Oh hey. Here are some things about me.
I live in Sydney with my husband the J-man. We got married in the surf club at Copacabana Beach on March 13, 2010. It came 10 months after he proposed to me while I was naked. In the future we plan to adopt a dog from the RSPCA and buy a pug. The pug’s name will be Bruce Willis. The rescued dog, I hope to call Bill Murray. Steal my dog names, just as I have stolen them from revered actors, and I will toilet paper your house. We live together in a one bedroom flat with a statue of an old woman with a shriveled apple for a head (she also has her own baby).
I’m 24. It’s a pretty fun age. I’m not quite in my mid-twenties so I can still get away with tantrums and halter tops. Some notable moments in my life so far have included getting run over by a blind-ish old man while crossing the road in a place called Boorowa, losing my first tooth during assembly practice in kindergarten, discovering Tex Mex chips sometime during primary school, making a kick-ass candlestick holder in metal work in year eight, being made supervisor at a cheap department store, spew burping at my first university pub run, watching the sun rise from the roof of the university newspaper office, drinking many Tiger beers in Vietnam and buying a series of gold rings that make up one giant hamburger.
For street cred purposes, I started blogging as a teenager in a journal I called totalwhatever. It mostly chronicled my teen angst, boy trouble and weird insecurities. I named a lot of people in that blog, so it now has a password to protect the identities of all the high school boyfriends I outed as bad kissers or dumb-asses. Those poor, poor boys. I also started a livejournal during university which, for some reason, I never updated as much as I wanted to. You can read the highlights of my Livejournal fame from 2005 to 2009 beginning here. I have made a lot of those entries private because they remind me of how much a loser I was/maybe still am. Hopefully one day soon, I’ll also include some totalwhatever entries but I’ll have to think of clever pseudonyms like Tongues Ahoy or Coldsore No More.
The J-man encouraged me to create this little blog. Poor Stevie comes from my pretty pathetic habit of talking about myself in the third person. Sometimes really bad things happen to me like I’ll stub my toe, accidentally sit on the remote control or wake up with greasy hair and that’s the first thing I’ll say: “Poor Steeevie!”
So expect a lot more of those kinds of amazing adventures.
You can contact me via email: poorstevie at gmail dot com