Wednesday, December 29, 2010

EVERYONE IS FUCKED UP.















comments:
I really do hope that i have so much fun as i have this year of 2010. I moved back to the CC and cant say i have regretted one second of it. I know, it has the rep of being a nowhere town but it has opened more doors than I have ever come across since Ive left high school. It wouldnt have been the same without the people that are here....making sundays into saturdays and taking advantage of everything that is worth taking advantage of.














comments:

ha!














comments:

I dont think that there is a spoken contract between my friends and I. I think we just know.














comments:

Nooo....what makes you a racist is being a racist.














comments:

This rings true for many women I know including myself at one stage in time this year. However, things change which I acknowledge. But this is a true and clarifying insight into a woman's psyche.












comments:

This is the siren song of the mermaids of 2010. All beautiful, smart and interesting girls congregating around one ideal and hoping to god that it will one day be filled. FUCK YOU to everything that creates low self esteem or self doubt, you arent worth the glossy papers you are printed on.














comments:

I see this all the time.

comments: I didnt really identify with this secret as I am too old to give a fuck about prom and also I am not american and have never experienced a 'prom', i just thought it was funny and what I would imagine to be kinda true.



These graphics are from the blog Postsecret, www.postsecret.com



THANKS FOR A 2010 THAT WILL ALWAYS REMAIN 2010.
IT WAS THRILLING
BORING
STUNNING
LOVELY
EXTREME
LAZY
FULFILLING
DISAPPOINTING
BEAUTIFUL
UGLY
TIRING
EXHILIRATING.


HAPPY 2011.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

BOXING DAY SALES.

What is the point of lining up at 6:45am in the morning to get your greasy mits from the night before's ham spread on more material posessions, when you just had the most spoiled day of the year 24 hours previous?

is it a mass amount of greed succumbing to the pressures of the "look" that "should" be achieved that is publicised so freely in society today?

Carparks get filled to the brim, people hurry around like busy little bees with their credit cards three feet in front of them ready to swipe and hopefully score a "bargain".

It is materialism gone mad, and I am not saying I am any better. I will go have a look around the shops and spend my hard earned xmas money on stupid gifts for myself, as if i havent already received so much.

Its just this hysteria on boxing day morning that has gotten me interested in the time honoured tradition of going ape shit at the signs of "30% off".

Madeline Anderson who works at General Pants and co in Pitt St was just on the phone to me telling me about the madness that is being whipped around the already busy shopping mecca.

She told me about the crowds, the lines that started just after dawn. Almost like the consumers were accepting their fate with a money bag over their head, telling their loved ones their last thoughts as they resigned themselves over to the execution of savings and deals that massive corporations have provided for them on this day. Much like a bullet to the head, the day will surely leave them with their hands full and their hearts empty.

It is an event that the news covers every year just like schoolies. A raw time to see the baser human instincts in true form. Greed, glutton and lust combined into an intoxicating cocktail to dull the senses and become one with materialism.

I cant talk, although i do acknowledge

that we are living in a material world, and i am a material girl.


Friday, December 24, 2010

Sunday, December 19, 2010

THINGS I HAVE LEARNT PART THREE.


1. When it is sunny on a sunday, I feel like a beer.
2. When you see someone (or a drunk couple- as i did on friday night) fall over head first into the pavement, your first reaction will be shock then hilarity.
3. Just because people stop being around, doesnt mean they are gone.
4. Sometimes it's easier if they were gone.
5. The easy way out will always bring you around in a full circle back to the problem.
5. Twittering celebrities is the least satisfying thing you can do besides eating a nectarine in winter.
6. Global warming is fucking up my afternoon BBQ plans.
7. Mad mex at Tuggerah is a revelation.
8. Being an Icon is your own decision.
9. The F3 is a great place to spew.
10. Dont heckle drunk old bastards on the train or you could find your ass sitting on the Wondabyne platform at some ungodly hour in the morning.
11. Reality TV is mesmerising, but in a completely disturbing way.
12. Models are glorified clothes horses, who could possibly have the most overrated career in the world, besides actors. I am baffled at their contribution to the world, but I do understand their purpose. (part one)
13. When models gain a voice and spout their own opinion, it is a bit like watching a baby discover play doh for the first time. Cute but messy.(part two)
14. I like easter better than Christmas.
15. Woodford healed the soul by taking away sleep,food and most of all.....technology.
16. What is considered cool, is no longer cool. And the word cool, is no longer cool. This blog was cool, but is no longer cool. The weather was cool, but is no longer cool.
17. Bret Easton Ellis.
17.5. You know when you never hear from someone anymore that they do not want to be heard from.
18. I have noticed that the advances in technology has really made a difference. that difference being, people will talk to other people via something battery powered while you are standing in the flesh in their presence. They will laugh at their phones, they will get angry at their phones, they will seek revenge and love through social networks....and probably one day will have nothing left in their presence but a phone bill.
19. Making up dance moves while drunk is a fantastic idea.
20. Saving money is hard.
21. Spending money is easy.
22. Old people are cuter than babies. Except when they get grumpy and have a go at the young louts in their neighbourhood.
23. Sesame street (as you get older) tends to appear as some psychedelic crack addicts worst nightmare, what with the dude who froths on triangles and an obviously stoned out of his nut elmo who is constantly giggling and making wacky observations. Dont even get me started on the continual munchies the cookie monster has. Big bird is always dozing and oscar the grouch hangs out in a bin coming down off pingaz 24/7. Maybe they should change Darlinghurst Road to Sesame Street.
24. People without I Phones have severe problems with people who do have I Phones. It is like the locker room dick comparison, but outside and at social occassions.
25. I have learnt that it is the end of 2010, even though my head is stuck back in May because im pretty sure this year was the equivalent to Cathy Freeman circa 2000.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

THE QUINTESSENTIAL GENTLEMAN.



The following is a subjective take on what I define as the quintessential gentleman, of our age anyway.



A gentleman can be defined by the following points:

* A man who is not shy about wearing a suit, for any occassion, at any time of the day.

* A man who has that far away look in his eyes.

* A man who takes a woman by the waist.

* A man who has no qualms about indulging in a dance with a woman.

* A man who will wear a biege blazer.

* A man who will offer his right arm to a woman, with which she will slip her left arm through to walk along some form of promenade.

* A man who has his own opinions yet does not ram those opinions down one's throat.

* A man who will not accept the closest or easiest option, but instead relishes a challenge.

* A man who will not speak ill of his acquaintances.

* A man who will not allow his moods or surroundings to change his personality while surrounded by others.

* A man who will wear sunglasses when it is glary outside. only outside.

* A man who will stand up for his woman and what he knows is right, disregarding consequences.

* A man who will wear a bow tie, and when taunted by men who do not fit into this category, will accept the taunts with a sense of humour and the confidence to know who he is.

* A man who will order you a drink before you have asked.

* A man who will take pride in his appearance, whether that be a taupe summer slack or a crisp collared shirt.

* A man who does his best not to appear non chalant or cause disappointment.

* A man who feels no need to brag about his conquests.

* A man who expresses the beauty of the opposite sex frequently yet with subtlety.

* A man who does not see class, race or privelidge.

* A man who when he walks has a swagger that is all his own.

* A man who is considerate, humble and kind.

* A man who has an urge to travel and interest in other cultures.

* A man who secretes testosterone, but not in the way that you might assume (or in the way that we have come to accept). A gentleman's testosterone must be felt by the other person in his presence very discreetly and without obvious action.


* A man who does not accept defeat or allow weakness to be confused with vulnerability.


The gentleman is an elusive yet extremely valuable type of character that is rare and fleeting, and I thought I might show my appreciation for the few men in my life that I do know possess most (if not all) of these qualities.

I lift my brandy glass and tip my hat to you.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

SO & SO'S.





WHY OH WHY must Australian society celebrate ocker fucking disgusting sportsmen with a quarter of a brain and an even smaller moral compass.

These bastards are actually getting their own TV chat shows where they can "uhhh and ummm" and make fun of "poofters" and "sissies" every Thursday night at 7:30!

It is no secret that I actually despise NRL. I openly talk about it, I have met and forgotten numerous amounts of FOOTY players with hands that are bigger than their own vocabulary.

It just makes me sick that dickheads like the ones above (names will remain out of it) can just cheat on their wives and engage in a full on testosterone fuelled gang bang with some slurry. And im sure you could imagine them passing a ball around and "chuckin dummies"as one of the guys pumped her.

And as for the one who has the wrist who can flick not only a red ball, but im sure his own tackle whilst SMSing that crazy bitch who got 55 stars tattooed on her face and tried to sue the tattooist. (hypothetically- but im sure the ladies he was sending dirty texts to werent that far off the aforementioned sheila).

It makes me physically sick and outrageously incensed when I see stupid fucking advertisements for their brain numbing shows all complete with some dumb ass competition with some toothless bogan hand picked from the audience who might win a bloody BBQ and how they themselves probably got fucked up the ass backstage and repayed to keep their whistly mouths shut over the incident.

SOME sportsmen, i believe, feel invincible to the wrath of the Australian public. And for good reason. We just seem to forgive and forget so easily, especially where footy and cricket players come into play.

A scandal is only a scandal for 24 hours if you know how to kick a field goal or hit a ball with a plank of wood.

Go on, rape chicks, steal their confidence, spit at them, bottle them, hit them, cheat on them, slander their names, gang bang em, have underage sex with them, corner them in a spa at a hotel, throw beers on them.....and Im just describing a "mad monday".

I have not felt this much rage at the BLOKES who populate and turn what was once regarded as purely team sports based with a friendly and bonding attitude into some dirty orgy where you can win a match then have your free VBs and women who will open their legs and will shut their mouths. (Until Woman's Day gives them a call)

I dont know why we forgive these fuckwits and give them even more than they will ever deserve. It slanders the name of football and sends out such a distorted message to the youngings who are playing for their locals with the hopes of one day being the one in the middle of that stadium.

I bet even that red haired fuck who took a photo of a DOG giving him a HEAD JOB will one day host a radio show on 2Day FM, just like that fat fuck Sandilands.

Why not hey? Im sure he musnt be able to buy any more ice or any more beer with NOBLY standing down from the raiders.

But I suppose I should thank these sick fucks and the morally bankrupt horses they rode in on. Because now I know I have a point when I am sitting around the football obsessed table at Christmas this year.

I just think that our society's view of things is FUCKED at the moment. I bet Monica Lewinsky is kicking herself for not learning the rules of NRL before she smoked that very famous cigar, because she would be way more famous by now and not working on a farm somewhere.

Just like that FUCKING BEN COUSINS DOCO.

OH MY GOD.

way to make my blood boil. So you are a junkie motherfucker who I probably see at festivals with your shirt off frothing at the mouth. fuck you.

Dont shove your greedy selfish fucked up life in our faces as we are eating our chicken tonights. I dont give a fuck if you played AFL. I dont give a fuck if you took heaps of drugs. I dont give a fuck if you got caught. Which is the only reason why that doco came out.

All of you animals are making a bad name for what our society accepts, how sports are regarded and how the future will define what is morally acceptable.

And I bet fucking a 16 year old as a 24 year old man doesnt count.

UP THE SHARKIES!

Sunday, December 5, 2010

YOU FUCKIN CHEESEBURGER.


you're a bloody cheeseburger.
Want to know why?
Because I bet you havent opened up yours buns and had a look at this:
(from the virtual pen of Eden Hannon and Samuel Paterson)
You havent have you?
You've been spending your time deciding on whether or not to slap on some tomato or BBQ sauce on your meat instead havent you?
Well stop being such a delicious treat usually consumed on Sundays and go look at the fucking blog.
If you dont, I will eat you.
(p.s. if you have visited the aformentioned site, then you are more of a Pad Thai with a wedge of lemon and I love you.)

TERRYTOWN CONTINUED...












































































I have to admit that I am absolutely frothing on this photographer at the moment


Just like I was Joseph Szabo around 4 years ago,

This photographer has sparked such an interest and wonderment at his work that I have found myself spending hours searching for more candid, lucid and outrageous images (which I am happy to say I have found; see above).
There are dicks tits ass legs lips eyes nose face fingers thumbs shoulders knees located in nearly all of his photographs, and even something such as a thumb can be turned into the most provocative gesture you have ever seen.
I admire people like this who push the boundaries regardless of the consequences, or the "reputation" that they might tear down with leaping outside of the 'norm'.
Richardson has come under allegations that he is forceful with his subjects, forcing them to participate in poses or acts of a sexual nature that they did not feel comfortable with.
However, these complaints have been denied by a network of people from the fashion and photographic industries such as Abbey Lee Kershaw and Kate Moss who have defended Richardson and his work,
to paraphrase;
The models on Terry's side explained that at any point a model has the option not to participate and say no, it is never a forceful gesture from the photographer.
Which brings me to my point.
When someone is noted for freely using and abusing the way we view basic human traits (in this case: sexuality, decadence, sensuality, violence, satire) to express irony, or whatever their aim may be...it will usually bring splashback with it.
For instance, the most famous and recent little trouble bubble that Richardson has gotten tangled up in is the photoshoot of the Glee cast for GQ magazine.
IT IS FOR GQ.
I dont know why the parental board of shit had a fucking say in what GQ had to print.
The freedom of expression will always have its oppressors, but come on... parental boards?
It is too much of a cliche to be believable.
The ironic thing out of all that kerfuffel is that even though their children would not get away with purchasing a copy of GQ in a newsagency, but they would be privy to a bit of pay TV AKA every single entertainment news show that broadcast the scandalous photographs in HD which im sure the kiddies were wide eyed to, while their stuffy high collared parents with their "christian values" were tele-conferencing the neighbours over their husband's GQ subscription.
All im saying is freedom of expression is vital and what makes the world colourful.
I understand the legalities of freedom of expression, as in sexual or lewd acts with minors, animals etc to be wrong and harmful.
And by no means do I condone anything against the law to do with F.O.E.
(excluding drug use)
But anything above the line of the law that celebrates the inner atoms of a so called perverts brain, I am all for.
Besides, Ive seen bigger perverts standing outside the gates of the beery checking your CHILDREN'S I.D's.
Someone call her parents!

Sunday, November 28, 2010

YOU ARE AN ISLAND.


I know its all about what brings us together as a human race that is whats important.

But I do wonder how groups in society dictate treatment, acceptance and segregation amongst other cliques that roam around in everyday life.


I can not say today that I have never exclaimed some sort of judgemental remark in regards to some sort of social group.

E.g. I was guilty and sometimes still am, of referring to the 'emo' period of my teens.


We arent shocked anymore by much.

Different types of people (whether it be with mindset etc) are accepted as they are (but only if there seems to be enough people supporting the cause...well enough to not overpower anyway).


Its seems as though these 'types' of people are like lions and gazelles in the jungle. A power struggle to survive and celebrate who they are without fear of being metaphorically swallowed up by another 'type' of person.


If im not being clear, Id like to give you an example of what I mean.


There are a group of people who wear the same things, talk the same way, are interested in the same things and usually have an aversion to anything different than what they feel fits their profile. Here are two stand out groups that I have noticed recently who are quite the opposite. Now I know this seems like a generalisation (which it is, so fucking deal with it)


1. JOCKS OR FOOTY PLAYERS & FOOTY CHICKS.: BOY- Usually wearing a tight t shirt, maybe footy shorts, bootcut jeans and leather looking loafers, short back and sides (I know I am generalising, just go with it). They talk in a macho manner. They are interested in footy, girls, drinking, mates, making money and team related sports. They usually have an aversion to hipsters.


GIRL- Body Con dress, curled long blonde or black hair, excessive make up, heels, petite frame. Interested in boys, going out to drink, shopping, dancing, football games. They usually have an aversion to hipsters.


2. HIPSTERS or DIRTY FUCKING HIPSTERS: BOY- Long hair, beard, tight jeans, basic t shirts, ratty clothes meant to look ultra chic, some kind of vintage accessory such as shoes or sunglasses or jewellery, tattoos. They speak in a long drawl usually with the word "man" strung out and used frequently. They are interested in 'Where the wild things are' paraphernalia, photography, fashion, New York City, Alternative indie music, asexuality. They usually have an aversion to footy heads.


GIRL- red lipstick, short hair, long bed hair with regrowth, dark eyebrows, androgynous style, long tops worn with long skirts/ pants, boots, tattoos. Speak in a long drawl. Interested in obscure cocktails, oxford street, looking off into space and ignoring conversations, fashion, New York City, magazines with weird names and weirder fashion shoots inside. They have an aversion to footy heads.



Now that I have shown you an example of what I mean I have actually forgotten what my point was. Oh yes, now I remember, The power struggle. While both the footy heads and the fucking hipsters think they are right in their own worlds, and the latter is not, the struggle to prove that they are on top is one of futility and exasperation, as these two 'types' will rarely see eye to eye.


Im bored of the power struggle. Im bored of being heckled about how I look by people who I do not know and who do not want to understand me or the way I look, but would rather criticise it and revert back to the schoolyard taunts of year three.


I swear to god if one more person on this god forsaken Central Coast calls me a man or a boy or calls me 'sir' or refers to me as a transvestite one more time I am going to fucking find out where you live and go Samuel L Jackson on your sad little chode dick ass.


Id like to say it doesnt bother me, but it has come to a point where Ive had enough of it. And for some reason, its all from the male species. I never realised how much of the male ego needs to be boosted at any time of the night just like a new born baby who needs to be fed every three hours. Your fucking ego's are like retarded tamagotchi's that shit themselves every two minutes forcing me to want to take your batteries out and hide you in the cupboard.


Im bored of the narrow mind I come across daily.

Im bored of hearing "fuck that chick is sooo hot" only to see a cardboard cut out of the latest zoo centrefold in front of me...every....time....

Im bored of hearing the same stories over and over again.,

Im bored of hearing your opinion on shit that doesnt concern you.

Im bored of judgement and disdain.

Im bored of trying to impress.

Im bored of being angry and yearning for a change.

Im bored of expecting too much and being let down.



But most of all, I am bored of being bored. I want anarchy, I want something revolutionary


Because as Ive mentioned on this blog before, I think we are all becoming too numb, jaded and lazy with actually living and not just killing time.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

THINGS I HAVE LEARNT PART TWO.

1. People you knew are no longer people you know.

2. chest infections suck.

3. smoking while having a chest infection sucks harder.

4. Everyone has a favourite position.

5. Hot showers when you are burnt do not feel good. (but are necessary)

6. The older you get, the harsher the hangover.

7. Mexican themed anything rules.

8. Babes are everywhere if you just open your mind.

9. Music is likened to scent. A tune can remind you of a time or a place just like a smell can.

10. Looking at people really close makes them pretty cute.

11. Everyone is on a pedestal of their own making.

12. Complaining will not solve a problem.

13. Christmas is bullshit.

14. No matter where you go in the world, you can drink a coca cola.

15. Hot weather dulls the appetite.

16. White shirts look babein on boys.

17. Slutty is not sexy.

18. Contradiction is present in everyday life, in everyday conversations. It is unavoidable and quite funny when you think about it.

19. No matter how happy people are for others success, there is always a tinge of jealousy hidden underneath.

20. Being defensive pushes people away.

21. You can run and you can hide, but you can never escape (my love...thanks enrique)

22. Girls DO slightly enjoy being heckled by boys driving by in cars.

23. Life is moving at an increasingly fast pace.

24. Kissing is very important.

25. Everyone has an opinion, its whether or not you choose to listen to it is what counts.

26. Some advice I heard from a scholar and a gentleman lately- "Be like the weather."

27. Isabel Lucas and Angus Stone are a killer couple.

28. The world will not end in 2012.

29. Tequila is delicious.

30. 'Love it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free...to be more like the man you were made to be."- Mumford and Sons.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

POWER BALLADS & SEALED SECTIONS.


I was listening to Jon Bon Jovi's hit power ballad, 'Always' just before as I was zipping around the place, and I got a little too into it as it just really went with the weather and the faux 80s pain in his voice just made me identify with the brunette leggy babe who just bailed on him, leaving him shirtless in some light blue jeans.


Its a song that makes you want to tease the hair on your head and kiss some babe who has red lippie on just to get it all over your face, then walk in slow motion down some form of grassy hill with her running behind you in despair in a navy blue dress that would be seen on a 90s version of winona ryder.


Thats if your a man, or so inclined to the woman I described above.


Power ballads from the 1980s and early 90s are like the nutella in a ferrero rocher.

Creamy and surprising.

(much like something else I know).


They describe so much sorrow and pain but with a killer guitar solo slung somewhere at the 7 minutes 43 seconds mark to satisfy the air guitar niggle you get whilst listening to this in your car.


They fucking rule and one day I want to, i dont know, make up some I phone app that allows you to set a soundtrack to a day in your life, because 'Always' by Bon Jovi will definetly have a spot on the list.


Speaking of lists, here are my top 5 power ballads & accompanying favourite lyric from the song:


1. Always- Bon Jovi (obviously).

[I wish I was him with those words of mine/

to say to you til the end of time/

that I will love you/

Baby, Always/

& Ill be there forever and a day/ Always.]


2. Purple Rain- Prince

[I never wanted 2 be your weekend lover/

I only wanted 2 be some kind of friend/

Baby I could never steal u from another/

It's such a shame our friendship had 2 end]


3. November Rain- Guns n Roses.

[And when your fears subside and shadows still remain,/

oh yeah/

I know that you can love me when there's no one left to blame/

So never mind the darkness we still can find a way/

Nothin' lasts forever even cold November rain]


4. Home Sweet Home- Motley Crue.

[You know that I've seen/

Too many romantic dreams/

Up in lights, fallin' off the silver screen]


5. Every Rose Has Its Thorn- Poison.

[Though it's been a while now/

I can still feel so much pain/

Like a knife that cuts you the wound heals/

but the scar, that scar will remain]


All with poignant and melancholic lyrics and killer guitar solos.

Not to mention, if you youtube most of their original videos you will feel like you lost your virginity all over again due to seeing some of the hard nuts of hair rock gyrating around the place but with pain in their eyes (due to love lost or their dealer being out of town- we are still not sure).


PART TWO:


Sealed sections in magazines make me laugh and be pissed off at the same time.

Do the chicks who write about how to give gobbies and hand jobs seriously expect people to memorise this shit and perform it at the right time?


Because I can barely imagine the look on a guys face if you suddenly pull out your cosmo mag and tell him to "hold on" while you flick to page 56 and study a well drawn diagram with your hands around his cock and your eyes set on the glossy pages trying with all your might to concentrate on the "orange juice technique".


If I see one more sealed section telling me to juice him, I am going to set up and FB event everyone to a massive sealed section bonfire (with free lamingtons and cordial provided- NO orange juice).


But what I really love to hate is the drawings. Imagine spending four years at graphic design or art school and having to end up drawing some robot looking chick licking the tip of a well endowed mannequin.


Even better are the bogan looking couples they get to pose semi nude (you know, with the lady covering his dick tattoo with her elbow and the like) and tell all about their disgusting love life.


If I wanted to know what you two do with a box of popcorn in Greater Union, Id wrangle myself a student ticket and sit behind you.


But No I dont want to know, and I dont want to see awkward questions that are sent in (or more likely made up by the staff) about 'How do I go down on my man if we are at his nanna's 85th birthday party, but Im really up for the nookie?'


To be met with some generic answer such as,

"Well thats a bit inappropriate, you could just wait to get home at 2pm because Nan needs to be changed and put to bed around that time. Or you could get set to it in her coffee table room that no one is allowed in, but be careful to place the doilies back in their original position."


I suppose the only advice Ill be taking is from Bret Michaels or Vince Neil before I ever take the advice that comes with the tearing of a strip of paper.


Every magazine has it's thorn.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

DESIRES.


Have you ever met someone who you cant stop thinking about?
All the tiny moments that arent occupied by some trivial bullshit that dictates the routine of your day are filled with this person.
And somehow those tiny moments seem just as important or even more so than the bigger thoughts.
Do you ever imagine things with that person?
Things you might do together.
Things you might see.
Or do you ever wonder if at that exact moment, that person is also thinking about you?
Do you see a photograph and get instantly reminded of this person, whether it be some form of pornographic art or maybe a photo of an empty wine cup in a gutter.
Is every nerve ending filled with desire for this person, pulsating at an abnormal rate until you are drunk on the very thought of them?
How do some people ignite such a desire? how do some people penetrate into your skin, and other do not?
What is it about these chosen few that generates such electricity?
I wish I could answer all these questions, but it is another mystery that we as people must come to terms with. And maybe not question, but just go with your desires to find out where they may take you.
On a lighter note.
I have always been fascinated with a term that I have heard come from a few boys lips, that being the....
"WANK BANK".
I have heard (mostly from the boys i used to live on campus with) that some men take mental snapshots or remind themselves to store a certain moment for later, for what is otherwise known as their wank bank.
This image or moment comes in handy when they hop into bed, and its raining and they are all warm and snuggly and they reach down and remember that really hot hoyts employee who ripped the ticket real hard and fast.
Or maybe when they derobe and hop into a nice warm shower and think back to when the waitress with the long legs bent down to pick up a teaspoon she had dropped earlier that day whilst getting a mocha.
I personally do not have a wank bank.
I never see a guy walking along the beach with his dog and think "yes I am going to savour this image so I can go home and touch myself to it."
I of course am not representing every single male I know. I have heard from a few sources about this bank, much like the commonwealth (except with less % interest and no ATM fees), and I have always been interested in it as it reveals yet another side to the male psyche.
You boys are just so interesting to me!
I remember one lazy afternoon hanging around Villas in second year, this talk of the wank bank and the long list of occassions and girls (some of which we knew) were deposited into the bank.
But then again, I also walked into a room once in the middle of the day and four boys were watching porn together.
So maybe the moral of the story here is, Dont move on to university campus if you want to get punani regularly.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

HOSTEL.



There might be something missing in another persons life to treat others with such hostility.

There is always an underlying factor that the hostilee is not aware of.

Once met with hostility, the hostilee will immediately question what has happened to be treated as such.

Usually, nothing has really been done that is THAT bad to the hostile one to use such icy methods of payback.

Is hostility a childish concept, filled to the brim with passive aggressive nuances that probably effect the hostile one more than it could ever effect the hostilee.

I have come across GREAT hostility lately from people who I once regarded as friends.

I never knew that they had it in them, and I still am in disbelief that they hold such ignorant venom spurting from their self made fangs, hell bent on making me question what the fuck I have done to them to deserve such animosity.

Well I know what I have done...

NOTHING.

Not a thing. It is a selfish and self righteous burden that hangs upon their asshole shoulders eating away at the very fabric of who they are as a person.

It is the over 8 years of age version of a tantrum.

No wait scratch that, I probably did something so small and trivial, but in their tiny tiny tiny worlds it is like a ten on the richter scale of irritation or disappointment.

I am tired of questioning what the fuck I did wrong to this narrow tunnel of a human being, and I am tired of being made to feel guilty for an invisible fault.

I am also tired of putting up with their shit, and I find the fact that I am treated with this hostility exhibits the kind of person YOU actually want to be,

a spoilt little brat uncapable of obtaining any of their desires due to a jaded, narcassistic misery lump they refer to as a brain.

Go and be a sad little bitch, I am starting to begin to wonder if I should start to act in such a way that actually warrants this hostility.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

EQUAL & OPPOSITE REACTIONS.


for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.


Remember that?

I have come to realise that this is true, the consequence is one of the most reliable elements that come with human behaviour.


Whether or not you realise or want to acknowledge it, the shit you do affects others.


I sometimes dread making decisions purely for the fact that I know that something will usually come out of it, good or bad you wont know until the proof is in the pudding (i have been watching ALOT of come dine with me episodes lately).
I wish you could just act and say the things you want with no consequences, but its just not the way it is.
That is why I find myself bottling up anger, mistrust or disappointment because I am scared to confront the situation, due to the reaction of an outpouring of what is really wrong.
I dont like to be abandoned, or ignored, or forgotten by people who I thought were close to me.
It produces a reaction that is unsavoury within me, and i feel that one day i might pop like a balloon or an old condom.
I wish i were brave in that aspect and didnt want to run away from conflict and hurting the nearest and dearest.
But sometimes its just not worth saying how you are feeling, especially when you know it will not change anything.
Its just the thought of putting it away somewhere, who knows where and ignoring the niggling feeling that you were made to feel like shit.
You cant rely on everyone to do everything right all the time, which is another reason why it is sometimes not worth bringing shit up, purely for the fact that everyone is human and makes mistakes.
It is only when these people realise their mistakes is when it is worth it, but that is a rare quality to come by.
No one wants to be a nag, or look desperate or like a whinger, but then again no one wants to be a doormat either.
It is a constant push- pull, a war of the ages within our minds struggling to come to terms with the fact that maybe your opinions or feelings dont really matter.
As much as I dont want to accept existentialism as a real concept to my life, I think it is time to realise that I am alone (figuratively speaking).
And I should react accordingly.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

JUST ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL.



The concept of the "wall".

Not just an affectionate name for a place where young boys schlep their ass in Kings Cross.

But also a theory which is rampant amongst the bruised and broken of lovers.

Once another horrendous break up is established, there is this notion of a wall that is put up and around your heart like the colleseum in the vain hope of never being hurt again.

It is usually the wall that is built to protect and to act as a burly bouncer to all those who try to get in.
It can come in the form of being a bitch
or maybe acting all tough
or just completely ruling yourself out of any situation that could break down the wall.
Ignoring the fact that someone may be in to you, as things have turned out so shit before.

I completely believe in the wall.
It is a control and power thing.
No one likes the power flip, but I suppose I am a true romantic, as I believe that someday there wont be one who is in more control than the other in a relationship.
Hopefully.

Is it the wall that causes people to cheat?
The fear, which can sometimes be so debilitating that it can break you down into someone you never knew you could be.

Is it the wall that allows people to be enjoying the misery they have created for themselves?

Or is it just a coping mechanism that is a basic human reaction to having your heart torn out of your chest and eaten with a knife and fork by the person you were once in love with.

Whatever this wall may be, I do know one thing about it:

It is assembled by you like a lego fortress, and only you can take it down.

So there is no point in waiting around for someone else to take it down for you with their wit and charm and good looks because I can assure you if you take this method, you will be standing in a pile of rubble wondering how the fuck that happened all over again.

Im a big fan of the wall.
I have one.

I put it up with a concrete mixed out of anger and torment, and there is stands surrounding me at all times.

And for the first time in a long long time, I think Im going to rent a bobcat and tear it down.

Stupid? you may say,

Oh well, Im sick of hiding behind an imaginary wall, only touching the beautiful things in life with my fingertips, and if that makes me naive and silly then I guess I am.

But I know that Im willing to finally be exposed.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR.








This photo sparked the flame for this post of mine detailing delusions and how easy they are to catch.





I was stalking Leb's page to see him tagged as old mate in the background, looking on at the chicks as they posed their little tits out.



You can imagine the scene, and if you cant...then ill set it:





**** It is friday night at Woodport in Erina and you have had a few rum and cokes after you polished off your six pack of melon cruisers (i dont even know if they make them in melon flavour it has been THAT long.)



The steam is rising from the dancefloor.



You look around and see some ripped piece of ace in a tight off white t shirt with blue writing on it that isnt in times new roman font (HOT!!!)



He looks at you, you look at him...he winks and licks his lips (which thankfully also removes the dried piece of sausage sizzle that he had at the pub on his way to the wooooddddiiieeeessss courtesy bus)



You giggle and point him out to your friends, they are so jealous that they immediately head to the bathrooms to reapply blue eyeshadow and bitch about how you always get the hot guys.



You wait there, Usher's OMG is pumping above and you feel in your element.



You turn back around to see if muscley mchot is still looking at you, but no he is looking at himself in the one piece of reflective surface in the whole joint.....his homeboy's shades that he is wearing....at night.....inside.....



'dayum!' you say and think at the same time.



Anyway your gurlz come back from the b-rooms and you decide to hit the D-floor.



You hit it, getting trolleyed and trashyyy under the multi coloured lights that surround you like you are dancing in some sort of dero- rainbow.



You retire to the bar to get a drink and simultaneously get covered in bourbon, cum, spit, vodka orange and hair extensions.



That dont matter to you because Riverside motherFUCKAZZZ just came on and you reeeeallllyyy want to dance!



But some dude who looks a mix between your dad and a serial killer comes up to you and your gurlz facez and asks for a photo.



Yeah sure! you all chime, and begin the formation that you see above.



Whilst in this formation you have never felt so good about yourself in your life. But a tiny bit vulnerable due to the dude in the white t shirt with blue non times new roman font and the sleeve which i think has flames up it who is staring at you and grabbing his nuts at the same time.



SOOOO HOOOTTT!!



You lose concentration for a second but then regain it and SNAP! goes the flash, you think you blinked but you cant be sure because your back and nostrils were so strained tighter than what you were before the age of 13.



You rush over to the photographer who lets you look at the photo, and all agree that the fake laughter was a good idea.



Turns out it was a good idea, coz that hottie with da body comes over, whispers in your ear:



"hey, want to suck my dick behind red rooster?"



to which you reply,



"Only if you buy me a large chips after."



moral of this fairytale:



Even disgusting old mates with intentions to kill who hang out at woodies on friday nights stalking young nubiles think you look like a fucking idiot.





Tuesday, October 26, 2010

POWER BITCH.

ahhh the essence of the power bitch.


I recently went to an 80s themed party dressed as a power bitch (see below.)
Isnt she wonderful? The head bitch of the power bitches is Kelly Cutrone if you ask me.
She produces such a strong and inspirational energy, even though she seems to talk to everyone around her like shit.
But that is what makes her so enticing or (n thai sing if you live in Terrigal).
She takes no nonsense, rips your head off but then puts it back on and hopes you have learnt your lesson so one day you may take over the power bitch kingdom.
American Psycho the movie, portrays the power bitch, even though they are slowly being killed off by one extremely ripped Pat Bateman.
Its all shoulders and swagger.
I love it!
Now let me assure you, I am not referring to the word "bitch" in a way that one may associate with "yo bitchez" or "fucking slut bitch whore."
The term "bitch" in this instance has a completely different meaning.
You see, there ARE bitches out there. The ones who use passive aggressive tactics to belittle and create an air of nastiness that surrounds them. This is usually out of insecurity.
Then there are the "yo bitchez" who are just your girl hanging out maybe shooting some hoops and may affectionately be called a bitch, but usually by other women, or their pimp.
Then there are the chicks who try and keep The Simple Life alive by dragging on the 23 year old persona of Paris Hilton and referring to them and their dopplegangers as "bitch" as in, "love you bitch." KILL ME NOW.
But then there is the rare and most amazing type of bitch, THE POWER BITCH.
The power bitch will not take your shit, she will tell you when you are wrong and will not apologise for being wrong. She does not tackle issues with a passive aggressive nature. It is more assertive aggressive, and wont let you leave her presence wondering.
She is walking along with her head held high, and a look on her face that says "dont fuck with me."
Sometimes I like to pretend I am a power bitch, when ive had a bad day or if someone has said something to tick me off, and I walk around with this type of swagger. It feels amazing.
Now I know...you sad little bitch Jess, you act like you are something you are not in order to make yourself feel better.
But as if you bitches havent done it?
Its not all the time, and I guess it could come down to a control thing. Being a power bitch and a control freak go hand in hand. But id rather be a control freak than be somebody's bitch.
Especially when something pisses me off but I dont feel I have the right to say anything back. That is when I feel most shameful and pent up, and in need of channeling the power bitch.
Sometimes its good to make yourself feel strong when you are made to feel at your weakest by others.
Then again, it is not in the power bitch manual to act like a victim, which also takes away any self sympathy.
Because after all, all of us have the ability to be a bitch, you just have to choose which one.
oh well, BITCHES AINT SHIT.

WISDOM.

These are things I have learnt (or noticed) recently, and things I have not learnt.



LEARNED:



1. making out is the best exercise.



2. you can be whipped and not even know it, but may have to admit it much like an alcoholic has to admit they have a problem before they can even begin to recover.



3. drinking three nights over a weekend makes me feel like im not eighteen again.



4. a lot of people I know have BEAUTIFUL eyes.



5. Im still not sure if some people really mean what they say, but I have learned it is easier to agree to shut everyone up.



6. I can bake a mean cake.



7. psychics cant predict the future, they can only take a shot at your past...and not even YOU want to dredge up that!



8. regrets really are futile. fuck them.



9. finding a park in Terrigal this coming summer will be like trying to get Mary Mackillop to give you a gobbie. Stupid, pointless and yet angelic in some weird way.



10.The beery is no longer "the beery"...its merely somewhere to get a pineapple vodka in peace.



11. house parties are the new black.

12. 11:11 is a real thing.

13. everyone looks good in stripes.

14. Radio tunes are an abomination, and the more i listen to the mass produced music on the airwaves today the more depressed, embarrassed and ashamed I become about the fact that this might be what I have to show my kids about what pop culture was like "back in my day".

15. The Doors are wide open.

16. You are never alone, you are with yourself.

17. North Shelley beach has an intimidating parking lot.

18. Goon will always have a soft spot in my heart. & it should have one in yours too unless you are allergic to fish or nuts, as all goon sacks have traces of these in them. delicious.

19. Quesadillas is not a dirty word. But you can make Fajitas sound like one.

20. I will never ask you to buy me a drink, but I will say yes if you offer.

21. Everyone is a genius in some way. EG: whoever can work out how twitter works and use it efficiently, or anyone who can remain sunbaking on the beach for hours on end, or guys that can take off a bra one handed. CLAP.

22. "Alf was eating pussy way before it was cool."

23. For such a fucking loud mouth (and im assuming short dicked man) John Mayer is, he really pens some pathetic lyrics nowadays. It only appealed to me when I was a pubescent teenager when my judgement could not be trusted. He is the peak on the mountain of douche lord that is running so rampant these days.

24. Paramore chicks voice was meant for around 2004 when we were all listening to Dashboard Confessional and Something Corporate and ignoring bands like Paramore but allowing them to exist peacefully along with the rest of the super tubed clad fringo gringos. Now paramore... you just sound like a wailing off cut from Erina Friday Nights back in 04, collaborating with some no name rapper to produce an award nominated "track" (that belongs on your myspace page) that is blasphemous to the history of ROCK AND ROLL that has passed us. FUCKING HELL. fuck you hey. and Usher, way to sell out man and chuck a techno warble behind your voice, you used to be cool man.

25. David Guetta is such a white boy.

26. Because of when, how and where I grew up, I will always have a distaste for Emo's. Dont blame me, blame my surroundings. Besides, have they all flown south for the summer?

27. If you recieve some mad attitude in the post once you move to Sydney from the Cennie, please return to sender before you begin your slow yet sure descent into wankerdom. I will not be there to pull the stick from your ass once you realise you are standing ankle deep in your own bullshit that has spouted from your own mouth.

26. Jared Leto- you are not a triple threat. you are a quadruple threat, because you sing, dance, act and have multiple personalities syndrome. You are the equivalent to a child being dragged about by her stage mum who claims that her daughter can do anything!!! P.s. you make me sick, forget you.

27. Doing mushrooms in Koh Phan Gang was one of the best experiences of my life, and to this day I still think the night sky looks like a suspicious black cat.


NOT LEARNED:

1. everything else.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

UNDIES.


wearing nice undies is fun.
its like you have a secret that no one else knows, and if someone is lucky...they will know by the end of the night.
I think its like wearing heels, it makes you feel sexier without even realising it.
It is a secret weapon that girls possess and not many people know about.
Because by wearing pretty undies, you can dress up underneath it all.
I once got dared to put my undies up a flag pole. I did it, I got them off without removing my tights.
They were the nicest undies I ever met.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

DUDES ON WHEELS.



Babes on wheels make me melt.

Not the kind of midnight blue subaru wheels, but the ones you find attached to a board.

This video inspired this post:

http://vimeo.com/13348516

from the eyes (which are actually lenses) of Brendan Turner: www.brendanedwardturner.blogspot.com


Its like when Lord of Dogtown came out and all the girls lost their undies!
There is something crazy hot about a dude on a skateboard, flying around the place but to ride that board they have to maintain an essence of 'cool' about them, and not flail about as to not lose their balance.

So all up, they end up looking like some long haired bad ass standing on their board like they couldnt give a fuck but still getting some mad speed and maybe doing an ollie.

Of course, when you have your morning coffee in your hand and all your books or paraphernalia in your arms and some lout comes flying into your path at the speed of light, it may not be as attractive and may make you call out:

"OHHHH YOUR SOOO COOOL MAAAAAAN!"

But any other time, for instance, when you have a corona and a wedge of lime in one hand and a marlboro gold in the other and you are sitting at a party and some of the babe dudes who came to the party get on their skateboards.

It happened to me at a party recently in Bateau Bay, and all the girls I was with immediately paid attention to what was happening and let out some type of sigh.

But the sigh was no ordinary sigh, it was more like the breath version of "ohhhh baaaabbeeesss."

I wonder if boys know they are looking so amazing while on skateboards.

But I must admit its even better when they stack it on an unsuspective bit of gravel in front of you, and the only thing you have left to do is laugh.

conclusion:

babes on wheels rule.

GIVE YASELF AN UPPERCUT.

Ok ok...I know what you are thinking... here we go another man hating post about how men suck and treat girls like shit blah blah blah but NO this one is different, because it does not apply to every man I know...only a handful, and I have to get this off my chest.

Scholar James Kingi once said, "This is due to a hormone imbalance."

What is you might ask?

Talking down to girls.

I am so fucking sick and tired of being patronised by a set of testicles.
That is all you are to me, something to look at when I am bored.

This whole metro chauvinist bullshit grinds my gears and makes me wonder why it is so frequently used in todays society.

Why do SOME men feel the need to be condescending to girls?
They wouldnt talk that way to their mates or another guy.
It is a fucking disgusting habit.

And what really pisses me off is that they act as if they are so up with the times and equality and all that bullshit, but it is a false sense of their own security reaffirming what a fucking sick cunt they are.

well ya not.

Your just like the rest of the fucking greased up douche lords that skulk about yelling shit out to chicks and commenting on what they are wearing if its too short because they cant handle the fact that they dont know where to hide their boner.

Its not her fault if she is an independent woman wearing whatever the fuck she wants just because she can, and doing whatever the fuck she wants because she can. Just because you have an inordinate amount of pubic hair mixed with nuts that are bigger than your cock does not allow you to scream out insults hell bent on taking whatever confidence she can scrape together in this fucked up world we are living in where images are so airbrushed it could make Rosie O'Donnell put down her cheeseburger and make her start eating more pussy to lose weight.

You make me sick with your holier than thou attitude and words that fly out of your mouth with the pompus spit you use to project them like the fucking stupid winged monkeys from the wizard of oz.

All Im saying, is that its pretty clear no girl likes to be patronised, and if you find one who does then tell her to grow some balls.

Monday, October 18, 2010

GUILTY LITTLE PLEASURES.



I can not take credit for this post idea. It was from an anonymous source, who I seriously should collaborate with one day.

but "they" put this little idea in my head and ive been running with it since Saturday.

What is your guilty little pleasures?
We narrowed it down to three categories:

1. A band you love but will not admit in public.
2. Something sexual.
3. Something you do when no one is around.

Here are some answers I recieved (completely anonymously) in numbered order:

1.

* Aqua
*Scooter
* Kisschasy
* Hanson
* Justin Bieber
* Lionel Ritchie
*Justin Timberlake
* Katy Perry.

2.

* Doggy style.
* Getting felt up in public.
* Getting bitten on the lip when being kissed.
* making out in the ocean.
* Going down on a girl when she is freshly showered and landscaped.
*Biting, scratching, anything rough.
* A boy in a towel and still wet from the shower, then taking the towel off.

3.

* Walk around naked.
* Walk around naked with heels on.
* Take photographs of ones self.
* Take photographs of ones self naked.
* Look at yourself in the mirror.
* Look at yourself in the mirror of your car while driving (dont tell the po po).
*Masturbate.
*Beatbox.

All in all some interesting, if not disturbing answers (referring to number 1 of course)
I sometimes like finding people in magazines who look like me, I dont know why, but I will admit that is a guilty pleasure of mine (as were some of the ones above, I wonder which ones?).

Surely that is completely and utterly narcassistic of me, but fuck it...we all love ourselves even if we constantly and adamantly say we dont.

Who else is gonna love us?

I love finding things out about people, Im so interested in your inner most thoughts and tiny little pleasantries that fill your day. The way you think about certain issues and the opposite sex.

I think that is well documented in the pages of this blog, I am genuinely trying to find out who you are, a bit like Serena Van Der Wootsen in Gossip Girl series two, final episode.

I like you. I like everything you are about, and especially the way you think, if you even think at all.

I have noticed that there is a time and a place to be "thinking". For instance, not when you are boning, you should not be wondering how many calories were in that elusive skim caramel latte you had at 10:30 that morning.

Or when you are out and drunk, the last thing you should do is think about ANYTHING. Because it will either get you down, or cause you to spontaneously combust due to the brain cells that are forced to think but are trying to die peacefully at the same time.

DONT THINK...when you are talking to your friends about your problems or goss you have got, because you should always just say whatever the fuck you want and hope for the best (thats my way of doing things anyway.)

Dont think when talking to any teachers at university, just figure out what they like (individually) and adhere to that to the best of your ability. Because the fucking place is a corporate conglomerate designed to slowly and surely rip young people off whilst teaching them nothing, and eventually handing a piece of paper that will qualify them to work as the boom gate operator at the Easter Show. FUCK YOU UNIVERSITY, and if you are doing your HSC right now, fuck studying...

Go out and but yourself a leather jacket and a packet of safety pins and a bic lighter (preferably that brown colour).

Put on your leather jacket, stick a safety pin through your nose and go fucking torch every exam paper you are meant to do (on the respective days it is scheduled) and then do some drugs and become an artist and find a way to go to Paris and fuck heaps of chicks and dont give a shit until you are 40, then move to some suburban town and take up surfing and mushrooms and die a HAPPY FUCKING PERSON.

Instead of a fucking piece of cattle, that not even Huey from Hueys cooking classes or whatever that bullshit is on designed to numb us, would scarf down.

all Im saying is stop giving half assed gobbies to the man.

God I wish I could take my own advice.
*

Monday, October 11, 2010

WHATS THE TIME, MR. WOLF?


THE SHEER ESSENCE OF TIMING, MY FRIENDS.

Ever feel like you cant believe you just saw what you saw because of the time you did certain things?

Like if you didnt speed that little 2 kilometres, you wouldnt be a certain place at a certain time in order to see what you just saw?


Timing freaks me out.

And I do believe it is one of the unexplainable things that hold us back or set us free, depending on what we are feeling or doing at that time.


Do you ever wonder what could have been if the timing had been different?


Why things just never seemed to work, due to the timing?


I know I do. I wonder about it quite a bit, mainly because I am a runner and a thinker (and no I dont mean as in going for a morning jog and thinking about what Im going to eat for breakfast, more like running away to be alone and thinking.)


Like there is a TIME to grow up?

a TIME to think?

a TIME for play?

a TIME for work?


What if time is slipping away, and you arent realising it due to the time you believe you are experiencing.


Well it is right here and right now.

We rarely live in the present.

It is about the future or what we missed out on in the past.


But I am making a real decision right now to live in the time I am given.

I dont know if anyone else understands any of this, but it makes perfect sense in my mind.
Ive been WAY too reflective in the past three days. Not exactly reflecting on the past or anything, but just reflecting on the people I know and the things I do, and it pretty much is just an excuse to get in the car and drive around listening to Mumford and Sons, smoking a marlboro.
That is one thing I can rely on to jog (i know so many exercising metaphors) the bases of the brain that trigger memory and happiness.
For instance, I was just driving around and 'Swimming in the flood' by Passion Pit came on, which immediately took me back to a Balcony in QLD and 6am, and a complete rush of euphoria soared throughout my body.
Music is one of those things though.
A Cold Chisel song, especially 'Forever Now' takes me right back to my childhood and the bushfires in Penrith, the Red Rooster meals, the swing sets and the picnics, Dale and Kirsty.
Whereas grittier tunes can take me back to the years I spent on the floor of 77, contemplating absolutely nothing, and loving it.
'Friday Im in love' by The Cure takes me back to Swtizerland, driving around on the massive bus feeling completely miserable but strangely content at the same time.
'Doo Wop (that thing)' by Lauryn Hill takes me back to Bus 17 with Madeline harmonising out loud because even back when we were 16 we still didnt give a fuck what anyone thought.
'The Good Fight' by Dashboard Confessional reminds me of when Jess Moss got her P's and we drove around for the hell of it, as you do.
'High Flying Bird' by Elton John reminds me of Thailand and fills me with regret that I didnt take life and the present by the balls, but instead became so consumed with the fucking ridiculous past that I had left at home.
That is why I am so aware of timing.
But I believe that you can make your own time, change what you think is the right time, and embrace what is happening to you right now, even if it is shitty, because before you know it, that time will be over and you might find yourself driving around reflecting on why you miss it.


Sunday, October 10, 2010

BLACK.

Just been driving around town listening to Pearl Jam's black, and realised I am in come down city if there ever was one. I would be the fucking mayor.

I wanted to make a list of things I do not like, because tonight I feel like a wilting tree:

1. Being disappointed, by anyone. Fuck you, dont say you are going to do something and then not do it, it is damaging and stupid and makes you look like an idiot. And me.

2. When its too cold to eat an ice cream.

3. Police cars.

4. People who get into physical fights with others. You look like you are compensating for things you are lacking.

5. People who rip you off and dont even take a second thought.

6. People who you thought were your friend, but then go completely off the radar without a goodbye.

7. People who have fucking disgraceful mood swings (hypocrite? yes i know).

8. When nail polish chips.

9. Lazy people. Especially when it comes to the crunch, and they cant see it and just decide to do nothing, usually because they cant really be fucked and dont really care about the consequences.

10. Shit excuses. At least make up something interesting.

11. People who are so high on their own pedestal, it has actually lodged in their ass.

12. One word answers.

13. Being ignored.

14. Passive- aggression.

15. University.

16. fucking dirty liars.

17. People who go to festivals purely for the day out, instead of the music.

18. When the serotonin in your brain dips.

19. Having to see people you would prefer never to see again.

20. When the take away you just got goes cold in the car on the way home because you had to drive around to Pearl Jam and have that one last cigarette.

But hey, I love you, so who gives a fuck?

Saturday, October 9, 2010

SATURDAY NIGHT WRIST.

This is exactly how I felt today:

WHILE HE'S HAVING A SMOKE, & SHE'S TAKING A DRAG.


It is actually fucking amazing how a perspective can change when competition becomes involved.

is that called JEALOUSY?


or just healthy competition?


Example:

So you think you are kind of interested in a boy, but then you arent sure, then you see them talking/dancing/making out with a total babe....and suddenly he seems more attractive? less attainable perhaps?

What is it about the ungettable that makes it so worth getting?

I believe that jealousy and competition sometimes go hand in hand. You have to get that little green pang before you pull your frilly socks up and go for what you realised you want.

It is another fucked up dimension to girls. And maybe boys, I dont know. Something or someone that is wanted by others seems intimidating but in a completely satisfying way.

Maybe Ive just been reading too much of the book, Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis, psycho-analysing relationships and the misinterpreted feelings, actions and meanings that come with getting to know someone in an intimate way.

I know that once a third party is involved with what you think is temporarily/could be something you may feel free to indulge in or with, the threat is like the lion to the gazelle. It creates a sense of seductive urgency to claim what may be taken from you.

Not implying that anyone is EVER anyone's property. But I think you might know what I mean, that being the fact that you may assume that you have the attention of the object of your desire, but as it is with people and life, you will never really know.

I love that phrase, "Object of desire."

It is so romantic.

Something not many people say nowadays as well, much like the word "handsome" or "rufus".

I dont know what it is about the words we dont use anymore, and the letters we never write (because we have Facebook chat), and the romantic ideals that are rarely fulfilled.

I dont know what it is about the people who ignite the bases of jealousy, tingling our senses and lighting a tiny fire inside our chest that spurs us to do stupid or perhaps brave things.

To sum up, I might quote a character who dulls the senses,

"Truth and time, tells all."- Justin Bobby.

How cut would we be if he was some government operation designed to desensitize us even more?

Such a babe, but.

Friday, October 8, 2010

SLUTS RULE.


This is a post inspired by the blonde haired barista I like to fondly call Mitch Faulkner.
He is down in Bathurst RIGHT NOW making cappucinos for old bastards and sluts alike.
He told me about the promo girls that flock to that car race they hold every year.
Now I have no judgement toward promo girls. I used to be one for one shift at Terrigal pub back in 2008, before I threw in the towel.
Why you ask?
Because the shift I did get I had to dress in a Midori dress with matching headband and go around asking provocatively if anyone wanted a shot.
I did it with two other girls one redhead and the other blonde, and i wish i had recieved a dollar for everytime some old half shaved bastard slurred "OHHHH LOOK AT THIS, A TRIFECTA, WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS WAYNEO (OR MACCA)? A NE-O-PO-LEETANA ICE CREAM THATS WHAT SWEETHEART."
I left the premises swiftly and went home for a four hour shower with Simply Red blasting trying to get the past 3 hours out of my head and off my body.
I dont know why I did it. Money i guess, and maybe the fact that it seemed so appealing, the fact that I could shove my tits in some loser's face for a while and then stupidly walk home thinking I would be safe.
I was, but still.
Some may associate promo girls as sluts, but I do not.
Anyway....
SLUTS RULE!
Where would the world be without sluts with daddy issues?
There would be alot of tattooed, muscled up greasebags with blue balls thats for sure.
Who would populate Coaster or Bounce?
Who would drink fourteen cruisers before going out and whip off her undies in a frenzy because some lad just dared her to?
Who would create the wind tunnels that weirdly crop up on a sunny day?
Who would know just about every move in the karma sutra, but not have the dexterity to pull it off due to the bong she just pulled (and not through her mouth)?
I am such a bigger fan of the sluts rather than the prudes.
Talk to a slut,
see what you can find out about the more macho sex, and what they like in the sack.
Because god knows, I dont want to be the one who got called a taxi at 3am.
Or better yet, the one who didnt even get to the apartment/ mums house, but got wheeled out from behind Cold Rock in a trolley by one of her fellow slut counterparts, putting new meaning to the word "TROLLEYED".
The world would be such a dull place if there werent any sluts with the shrill voices and eyes that only seem to look up at you, as if she has your cock in her mouth before you have even unzipped.
Everyone deserves a slut.
You know how people have their word of the day, and they have to use it in conversation.
Well I endeavour to call a boy a slut, but seriously and see the reaction.
I bet he will be chuffed as.
BECAUSE SLUTS RULE!

Thursday, October 7, 2010

BLONDES AND BRUNETTES.



BLONDES.


ditzy.playful.fun.innocent.slutty.ethereal.coy.girly.dumb.exciting.submissive.WASPy.Stepford.
fake.attractive.light.uncomplicated.sexy.beautiful.cute.HOT.exotic.high maintenance.Marilyn.


There were some words I know I associate, or have heard others associate, with the hair colour that is blonde.
BRUNETTES.
mysterious.intelligent.serious.rigid.uptight.sensual.dependable.complicated.sexy.funny.witty.
dark.independent.exotic.Jackie Onassis.
I know I doubled up on some words there, I did that on purpose because I felt that some adjectives do apply to both pigments.
It is such an odd concept, hair colour, and the connotations that come with it.
I know that I could never go blonde.
Not because I have anything against blonde haired people (except for the blonde haired men, that is just creepy or surfy depending on where you are at in your life), majority of my good friends are blonde chicks.
I dont get the appeal of being blonde, maybe because I have never dipped a toe into the golden pool, but I know they have smeared their tresses with dark dye and it has never stuck for very long.
It interests me though, there must be something about being blonde. A certain attention, perhaps, that us raven haired lasses dont recieve?
Depending on where you are from, either hair colour could be a rarity.
For instance, in Italy I noticed the fake blonde was EVERYWHERE due to the rampant genetic pool over there producing brunettes.
Whereas, catching a dark haired girl on the Cennie might be a bit rarer.
I dont know, im just throwing it out there.
All i know is when I moved here from Parramatta in 1999 I had never seen so much sun dyed locks in all of my life.
You all looked like beautiful versions of Big Bird, flitting your yellow feathers, to my 11 year old amazement.
That was honestly the first thing I noticed about the Central Coast upon moving here.
And no im not saying its a bad thing, its just an observation.
I think as a child, you had your Cinderellas and your Barbie who were blonde role models, flying the banana head flag for the blondies out there, so upon viewing all these surf and sun kissed kids I was overwhelmed, having just come out of the most diverse cultural melting pot also known as Wentworthville.
Blondes ARE beautiful and smart and funny and the like. The ones I know, yeah.
But some are fucking idiots who play up to the aforementioned cliches. It is then when a hair colour becomes more than something that sits on your head, but then it penetrates your brain, eating away at it like a stringy zombieeeee!
Thats about all I know about being blonde. so, SHIT ALL.
This is what I know about being brunette:
1. It is rarely commented on.
2. Everyone is brunette underneath the blonde, so blondes often look at you like you are that retarded penguin from Happy Feet who didnt become a fully fledged penguin, but stayed with the fluff from when he was a baby penguin.
3. It is easier to be taken seriously as a brunette.
4. People dont usually laugh AT you.
5. It is a benefit being regarded as mysterious, rather than just OUT THERE.
6. Brunettes pull off eye make up better.
I dont want to sound biased. Im trying to tip toe around this topic because I think I might get beaten up by brunettes and blondes alike. And probably redheads most of all, because they arent getting a big enough mention. Literally that was it. Id just like to note two redheads: Marie Nunan (I think she is still red at the moment) and Amy Smith, because they rule.
Anyway, Boys probably wont understand this shit im talking about, and something funny I notice about dudes is that they refuse to admit to liking one hair colour over another (which is kind of sweet, showing that they do not purposely discriminate), but they blatantly go for the same shade every single time.
Nothing wrong with that you see, I cant talk.
Although an inordinate amount go for blondes.
I notice these things. I am weird like that.
Whether or not you are blonde or brunette or redhead (second mention!), at least you are not one of those fucking weird chicks who are stuck in 1994 with the green hair walking about Gosford train station at 10 in the morning with HUGE boots on and a belt chain.
Just thank fuck for that.
P.S. VOTE FOR ME TO BE AT THE ARIA'S DOING SWEET F.A.: