Bathroom Etiquette, Birthdays, Life Changing Rules 🥳

Cakes and candles 🎊

Hi friend 🙂

I’m not going to lie to you. Today sees a bit of a SWEETIE Weekly rewind. For this week and this week only, I have collected and updated some old rates and hates from the archives. Why? Well yesterday was my birthday and I hiked 26km before drinking #WINE and my body is screaming for mercy. By my own shoddy estimates, I get to do a remix like this once a year—I’m just blowing my wad early. I will be back to appeasing the Original Content Gods next week.

Don’t forget to send me a hundred Australian dollar doos for my birthday! It is custom in my culture, which I made up and am the arbiter of.

🎂 SWEETIE RATES 🎂

Barfday

Over a decade ago now, I worked with quite a puritanical older man. When he wasn’t giving me unsolicited tips for weight loss, he would fret about the state of my life. Once, in jest, I told him that maybe I would never settle down, never have kids or a husband or anything resembling the traditional life he treasured so greatly. He sighed, his body almost folding in half as he put his head in his hands. “Don’t,” he said, “Don’t tell me you’re going to be one of those unmarried women in your thirties, drinking champagne with your girlfriends.” I laughed, "Doesn't sound so bad”, I said. He groaned.

I was reminded of that moment last night as I drank a glass of champagne and cheers’ed to my 33rd birthday with two of my best friends. How lucky, and how pleased I am, that his worst case scenario for my future came true. I am grateful to have another year under my belt, and another man to have bitterly disappointed.

While I’m excited for the year ahead, I have to say that 33 isn’t a very tidy age to turn. At 32 you have famous pop culture characters to look to for comparison—Carrie Bradshaw, Lorelei Gilmore, Bridget Jones, Shrek. At 33 you really only have Jesus, and he famously died. Stay tuned to see if I start washing people’s dusty musty feet and giving people piggybacks at the beach!!!

Uneven Steven

I promise you right now, this Vanity Fair long read on Steven Seagal from 2002 will not bore you for a single second. SEAGAL UNDER SIEGE is a portrait of a bizarre man, a real once-in-a-lifetime freak, and while he sounds like an awful person, how lucky we are that we can all bear witness to him.

I knew Seagal got into some weird shit, but this is beyond. From his elaborate lies about being involved with the CIA, to his martial arts expertise, to the revelation that he may actually have a rare antiquarian expertise in regards to samurai swords (???) and the alleged plot against his life by the Gambino family, I was truly agog. Gagged, even. Interesting that women are seen as the more emotional gender, except when women in Hollywood feud, it’s Joan Crawfod and Bette Davis sniping at each other in the press, but when men in Hollywood feud they will sic the literal mob on each other.

Not for nothing, the piece also features a stunning cameo from a name I was thrilled to recognise—Danny “A punk is a punk and a punk… and it looks like the Manzos are punks” Provenzano of The Real Housewives of New Jersey infamy.

The 30 wears rule

I’m not going to pretend to be some kind of sustainability queen, seeing as I get a takeaway cup of coffee every day and throw my old batteries into the ocean*, but if you like shopping and you like clothes and you want to be a little more mindful, heed this: the ‘30 wears’ rule changed my life.

It’s sooo easy. Don’t buy anything unless you think you’re going to wear it 30 times. I can’t remember where I heard it from (Google tells me it was started by climate activist Livia Firth in 2015) but it has single handedly changed my approach to curating a wardrobe. Any time I am tempted to buy a cute, slight, sparkly fast fashion piece for a one-off outfit, I visualise it sitting in landfill when it inevitably falls to pieces.

2025 is the year of buy less/buy better, and if you don’t know how to get started on building a long-term wardrobe, or if you want to break a dopamine-producing shopping addiction, this is a helpful tactic.

*A joke because I felt like I was being too sincere. In real life I only throw expired medicines into the ocean.

🤬 SWEETIE HATES 🤬

When people flick water off of their hands in the bathroom

I’ve been keeping this one in the vault for years, but I just can’t take it anymore. I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I won’t—if you flick water off of your hands after you wash them in a public bathroom, you are a bad person. Most likely going to hell too. This is almost unfathomably rude, yet it still seems to be perfectly acceptable.

I’m no Emily Post (more like Emily Poster haha) but I believe in SOME kind of decorum. Why do you think it’s fine to fling fetid public bathroom water, from hands you did not wash appropriately, not only all over the floor and the mirrors, but also onto OTHER PEOPLE? Are you HIGH? This makes me go legitimately nut-nut. Use your pants, use a paper towel, use the hand dryer for Christ’s sake. Grow up.

Walking in threes

My regular long walks lead me to all kinds of places, where I see all kinds of things. I once saw a seagull eating a pigeon, for example. And after all of this traversing, I have come to an epiphany: I know the worst configuration of people to try and pass when walking on a path. It’s three.

One person on a path is fine—the worst they can do is walk in the middle. Two people on a path is also alright, they usually stick together. Three people walking on a path, however, is where it all falls apart. Three people walking on a path together should be classified as a terrorist group.

In my life as an annoying, fast little flaneur, I have noticed that people in groups of three, without fail, splay out and leave no room for people to pass by. If I am being empathetic, I think the psychological explanation is that nobody wants to feel, or be, left out, walking alone and excluded from the conversation. Instead, the three stick together in an effort to be both egalitarian and outright hostile to anyone else.

Just walk closer together!!! Or make room for other people. Or just leave out the third person you like the least. Or walk in traffic. I don't really care. I have bird crimes to see!

Lee Pace is American

I found out recently that handsome gargantuan, esteemed actor and king of short shorts, Lee Pace, is American. WHAT? While watching Bodies, Bodies, Bodies I thought “Gee, Lee Pace’s American accent is really good. Let’s see where he’s from in England.” The next minute? I am sick to my stomach. He’s not doing an American accent. He HAS an American accent.

He’s not just American, either, he’s from Oklahoma. It’s really hard to get more American than that. This would be like finding out that Olivia Coleman is from South Africa. I hate it.