Lady Love

This blog has seen me through several heart breaks, considerable heartache, about a hundred fantasy crushes and about a million glances at cute boy's bum's. I've obsessed over the size of my bum, I've obsessed about the fact I'm obsessing over the size of my bum, and I've obsessed about what obsessing about the fact I'm obsessing over the size of my bum means about me as a woman. I've thought a lot about being a woman, being happy as a woman and being powerful as a woman. I’ve thought about what my power animal would be. It’s a lioness. No biggie.

Yesterday afternoon after having wonderful sex* with my wonderful man, I completed the perfect Sunday afternoon by falling asleep on said man's lap while reading. A few drowsy minutes after waking, my current bastion for all things good kissed me on the forehead and politely excused himself explaining that he had needed to pee for the greater part of my nap on his lap. This small gesture (though considerably large when taken in to account the small size of most men’s bladders) filled my heart with such joy I briefly considered throwing the towel in on psychology and trying my luck as a romance writer. The happiness and deep ease I feel around him made sense as I realised this happiness was more to do with how I feel about myself, than the connection I have with my partner. This was, as women have termed before, "quite an empowering moment".



I want to be a good woman and I’m lucky enough to have found myself a good man. But I’ve realised that none of it matters unless there is genuine happiness. I’ve realised that you’re not going to help create future generations of super empowered, go-getters with vagina's unless you’re rolling with the punches, shedding a few tears when you’re hurt and then dusting yourself off and reengaging your joyous self for all to bask in the warm, inspiring glow of. I’ve decided THAT is how you become an influential woman, but maybe more importantly, a happy woman.

So, in conclusion, I think I stumbled across the meaning of life. Or at least, fell asleep on it. Sadly this realization, as documented across the ages, is one that needs to be made on an experiential level, but I’ll be damned if I don’t put a few pointers out to help mark the way. Consider this my blogs new direction.

I love you, ladies.



* Writing about such things isn't crass if you're all self actualised and junk. Really.

A New Year

I've just turned 25. Screw new year resolutions and celebrations, I'm all about personal new years and life anniversaries. In my opinion, people aren't good at celebrating birthdays. We give presents, usually eat food and that's about it (not that I'm against these things). It's my belief that birthdays should be a time to reflect on what you've experienced, what you've achieved and what you've failed; what's gone into making the version of yourself you are on this particular day.

When I was a teenager each year on my birthday I would write a letter to my future self. The letters were usually filled with dreams, desires to be with whomever the cute boy I had a crush on at that time was, and hopes that on my birthday next year I would be a happier more confident version of myself. I guess some things never change.

I've had a big year. I wrote a thesis, I painfully fell out of love, I changed jobs, I moved home, I had surgery, I experienced confusion like I never had before, I learnt how to keep secrets, and I missed my ex-boyfriends. A lot. It's generally been pretty rough.

I had a wonderful talk to my grandmother tonight. We mused on potential life choices and the end of my recent relationship. She wisely reminded me that things happen for a reason, and that life is good provided you're able to find joy in what you're doing. She described wild tales of her debaucherous youth and her tendency to run from cute boys when they started to get serious. After her stories she set me straight, she said, "Jaimie, you'll find the right one and you'll stop running. You will just know and it will be everything you've ever wanted and never realised". She's been married to my grandfather for 54 years.

I guess you could say I'm pretty lost at the moment, though her kind words reminded me that as long as I'm enjoying what I can about my situation and where I'm at with life, I am still able to grow.

I fucked a lot of things up this year. But all my fuck ups, all my confusion, all my fear and all my joy has lead me to be who I am now and that's kind of worth celebrating.

So yeah, birthday's are kind of a big deal to me. I really hope they are to you too. If they're not, do me a favour and reflect on why you are awesome and what lead you to be as awesome as you are. Because you are amazing. Even if it's only because you've read to the end of this post.

Xx

I think you are hellof neat

It's true. I love you all, although I've had difficulty showing it these past few weeks.

I'm disabled at the moment having lost the function of one arm after soul destroying shoulder surgery. I'm filling my time with the West Wing, new music and raunchy books. This aspect of my life could be worse.

Expect my posts to be sparse on words, though more frequent.

Perhaps.

Xx

Before I die...

One of the many charming men I have in my life brightened my day on Monday by alerting me to a rather spectacular community initiative. Before I Die is the work of Candy Chang, a public installation artist who has a strong social conscience and a desire to make her community a more livable place. Essentially, she's used a stencil to create an enormous blackboard on which people create a collective list documenting their hopes for their lives.

Her words to describe her work are thus:

"Before I Die transforms neglected spaces into constructive ones where we can learn the hopes and aspirations of the people around us."

Before

After

Once the board is full she documents the responses and wipes it clean. On the website they mention the possibility of collating them into a book.

Not only does this project help to clean up the community appearance, it brings people together and gets them thinking about what's really important to them. It's an exercise in refocusing and as a supporter of all things "social change" and "positive psychology", I think it's marvelous.

Things you should know about moving city

x
Photograph by the wonderful Rummage

It won't be easy. It will be terrifying, stressful, and at times really very tedious. You may never be sure that you made the right decision. You'll spend moments, early in the morning resting against the armpit of a stranger on a crowded tram, weighing up the relative merits of career opportunity and access to a greater variety of shops, restaurants and musical venues against friends, family, space, a garden and mountains. You will have insurmountable issues with parking permits, local councils, landlords, and highly breakable glass cook-tops. Your friends might not see the merit of your ways and instantaneously migrate two months after you do, much to your surprise and disappointment.

But, if you're very, very lucky, you might get to walk home through Carlton Gardens every day. A special person might decide to move with you, at considerable expense to his or herself, and might even cook you dinner and fold your laundry every day during extended periods of unemployment. You might find yourself working with some of the kindest, most intimidatingly brilliant people you'd ever hope to meet, and get to travel to places as exotic and diverse as Fiji and Albury Wodonga. You just might get to live in a crazy beautiful Victorian house with two fireplaces, gold wallpaper and a sculpted Art Noveau ceiling. And upon wandering your block you might find two beautiful clothing stores, an exquisite florist, fabulous green grocers, deli and bookshop as well as the city's most exciting bar without even crossing a single road. Should your blessings be many, you might have an favourite aunt nearby who lets you pick vegetables, herbs and flowers from her garden, and invites you over for a suburban BBQ every few weeks. And if you're really, very fortunate you might find that you don't mind your new city very much at all. In fact, you rather like it.

Hey You Handsome Vultures

Kittens and love poodles,

It appears I've been on summer vacation for the past two months. I've spent the time being introspective and my dearest millionaires, I have some mighty plans in the works. The first includes helping return our blog to its former, slightly less trashy glory. Consider it my new years resolution.

During this summer-time I also had the realisation that somewhere between writing about the joys and agony of breastfeeding, and single-handedly saving Canberra's drug affected young people, I became a bore and lost any resemblance of a person with street cred. I have come to the realisation that I am epically uncool. I'm so uncool I was one of those idiots who walks around thinking they're cool while listening to Sleigh Bells or some other over hyped band played extensively on Triple J, dressed entirely in florals. You know the type of person I'm talking about dear friends. As a final nail in my coffin, I'm so uncool I've started trusting Pitchfork again. Bam. Oh God, 2010 what have you done to me? You've turned me into a try-hard-faux-hipster. A tryster.

I'm not quite ready to drop florals, but I plan to make changes in what and how I post. Though don't worry, Mad Crush Monday will remain a regular (and BRILLIANT!) feature.

I guess it's also worth mentioning that we're currently undergoing some changes here at Number One Millionaire. The most exciting/sad is that our beloved Julia will now be hailing from Melbourne. I've just started an exciting new job and Vanessa has has a whole world of cool going on, which I'm sure she'll be sharing with you soon.

So on that note, welcome to 2011. I hope your plans for it are as exciting as mine.

Xx

September

xx
Photograph from rummey bears

Not quite mad crush Monday I'm afraid. Perhaps mundane Thursday?

Things to eat, do, make in spring, glorious spring:

Go to Floriade and ride the ferris wheel.

Spend as much time as possible by the lake, picnicking, bike riding, eating Brodburger and generally frolicking.

Buy and dye silk for scarves.

Eat endless combination of pea, mint, parmesan, asparagus and leek dishes with smoked trout .

Climb mountains.

Eat at Podfood.

Be a committed, reliable, effective veggie gardener. Decimate the harlequin bugs. Produce 10 varieties of heirloom tomato.

Pin giant flowers in a high bun on my head.

Spend a weekend at Little Pig Creek in the Kangaroo Valley. Go horse riding through the lush green countryside.

Paint with watercolours.

Listen to the new Deerhunter album, 'Halycon Digest'

Make salads from Casa Moro.

Lie on grass, look at trees/sky.

Prepare the house for dreaded summer. Not as easy as preparing for winter, but may involve careful placement of fans, installation of flyscreens, purchase of a child's paddling pool.

Oh you pretty things!

Short Stop being a bad ass jammer

As you probably know, I entered into the wonderful world of roller derby about six months ago. I adore it. It really is the greatest sport ever. Anyway, it was rolling along smashingly (heh, see what I did there?) until I twisted my ankle, put my skates back on too early and then dislocated my shoulder. Now I'm off skates for an unspecified amount of time, which unless you are also a derby all star, you can have no idea of the depression that I am currently experiencing.

Tuesday is a big training night in the world of Canberra Roller Derby League, so I thought it might be a good time to share with you some pretty pictures by an awesome lady, who I have a huge style crush on.

Posie La Threat, aka Beata English, aka Beez Images and Designs, took some amazing shots of Canberra's rep team Vice City Rollers this last weekend at the East Coast Smack Down. Go to her site and have a look. She's very talented and her blog is delightful. She specialises in child photography, and my goodness, she has captured some glorious little people.

Yep, you may have noticed that there is no Mad Crush Monday this week. That's because I've taken up podophilla.

Oh yes, bitch bought her self a pair of Melissa shoes by Vivienne Westwood!

Not really. But my new shoes are prettier than all my Mad Crush Monday potential candidates combined.

Sorry boys, this week you don't even come close.

Stay tuned for next week though when REAL LIFE MAD CRUSH MONDAY begins. CAN YOU TELL I'M EXCITED?! Keep sending me your photos and your stories!

Xoxo

Cindy Clawford

(aka Jaimie).

Days are happy when...

..
You eat avocado on toast for breakfast.

A cute boy walks you to work.

You discover an inspirational little project (pictured)

You send an e-mail to a friend, re-read it in your outbox, and chuckle at just how dang irrepressibly funny you are.

You discover that the collective noun for llamas is a llovely of llamas.

The weatherman predicts that next Tuesday will be a whopping 17 degrees! Celsius!

You pass some budding wattle on your walk home.

You have magnificent plans for dinner.

What is making your days happy lovepies?

The snuggliest season

Happy first day of winter, millionaires.

May the snuggliest season bring you carrot and coriander soup and apple crumble, woolly socks and moments by an open fire, hot spiced apple cider and hearty conversation, crisp walks and reflective days indoors, the glow of sweet scented candles and plenty of gratitude for warmth, shelter and good company.

Cute Boys With Cats

I was doing my usual procrastination thing this evening of face-stalking anyone and everyone, when my exploits lead me to this diamond in the rough (in the rough, in the rough.... anyone get that Aladdin reference? No?).

Cute Boys With Cats is a Tumblr put together by some kind of genius who decided that "there is a serious shortage of pictures of cute boys with cats".

Agreed. And you genius lady, have made my week.

Oh my, this one has named his cat Pushkin! HE'S SO DREAMY!!!

An Ode to Lost Loves

Dear Tyler from that L.A youth hostel,

I'm sorry I didn't find you before I went to Hawaii. You were my saviour. I was embarrassed. I hope you become a successful musician. Maybe you will write a song about me and your new love for cute Australian girls. You were lovely.

........

Dear Sigur Ros boy,

I wish I'd had enough courage to come and get that bootleg from you. You were adorable.

........

Dear Russian/ hot hair boy,

Red pants was a mistake. I still think you're cute.

........

Dear Strokes boy,

*Sigh* I miss you. You were a charming fantasy.

........

Dear Summer,

Fuck you for leaving me. I refuse to take Winter as a lover.

........

Dear amazing man in Tak Kee at Dickson tonight,

You walked in all amazing looking, smiled at me and then sat down to eat by yourself, content with your ipod for company. You are amazing. You practically winded me with your perfection. From that look you gave me, I think we both know where this is heading.

Why the devil are you all getting married?!

What the deuce?

Each time I log on to Facebook there seems to be a never ending stream of photos of newly married peeps. All of whom I might add, are roughly the same, young, sprightly age as myself. I just don't know what is going on. I'm feeling so freakin' young I don't like the idea of seeing someone and attaching a title to the relationship, let alone having a ceremony and putting an expiry date on your relationship. An expiry date reached at DEATH! No sir, no thank you.

Though, I guess it's okay if you're a mega-Christian-virgin-babe.

Peace out.

The 90s are back and apparently so am I

You know how sometimes you have conversations with your friends about how awful something is and then you go and do that exact thing?

Well, I was having a conversation the other day with my friend Sophie about how tragic it is that the 90s are back in fashion again. Terrible, terrible I said, whilst secretly knowing that I had already bought a pair of clogs. Oh yes, you read that right - clogs. I know, I know what is wrong with me? Trust me, I've heard it all before from Garance. But I caved.

They are really great though...



If you want to love clogs too (come on!) you can get your very own from Swedish Hasbeens (like mine) or Funkis do nice ones as well. And if you one of the more affluent members of our readership (not sure if that exists) Celine and Chanel could be for you.

Julia's Guide to Valentines Day

Poppies from Saipua

I echo Jaimie's frustration at the commercialisation of Valentines Day (an I-phone? Seriously?). Traditionally, I have stubbornly refused to celebrate or even acknowledge this sickly-sweet institution. It irks me that so much pressure, smugness, commercialism and kitsch has been associated with love, which in my idealistic view should be something pure, organic and entirely personal.

I am always reminded of high-school days, when the Valentines of the 'popular' girls would drop off hideous bouquets of red roses at the school office and the receptions would announce : 'would Blondy McPeroxide please report to the school office? Would Blondy McPeroxide please report to the school office?' across the entire school's PA system. Blondy McPeroxide would then spend the rest of her day lugging this ridiculous gesture to every class, even if it was encased in a gigantic, heavy marble vase, obscured the view of every girl in the room and left a trail of slimy, stinky water behind her. It was, quite simply, absurd.

Anyway, despite this, in my old and sentimental age I've come to value any day of the year which encourages participation in something just a little bit spesh. Taking take a moment out of our frantic lives to spoil someone we care about and let them know how they enrich our lives isn't a gesture that should be sneezed at. It is, however, a gesture that should be given more than once a year, and not purely because everyone else is doing it. And I certainly don't think Valentines day should just be a day for romantic love. It should be taken as an opportunity to celebrate all of the love in all of our lives; love for our friends, our family, our dogs, ourselves. But perhaps we should do it on the 14th day of every month?


With that in mind, I deliver you my guide to Valentines day(s):

Why don't you...

Take it as an opportunity to love yourself? Give yourself a facial, take a long bath surrounded by millions of scented candles, scrub yourself raw with a yummy exfoliator, change into your favourite pajamas and watch a romantic comedy or horror film (whatever takes your fancy) whilst sipping green tea from your most fragile cup and eating raspberries?

Go camping with your lover/best friend/sister/housemate? Cook some kind of delicious, rustic stew over a fire, make tea in a billy and serve it with scones, play a game of scrabble by torch light and go for a long, beautiful walk in the morning? Pick your companion a bunch of beautiful wildflowers? Enjoy the serenity and fresh air?

Make sweet little presents for all your friends? Cookies wrapped in beautiful fabric and tied up with string? A sweet little drawing with a note about how much you love them? A little book with some of your favourite recipes handwritten and photocopied? A jar of homemade body scrub? An old-fashioned mixtape with a hand-drawn cover?

Take a day trip to a near-deserted beach? Drink champagne on the edge of a dramatic cliff while watching the waves hit the shore? Read poetry out loud to one another with the sounds of the ocean as a backing score?

Buy someone you love a handmade gift off etsy or from a local market? Support artists and craftsmen with integrity and talent? Boycott soulless commercialism?

Cook someone you love an impressive three course dinner? Something completely out of the ordinary? Roll sushi, bone a duck, make handmade ravioli? Prepare a rich chocolate mousse for desert?

Ban electricity for an entire day? Instead of watching TV and surfing the Internet play boardgames and have long philosophical conversations? Prepare a raw salad for dinner and eat it by candlelight with hand-squeezed orange juice? Go to bed early with a candle and some knitting?

Write a list of everything and everyone you're grateful for in your best attempt at calligraphy? Stick it above your bed and read it every night and feel lucky and blessed as you fall asleep?

Do something lovely for a complete stranger? Donate to charity, visit a nursing home, plant a tree in the nearest park, pick up rubbish, sign up for a volunteer conservation group?

¡Viva Mexicana!

Puebla, Mexico

¡Hola chikkas!,

I´m currently gallivanting around Central America (hence my lack of posts). Although i am planning a fairly epic ¨Jaimie´s guide to 2009¨, I felt I needed to highlight some of my favourite (or rather, most memorable) moments of this year.

1. The Caribbean Sea (fuck yes)

2. Animal Collective


3. Phoenix (this is probably my favourite video of the year)

4. Boys

5. Simon and Garfunkel on my mother flipping birthday!

Happy new year lovers.

2009 was interesting...

xxx

Christmas Twist List

Merry Christmas millionaires!

This is my Christmas with a twist wish list.

Top of my Christmas wish list this year? This great BFF charm necklace from In God We Trust (available on Bona Drag). BFF, but not exactly as you expect it. Plus, you get to give and receive.


Who better to do a twisted version on the 12 days of Christmas than David Lynch. If you've seen Twin Peaks than this will be great for you. If you haven't...well, you'll probably be really confused.

Found here via here

So the twist with this last one is that it has nothing to do with Christmas really, but see it as a hilarious gift from me to you. Merry Christmas!

Props for this one go to my sis. Because she is awesome.

Manlaces: Just Say No!

"Oh Nonna! Why didn't you tell me that ladies laugh cruelly at a blinged up man!"

Goodness gracious! All this posting about modern literature is making me feel a little like we should be re-naming our place in interspace as “Number One Intellect”. But don’t worry, dear readers. You can trust me to bring us down a few levels. Today I am going to raise your awareness to an emerging and very serious problem facing young men; manlaces.

The other night I was happily sitting outside at Transit Bar after seeing a very average Vampire Weekend-esk rip off band, when my poor pretty eyes were violated. First there were scantily dressed, drunk, teenagers groping each other and speaking a little too loudly about what they would like to do to the other on my table, then there was the invasion of men wearing necklaces. I counted approximately eight mother flipping manlaces.

Oh god! Why?

Ryan, my first TV love, you look like a douche bag.

My dear friend Nathan pointed out that this invasion has been taking place over the last few months. Common characteristics of a man likely to develop a problem with manlaces include; tight skinny black jeans, a 'well groomed' mini-mullet, two shirts (a plain coloured shirt worn underneath a buttoned up shirt so that just a little bit of the under shirt can be seen; don't even get me started on how much i hate that look. Dan from Neighbours, I'm scowling at you...) and surprisingly, very nice shoes.

Here's an example of how manlaces can fuck you over. Chad Michael Murray; hottest of the hot to, well...

Mmm, so hot!

I don't know what to say.

The men I've noticed wearing manlaces all seem to look kind of smug. Like they're thinking, "Oh yeah, you're checking me out 'cause this manlace shows that I'm hot shit AND comfortable with my sexuality". Oh how wrong you are little boy, your face gives me nightmares.

King of the douches, complete with manlace.

I know quite a few of you gorgeous specimens of the male race who read our blog already wear skinny, black jeans. I've a not so secret soft spot for men in tight jeans, so yay you! And nice shoes up your stock by at least 20%. But beware! If you notice that you start to want to button up that second shirt you're wearing, or you start to think mini-mullets aren't that bad... BAM! You'll be wearing a manlace and I will have to smack you down.

Perfection

A perfect summer* evening ~ drinking a gin & tonic, sitting outside in the garden, reading a good book.

* I realise it is still technically Spring, but the weather tells me otherwise!

Jaimie and Vanessa: Spotlight on Metal People

A sample group

V: Dude, why is it that metal people are so weird?

J: I know right? They all look so strange. How is their hair even possible? So much hair.

V: They're very neanderthalish aren't they? It's so weird because then when they speak, they sound really sweet.

J: That's true. Sometimes they kind of sound smart too. So strange.

V: Mmm and they're always big, and by big I mean kind of fat.

J: Except for the weird skinny tattooed ones. I think they might have hepatitis A.

V: That's a bit nasty Jaimie, I thought we decided they were nice people. Big burly men with hearts of gold.

J: Oh that's right! We did.