

I’m a mess .. the questions is, are you?


Google HQ

So this afternoon I am off to Google HQ in Victoria and I am super excited. Not because the meeting will be long and arduous but because I’ve only heard good things about the Google offices.

In my mind I have run through how the afternoon will pan out and it consists of a few work related comments being tossed around the foozeball table accompanied by some ‘brewskis’. My boss and I will wager a bet that if we win (best two out of three of course) we will get a cheap deal and if we lose we pay full price. We then go on to win in a heated underdog style game where spinning is strictly forbidden and we achieved our purpose of visiting Google + had a wicked afternoon.

Judging by the following images you can understand why my mind has concocted such events;

Google Milan
Google Milan

Google New York
Google New York

Google Tel Aviv
Google Tel Aviv

and finally … Google London
Google London

I mean, it that a fucking orange tree in Google Tel Aviv? You get the point – I’ll try to nab some sneaky pics and report back.

I’m just going to come out an say it …

I love Miley Cyrus.

I’m not even joking. You can sit there for a minute and contemplate whether you want to still be friends with me or continue to frequent my blog but quite frankly if you can get down with my miley lovin’ then I’m not entirely sure I wanna be friends with you either.

But why you ask? This is why … Miley doesn’t give a fuck. She’s the humanised honeybadger. She’s all teeth, cropped hair, Pilates, drugs and gyrating with strangers and it’s legit. Okay, so maybe she had a little help from her PR team but whatever. Miley is all about doing the things I wanna do.


I wanna sing, twerk with teddy bears on tv and get paid for it. I wanna do recreational drugs with Snoop dogg and wear bad ass Moschino belts and sip on my ice tea in California and have a supportive fiance who has his head screwed on but keeps letting me do my thang anyway (okay I may already have that last one.)

My point is, Miley is literally living everyone’s ‘dream’ in one way or an other. She isn’t sitting behind a desk job working 9-5 to live up to the white picket fence and 2.5 kids dream (one-up-one-down, occasionally doing Charlie ideal if you live in London) or saying ‘Man, I should really get to bed before 9pm so I can wake up at 5am for gym.’

She is spending all her hard-earned ‘hannah montanna’ bills on making music she likes, flying around the world and staying up late with her bros. Miley isn’t working for the man because Miley IS the man – BOOM.

I understand we aren’t all as financially secure as Miley, but I feel like if she were like the rest of us she’d be working in a cafe on the beach waitressing her little ass off so she could ‘pop molly’ and not give a fuck. I don’t know, maybe I am being a little presumptive.

End of the day, work what you got Miley because I got your back.