Sarah

I'm an independant sista!
A feminist,
I love to get drunk at parties and talk about how misogyny is not dead.
Women earn 77 cents to every dollar that a man makes.
Women are socialised to make ourself meek, have you seen how much fucking space men take up on the train?
When we play with girls we encourage passive activity while boys are given things to build.
Women are constantly looking at themselves, self monitoring, judged on the slightest sign of imperfection.
Men like you are the reason misogyny isn't dead, saying that you're not like that.
Shut the fuck up!

So i know that i shouldn't be trying to bring other women down.

But Sarah does my head in. I meet her at a party for the launch of a brand that makes sunglasses out of skateboards, if that wasn't Bondi enough i'm there because i'm sleeping with an Irish guy who is somehow affiliated and loves cocaine.
I've just finished worked so by the time i get there they are already chain smoking and continuously hugging each other, incoherently screaming something about how they're all going to go to Miami, which i'm guessing is a plan that was hatched earlier (no mention of it in the few days after though). I say that i'm small enough to fit in a suitcase, trying to squeeze my way into the conversation but they're all so loose that they just scream over each other and repeat MIAMMMMMMMMMMMI.

I'm already pretty unsure about this Irish dude, Patrick, but i'm there, i'm dressed and he's feeding me cocktails.
Sarah is his housemate. She's 35, does something in media and her head keeps moving back and forth as if shes casting a fishing rod. I say nice to meet you and go to give her a kiss on the cheek, she physically recoils from my touch, takes a drag from her menthol cigarette and says "Sorry who are you". She's got an accent that half Kiwi half Bondi bitch and i hate her instantly. She's also wearing so really fucking ugly boots and her lipstick is bleeding a bit. Every time i get stuck talking to her she asks me nothing about myself.

As the night goes i'm trying to get drunk in an effort to take the edge off Sarah's presence. We all go back to Patrick's house and they start talking about how we need more coke. This is the second time i've been out with Patrick and i remember telling him on our first date that i was pretty over drugs, i'd done my dash with them and i couldn't really handle the self loathing. On top of that my ex boyfriend is a Jewish Bondi coke dealer so i'm really trying to distance myself from that scene, i do yoga a lot these days.
He makes a bit of a show about saying sorry for getting another bag then proceeds to order 3.
Sarah says "you're so young, are we corrupting her?".
Not even really addressing me.
It's patronising and i want to make a comment about the fact that i think it's vile that she's 35 and is already 2 bags deep on a Sunday night  but i tell her to pass me the note instead.

She's been harping on about how he has a brilliant idea for an app all night. I mention that my degree in in media/communications so i'd love to hear about it.
Her head nods back and forth again, she might have hooked something.
She says she wants to make porn for the oculus rift.
I say "wow, great idea"
Not a great idea though, oculus rift are really expensive and you can't exactly just download that to your iphone, plus i'm pretty sure something like that has already been done Sarah you stupid haggard bitch.
Anyway, i saw "great idea" and she looks at me, one eye slightly drooping and says "I don't mean to be rude but you probably don't know what that is".

Nevermind i've obviously just acknowledged that i know what it is, or if she was polite she might have said "do you know about oculus". I can tell she thinks she's a bit smart by mentioning it, like when old people finally discover smart phones and try to show you Siri like they're the first person to discover her.
"SIRI, dial home"
"dialing gnome"
"Home, siri, HOME"
"anyway, it's got all these apps on it and you can get Google and Facebook"

yeah great....


So, I turn Sarah, who is now wearing sequined ugg boots while fanging a dart and tell her that I just wrote a motherfucking essay on the way augmented reality is effecting our media landscape and the fact that in combination with that and web 2.0 the way in which we experience the internet has drastically changed.
She kind of burps, says "yep" and asked if i've ever been to New Zealand.

She's literally so wrapped up in herself that nothing i say matters.

But I can tell that she cares about her appearance a lot (sequined Ugg boots aside)
. She was probably pretty insecure in high school and i'd put money on the fact that she's a mental ex girlfriend who drinks too much and starts crying about how her boyfriend broke up with her, leave 13 messages and checking his Facebook page every 5 minutes.  So again i know i shouldn't be trying to neg someone that probably does it to themselves enough already but i've got some cocaine confidence going on.

I interrupt her and say that her skin looks angelic.
Like really tight.
You're pretty much a decade older than i am but your skin looks better.
Have you had botox?
Patrick, look how good Sarah's skin in.
He agrees and because he's so razzled up it becomes all he can talk about.
"Your face is liek a baby but the rest of you isn't" he says.
The skin on her forehead is so taught that if you flicked it it would make on of those twang sounds like Gladwrap over a salad bowl.
she says "nooooo haha noooo i have't had anything done" in her fucked up Bondi/Kiwi accent.
I imagine if she hadn't had botox she would have a pulsating vein in the middle of her forehead right about now but instead her face is frozen in time.
I keep pushing it and i can tell she is slightly uncomfortable. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom but i'm pretty sure she's gone to look at her face for about half an hour and send a message to her ex.

Sarah has tainted my evening so I proceed to get very drunk.
Patrick and i go to bed and i realise i need to throw up, i'm thankful that i have the foresight to take myself off to the bathroom and vomit strategically. His bathroom comes off his room though so i'm sure that he hears everything.
When i wake up in the morning there are condom packets next to the bed, i don't remember having sex and i don't remember if i've thrown up before, during or after.
I am however thankful that at least it was protected.

I decide that i probably shouldn't come back here.