The Ruby Knight Chronicles

A snapshot of traumatic/hilarious moments in my life that have ended unexpectedly positively. Thus proving that rock bottom humiliation has surprising benefits, you just have to know how to laugh at yourself first.  I once farted long and loud while sitting in front of the guy I really liked, and a bunch of other kids, and the wind of my ass made the wet togs I was wearing ripple across my left b utt cheek. I thought my chances with hot dude were ruined. Turns out he thought I was funny and the next day we ended up hitting primary school third base; hand holding. I have refused to eat seafood ever since I was a little kid. My parents told me fish fingers were made from chicken. I believed their treachery until I became the brunt of public laughter at dinner one night on a school camp. I proclaimed loudly that I didn't eat fish and then went on to eat fish fingers. I think I was like twelve. Definitely old enough to know better. Bright side is the knowledge that one day I...

#1 Money is like sex, you only miss it when you don't have it. So just have lots of it. Money and sex. Two birds one tip. Problems solved.  #2 Every ex you've ever had will never have better than you. It's a fact. Don't stalk them on Facebook OK. Just trust me. Their new partners suck. Probably. #3 No one gives a shit about what kind of car you drive. Unless it's a monster truck. Bitches love monster trucks. #4 Chocolate is not the enemy. Chocolate-wannabe sultanas are. Stop the chocolate hate crime  #freethechocolate #5 Everyone's genitals look funny. It's for entertainment purposes. Icebreakers if you will. Why else would we have them?! #6 Farting silently and acting innocent is still one of the funniest things one can do with excretions from an orifice. Unless you laugh your drink out through your nose. That shit is funny. #7 Cellulite is the Braille version of bedroom eyes. #8 Anyone who receives an unauthorized vision rape by way of dick pic, ha...

Yesterday marked a huge anniversary for me;  ONE ENTIRE YEAR IN AUSTRALIA! I never thought that I'd survive this far away from my family and friends but after the hellish first six months came an amazing following six months. I love my life and I've never been so happy, even if I'm sometimes homesick. This past year I've made some incredible friends, landed the most insanely satisfying and rewarding job with the best bosses anyone could ask for and found a second family that loves and supports me unconditionally. I've traveled across the country, seeing and doing things I never thought possible. I've overcome humongous hardship and heartache, with the help of three very special ladies that I'm so lucky to have in my life. I've seen the Queen Dita Von Teese perform live and hugged a koala, knocking two things off my bucket list in a matter of months. I've booked and paid for an amazing holiday coming up in six months where I'll meet my Mum...

We're such a selfish society. We take everything that everyone says and does and we turn it into being about ourselves. Someone gets 1475357 likes on their post after you've posted something incredibly similar beforehand yet you've only received 4 likes, including a pity thumbs up from mum. Obviously something is wrong with you. Let's disregard the logical facts that said post-copier might have m ore friends/family/stalkers/ etc. Or their Facebook fans might be more proactive than yours. Or they posted at a time when more people would see it than yours. Or a million other reasons that don't actually have anything to do with you or your selfworth or how people see you. But regardless of all that sense and reason, you still take this shit uber personally and get decidedly depressed because post-copycatter is clearly way cooler than you'll ever be. Doesn't that sound like some seriously self-absorbed bullshit? And we do this kind of thing all the time. ...

No offence to the rarity that is the 'nice' blokes, but like, what the actual fuck men of the world?!! I'm really struggling to understand why guys started thinking it was peachy to TRY to solicit sex without so much as a "how's your father?". And why they feel it's alright to put on the unmanwhore mask, thus lulling us ladies into a false sense of chivalry, until they inevitably end up whipping  it off as they whip it out to send the infamous dick pic. Are shady one liners and snapshots of one man cockpits the best any of us single ladies are ever going to get? Don't confuse my disdain for sexism though. I love men. I love how they can change lightbulbs and open jarlids and relocate creepy household disturbances otherwise known as bugs. But mostly I love how they don't have the 59 million emotional thoughtwaves zooming through their heads like us ladyfolk, so they're usually a one thought at a time kind of people, making them pretty eas...

The funniest/most horrifying thing just happened to me. I was standing in front of the mirror in my ugly strapless bra and granny panties. My uterus is all swollen because period so I pushed my gut right out and then I took a photo pretending to be preggers. As you do.  Anyways... Because I'm such a retard and don't know how to work my phone properly I just sent that photo accidentally to the da te that probably won't be a date now. 😭 😭 😭 😭 😂 😂 😂 #singleforever

Do you know what grinds my girl gears more than anything? That successful women HAVE to be beautiful women. Just about every female "role model" that we have is usually famous for being good looking. Yet their male counterparts seem to have been excluded from this beauties-only club. But why?  Why do females have to feel attractive in order to feel powerful? Why are there so many superficial conditions thrust upon our sex? And what can we do to make a positive change for ourselves, and the women we know and love? Just about every photo I post, goes through a rigourous "will men still want to sheetsaddle me after seeing this photo?" check... Pimples? Photoshop. Eyebags? Photoshop. Extra lumps and bumps? Photoshop. Just plain ugly? Photoshop. No friends/life outside of Netflix? You guessed it. Photoshop. The rise of social networking has given more push on the rise for appearance perfection. It's most evident in our disgust at being tagged in photos that l...

Someone once told me that I expected too much from a partner. And it got me thinking, maybe I do and that's why I'm still single? So here's a few things I'd like from the future Mr Knight, and if it's asking too much, y'all better let me know or the SPCA will be fresh outa cats #1 He needs to be funny as fuck because it can't be left to me to carry us both. #2 He needs to be patient as fuck. Because me. #3 He needs to be caring as fuck because I'm a sensitive needy little fucker that needs more attention than a newborn. #4 He needs to be randy as fuck to be able to keep up with me. Batteries are too damn expensive! #5 He needs to be stubborn as fuck to be able to outdo my Ox-like will. #6 He needs to be frugal as fuck to withstand my shopping spree storms. #7 He needs to be Henry Cavil as fuck. Because Henry Cavil. #8 He needs to be understanding as fuck especially when we're running late and I make us later because fuck you eyeliner. #9 He...

A lot of men seem to be advocating the "Friends With Benefits' movement nowadays. Which to me is just a man that's keen on all the perks of dating minus the effort of actually committing. It's bullshit fed to us ladies in the hopes that we'll be desperate enough to eat it up. And a lot of us do, because we're confused about feminism and girl sexual power, or we're rekindling a halfassed affair wit h a previous lover, or we're scared of commitment ourselves or we're just plain lonely. But we're selling ourselves short here girls. Remember that old saying about not buying a cow that's giving away free milk. Well. We're the cows. And our milk is far more precious than a 2am drunken text asking "come mine?". Sex is an amazing beautiful powerful thing. And the only thing that makes it better is having a connection that's more than just a physical one. We're being sold relationship propaganda by society, by men and by...

Something powerful comes from knowing your worth. I've always pretended to have self confidence, but deep down underneath it all, I'm a total shambles. I used to think that if I lost enough weight, had whiter teeth, danced better, had blonder hair, was richer, etc than I'd be beautiful. I'd be desirable. I'd be worthy of love. But I tried all of that. I changed who I was and what I looked like m ore often than a stripper changes gstrings. And none of it changed how I felt inside. I was never good enough. For anyone. Or so I thought. It turns out that I really was just never good enough for myself. But as I approach my 30th birthday, I realise I've wasted so much of my life caring way too fucking much about way too fucking little. And all of that mindguff has done nothing but lead me down dead end streets with dead end results. I've let myself sink into a lovelife limbo in the hopes that my ex will wake up one day and realise he can't live without...

Dating is a lot like playing a game. There's usually two players (sometimes more depending on the game you like/how kinky you are), some set rules and a whole lot of moves to make before winning. Sometimes players cheat, sometimes they play fair. But for the most part, there's always a strategy involved. Especially when it comes to men. I've seen and heard it all. The white lies. The empty gestur es. The game plans whether they be fantastic, flawed or full of shit. I've been ego-patted, gift-showered and flat out accosted with sexual innuendos. In the world of online dating, sometimes I get virtual flowers, but most times I just get dick pics. If a guy makes a move, I can usually pick his game from a mile off. And it amazes me at just how few of us girls that can actually do the same. So I've put together a little list of the most obvious and outrageous players and their plays, and hopefully it'll arm the lasses with more of a fighting chance in the craz...

I've dated the nicest guy in the world. A man that opened my car door, brought me flowers on every date, was incredibly kind and compassionate, genuinely cared about me, messaged me in the morning to wish me a happy day and messaged me at night to find out all about my day. He was perfect. On paper. But even just writing this, I can't help but.... <YAAAAAAWN> Poor bloke. There was absolutely noth ing wrong with him. But there's clearly a defect in my man-liketh muscle. I turn my nose up at the nice guys, I wish I didn't, life would be fuckloads easier if I didn't. Unfortunately I like the bad guys. The ones with a streak of asshole in them. The ones you know not to bring home to your parents. The ones that always break your heart. So what the fuck is my problem?!! Clearly I know the nice guys are the better bet, but try as I might, eventually I end up walking right over them and then walking away. So it got me thinking about men. What kinds of categori...

They say when you've moved on from something, it doesn't hurt you anymore. But I think that's bullshit. I had such a good night with my ex last night. But it was twinged with a little something sad. We were getting on famously like old times, laughing at our tragic events of 2016 and reminiscing on our old times. And then the subject of dating came up. So I've obviously been on a few dates mysel f so I apparently cannot expect him to live his life without love. I know, wtf right. But I didn't expect hearing about it to affect me as much as it did, or even at all. It not only surprised me a little, but it made me feel a little down. Now I know we can never be together like we were, because I've got a whole new life in a completely different country to him but mostly because we can openly admit that we're terrible together. Like swimming in the ocean after a vadge wax terrible. But I guess I've always subconsciously fanned this little flicker of ho...

I'm 29. A few years back I forced a drunken pact on an ex that if we're both single by the time I'm 32, we'll have a baby together. It probably seems a bit silly or lacking in sentiment or just batshit crazy to you guys, but I think it's a wee bit genius. I love my ex. I love his values. I think he'd make an amazing father one day. And let's face it, my barren womb is only getting more and more  useless as the years tick by and no babies inhabit it. So fuck convention. Fuck the norm. Fuck what anyone else snickers about behind closed doors, because gossipers are never forthcoming to the subject of their gossip, with their gossip. I want to be a Mum. One day. And if having a "backstop" babymaker means being one step closer to that goal, then I'm riding that crazy train all the way to motherhood. Life is a blank canvas just waiting for you to splash some paint on it. There are no lines to colour between. The are no rules. You just make yo...

Week five on the road. First proper lazy day off in a week. Slept in until 8:30, now I'm sitting in a rainforest having coffee. My job definitely doesn't get boring. Last time I posted I was heading to Townsville. The Chilean couple I was traveling/working with left and my boss Alf arrived up to work with me. We left Townsville and drove the 4hrs north to Cairns where we enjoyed a few lazy days,  restaurant meals and 59 million cups of coffee. We then drove 12hrs north east to Weipa, which included 2hrs drive in torrential rain at night with kamikaze kangaroos and dirt roads that resembled rivers more than roads. Stayed a few days there before heading right up to the very top of Australia, to a little place called Bamaga. We had beachfront accommodation which was stunning, if you ignored the fact that the water was filled with crocodiles. A few days later and we were back in Cairns where Alf swapped places with his wife Tash. Us two girls hit the road again and ended up i...

First week of work without the bosses. And fuck my asshole and call me a cowboy, did our first week test us. Day one. Woken up at 330am. Someone smashed the driver's window of our work van. Left the GPS and $200 in the ashtray. Stole some apples and my undies off the line. Bless.  Day two. No real hitches except for finding out that the panty apple thieves also stole knives from the butcher and are on an animal-mutilating, pre-serial killer spree. Mad comforting. New accommodation out of town though. Lush accommodation. My own freaking apartment fit for a queen accommodation even. Day three. Late finish. Drove home in the dark petrified of kamikazee kangaroos. No fatalities with the exception of my nerves. Day four. Some little fucker stole a prop chair. Another late finish. Another white-knuckled drive home in the dark. Day five. Even later finish. No real sales. Feeling like a bullshitter selling bullshit instead of a sales girl selling photos. Still no suicidal marsupials....

I'm ovulating. And I know that not because of some weird app that tracks aunt flow's monthly visitations, but because I'm having a "fuck my single life" moment. Or FMSL. Once a month I get really sooky. Like tempted to text my ex for an obviously disastrous any other time of the month reunion type sooky. Everywhere I turn there's motherfucking couples holding motherfucking hands and being all m otherfucking cute and shit. And then there's me holding my own hand thinking about my cat. For the most part I really dig being a solo senorita, who can spend as much money at Kmart and flirt with as many unsuspecting innocent male bystanders as she likes. But these ovulation-induced relationship pangs really make my single girl spasms start to hurt. And I find myself reevaluating and reimagining every encounter with the opposite sex that I've ever had. Shitty ex-boyfriends become born-again potential hubsters. Drunken foolish one night stands begin to s...

At 17 I met the love of my life. At 28 I walked away from him forever.  The love never died. A year on and I still love him. I still catch myself thinking about him and missing him. But it's far too late and there's far too much water that's crossed under too many bridges to ever be reunited again.  We never learnt how to let our egos go. We never learnt how to be a team. We just didn't know how  to get past our disagreements and arguments, so they haunted us well past being done. Little mistakes became mountains of pain and hurt. Small and petty became life-ruining big. And eventually love just wasn't enough anymore. The last time I saw him, I was getting in my car and had this dull beating pain in my heart. I knew after 9yrs this would be the last time. My mind rushed back through the years of love and happiness. I got out of my car and wrapped my arms around him. He stood there awkwardly. I didn't want to let go, but I had to. This hug wasn't a big e...

As you get older, your amount of fucks to give away diminishes, along with your ovary omelette makers. So, you find yourself letting go of cares and concerns that once seemed Everest, and now in age, have become those waste of time road bumps that are so little that you don't even need to slow down for them. Some people refer to aging as the gaining of wisdom or maturity, but in actual fact, it's more like an increasingly lazier approach to fuck giving. I'm not quite over the hill yet, but my days of certain fuck giveth and taketh have long since died out, and with that comes a sense of freedom and independence, but mostly a sticketh to the maneth attitude born of aging rebellion. Things that used to stress me to the point of alcoholism back in my teens, no longer seem so significant in the grand scheme of things. A few years ago I found a rogue grey hair. I plucked the fucker out but I'm pretty sure it planted the seed of carefreeness which has been silentl...

27th June 2016 Drama llama. We all know at least one. If you've been living under a solitude rock and don't know what a drama llama is, let me enlighten you;  "Hey Barbara, how was your day?" "The universe hates me" "Ohhh, why do you say that Barbsy?" "I broke a nail. Chris won't text me back after I accused him of cheating on me. He reckons he was just taking his Mum to the doctors but I'm pretty sure the doctor is a girl and no doubt she's hot so of course he's just finding excuses to see her, I'm not buying this "mum's got pneumonia" nonsense he's trying to sell me. And if that's not bad enough, my car battery went flat because the sodding lights didn't turn off when i got out like I'm sure that's a manufacture fault, what kind of idiot made lights that stay on when you're not even in your damn car. And my beautician went on maternity leave the selfish tart and so now ...