Saturday, December 24, 2011


Merry fucking Christmas.

I bet if you are a girl you have been called a psycho, or at the very least heard lads talking about how chicks are nuts.

Now I find it offensive calling all of female-kind "psychos" as we all aren't out to seduce you (poor things), ring your number 32872478583 times leaving 12763264623 messages asking what you are doing and what you want to do and to then key your car and become friends with your mother behind your back.

Sometimes girls are just out to get what they humanly want regardless of how hot you think you are and how your cock must shoot special stage 5 clinger dust that gets all up in there and turns the cool chick into a head case. Some of us were originally headcases but you failed to notice that when you were having a scintillating conversation with our titz.

Thats your fault buster, you missed out on the fact that we said we did have 28 cats with names all starting with the letter 'Q' or that we usually get horny on wednesday afternoons after X Factor because of the lesbian crush we had on Mel B when we were 11.

All that was on your mind was the sweet sweet puss, so dont turn around with your chest puffed out like a Taylor Square pigeon and a nosehole to rival Cosima Devito and tell your mates that she is SO FUCKEN KEEN AY.

I completely acknowledge the fact that some girls ruin it for the rest of us. The ones you see running around in a cocktail dress with no shoes on and a blonde wig screeching about why you dont love her. (TRUE STORY)

But to assume every single chick is out to get into your pants (HAHAHAHA) and then stalk your facebook page the way i stalk my netbank account hoping for some sort of miracle is completely absurd.

On the other hand, if you are keen on a girl (& maybe for only one night- no judgement about that, do what you want) it wont kill you to maybe take her out on a date first, not just rock up to the beery with your dick in your hand swinging it around in the attempt to win her affections. An ice cream costs $3 and will make her feel a bit special (fuck this is depressing that that is what we should hope for- for fucks sake)

I am sighing in exasperation at this situation.

EXAMPLE: My friend Bek met this guy at a work party and SHOCK HORROR he took her out on a date and then MESSAGED HER AFTER IT. I was like wow that is so nice! Then immediately I thought- wait, why is that SO NICE?
shits turned fucked if you ask me.

Here are the reasons why I think its gone pear shaped:

1. We put out too readily.

2. Boys think they are the shit.

3. We have become a better bargain than the Fleshlight.

4. Salt N Pepa are no longer making new albums.

However, I have no answer as to correct this conundrum. I suppose the saying is true:

I know some girls who wont message the boy first in the fear of that male thinking that she is psycho. What happened to the empowering of women going for what they want? Its oppression in the mildest form, but its still there.

So here are some tips from Salt N Pepa:

Just think, Santa would take anything he could get- poor bastard.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


I figured I should be fair to the people who read this thing and complete a chicks have some sweet shit about them too.

But the thing is, its kind of hard for me to put babein chicks into categories as I dont really spend that much time thinking about the types of girls out there for the boys.

So I thought I would break it down into three categories to do with physical features that are usually noticed by boys and somehow turn that into an interesting blog post (bear with me). So here we go:


I have asked a few lads around what their preference is when it comes to tits, ass or legs. This is what they had to say.
Tits are basically appreciated by all men and are a given. As a wise scholar once said over lunch (I'm paraphrasing)
"Tits are a given, you can't really get bad tits. Whenever a guy sees boobs all he thinks is "boobs". But to get a nice ass or legs, its rarer."
So if you can imagine that all men love boobs (I know its hard, so weird of them hey) then you are sweet, and 99% of the time if you are a woman you will have tits, so you are winning in that department when it comes to the more rugged sex.
Although Id like to point out when posed this question, very few men actually chose boobies as their preference. Does this mean we as women are getting our cans out too often? Are we overloading the boys with our fun bags? Has it become the drunk Facebook status of the body? I wouldnt be surprised if that was the case- I mean who wants to pursue the chase of the norks if they are in the dudes face the whole time?
But tits are pretty lovely I must say, damn the ratio if you get to see a set in their entirety then you should feel very lucky.


Fuck me where do I start. Isnt this the popular choice! I personally dont get the whole ass thing, but I understand that some men froth on your behind and look at it when you dont realise. I dont know how I feel about it, flattered or violated? Who am i kidding? Id be stoked.
I have also recieved a lot of responses regarding the fact that ass and legs are one and the same. As in, if you have a killer set of pins then you must have a sweet ass. I dont know about this one, but girls should appreciate the illusion that some heels can give off and fool the lot of you into thinking we have some mad butt cheeks.
I even had my friend Amy tell me her first preference for a girls bod is the ass, which is quite impressive if you ask me. I almost wish I asked more in depth about this ass phenomenon in which the majority of men go apeshit over the derrière as I need to understand why its so much better than the legs or the boobs? Maybe thats why that David Jones guy got in so much shit for grabbing the ass of his assistant or whoever she was (top journalism from me), because he didnt explain his appreciation for her bottom. Silly bastard.


Now if someone was asking me, I would say legs are the most attractive part of a woman. Especially when placed in the right shoe or under the right clothes. I believe in not showing off the chesticles so much as the pins, why you may ask? Because I believe they are the secret subtle weapon of women and should be used much like an AK 47. I had an appreciative soul speak up for the leg, or should I say the "upper inner thigh" which was very specific and helpful to my cause and kind of made me think of a roast chicken. Maybe this is the secret to the ass! You can ask for a leg of chicken and a breast, but no one ever asks "OI MUM, CAN YOU SAVE US THE ASS OF THE CHICKEN?"
Its the one thing that isnt on the menu! (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN)
solved. sweet.
But yeah the legs, they are sexy and smooth most of the time and should be appreciated a lot more than the ass if you ask my opinion (which you didnt).
Get your pins out girls, show them off and spritz that fake tan or whatever you use to make them absolutely finger lickin good.

I now would like to acknowledge that you boys would accept the puss over anything else.

I hope this post encourages you to check out some sweet ass or killer pins or epic tits and hopefully not end up with a drink in your face or a lawsuit.

PS: CHIX: Let them have a look for fucks sake, its not that bad and you know you love it.

Sunday, November 13, 2011



This is for ma ladieeessss.

Dont you just love men? (unless you are a lesbian, then don't you just love chix?)

They can be rude and obnoxious
They can come in your face or on your back
They may wank on you if you don't want to put out
They might call you a bitch or a slut
They could break your heart
or burp under their breath
or yell lewd insults or spit in the street.
They think with their dick and maybe that gets them into trouble, but by god where would we be without it....i mean them.

But sometimes they are just fucking lovely.
Their arms and lips.
Their eyes and hands.
Their gap teeth and their style
Their chest and back.
you know the drill.

I sat awake with three very different men last night discussing such things until 3am, and due to different levels of appreciation of the genders and I realised I spend a lot of my thinking time, thinking about boys.
Plus I would like to know one woman who doesn't either say or think "babe!" when they see one.

I have come to the decision that i am absolutely completely in love with men.
Not all men at the same time- I think you know what I mean. (INSERT BUKKAKE JOKE)
I know, this is probably a shock to anyone who has read any of my other posts, but I just wanted to delve into the deep chasm that is.....MAN.

So lets break it down (in a really generalised manner) and name some types:


your caleb followills or dave navarros (I am naming who I think are babes in the music industry)
Screeching husky voices belting out their hand written lyrics on a smoky stage making all the girls in the audience loosen their panties and breathe heavily (sometimes because they are basically behind a microphone)
"Oh babe look at him! he is just SAAA HOT! The things I would do to him with that drum stick babe, oh you have no idea. Look at the way he plays bass! his fingers moving in such rhythm and speed."
Pretty much, chicks equate playing instruments to sex, so if you can play an instrument then go for your life. But do not do it at a party while other music is playing, it makes you look like a hippie, and girls will laugh at you.


I dont have much nice to say about this crew, but I do appreciate the long locks most of them sport. So do HEAPS of other chicks, they froth on it. So you know- go grow that hair, shit- take a GHD to that bad boy and make waves and some girls will absolutely lose their tits for you.
Commit to it though, thats one piece of advice but do not get too into it, otherwise it is such a fucking turn off when you are asking your girl crush if velvet and paisley are actually a good mix while holding a longie and a rollie.


I love tattoos. I think when a girl sees a boy with etchings all over his body they get slightly moist for the skin underneath it all. PLUS- it is such a great conversation starter:
"oh hey tattooed boy, whats this one mean? OMGZ did it hurt? Are you okay? Oh babe ill peel the glad wrap off it later tonight. Oh, its a picture of a skull vomiting on George Bush? Babe you are so up with world politics, lets go home and ill read your whole body like its the new Candice Bushnell novel."
But for serious- tattoos are hot, and so are you.


Ok its a given that chicks get wettie for a boy in a wettie. He's in the waves whipping his hair back and forth, being one with the waves, throwing shakkas to his mates on the sand who you are also staring at (but trying to not make it look obvious).
He usually has a fine layer of water over him as he makes his way out of the water- I mean christ, there is a reason why they made the Baywatch opening credits in slow motion. Its sexy and I never thought I would ever say that about shralpers.


They are the first to offer you a drink (and not slip in something that dissolves)
They offer you their hand if you need to get out of a car, they also walk road side on the sidewalk to shield the woman from stray lunatics on bikes WHO JUST HAVE SOMEPLACE TO BE RIGHT NOW!
They wont overload the romance, but they do make the girl feel attractive and like the only girl in the room (which is a big deal to the more vicious and jealous sex)
They think before they speak, drink scotch and smoke cigarettes (yeah I just started watching Mad Men)
They are lovely, have a backbone and will kiss but never tell.


FUCK ME. Skaters are so fucking obliviously babein its ridiculous. They dont even know it! Or maybe they do.....anyway, something in my girl code of genetics makes me feel like all is right in the world whenever I see a skater. Sometimes I get closer in my car and they are like 15 and I feel dirty and like I should maybe change my route from Sydney to Terrigal Police Station.
So I am only talking about the 18+ skaters who shred the pavement and sometimes wear their shirt in the back pocket of their jeans. good god.


There is nothing better in your day than seeing a fucking Baberaham Lincoln out in the street, or if they are one of your regulars that you secretly (or maybe not so secretly- it depends) crush on and tell everyone about.
The ones who defy babeness and come into a realm of so much handsome and charm you then find yourself in a trance like in that Mighty Boosh episode in Season 2 when Naboo, Bollo, Vince and Howard get hypnotized by the love monster things and Vince has piggytails in it and they are all wearing white kaftans.
Let me give you some examples:
1. Pretty much 80% of Splendour In The Grass' occupants.
2. 2.5% of the Central Coast (but when you find one, the taste is sweeter)
3. Anyone with an instrument in front of them (see above)
You know you are a babe when 3/4 of her friends rate you highly as well. But please dont ever find out that we think you are a babe because then you know it and the ego is uncontrollable.


 You guys, you are shit hot. When I wandered into the mecca of men that is known as the Gold Coast (& I am not referring to the Oakley sporting dudes that you see during the day) I signed myself up to full exploration of the place in 2010 and since then have rated up north highly to any and every girl as they will not be disappointed by the amount of babes just hanging about the place. I saw a man there once that literally took my breath away.

I think men are quite simple to figure out, but then again I have no idea what you fuckers think.
All I know for a fact is:


Monday, November 7, 2011








* Cotton On Body
* Cue
*Peep Toe

25% of the proceeds go to breast cancer research.

Celebrities (whatever that means) support this cause, but what really matters is that YOU have the opportunity to flip that cancer dickwad the finger.



Tuesday, November 1, 2011


1. It doesnt take much to be friendly, to say hi and ask someone how they are. It takes heaps of effort to be sarcastic and rude, which makes you look like you care more. So it is a joke you are actually playing on yourself you witty bastard.

2. No one "bashes" anyone anymore, thank fuck. This isnt a school disco or Erina friday night. We are in our 20's. We are in...our....20s.

3. If you work for assholes, you will eventually become one- ABORT ABORT ABORT!

4. Dont call the fat chick "fat" because her best friend is probably the one with the mad tits and sweet puss, and then you will never get it, EVER.

5. Wearing a trucker hat should be banned. On men and women.

6. Listing all the brands you are wearing does not make you look like you know your shit, what it does make you look like is that you have spent way too much money on Vogue and Russh, spent way too much time sucking Alex Perry's dick (and we all know how much time and strain that would take), and give way too much of a shit about what people think of you- which ironically makes people think you are a wanker.

7. Watching boys pump iron in the gym makes me ill.

8. Watch your mouth more, it takes nothing to say nothing- but yelling at people or calling them names is tiresome and makes you look crazy. You then become the equivalent to those nut bags in Crown Street screaming insults at no one. You dont want that, do you? You just want a hug.

9. Tell someone that they look beautiful. Dont tell their friend, or their mailman, or the guy at the Caltex. Tell them. No one else wants to hear it, trust me I hear that shit all the time about my beautiful friends- especially being a girl (we compare ourselves to one another constantly and to our own inevitable detriment) we will just think about how we are not as good/pretty/hot/banging body/lovely/nice/special as the other chick you are talking about. It doesnt mean that we want you, or we want you to think that about us- it just means that we dont want to have another minute in the day consumed by the fact that we think we aren't as good as another.

10. Speaking of that, tell someone something nice about themselves today. It will make their day and make yours too from their reaction! No one is told enough about how lovely they are, but rather the opposite which is a crying shame, because most people are just wonderful and they make you feel happy when they are around- but by fuck they should know it! It wont make you look like a dick, and if they take it the wrong way (which will probably happen if you say it to 99% of men- NO WE DONT WANT YOU IN THAT WAY SETTLE DOWN!) then just keep moving on and dont lose momentum, just because they dont know how to take it isnt your problem.

11. 11/11/11- I dont give a shit.

12. Make a girl a Mix tape- it takes a lot more effort than writing: "hey gurl, wat chu up 2 dis avo? letz get a drink, U payen?" off your Nokia.

13. BOYS: Please try and use the word "cunt" in a lesser fashion around girls, DO NOT talk about shit in front of us girls or get all your mates a round and not ask if we want a drink. Its disgusting.

14. Initiative is the most underrated quality any could have. It makes girls happy in the sack and in the public, plus it makes us think you aren't a lazy so and so.

15. Movember makes all the indie boys wanna kill themselves. & all the indie girls wet themselves.

16. Sometimes when I see boys talk shit about girls I think that they secretly want to fuck them, but will never get a chance.

17. They need to stop playing Ben Harper in cafe's. Its doing my head in.

18. Models are equivalent in relevance to the world as a whole and the way they help society to the piece of paper they are printed on. Im sick of em. & no its not because I am a donkey and I wish I could be one- it is because it is yet another career path that pays ridiculous money for sweet fuck all! Yet the fucking teacher, educating your shitty offspring about their ABCs and 123 gets paid nada for doing a bajillion times the work etc etc you know the drill.

19. BASEketball is one of the best movies ever.

20. Yes I am reading Snooki's book Crown Street, dont give me those looks when you spot the neon pink cover. How uncouth walking down the street, how can she show her face! oh ho ho ho! snooki! who does she think she is?

21. I finally had a dumpling.

22. Irony is becoming ironic. what the fuck...

23. You dont need to be a fuckwit to get across to a girl that you are not interested in her. Be polite and explain to her your circumstance, she will still spread around that you are a dick but probably wont throw a drink on you.

24. I cant believe that just now everyone has realised that Qantas is fucked.

25. Dont worry about things until they have happened, only then you are fucked.

Monday, October 10, 2011


I just want to take you back to simpler time.
A time when you didnt put your make up on til midnight.
A time when you could walk into a smoke filled red room and not be judged.
A time called STARFUCKERS.

Now back in the day (2008-2009) my friends and I used to congregate every Saturday (and for a period in time- Friday) at a little underground hole in the wall called Club 77.

We would light up cigarettes and sniff amyl on the dancefloor until the sun came up over the Westfields sign.
We thought we made friends there, and I legitimately did make friends there who I still talk to now, but most were vapid soulless creatures of the night.
Not to say I wasnt one of them, I was and I miss the empty space I had become.

We used to wait all week for Saturdays.
That was the night of the ravers, when the glitter pasties and gold eyelids would come out to play.
We flocked like vampires standing outside 78 debating with the security guards that we WERE waiting for our friends.
We all had dark smoked out eyeliner circling our inflamed and bursting pupils that would eventually run from the vigorous dancing that was forced from our bodies.

We spoke in another language and yet everyone understood what we were saying in the heavily graffitied walls of the back room.
Where we would stare at each other in acceptance of the fact that we were "just heaps surprised to be alive".

I had some of the most amazing nights of my life on William Street, with the rich beats from the likes of Mr. Disorder, Hookie, Trentertainment, Stu York, Andy & Yams. This is how far I am reaching back now.

I used to create my own theme in my head, one night it was A Clockwork Orange, the next would be provided by the creators of Starfuckers night like Navy Rave, Grave Rave or my personal favourite (and the one to fall on my 20th birthday in which I saw God) Terrorism Rave.

We kept our Thick As Thieves cd's close to our chest.
And for some reason believed that in some way, that club was a little bit ours as well.

It was the go to.
It was the one thing we all can reflect back on and bask in the pure decadence and overwhelming revelry that we were consumed by.
We were birthed as we walked out into the cold night air past Wayne the security guard, and that was how we felt as we stepped outside.
New, and unsure of what the outside world was going to hold for us.

I may be romanticising a time in quite a few people's lives because it is over for some of us.
But I will never say that I never loved that place. I am still in love with that place.
When everyone else had let me down, it was always there.
Holding my jacket behind the bar,
giving me advice in the porn laden toilets,
spotting me a light in the burgundy back room,
making me laugh at the graffiti,
supplying me with exercise and nutrition from the bar to the dancefloor.
I made a friend who was a mermaid (Beth)
I contemplated getting their telltale upside down triangle tattooed somewhere on my person.
I kicked on with the best of them.
I screamed and kicked when the lights came on.
I rediscovered Miley Cyrus in a way I had never thought I could before.
I pushed the boundaries of who I thought I was and how I thought I dressed, because I felt like I could be anyone or anything there.
I saw bands that are now famous there.

& I know this might not be the right thing to say,
or some of you may not agree with me,
or might think I am an absolute weirdo for even posting this,

But I think acknowledging a time in our lives where things happened and people changed, and people became friends is paramount.
Because I know I am not the only one who says, when a certain song comes on the car stereo,


Wednesday, October 5, 2011



DOPE: Creep- TLC        NOT: Somebody That I Used To Know- Gotye feat. Kimbra


DOPE: Aldi                   NOT: Coles


DOPE: What festival you can not afford to attend.    NOT: The weather


DOPE: Halloween             NOT: Mexico


DOPE: Teaching              NOT: Communications


DOPE: Darlinghurst (or Razorhurst)             NOT: Bondi


DOPE: Being yelled at by a junkie       NOT: Being yelled at by a taxi driver


DOPE: Sirens                               NOT: The Beery


DOPE: Yell at people.                     NOT: Beat up on people


DOPE: Whispy and long, think the late 70s.      NOT: Shaved with long fringe


DOPE: MDMA                           NOT: Pingaz


DOPE: Rekorderlig             NOT: Longnecks


DOPE: Saturday picnic             NOT: Sunday session


DOPE: Pretend you dont have a boyfriend/girlfriend     NOT: Pretending you have a holiday house in Avoca.


DOPE: Passive aggression                     NOT: Assertion


DOPE: Break up with your partner           NOT: Shack up with a partner


DOPE: West Coast                            NOT: East Coast


DOPE: Shaggy                                NOT: Sean Paul


DOPE: Beyonce                           NOT: Octomom.


DOPE: Wamberal                        NOT: Avoca


DOPE: Sunny throughout the week, raining on the weekend.   NOT: Blue skies always.


DOPE: QLD                                 NOT: ACT


DOPE: John Travolta                    NOT: Kate Cebrano


DOPE:  90s                                NOT: 70s


DOPE: Quinoa                                 NOT: Pasta


DOPE: Acclaim                            NOT: Cosmopolitan


DOPE: No tie dye shirts, ripped jeans or fun.        NOT: Good shoes


DOPE: Take everything literally and get personally offended     NOT:  Relax and take it 

with just a hint of sarcasm.

Friday, September 30, 2011


I just need to tell you something.
I am a man.

I have a dick and a scrotum and an adams apple and hairy toe knuckles.
I fuck girls
I yell at girls about how they look
I eat steak and kick footys
I will fucken bash ya if ya get in me face.

Does this clear it all up?
Can you now stop coming up to me as a stranger and asking me what gender I really am?
Because I AM A MAN.

I was born a woman called Jessica and then I got my hair cut, and with that snip snip of the scissors, I became a man.
It happened overnight just like Frankenstein.
I am the undead, I woke up with a hairy back and a defined jaw line.

Can you now keep your mix of dorito and scotch breath out of my fucking face now?
Asking me if in fact I am a man?
Because I am.
A fucking man, and I will fuck you up the ass with my giant cock if you look at me sideways.

When you pull over on the side of the road to ask me this question, I will just flop the old thing out so you can see for yourself.

When you sit there in your testosterone fueled groups and laugh, I will show you one teste and tell you to put it on your forehead.

When you tell me to show you my dick,
When you call me a cross dresser,
When you call me a transvestite,

Ill make sure to cum all over your ignorant, narrow minded, aged before its time, stereroid induced face.

Is that what you want? Do you like a girl who looks like a male? Do you have mother problems? Do you have a dick so tiny that its 3/4 foreskin?

Dont take it our on your bro's man. Because I am a bro, not a ho. thats the saying isnt it? HAHA FUCKEN GENIUS BRO.

I just dont have enough armour to protect myself anymore from all these people mistaking me for a woman.
I am a man,

so now you all know
and you can get fucked.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


1. Hassling people via the internet or anything that requires you to physically "like" something is a pussy move. End of. I dont care how many time I have to repeat myself, you look like a massive spanner. Especially when you use sarcasm and expect others to understand what the fuck you are talking about, it is hard to look at a bunch of words on a screen and differentiate between you with your dick in your cheek or if you are sitting there with reading glasses and a stern look on your face.

2. Whatever happened to P.O.D? I would like to think they have shaved all their dreads off and are sitting at home being a house husband with a guitar set up in their garage. Wrinkles slowly forming on their faces while juggling a few kids, married to an indie chick with blue streaks in her hair and constantly replaying their music videos on VHS.

3. Sometimes you got to take a step back and think, why do i admire them? Is it because everyone else does? Is it because they can afford things I can not? Or is it because I am told to? Sometimes if you take a step back, you will realise you are actually pining to be an ocker gold digger who spends more times on stage at Westfields than actually doing anything worth admiration.

4. Bindi Irwin is not a virgin.

5. The funniest thing you can do on a hot summer afternoon is swing at a donkey pinata with a blindfold on.

6. The most attractive person in the world can lose all their appeal once they become aggressive or get into a public brawl.

7. I miss my boy friends.

8. The best conversations I have ever had in my life have been while watching the sun come up on a balcony.

9. No one should ever be made to feel self conscious about who they are.

10. No matter how old you get, as a girl, you will ALWAYS feel intimidated walking into a space where the majority are males. From the tiniest wince to the wave of adrenaline- you will feel it.

11. I dont like the chauvinistic Facebook groups. (shocker...) But I am thankful for them, and I think girlkind should be as well. Why you may ask- well because you can go on them and look at all the people who like them, and make a mental note about who has a teeny tiny penis. Then you can cross them off you potential list of male suitors as they are not worth bothering with. And usually boys who join those groups would probably choke you mid act anyway. BUT ITS JUST A JOKE, SHIT SETTLE DOWN - you may say.
If you are basing your sense of humour through a social network- you need to get some pussy, just better hope they have not seen this blog.

12. If you are a girl and past the age of about 17, you are not allowed to act dumb anymore. Quit pretending you have nothing to say with your mouth, but prefer to speak with your eyes. Its so weird. Telling people you only like to eat cucumbers, bananas or lifesaver iceblocks will not get the party started.

13. If you do happen to deface an ex's property, do not call them on a private number confessing to it, or admit it to a close friend of theirs. Rookie mistake, and it makes you look like Nick Nolte or Amy Fisher.

14. Dont ever deface an ex's property, its all about being the bigger person.

15. Do not send naughty texts or picture texts to boys or girls you dont know that well. Or even if you do know them pretty well. A girl will always show her friends. ALWAYS. A boy I dont know, maybe someone could help me out with that- but i would assume it would be much the same. DONT DO IT- unless you want your butthole all over instagram (in Hefe filter though....)

16. If you happen to slur, "gimme a kisssshh", you can get fucked.

17. We are at the age where if you leave scissors lying around the place, you dont so much look like you are into arts and crafts as you look like a stoner.

18. Girls can tell when you are talking with your Johnson, rather than with your mouth.

19. Is it just me or is everyone else slightly annoyed by technology? Just a little?

20. The Beery re-opens tomorrow. Do you understand what this means? MANY MANY MANY more hilarious Central Coast themed stories for you. It is going to be like the opening ceremony of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games down there on Saturday night. Fucking Nikki Webster will probably be there in a hawaiian body con and a voddie pine in the other hand, Ross from sirens dick in the other. God help us all. But I must admit, I am kind of relieved.

Sunday, September 11, 2011



* Not being able to pee in public without looking like you are participating in some dirty Oz Aerobics class.

* Getting hooted and hollered at.

* The request: "Show us ya tits".

* Being the "other woman"

* Knowing when you are being used for an ego boost. (If you have walked away from this, kudos- you are a strong woman.)

* If you have short hair you can be misconstrued for being a Lesbian.

* If you then defend yourself, you may also be misconstrued as a Lesbian or even worse, a feminist (god forbid).

* Always being the majority when it comes to the prey of serial killers or rapists.

* Having to rely somewhat on males for protection from other males.

* Knowing your chances of being taken while standing on the side of the road at 3am are dramatic.

* Its so much easier to be seen as a "try hard" as some men find that common ground between a male and a female equals her trying to fit into his ideal. Sorry lads, not everything I do, not every fucking food item on my supermarket list, not the way I pour petrol into my car, not the accidental eye contact across a bar, nor the short skirt I am wearing mean I want you or want your sweaty scrotum anywhere near my chin.

* If you have a general anger at some types of humans that just seem to have a penis, you are then ironically stereotyped as a "man hater" for stereotyping all of mankind. interesting.

* For some reason, and it still goes on with vicious ferocity- women hating other women or speaking badly of one another, due to the constant and furious undercurrent that we are brought up with. We must compare ourselves to one another (or Barbie when you are old enough to understand she is an ideal) and compete against one another like we are in some Tits and Punani Olympics, and let me tell you that we aren't! Just because some men dump you like their morning bowel movement sometimes doesn't mean that the next girl they go for is any better or lesser than you. (and he will get to show them his "super awesome" sex moves that usually finish with an Oscar nominated performance to rival Geoffrey Rush in Shine from the chick, and the guy sitting there staring at his ceiling mirror thinking to himself, "Did it again, Champ- I mean I'd fuck me if i was a chick.")

* The notion that we all know how to cook and clean when we come out of the womb. And if we don't, well we should be ashamed (but also have a high powered career).

* The word "fat" and what it can do to someones insides, let alone their outsides. Watch your mouths when it comes to that, our society upgrades our Happy Meals but then tells us we should be watching our weight like a hawk. Eating Disorders are not anything to aspire to. They are a disease of the mind in which the person involved cannot be blamed for.

* When boys laugh at a girl who trips when she is in heels (happened to me last night). I am sorry but if all other types of industry collapsed and all that was left was the Circus, I am pretty sure I would have a lifelong career as a stilt walker, and you would be the gigolo for the bearded lady.

* Judgement. For everything. From everyone- just for being yourself. (This goes for both sexes)

* STILL being spoken down to.

* Having to bring a man to a mechanic.

* Those sick bastards on who get their cock out or ask you to show them your cans. Sorry mate, Cybersex is so 1997. There is just something beyond creepy about a guy with socks, glasses and a shirt on but no pants with his tiny dick out in front of his PC. Why a PC? Because Justin Long would never get his dick out and he is the MAC guy.

* Deadshit chicks, who are blatantly deadshit because they don't want to look like they have a "mouth" on them- except when it counts, if you know what I mean.

* Some cunt on Geordie Shore kept calling this chick a "banker" which meant he could access the "bank" whenever he wanted and the "bank" would be there for him to fuck. Don't treat women like objects, it makes you look like you have Mummy issues.

* Waxing.

* Bikinis.

* Womens sports being seen as less than male sports.

* Having to touch up make up on a night out.

* Having to lend other women my make up when touching up on a night out.

* Hearing the complaints of other women about their weight, hair, boyfriend, style, life, job, beliefs, skin, face and pretty much everything else as for some reason (which I would really like to understand) some of us just can't seem to grasp a sense of belief in ourselves, or be satisfied with what we have. Nothing ever seems to be good enough.

* Knowing I will be judged as a complete whinger for this blog post.


Sunday, August 28, 2011


for fucks sake.
Am i as tired of this generation tag as the rest of you?
and its me!
I am GEN Y and i fucking hate it!

I have decoded some of the many myths I know of about an entire generation and would like to share them with you.

- Must be thin, fashion forward, take care of themselves but not wear too much make up (so as not to look like a drag queen (?) or to be misconstrued as "hiding something"), be a slut in the bedroom and a powerhouse in the office. Must speak up for what they believe in, but not too loudly.
- Gen Y women engage in binge drinking nights out but will be reprimanded for their numerous FaceBook photos documenting such events.
- They can dress in whatever way they want- but must expect to be jeered at and ridiculed by other women and men.
- Women are still deemed sluts if they sleep around "too much".
- Women must have a thick skin about every issue, otherwise they will be seen as vulnerable, emotional, overreacting, psycho, opinionated and/or annoying.
- Women are still objects, e.g: "GRENADE" (side note: that term pisses me off no end, they are the fucking grenades for thinking that way! fucking jersey shore twats.)
- Women are in direct competition with other women.
- They must not be fat nor tell people they are fat as "confidence" is apparently what is the most attractive quality (not to the hoodlums yelling shit out of a car at 4am), although if they are fat then they should be ashamed of themselves for letting themselves get that out of hand and reprimand themselves with bingeing and purging, Kardashian endorsed Quiktrim or every other eating disorder designed for some fit ass abs and toned arms.
- Women must accept that the fashion magazines promote such "fitness" as healthy and "encourage" women to "take control of their lives" while exhibiting a giraffe in Josh Goot on the following page.
- The weight/look of every woman should be monitored like the kilometre intake on some yokel's ute and judged as bigger or smaller to anyone who will listen.
- A woman should always know that a "poke" is annoying, but a "like" means something special. (get farked)
- If a woman is yelled at about how she looks or acts, or accosted/harrassed in the street about such matters she must keep walking with her head down as not to rile up the grease monkey hurling insults at her. (side note: reason for such fucking shithouse tools doing this: their mummy never loved them and they have a tiny tiny tiny penis. THAT, or their ex girlfriend looked like you and she fucked his dad instead.)

* MEN:
- Must own some sort of photography device.
- Still get shit for wearing tight jeans (really? has anyone googled 1987 and seen the shit jimmy barnes was wearing? I wouldnt be calling him a sister jean wearing fag if i were you or you'd cop a bottle of JD to your manicured beard ala Craig David quick smart!)
- Cop the same shit girls get for wearing/doing what they want.
- Feel the need to pick on smaller people to exhibit status. Speaking of status, this is usually done online so others can read about how shit people are without a direct confrontation ever happening.
- Gen Y could be deemed the generation of the keyboard hard cunt.
- Men must out do each other while drinking, whether it be the person to get the shovel in a fight or the person to drink the most and end up with their fist up their own ass.
- Men are confused as to whether or not they should act chivalrous towards women or treat them like shit, as us women have become masochists looking for a good old whipping in our own martyrdom. What this has done is created a generation of assholes thinking that by being a grade A dickhead will in fact score them the girl. As us girls have adopted the " nice guys finish last" scheme in our own heads. We did this ladies, admit it to yourself.
- Men are fashion forward to the point that they are overtaking the girls.
- Men tiptoe around being sexist toward women, when we as women have become sexist toward them (e.g. those stupid tampon ads with the dickhead boyfriend using Libra wings as a superhero costume. They aren't that dumb and we are beginning to look bitter.)


- We are expected not to smoke as we know all the facts now. (pfft)
- We are under stronger laws and less outright corruption which makes it harder to do fun stuff (haha)
- We are expected to have careers but are reprimanded by our older counterparts for taking our sweet bloody time moving out of home and becoming financially independent. Its not like the old days when making slander filled comments on Current Affairs news programs could earn you a crust.....oh wait, nothings changed.
- University is still not noticed as doing something. I hope the older generations realise that if we keep getting shit for "living the student lifestyle" (which I have to add isnt that great. You think living off 20 bucks a week and eating mi goreng and drinking out of shared buckets filled with goon is fun then I have news for you- its actually pretty fun) and not putting our part into society makes them somelike GEN Y itself. In what way you may ask?
They are never satisfied and always looking for a quick fix. AHA! GOTCHA YOU OLD FUCKIN BASTARDS!
- with no young folk going to uni to study medicine and shit itll become like the fucking 18th century again with colic and black plague wiping all you mouthy judgemental middle agers out faster than you can say "young talent time".
- Social media and networking is destroying lives. Trust me I would know.
- We thrive on "what ifs" and theories rather than facts. No. 2012 will not be the end of the world. No, Illuminati does not exist, if it did, you would not know about it.

- We think we know everything (see above).


Sunday, August 21, 2011


Have you ever been to a gig where you just cant seem to sing the words because you become so enthralled in what is going on before your eyes?

That when it comes time to applaud, your hands feel like dead weights on the arms of the chair you are sitting in as if you have been paralyzed by a syringe that has injected you from the neck down with lights and sound?

I have, it happened last night at The Opera House during Gotye's animation show.

I saw Gotye at Splendour in the Grass and I have to admit I did not give them the time of day that they deserve as my head was in another world. The gratitude that I feel that I got to experience this genius in another setting at another time is overwhelming.

The animation that accompanied the delicate songs unfolded like origami in front of my eyes made every sense lose control in a foggy whirlwind that encapsulated my entire body.

They opened the show with 'Eyes wide open' and as he smashed the drums that stood to his right it reverberated throughout the entire concert hall and set the tone for the rest of the show. A tone that could only be described as a yearning for something higher, and an optimistic view about how change is possible when it is embraced. I dont mean politically or anything like that, but more that change within ourselves is possible if we want it to be.

The animation that accompanied 'State of the Art' filled the room with cartoon horror as an electric piano came to life and terrorised the family onscreen as well as everyone in the audience.

However, the most haunting part of the display was in 'Don't worry, we are watching you.' in which the animation depicted somewhat of a cult bowing to a higher power that was evil.

'Bronte' carried the most poignant and endearing animation, with a young girl who made friends with a bunch of beasts but as her life changed she lost the friendship physically with the beasts. However, the message remained the same- that no matter how far you go, we will be with you.

The most well known 'Somebody that I used to know' began with some taps on a glockenspiel and ended with a surprise appearance from Kimbra in a little green velvet dress, who casually entered and exited to roaring from the crowd.

Then we came to 'Heart's a mess'. Before the words came out of his mouth I was fighting back tears as the Opera House concert hall turned into a rainy day with cascading gold light dripping down the walls from the roof. His voice somehow does not only reach your ears, but it also touches somewhere within yourself that you have not even discovered yet.

As Wally DeBacker sings out the "tunes" (as he referred to them many times) you can feel exactly what he is thinking. There is no censoring the raw emotion that it seems as though he has no control over. 'Smoke and Mirrors' was the best example of this. You could feel the disdain in the air mixed with the robust percussion and guitar pulsating around us.

He had an impressive rapport with the audience, and it was truly felt when as the final chord was played, the entire concert hall rose to their feet in a standing ovation as the band gathered together for one final bow.

I stand corrected.

Friday, August 5, 2011


It all began on a WEDNESDAY morning, when a motley crew gathered at Green Rooms at 6am for some coffee and banana bread brewed with some premature shrieks of excitement and nerves.
Ellen Giebels, Elisha Clothier, Madeline Anderson, Jessica Moss, David Bellato, Matt Dempsey and I were the elements that made up this crew.
Dempsey had a Metallica wicked van which not only spurred on the excited cheers and "rock" hand signals, but became the basis for the many stops on the way up.

One such stop was in Taree, where we received a call from the other convoy comprising of Ellen, Elisha and Dave.
"We've blown a tire"
came the dissatisfied voice on the other end of the line.
Everyone on our end began erupting in fits of molten laughter which would not have made the situation any more bearable. 
Apparently, according to reports Bellato narrowly missed having his ass shaved off by a semi trailer on the side of the Taree freeway whilst changing said tire. Fun fact.

The 13 hour drive was tedious, mixed with insults, jeering, laughter, coca cola, salmon, one mental breakdown somewhere near Ballina and doing the speed limit near the cameras.
However, once we had finally arrived in Woodford, the other players in the game joined us,
Tom Russell, Kyle Wainman, Sam Paterson, Lauren Bacigalupo, Bruv Bacigalupo, Bridie Sullivan and some dude called Dane or Smiffy who fucked four chicks in three days to everyones amusement/amazement.

We all wooped and people spilt beers in plastic cups on each others cars in front of a neon BP sign, but then we realised that we werent even close to the campsite and we should probably simmer down and do what we had come here to do.

Now, putting up tents in the dark is usually quite a difficult task, but when you have David Bellato putting up a tent in the dark, it is a story for the ages.

First we had Bellato and Jess Moss setting up the tent leisurely, followed by at least 4 other people who were scrambling about to find an "L" shaped thing that went into this thing, but not into that thing. This was coupled by "FUCK CUNT!" from Bellato every 24-30 seconds.

Fast forward to THURSDAY.
Today is Bellato's birthday and all he got was a green party hat from the people camping next door to us. But he also was gifted a boozy day with the girls while the men went out hunting in town (for a pair of shitty green trackies for me and a few more flasks of vodka). 
We ate at a burger place that asked for your name to be called out (much like Boost Juice, for everyone who stayed at home) and Ellen and Elisha's names turned out to be:
Lesquisha and Bo Qui Qui. The woman yelling out the names was not impressed.
Should the fact that I dont really remember what went on on thursday be a good thing?

First day of Splendour in the grass.
We all woke up fresh as a daisy (well some of us, Ellen and Elisha had to sleep next to a 'sleep-laughing' Bellato) and began our day, which mainly comprised of having a luke warm shower (or in the boys case a 'man bonding' communal shower- some even under the same faucet- you be the judge) and pouring our first drink of the day.
By this time, everyone is getting pretty drunk in the hot Woodford sun (which lasts for about an hour and a half) so we decide to take our illicits and walk into the festival.
We wander through the orange paths kicking rocks and flailing dust into the air to the Ampitheatre to catch the end of Jebediah and to see the whole set of The Kills.

The air is buzzing with news that Kate Moss is in fact in the audience, and a brief capture by a keen cameraman confirms this fact. However, to me, I didnt realise that was in fact Kate Moss herself. To me I thought it looked like she was wearing Video Ezy competition winner sunnies, but I dare not say that in front of Bridie.

The Kills (pardon the pun) killed it.
Bluesy and guitar charged rock and roll mixed with the thrashing black locks and the cigarette smoking Jamie Hince made for a great welcome to the festival.

After this, we all seperated in different areas, some saw James Blake, others tried for Glasvegas. However, we all ended up back at the camp site drinking again.
This little visit back to the campsite was filled with neighbourly love, a blow up free willy whale used as a seat for four people, rap battles and tiny little dance circles.
At the campsite we realised there was a definite divide between Modest Mice and Does it Offend You, Yeahs?
So we went out seperate ways and I saw Does It Offend You Yeah? with Bellato and Ellen. This is where the week long neck injury is made.
We thrashed around like meth addict washing machines, only taking a breath when an acoustic version of Dawn of the Dead was displayed in the Mix Up Tent.
Gotye was next on the list, I had never taken an interest in Gotye and it probably wasnt the best place to be after such a work out, but we enjoyed the melodic tunes and chilled out vibe of the GW Mclellan tent until it came time for Kanye West.

On the way to Kanye West/The Hives, Bellato was feeling a little chilly in his upper head region and decided that the best way to alleviate this chill was to buy an animal themed knitted beanie. He chose a dog.

We began the trek up to the ampitheatre, but there was one problem, we had lost EVERYONE.
We made it into the vicinity with no breath and our eyes bulging out of our heads. Genuinely freaked out at the masses of people, we began the search for the family and finally after being yelled at by Pele of the Hives to sit the fuck down, we found them, just in time for Yeezy.

Picture this,
He did his show in Acts (Act 1, 2,3), he rose from the ground encased in a cloud of smoke that was billowing as he sang 'Dark Fantasy'.
I would like to go on and list all the songs he sang and all that In the shit but I wont.
I would like to describe it as a complete mind fuck in which I got to see into the dark and twisted mind of a genius.
A murder of light tan coloured girl crows danced around the stage as if the music was part of their nature. He didnt have much stage banter but I dont think he had to. He was there for one reason, and I was kind of glad to escape some kind of preach.
There were fireworks and heavy beats and girls and ballerinas and auto tune and pedestals and decks and absolute musical decadence.
Sam, I think actually lost his mind while this display was going on. For probably a 5 degree celcius night, he was in a singlet, sweat pouring from his brow and his voice desperately reaching the furthest possible point it could reach. He was spitting every word as if he had written them himself- a real fan is he.
Could you believe its all over?

No, because its not.
I have to mention before I retire to bed for this Friday night, that for some reason at every Splendour we get put near people who chant.
Last year it was "Dizzy bat". 
This year, it was,
and so on and so forth.
It was hilarious to listen to but even more hilarious when we saw what happened on

SATURDAY morning.
After these heaps sick mad dog piss heads were at that fucking shithouse drinking game all night (coupled with some kooks who keep professing all theyre gonna do is eat their face who keeps playing with a literal glockenspiel) one of the blokes rushes out of their tent in forest green undies and proceeds to boot the fuck out of himself for a good 5-10 minutes.
We all break down in hysterics, and so do other campers, to be received by him with "STOP FUCKING LAUGHING AT ME CUNT, ILL FUCKING SMASH YA!"
Nothing better than a man in forest green undies with his dinner and multiple sambucca shots all over his hairy chest screaming threats to complete a Saturday morning.

You know how it goes: shower, goon, juice, vodka, rap battlez, admiration at Kanye, how fucking cold was it last night etc etc etc.

We fuck around for yonks this morning and do nothing but recover and laugh and somehow manage to catch Foster the People at 3ish.
They were GREAT! all the kids with the pumped up kicks were there taking in a fun set which was made even better by Kele which followed it. My first experience with Kele was at Parklife last year. And after seeing him again in the setting that is Splendour in the Grass, I realised that my Fuzzy event ban is in fact the right move. He was amazing, it is a shame that he is gay (for us girls) because he is a beautiful man and all us girls were picturing what our babies would look like with him.

I bailed with Bellato to the 'Noff tent which was a two storey club they had built especially for the festival. We bailed there to catch the end of Randy Stagg's set. It featured 'King of the Rodeo' by Kings of Leon which pulled the heart strings for me, as it was probably the one band I was missing dearly at that festival. While in the Noff bar we tasted 'Peaches in the grass' which ensued some sort of drunken stupor for the next 2 hours.

We decided to meet at the giant UFO for Architecture in Helsinki.
Architecture were actually fucking amazing. Contact High became the mini anthem for the way home. We found Madeline and Bridie who were sidding and bloody loving it.
Somehow we all came together for .....thelivingend...... in which Kyle Wainman actually lost his shit for 'Prisoner of Society'.

I was so so so so so fucking keen to see Jane's Addiction and so was Elisha. So we were completely enthralled in Dave Navarro's nipple ring and the asian back up dancers mixed with breathy echoy tones of Perry Farrell's voice and his tight purple pants. 
However, seeing as Jane's addiction is not everyones cup of tea, some of the crew went to see PNAU to shit reviews after the shows had finished.

Back at the camp site, Bridie was absolutely choodled and sat down on a not that sturdy camp chair. She began speaking and while doing so the chair lost its legs and she fell on her ass to the side but still remaining in the sitting position. We all had a chuckle (if you want to call it that) and carried on chatting.
Next thing you know, Bellato comes out in that aforementioned dog hat and a doona and proceeds to sit on the death chair. The exact same thing happens to him that did Bridie and an eruption of laughter ensues lasting for what seems like hours.

Everyone is feeling pretty dusty.
Festival back has set in and everyone seems to be craving a bacon and egg sandwich.
However, Ellen and Sam find it in themselves to proceed into the festival at midday to catch Grouplove to rave reviews.
We all finally get off our ass and catch YELLE! 
who has to be the cutest fucking person I have ever seen. She is wearing a bright red jumpsuit and leaping about on stage to the upbeat bubblegum techno tunes such as 'A Cause des Garcons'.
We feel energised after this and head up to the ampitheatre to catch the end of the Vaccines and Cloud Control.
The Vaccines were forgettable, but Cloud Control was not.
Just earlier at the camp site I had sung a little tune from the Lion King. I dont know why, it just came to me and felt right.
Turns out one of the dudes in Cloud Control had a kid, and they proceeded to play that "Aaaaa sven yaa summa bee summa baa" song from the Lion King which got the crowd so riled up, a massive convoy of flailing bodies ran up and down the ampitheatre over and over again to the rest of their set. It felt dusty and crazy and it made me feel alive to just be witnessing it, let alone joining it which is what Bruv, Sam, Dane and Tom did!

The final regroup back at the campsite was nigh, and everyone was so excited to finish the night out with a bang.
And that is exactly what Friendly Fires delivered for me.
They were energetic and pulled me into a whirlpool of their new album, PALA, in which I actually do believe I saw God or something like it in 'Pull me back to earth'. I was "that guy" if you know what I mean and I didnt care. This was one of the bands I was most excited to see, and fucking hell did they live up to my expectations.
Even when Bellato was singing "Hawaiian MAN" in our ears to "Hawaiian AIR" (got to love him)

The boys then got separated from the girls as they skipped off to see Kaiser Chiefs and we went to catch The Panics. What a snore.
We sat there and giggled and chatted throughout the entire thing, and realised that one of the worst things a band can say at a festival is,
"Now here is one from our new album!"
We decided Cut Copy was the way to go, but seeing as we have all seen Cut Copy about a billion times at your Homebakes or whatevers, we decided a nice little sit in the Strongbow boat was the answer. Pie did not agree with us.
She skipped back out and continued to party until it was time to take position for Colplay.

We struggled up the ampitheatre "FOR THE LAST TIME!" and got a spot right at the very top. We managed to catch a bit of Pulp, with Jarvis Cocker running his gob at every opportunity he got. It made me think, "if you tell someone he is a genius enough will he believe it?" and "wow some people really enjoy the sound of their own voice over 30,000 people screaming their name. Which is less narcissistic?"
I noticed while waiting for the delectable Chris Martin to take the stage that there were a lot of dickheads in animal suits. I just caught sight of a fucking unicorn making out with a dog. Now you dont see that everyday.

Here came Coldplay.
There is always one band that takes your breath away, even when you have nothing left in you. Even when your back feels like it is going to crack in half, and your bones ache from the cold and your mouth is dry from the multiple mid strength mules youve had (yessss....thats it). It takes something special to be able to break through that world of hurt and make your mind explode like a tens of thousands of paper butterflies.

I tried to let a single tear fall down my cheek, but due to the condition I was in, it was near impossible. Inside, my heart was melting with every melody exuding from his mouth. An appreciation I had never held for Coldplay before was unlocked like Pandora's box and all of my love came spilling out of my eyes like a Salvador Dali painting.

They were beautiful.

After this was all over, we were left with the grim realisation that it was all over. We had felt happy, sad, turned on, irritated, hungry, thirsty, full, tired, energised, drunk, high, peaceful, crazy but most of all we felt united in the experience that we shared together in those 5 days in the Woodford forestry. 


* Chingy the jokester programme seller that hit on Ellen and stole a vodka from Bellato.

* Free Willy.

* Getting Free Willy reprimanded by a security marshall. "SPLENDOUR,YEAH!"

* Sam's photo with Jamie Hince.


* Chris and his tapas.

* Val Kilmer.

* Bunny Boiler.

* Smiffy's women.

* Communal whirlpool.

* Kyle Wainman: CSI: MIAMI on Sunday night.


* "He sprogged in er guts."

* The gollldddddyyyyyy.


Saturday, July 23, 2011


"I wish I could say no regrets & no emotional debts,
Cause as we kiss goodbye the sun sets,
So we are history,
the shadow covers me
The sky above a blaze that only lovers see."

I have to say I always had a certain respect for Amy Winehouse,
she never pretended to be anything other than what she was.
She didn't make apologies either.
She was art,
a voice,
someone to break the mould of what our generation had become.

A flower that seemed to come from another time,
a mouth from the 50s,
corrupted by the 21st Century.

What a fiery blaze of a woman,
but fires must come to an end,
They wreak havoc in the short time they inhabit the earth...
cause damage,
but are so beautiful and captivating at the same time.

14 Sept 1983- 23 July 2011.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


I think the paschion for faschion has gotten a little out of hand.
I know what you are thinking, how can you not know about
how did you just discover this?
Well, because frankly i try to avoid taking in this kind of narcissistic bullshit.

For all you other behind the times folk who dont know what this is, it is a site in which the "elite" of style are awarded a password and in gaining this password are allowed to post photographs of themselves dressed in whatever they assume as stylish.

Im sorry but am I wrong if I assume that "cool" is not knowing that you are but not giving a fuck either way?
And that style is about being humble and gracious? 
Rather than in your face and trite?
A complete knock off of shit you see in the fashion magazines? 
I honestly have grave concerns for originality.

As i perused through the thousands of images from around the world, I became more and more enthralled at how self indulgent the site was.
Pretentious and aloof, the site inspired intrigue and amusement at the sheer elitist air that one website was able to produce.
Like some sort of smog in LA, the site clogged my lungs like the morning cigarette and made my eyes bleary from the repeated stance of the subjects.
EXAMPLE: "robot with the shits" facial expression coupled with a slouched stance, usually with one leg resting against the shin of another, and body morphed into an S shape.

I understand what this makes me sound like, it makes me sound like I shop at Vinnies (not in a cool way) and dont find it fun to take/ or rope in a less schtylish friend to take my photograph. And this is all true.

I dont find these sites AMACHZING.
I find them hilarious.
and kind of sad.

Why you may ask?
They are only living their lives, quit ragging on them why dont ya?

Well, I just find myself gagging constantly over the gluttonous  indulgence of Facebook and shites like Lookbook. I feel like I know too much about people.

Like I am being dumped over and over again in an information wave filled with HTML and binary code. I feel like Im in a bukkake with clones and clones of Bill Gates. I am getting all of your personal shit in my face and I cant do anything about it but take it to the gob and pretend to be happy about it.

I know I am a contradiction.
Because after all this is said, I still go on Facebook, I still blog, Ill still go for a surf on the world wide web.
But it doesnt mean I cant feel the way I do: slightly confused at my social networking needs, and in need of a three hour cold shower to cleanse myself of everyone's personal lives that are splashed in my face like lukewarm water.

Hand me a towel.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011


I was on Twitter the other day and I came across another tumblr that professes their love for the male species.

It made me re think my previous judgements about men and made me realise that every single boy is precious in his own little way. Every man has something attractive about them. I wonder what they call the opposite of a womaniser? a maniniser?
If that is the correct term, I believe I am a maniniser and so are many of my friends.

And now...
a compilation of some of the men from boy howdy and from my own little vault.

JFK Jr. 
Vince Neil.
Dylan & Brandon.

Bill & Ted

John Corbett

Devendra Banhart (playing at this year's Splendour in the Grass)

Public Enemy.

Jamie Bell

Ryan Gosling 
Sammy Davis Jr.

Jason Schwartzman.

Robert Downey Jr & David Spader in Less than Zero.
Vince & Howard.