TWEAKED By Mariko

-A blog I should have posted 3 weeks ago -

I have taken a lover. It’s name is caffeine.

Caffeine is the first thing I think of in the morning. It never fails to put a big smile of my face. It sometimes gives me tremors or heart palpitations. Caffeine is taking dancing lessons with me. It always takes me out on dates and loves hanging around my friends. In fact, caffeine makes me want to be a better person.

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HSM TV – Mariko – 3 month HSMer

DON’T BLAME IT ON THE MOONLIGHT (By Mariko)

I usually measure my level of debauchery from the dance move currently being performed.

On a scale of 1-10, 1 being completely sober and 10 being Lindsay Lohan, it follows this loose scale:

1. No dancing. General mingling around the bar area. Comments about the excellent/poor bass magnifying architecture are exchanged.
2. Tap foot on floor, clap hand on thigh. Maintain conversation about work/relationship/drink prices/lack of smoking area.
3. Commence nonchalant head bopping to easy, recognisable beats. Hover awkwardly on the dance floor. Push through mountains of people 15 times to frequent the bar.
4. Relax. Groove to the music. Frequent the bar.
5. Enter ‘The Point” (Read below for detail description)
6. Mimic other peoples hilarious dance moves around you, preferably behind them, thrusting, whilst taking photos of myself. … Continue Reading

THE WEEKEND BEFORE HSM (By Mariko)

I got proper hammered last Friday.

The day before I travelled up to Brisbane to spend a few days with the old ball and chain, otherwise known as the Clyde to my Bonnie (we shall call him Chris from now on). Friday was a casual affair at the local restaurant with Chris’s family and a few mates from uni celebrating the end of Semester. What was meant to be an innocent dinner accidently turned into my last hurrah, the final hangover before my 3 month stint with HSM.

PASSION POP...

Alcohol works on a bartering system. Apparently, if you take equal quantities of beer (thanks for coming to dinner ya’ll), red wine (Is this a trumpet? I’m pretty sure I can play it!), gin and tonic (Let me tell you, in exact detail, the time I went around Europe), Mojitos (HAHAHA! You don’t say. Wait. What did you say?)Espresso martini’s (Ya knowse guyshes, the brill…the brillyin…the good thing habout thiss sshdrink, ish that ish it DELICIOUS. Ish dat not asmazshing?), tequila (inaudible gurgling noises) and 100,000 cigarettes, you can exchange it for a slideshow of memory stills consisting of blurry faces, dark places, bruised legs, cold cement, the mystery taxi ride home, and the bedroom floor.

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WORD LIMIT SCMERD LIMIT (By Mariko Smits)

It’s 4.42pm, Monday afternoon, and I’ve spent it restlessly looking for jobs and constantly checking my mobile for missed calls from potential employers. I’m sick with a suspected chest inspection and I’ve had to cancel my Centrelink appointment because my tonsils feel like sandpaper. The woman on the phone was less than helpful (“No, no appointments anywhere in Melbourne, you’ll have to cancel and relodge your claim, NO extensions possible, no no no”) and I can feel myself whirl pooling into a nice, comfy nest of self-pity. So far, like normal working hours, Monday blows.

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