Forgiveness

And guys,
It's just like Cady Harron realises in Mean Girls.

Miss Caroline Krafft seriously
needed to pluck her eyebrows.



Her outfit looked like it was picked out
by a blind Sunday school teacher.


And she had some -cent
lip gloss on her snaggletooth.


And that's when I realized,
making fun of Caroline Krafft


wouldn't stop her
from beating me in this contest.



...

Calling somebody else fat
won't make you any skinnier.


Calling someone stupid
doesn't make you any smarter.


And ruining Regina George's life
definitely didn't make me any happier.


All you can do in life is try to solve
the problem in front of you.

 So really... wouldn't it be better to forgive...

I don't really think the forget thing works though. Even if you could - and the majority of the time you can't - your really wouldn't be learning anything. And I like to think that all the pain is just something we can use to stop us making the same mistakes again.


Even if someone hurts you; and you find yourself wishing that they knew what it felt like, you feel guilty - right?

Trust me. When it happens to them; you feel about a billion times worse.


--------------------------------------------------------------------
Case 1

ModelBoy (an ex, of sorts) slept with someone else because I wasn't willing to declare my love within 2 weeks of knowing him.
A month later the girl he chose over me broke his heart.
It didn't make me feel better about myself. I just felt sorry for him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------


--------------------------------------------------------------------
Case 2

I was super jealous of one of my friends seemingly perfect relationships.
It was a low point for me, I'll admit it. But I did kind of wish they weren't as happy as they seemed; even though I knew they'd been through their ups and downs.
I only felt like that for a couple of minutes, once.
Next thing I know, I know a lot more than I'd like to about the guy.
I wish I could take back what I know now. It's making it really hard to be happy for her when I'm fairly sure the foundations their relationship was fixed on; are fake.
Karma bit me in the ass (concience-wise). It's even harder when the party (parties, whatever) are fairly innocent.
--------------------------------------------------------------------


So I think we need a little more love in the world...

If you get hurt, realise it's just a part of the human condition. Unfortunately the only way to fix it is to die. Which really sounds like a buzzkill.

Just learn from it instead. Be stronger; be better.

And in time let yourself love again.




:)
Night Cherubs


p.s
Caroline Krafft... more of a babe than a lot of us will ever be.

Shawty

' I've called you hot girl, sweet thang, and gold digger,
I've called you chicken head, and shawty, or hey thick'ems,
I've been disrespecting you, with the same ol' excuse,
That I've been talking this way for so long girl '

So, what makes it okay for anyone to call us this? And why do we let them?

It seems like everywhere I look these days girls are doing things that I wouldn't have even known about when I was there age. It sucks to look in the mirror and know that without some serious plastic surgery there's no way I could ever be as beautiful as the famous women any and all of my future lovers will admire.

Being degraded on an everyday basis pretty much happens to everyone; even if noone actually says shit like that to your face - sometimes even if people dont actually say anythign at all; it just feels like you just can't walk out the door and be compared to all your friends.

Which sucks balls, because I actually have the most amazingly beautiful friends in the entire world. Seriously - I'm not being your average whiney 17-year old. My friends are all very, very good looking. And most of them have the advantage of at least a couple of years more maturity and sophistication.

So I guess when someone shows you attention and makes you feel like you belong with such stunning people; you don't really give that much of a fuck what they call you. Because you can brush it off as a joke.
But unfortunately; most of the guys I talk to actually think I am just their bitch.

They are so, SO wrong!
I own their asses (and by asses I mean bank accounts ;) )


So anyway; latest updates...

Sparky : This little piggy went to market etc etc ... but my little Sparky went wee wee wee into a new job at the coast 2.5hrs away and barely ever comes home. So that's kind of put a dent in the whole idea. Good bitch he's turning out to be :/

N 20 : I seriously had enough when he licked my ear. Sometimes nice guys, are just that. Nice. But not good in any other way, trust me. See ya mate!

School : To be honest it's really not happening. In the past 3 weeks I've been to maybe 4/60 classes. My teachers must love me... I'm not disrupting other students for a change...

ModelBoy : I saw this guy months ago; and was forced to hang out with him as we had friends who were dating. Once he got over the fact I really didn't care we weren't seeing eachother anymore, shit was chill. I don't really hang with that crowd anymore; but the only girl I still have time for who's friends with him, had no idea we had that sort of relationship. When he told her the other day she was totally shocked. And she came into work and told me that he also said, 'Wish I hadnt fucked that up - she's hot'.
Sweetheart... so do I.
Because if you fucked like you kissed Id've kept you.
At least for a while.
The only akward thing is that he keeps showing up wherever I am. And it's kind of annoying when all the girls at wherever go 'Oh, he's fucking hot'. And all I can say is, 'been there', because I haven't done that.

The Ex : The only guy I ever actually had a proper relationship with. I was barely 16 and he was a year older. We had fun; but when it all got serious we cracked under the pressure. I broke his heart and it broke mine.
Until two days ago we hadn't talked in over a year. But on a whim I added him on good old Facebook and we've talked a couple of times.
I didn't really realise how much I've missed having him to talk to. I hope we don't stop talking.
But I hope both of us are sensible enough to realise that it's really, REALLY over. And it wouldn't work.
By both of us I mean mainly me.

Anyway,

Bed Time .
I gotta get my beauty sleep. If more ex's keep showing their faces I better be making them jealous.

Bitch out x

Dreams , bro

Little ones, I have a dilema.

So . Yesterday night my boss (not the shop one; the horse one) offered me a full time job when I finish school, training and looking after horses with him. And I said YES !

But since then I've gotten a little scared. Even though it's a good couple of months away; it's still pretty soon - all things considered.

The only other thing I've really wanted to do is spraypaint cars (wanted to be a mechanic, decided against it as I have tits and a lot of the guys who do it would have a massive problem with that). But I have ALWAYS wanted to work with horses. And I've taken every opportunity to do so.

But now that the opportunity is right around the corner I'm kind of wondering if that's where my life should go. I mean; horses are a dangerous business. If you get a bad enough injury; even if a horse just pulls you over - it can fuck you up for life. And I know it's more dangerous to get in a car and drive; or even just cross the road. But if horses are your life there's no real career in it if you get badly injured.

And what if I get sick of it? I mean, I can't imagine ever getting bored of horses. But it could happen right? And if I chose to do this it means that I don't have much experience in any other career path. And experience is all I have going for me when it comes to job applications and employment in general. I'm not academically the brightest of sparks. I can deal with people really well; bit who's gunna want to hire a chick whose biggest education highlight was learning how to read the time at the age of 17?

Worst of all; what if I'm shit! I can deal with horses real well on the ground. My boss wouldn't trust me to look after the stallions (especially when they're around the mares) if I couldn't. But I'm so nervous when it comes to riding that I just can't. And even when I do build my confidence up; I'm so bloody fragile when the slightest thing comes along and makes me lose it.

Oh well.

Let's be honest though; I never feel even close to as alive as I do when I'm with the horses; doing anything else. If it was a choice between sex, Macca's and horses I'd totally become a skinny-bitch celibate. I'd do pretty much anything where a horse is involved. Except, perhaps, riding them all! Haha

Dream chasing here I come :)

Snooze Buttons and Sloths

Was just reading a post (courtesy of Simple Dude Complex World) on pretty much my favourite thing to do OF ALL TIME EVER !
And I was wondering...
                     how do you guys sleep?




Do you sleep face down?

Or foetal?

Scrunched up in the smallest pretzley ball humanely possible?

Stretched out like a skydiver?

On your head?

In your car?

Like an egyptian (do do do do)?

Feet up, head down?

In a hammock?

On top of a roof?

Sloth style?

And if you're wondering about my preferences; I like to be in a scrunched up ball and sleeping past my alarm. The snooze button is probably my favorite thing to ignore ever... it even beats out chores and homework. I can cope with cuddling; but by Jesus if they're touching me when I wake up... I will have to leave the premises.
No exceptions
Ever


Give us a shout and let us know all about your prime snoozing position!


Adios Amigos
xx


p.s
I'm sorry for the state of my drawings. The impossible has happened - they GOT WORSE! Hopefully a little more sleep combined with more effort will mean recognizable human shapes next time at least...

Sour Fruit, Interior Decorating and Sleeping Bags

Dear readers,
If you have not already realised this; I am completely and utterly insane.
So bear with me ...



Let's start with Friday night.

As usual on a Friday night, I had work til 9. And my housemate R came to pick me up with our friend Mickey (he is a little bit in love with her; yet will happily substitute her for groping me when she's not around... a behavhiour I DO NOT encourage); after work. I ended up finishing at 10 (crazy night at work + overly keen supervisor who still asks me how to run the place = late finish)... YET... being the lovely person I am I decided to still go out and have a drink with them.
"Just one," I thought to myself.
So we went to a club and waited in the line.
Mickey told us that his friend worked there and would get us in.
Fifteen minutes we were still standing out in the fucking cold; and then his friend (Sour Fruit) rang us and said that him and another of Mickeys friends (we shall call him The Short One) were on their way to another club.
So after about a second of considering just staying in the unmoving line we decided to trek on and go somewhere else.
"Just one drink, then I'll go home," I thought to myself again.
Half an hour later we were sitting in the upstairs of the club; knocking back our drinks with a little too much enjoyment.
I was pretty keen to dance a little and go home; so I could rest up and be beautiful for work the next day.

Then... R, Mickey AND The Short One all decided to bail. So I was left there with an increasingly drunk Sour Fruit.
"Fuck it," I said to myself, "I can just ditch him in a bit and get a cab home."
So we decided to go to my favourite club ever; the gay club (which will henceforth be known as Square).

And so we wandered a couple of blocks to Square; got drinks and took to the poles.
Approximately five seconds after we'd got to the dancefloor - the cops came in.
And shut down the club.
Needless to say I was SHITTING myself.
Not only was I totally underage.
I was with a guy I barely new (albeit a nice one); who was taller than everyone else by about a head, shirtless and quite loudly drunk.

Good.

After being drug-sniffed (by dogs... not the cops... sadly, as I quite like a sexy man in uniform) and videod half an hour later we were are allowed to leave.

At this stage it was about 2am.

"I'll go home soon..." I said to myself.

Then we went to some more clubs. And being a bartender, Sour Fruit knew EVERYONE in the existence of everwhere. Which basically just means free drinks. So basically - half my conversations went from well meaning brush offs ...

ME : I'm having so much fun, but I should really go; I have work in the morning...

to this...

SOUR FRUIT : Aww but I just got us more drinks...

ME : Okay... I guess... But after these ones I better go...

Also included in my night was almost getting thrown up on by a hundred drunk chicks dressed up in the most hideous tie-dyed outfits ever (I maintain it was the sight of eachothers clothes and not alcohol that made them need to vom...), getting told to 'be careful of Sour Fruit' by a girl dressed up as a cat (including ears, tail and nose) and Sour Fruit himself dragging me into a bus stop on our way past the interchange and lecturing me on the topic of true love and that it exists etc, for half-a-freaking-hour!
So one club led to another and I ended up getting home at 5:30.

All in all I got almost an hour and a half of beautiful luxurious sleep.
And let me tell you... and hour and a half of sleep is not nearly enough for someone to work an entire shift on.
Not even CLOSE!

Another beautiful thing about my car...  in this weather... apart from my starter motor going at the same time as my clutch and the cold weather not helping either... MY HEATING IS FUCKED >:(   >:(    >:(

This means that I cannot heat myself up, nor can I defogify my windscreen. HELLO! driving along in the cold, wet and rain with my windows down and windscreen wipers flat-chat so I can attempt to see out the front. Just forget about seeing through my rear windscreen... or the side windows for that matter.

Seeing as it is so cold, and my heating is so... well... nonexistant... I have resorted to an awful, awful means of keeping warm.

Ladies and gents, I must from now on; drive whilst in my sleeping bag.
It actually works suprisingly well.
I just unzip the bottom so I can actually press down my barely there clutch and brakes and touchy-as-fuck accelorator, and hey presto, instant warmth.

However, I'm pretty sure that driving around in the stylish purpley-blue sack of warmth has seriously damaged my street cred (ha ha ha...)... That is to say that I'm fairly certain a large percentage of the people who see me in or around my car assume that I
a) live in it
b) am a total bum
c) a crack whore
and probably d) can't even afford a sleeping bag that zips up at the bottom...

Well... desperate times DO lead to desperate measures...




On a slightly more positive note... I am FUCKING KEEN FOR FRIDAY NIGHT. I am not (for once) going out clubbing.I am in fact going to a friend's joint 18th (which is about 6 months overdue and should therefore be about 6 times more awesome than it would usually be... and if you know my friends that means PRETTY FUCKING AWESOME!).

I have spent the last 3 hours of my life starting to prepare the venue (one of the boys just sold their house, which the builder is knocking down; and they still have the key... did anyone say DEMOLITION PARTY!?!?!). Which basically involved cooking frozen pizza and eating icecream out of the tub whilst watching a whole lot of my friends put up plastic and newspaper all over the walls. This has the dual effect of both protecting the walls from any vomit/alcohol/other stains AND making the house look totally fucking awesome. Almost like a Haunted House Ride. But with less ghosts and more loud music and drunk people.

If it's not fucking amazing I will eat some of the 3 month old Butter Chicken sitting in my freezer.
And no one wants that... do they?

Ciao ciao Amigos. 

I'll fill you in on every atrocity this event has to offer...

If...    you're lucky ;) 



Gay Bars, Groping and General Confusion (and a Phone Sex Operator?)

Still about to die, as my immune system totally disagrees with my love of clubbing ...

Anywho :)


I love gay bars.
The gay clubs continue to be the only place I have not yet been groped by random strange men. And I don't really mind being groped by random strange men every now and then. It's the ones that actually expect me to consider them acceptable suitors that disgust and scare me.

The main one in my city comes complete with fabulously gay bouncers and bar staff, and wonderfully drug fucked old gay men who dance like they're vying for a role in Saturday Night fever. It also is home to a UV light stage/podium area (trust me, when you've had a few drinks - your teeth glowing in the dark is FUCKING AMAZING), lounges, stripper poles and cages.

If I hook up in one of those cages (albeit with a GUY - I still remain entirely straight); my life will be complete.

Also; the generosity of Le Gays still continues to inspire and suprise me. Even though I am very obviously a girl (I tend towards the current fashion of short/tight/low-cut when it comes to clubbing dresses) - I will almost always get given lovely free drinks from lovely generous men.

I especially love the fact that I end up with the same amount of money I go out with because
a) I am a girl; therefore everyone pays for me
b) I am the youngest; therefore everyone pays for me
c) Even when I have money, if I hunt around in my bag whilst trying to find said money to buy shots for me and 8 of my friends in said gay club - the fabulous guys there still shout us all drinks (even though I insist I DO have the money in my bag)

... and they don't even try to put anything in my drink or attempt to put their hands up my skirt. They just smile (their gorgeous smiles), occassionally give me a peck on the cheek; and go and hook up with another beautiful gay man.

It's enough to make me a little bit jealous.

That being said - I have enough gay friends that I could definitley become a one woman gay dating agency. My friends call me the Fag Hag for a reason (they really are such pleasant people, my friends).



Speaking of which... I now have a room mate. And it's fucking awesome.

My bedroom is basically a jumping castle. There is not a single inch of carpet showing in the entire joint. It is literally a blowup mattress surrounded by my bed and chest of drawers. You can barely open the door enough for us to get out due to limited floor space. I love it! The only problem is that the jumping castle is un-jumpable as I'm preeeeeetty sure airbeds should not under any circumstances be jumped on.
LAME!


R moved in with me on Tuesday; and she'll be staying until she can find a house of her own. She may end up living with Crazy T (another one of my friends, who is totally crazy and has nowhere to live because his girlfriend of 4 years broke up with him and kicked him out of their house... after she told him she's been cheating on him for 6 months. Poor chicken). This is mainly motivated by the fact she is a poor Uni student (although she makes WAY more than most of my friends that work full time); and as Crazy T works for the Army, half their accommodation gets paid for by the government.

Lucky shits. Oh well, I guess I'll be going to A LOT of parties when they're moved in.

Have I mentioned they're BOTH crazy ?!?!
Fucking awesome, but crazy.

And the beautiful thing about living with R... she is my number one go-out-with friend. She is about 2 months older than my ID says I am - and totally up for dancing and drinking with pretty much everyone.

Which means, we can go out whenever the fuck we want - no real organizing involved. And we can both stumble into a taxi and drag ourselves into the house together - and complain together when we have to get up for work at 7 in the morning.

Also - we can lie there at night and bitch about the various things that are pissing us off. Usually men, money and work. It's beautiful. I almost don't want her to move out... except for the obvious advantage of floor space becoming available.


I hung out with N last night. You may remember him as the 20 yo in my alphabetical list. I sat on the bed with him for an hour and a half watching Superbad and eating Macca's sundaes.

Eventually we hooked up. The entire time I was waiting for a text from R to ask me to go home so I could unlock the door for her (she was with her new boy also). As soon as I got the text I gave him a couple more kisses and headed home. I think he got kind of upset to be honest...

I really can't decide if I'm attracted to him at all or not. He's pretty cute, and nice, and funny... but...

I guess I was just so attracted to Sparky that I still kind of wish I was seeing him. But I know that if I did; I'd get bored after a day or two.

I'm just a bitch like that.


Oh well... ner ner ner ner ner...


My brain is tired so I'm going to put it to bed.
Night little ones


~ UPDATE ~

I am now adding to the list of Sparky's cousins/friends who are still trying to get a bit of the action.

There's already his cousin who lives out of town who sings to me.
And of course his cousin's best friend Paintball Guy.
And now there's another cousin; with the same first name and slightly better bone structure. Let's just call him... Sparky 2.

Sparky 2 somehow got my number and started messaging me.

As did 2 Scary Old Roofing Dudes who left their number on my garage door a month ago.

And some random I don't even know. I swear to God my number must be on list for weird horny men to call. I just want to yell at them all

'I AM CLEARLY NOT A PHONE-SEX OPERATOR, YOU FOOLS!!!'

Also : Replied back to Sparky for the first time since the hotel yesterday. He invited me to his mate's free house on Saturday. Romantic, no?

Too bad there is NO WAY I would rather spend my night in bed at a strange guys house with someone I don't really like (except for entertainment purposes); than out with my roommate as we dance our pretty little asses off and drink beverages we didn't pay for.

Ah, boys are so naive... 
;)

I Get My Nina On and Tacos. Lots of Tacos

So I finaaaaaaaaaaaaaally got to go out clubbing thanks to a friends friend who kindly lent me her ID. I am now '19' going on 20 in August (which is perfect as my awesome friends M and R are actually that age; and a lot of the rest of them are a bit older).

Although I've discovered that the full time party-life doesn't agree AT ALL with my immune system (especially when combined with working all day); it was FUCKING WORTH IT ! I may restrict my goings out to only 2 or 3 nights in a row from now on...

After my first weekend out, I was sick all week - and only just made it to work on the weekend (and the public holiday we had yesterday - can anyone say DOUBLE TIME !!). I did also make time for a good friends 21st out in town (club club club); and a more chilled out 18th.

Random fact - both of those boys names start with the letter J.

Anywho; my friend (who is another boy who starts with J) has decided that in the future my boy finding ways need to start making sense. Which - in a world where I am only attracted and attractive to liars and jerks - means not finding good boys; but putting the various dickheads into some sort of vaugley amusing order.

So we came up with the alphabet.
M (Sparky) - 21 years old
N (I'll tell you about him in a second) - 20 years old
~then I need to find boys whose names start with~
O (19 years old)
P (18 years old)

But that's as young as I'm going, because I refuse to hook up with someone the same age as me! I don't know, guess I'm just one of those girls who hates guys my own age, and knows that they (of all ages) are all dickheads anyway - but would prefer to be fucked over by someone with a little more experience at lying so I can pretend to be all naive and innocent and such.

So I guess some of you are wondering who N-20yo is? Well, here is the answer.
He is the ex-boyfriend of the sister of J-who-turned-21. And to make matters more confusing I met J-who-turned-21's sister and really liked her. In fact, I may take her up on her offer, and go out clubbing with her this weekend. I guess it's a good think I'm not really that keen on him. My friends (M&R who I usually go out with, and who are respectively almost 20 themselves) think he's really hot. Personally I don't see it. I think he's good looking, and a nice kid - but I'm really not that attracted to him. He's probably actually a nice guy, and that is probably why I'm not interested.

Ah the female brain. I really don't understand it. Especially my own.


After eating some dodgy spag bol, I am now laid up in bed all sick and shit yet again (but my brain is going - FUCKING LET ME OUT OF THIS HOUSE HOLY FUCK I AM SO SO SO SO BORED). Hopefully I will be able to drag my body (which is totally letting me down at the moment, if I do say so) to school tomorrow. Note to the obvious, being sick sucks major donkey balls.

And in my head the 'major donkey balls' bit sounded like in those old westerns where it all sounds like 'majer donkay bawwwwwlls'.

Also, I am very very happy with the fact that my boys from last year (no, not all the boys I saw - all my friends from the year above who so cruelly graduated and left me with only my year and the year below to keep me company) have restarted Taco Night.

Taco night is where we eat Tacos and Burritos with a large group of people (of which I am almost always the only girl); and watch TV, occasionally smoke flavoured tobacco through a Shisha Pipe (and no I am not talking about Mary Jane - I have never and hope to never let her enter my airways) and almost always end up doing something crazy and stupid. Whether it be yelling at the coppers who are staying to guard a politician staying in our hosts apartment block, drawing giant penises on every available surface with ever available substance or egging security cars with large scary,baton wielding men inside them. Taco Night is always beautiful fun though.

New Taco Night is now on Wednesdays (so we can watch Jersey Shore), as opposed to Tuesdays. But apart from that (and the lack of Shisha Pipe due to the absence of the German who brings it with him; as he is selfishly traveling the world instead of supplying us with delicious Apple Tobacco); it is just the same, and equally as brilliant as ever.

That's all I can think of to update you with my little ones.

If I think of more I will probably think about posting it, and then not be bothered.

Muchos Amores (I hope that means much love)



Me :)

ps
For those of you wondering what happened to Sparky, I kind of stopped talking to him after the hotel. I figured he'd peaked. I mean, what if he wasn't as good the next time. Wouldn't want to disappointed would I?
Told you I'm a bitch. Good thing you all love me though, isn't it?

Sheets, Stars and Good Sex

I am tres tres sorry for my legnth of non-posting time. Sorry ma petie chous; it will not happen again.
And neither will my shockingly bad attempt at French.

Also apologies for my miniature post today. I have just written an essay we were given three weeks ago in about 2 hours, so I can go out for coffee tonight and still make tomorrows deadline. Needless to say, I am one brain-fucked chicken.



School is back, and in some ways it's like I never had a holiday. The workload is already killing me (although I take the easiest courses available in college... go figure); and so are the multiple cigarettes I get plied with every day. Sometimes I get a little depressed when I think of the sheer numbers of friends I had last year (almost all of whom left after completing their final year); but then I realise that I'm just grateful I'm not out there working my ass off full time.

But don't worry ma petites, I'm still the crazy adventuring Dora-the-Explorer-cum-Party-Girl I once was. Except my partying these days is restricted to (free) dinners (courtesy of Buffest's connections in the resteraunt and dining world); and private hotel room parties (if you catch my drift). Let's just say on the subject of my latest encounter with Sparky; the most I wore was a hotel room sheet as I took a drag of a nightime cigarette on a dark balcony - and the sex was literally bed-movingly good (like a-metre-on-carpet movingly-good). Best of all, it was all paid for by him, it was about 30 seconds drive from work the next day, and I didn't even have to make a bed or sneak out in the morning.

Life is fucking beautiful sometimes.

Hopefully there will be a gathering or two on this weekend so I can endulge in a little of my old party-hearty ways; and make some new memories to share with you all.


For now,
But definitley not forever.

xx

Silver Fucking Linings

The return to school has been slightly more glamorous and less lonely than I thought. I guess it turns out that I know a lot more people in my year than I thought I did. I still miss all my friends (who were in the year above) though. A heck of a fucking lot.

My ex's little brother is now at my college, but I have to fucking thank whoever invented the public school system and packed it to full capacity - because hopefully I won't actually ever have to talk to him due to the sheer size of our school.

The glamorosity has been due to the fact that we're now top dogs; and I've never experienced this before. I guess moving schools a shitload means you never really get to be top of the pile.
But now that I am; I find that it has it's advantages. So I walk around school, eating pizza Shapes like a badass and all the little Levies (Year Elevens) just look at me all scared-like and move out my way.

I guess there are always silver linings.


A new revelation has come to me at last.
I am now almost 100% sure that I only attract

a) dickheads
b) males who have seriously over inflated egos
c) guys who are taken
d) liars

Good good.

Recently found out that Sparky (formerly known as lover) is actually one of the biggest liars I've ever met. And not in a bad way (if that makes sense); just in a weird one. He told me he was a year younger than he is (he in fact turned 21 a week or so ago), he told me wrong last name (not that it matters - I can't remember the real one or the fake one anyway); and he may or may not have or have had a girlfriend (at least when I started seeing him).

Goooooood.

Still; I won't fuck him off. He knows I know his name and age now; and he's actually giving me more attention. Which for an attention-whore like me; means that the lies cancel out. Except for the girlfriend thing. But I don't now about that. And I'm not going to fuck off a perfectly good supplier of cigarettes and good sex on the pretence of a rumor.
I guess I'm just a bitch like that.



In other, boy related news.

My Griffith Boyfriend (he's a sweetie, but not my type - but seeing as he lives so far away, there's no point me rejecting him, so I play along) is going to the big concert I'm going up to Sydney in April with Barbie.

I'm pretty fucking excited for it - but this could really make it shit. As we're sposed to be staying with a whole lot of friends including Paintball Guy in what I hope is going to be a nice apartment (and some of those friends include Barbie's Current Man, and a cousin of Sparky - who is so nice that I can't even scab off him. Not that he can't afford it, the sweet bastard (from now on known as Buffest) offered to fill up my car and buy me cigarettes, saying that it was only like a hundred bucks. Which, of course, to the rich and generous; is nothing).

Buuuuut if I'm still seeing Sparky, and end up going on this pre-Valentines-Day date with Paintball Guy - AND see Griffith Boyfriend when I'm up there; things could get reaaaaally akward. Seeing as the Griffith Boyfriend is also cousins with Sparky; so I'm sure Buffest is related to him as well. And I took Buffest's kiss virginity the other night. Granted it was just a kiss on the cheek - but I probably shouldn't have. Damn you, attention whore-ish-ness.



Seriously ... what is with every single boy that messages me, and snuggling?

They always, ALWAYS ask me if I want to; or if I will when they come into town.
If they want to fuck, they could at least be up front. Snuggling just sounds wrong when a 20 year old says it. It's like a 45 year old asking if I'll let them have a nap.



Still; I'm fucking excited to be going up to Sydney with Barbie; even if we don't end up staying with the boys and do run into Griffith Boyfriend and his mate (who's conventiently enough in love with Barbie), it will still be fucking amazing.
Too bad it's like 2 months away...

Also, I've decided that I want a new, latin lover next. Because even if he's not as drop dead fucking gorgeous as some of my ex flingees; his sexy accent and smokin' smile will still kill me. After all, a Latino's are known for their passion and romance. And all I need is for one (pretty) Spanish boy to decide his new passion is me ;) .

If he looks ANYTHING like this, bonus points!



Eurgh. I'm confused, my whole head feels heavy, my stomach is way too full for my diet to be liking - and I think I'm coming down with something.

Til soon(er or later) guys and girls.


Love you all
 ♥

Draft

Dear Devoted Readers (ha ha)

My many sincerest (ha ha) apologies for not writing sooner.
Or at all for that matter.

I am here today to rectify the situation - and hopefully you can understand why my posts have been so few and far between of late (or in fact so few at ALL).

Firstly because I am one of the laziest people ever to walk the face of the Earth. Secondly because I have been incredibly busy; and thirdly, because I do not have a computer of my own; and the other member of our family who uses the computer (so rudely, as she has her own laptop, and just can't be fucked to climb the stairs and go to it) has been robbing me of valuable blog-writing time. At least at times of the day when my brain is not shut down entirely (which is most of the time at the moment, to be honest). Here is my week babes and babe-keteers (honestly, the things my brain thinks up whilst running on -10 hours of sleep, and donut-induced nausea). Hope it satisfies your blog-thirst.

Basically, I have been working. Almost every day. Overtime. Way way way too hard.
By myself. And at a level of responsibility and superiority that is probably not wise to trust me with; as I am more than apt at fucking everything up.

But they are pretty desperate I suppose.

I can now
- open the store
- close the store
- bank (carrying over 3 grand in CASH by myself to the bank; just a touch daunting. And a wonderful point at which I celebrated my 1.5 week employment-versary...)
- train and supervise other staff members
- do most of the management stuff

Pretty good for 2 weeks? Trusting mother f*ckers.

But that's enough shop talk (ha ha ha). Let's just say that if I went into proper detail, you lot would be easily as sick of it all as I am.
And that's like, terminally ill.

I should be in respite care, almost defintely.


In other news, I have decided to demote   Lover   to   Sparky  . Frankly, he doesn't make enough effort; and I need to find someone who will actually bother to chase me once in a while. Even if they know without much shadow of a doubt, they're getting a root for their troubles. Ah - the rudeness and lack of chivallry of the gentlemen of today still sucks. I thought getting naked would at least get me a massage or a nice dinner once in a while.

Blergh, who am I kidding?


A friend from the past (let's just call him Wog Boy, or WB for short) has been visiting me almost every day at work (and by visiting I mean; listening to me whinge about work as he helps me put away stock, do rubbish runs and generally stave off boredom). My manager K even lets him come into the store at night and help us do final close. The sad thing is that he probably does half our work, but all he gets in return is me flinging insults in his direction.

I guess my company makes up for it though :)

Oh  I almost forgot - and I SWEAR this is the last work related thing I'll say - K is pregnant and therefore leaving (aka it was her LAST DAY TODAY)... PERMANENTLY! So I'm going back to school a little late so that we can get the shop running okay before I can't be there every day. But we still won't have a manager. So basically we're fucked.
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY, work is awesome.

Anyway, WB has managed to get a crush on pretty much everyone I work with. And I feel slightly awful because most of them have older boyfriends. And he thinks the fact that he's a big muscly Greek dude will get him all the bitches.

Nay, WB, nay.

It's really strange though, because I've known a couple of the girls for a long time, and him for longer; and they think HE is pretty.
But he's just WB  to me.

But yeah, I said I'd return the favour and visit him at work on one of my day's off.
0 out of 3 isn't that bad.
But considering he comes into town (which is only like a couple of blocks away to be fair) even when he's not working, so he can pop by to see me after the gym; I kind of feel bad.

And he did get me free passes to the gym where he works; so I could come visit him legitimiately.

Being lazy is such an awful vice when it affects others.
But totally, TOTALLY a beautiful one if you're the lazy shit sitting on your ass.



To be honest I've been totally lacking in the interesting stories department. The only other real development is that I totally killed my diet.

I've been overindulging (like, SUPERSIZE ME overindulging) on every deep fried, calorie rich, sugar or salt drenched morsel (or five) that come my way.


Who fucking cares, it's hot as tits outside, so with any luck I'll either sweat all the kilos off or die in a bushfire.

And the sad thing is that it's hot as tits, at 2am. No wonder the insomnia is coming back like a boomerang to the eye cavity.
And for those of you who don't understand that simile; a boomerang is a traditional hunting weapon of the Aboriginal Australians - kind of like a bent stick that you throw at shit (thus killing or badly injuring it) which comes back to you after collecting a blow on your dinner. And it's a pretty fucking good simile because

a) It refers to my current location in a subtle yet amusing way
b) both boomerangs to the eye socket and lack of sleep would contribute towards a purplish tinge underneath and around the eye (granted one example is a black eye, and one just under-eye bags of the same hue)
c) It's 2am and I managed to write this post, with similes included; and hopefully few enough spelling mistakes that someone can actually recognize this as English

Seems like my life might just be getting back to normal (aka INSANE LAND OF LACK OF SLEEP). And now I must go and rest up and a get a whole 2 hours sleep before it all starts over again.

Pip pip good fellows, til the morn'.
Or whenever I can be fecked to post next.

x

'Cos I love su-u-ummer day-ays....

To those of you who aren't from the land of a big red rock called Uluru and the Sydney harbour bridge (and if you don't know what those are don't bother Googling them because they are just big things that we have in my country and aren't really that cool anyway); you may not have heard of Australian Hip-Hop. But just because you haven't, doesn't mean you shouldn't.

Note : I do not condone, appreciate or partake in any drug taking (other than nicotine and alcohol) - buuuuuut every stoner loves Aussie Hip-Hop. It's fucking funny as all hell whilst sober, and I've been told the funni-ness level increases the higher you get. Go figure.


Anyway .... moving on. Todays adventures anyone?

After waking up at the bright and early hour of 10am, getting ready and freaking out because it was 11:30 and I had work in an hour and I had to get to the city; somehow find a parking space, and make it to my first shift at the CBD store (scaaaaaaaaary) in less than that time. All without fucking up my hair, makeup or clothes.

When I got to work and parked in a frenzy, and then went down the billion escalators it took me to get to the top floor (where I work); I realised it was actually 10:30. The public school system = fail. Especially when it comes to teaching college kids how to read the time.

So I spent two hours smoking, eating MacDonalds and watching the clouds roll on by. I then made my way to the store, and was a bit taken aback by the amount of police officers in the area. And as I got closer I realised they were packed so tightly into the shop that they couldn't help spilling onto the corridor (okay, I might be exaggerating a little, but there were a good 5 or 6 coppers there; and it's not a big shop).

I entered to be greeted by a frazzled, yet still very friendly manager (K), who was the one that originally hired me; and our regional manager - who I shall from now on refer to as Eyebrow Piercing Dude (EPD). They both looked a little stressed, but not in too bad of spirits (on EPD's part this was probably because a couple of the officers wore their uniforms especially well ;) ). I didn't ask what had happened - but they told me anyway.

Don't you just love that about all fabulous gay men; they can't keep their fucking mouths shut when it comes to gossip and giving opinions on absolutely everything girl related. Except for vaginas. They usually just vomit copiously into the nearest vessel (or floor tile), when these parts of the anatomy are mentioned. Anyway...

Turns out, every single one of the CBD staff except me and K had gotten fired for shoplifting. Quite a tidy little venture, had they not been caught. Those girls surely moved over 3 grand of stock off the premises pretty quickly for (mostly) knocked-up dirty bitches. And that's me being polite.

Another note : I have very little respect for those who shoplift. And absolutley none at all for those who shoplift when the need isn't 100% desperate. And by desperate I mean 'my-family-will-starve-if-I-don't-steal-this-potato'; not 'I-am-so-bored-and-pregnancy-hormones-are-fucking-with-my-already-unsteady-mind-sooooooo-let's-steal-stuff'.

So the short and short of it is that I'm working almost every day for the rest of my summer holidays. Which is good because I get paid, but bad because I will go back to school
a) more tired than ever
and b) more pale than ever; as working indoors gets in the way of my tanning schedule in a major way

Also, this week I will be expected (after no more than 7 shifts at this new job, give or take) to singlehandedly run the store, open, close and do banking. By myself. Alone. All day.

Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeck!

<< A very accurate depiction of my place of employment

In other news.

As I was driving some friends to go clubbing (lucky bitches have ID's); we pulled up next to a car who drove next to us almost all the way to the city. 15 minutes into this little race (at the speed limit, of course); I realised the messages I was getting weren't from IBYFCB (who had come and visited me at work that day and not stopped messaging me since), Lover, or Paintball Dude. They were from Uteboy.

Uteboy is a 20 year old, and a fairly sad excuse for one at that. He was a lift-bitch (one whom I scabbed car rides home/to school with), as his work was close to my school, and he drove me around unpaid (and I mean... completely unpaid, if you catch my drift) for almost a year. And this includes times when I would ignore him for weeks at a time, and then message him and expect him to pick me up half an hour later because it was raining and I couldn't be fucked to catch the bus in the wet. I am totally lazy and a bitch, and I'm okay with it. Sort of.
But only because I only take advantage of penis carriers with not much humor or intellect also dwelling in the same body. And because God gave me boobies for a reason (if not just to get what you want, then what else? And don't say to feed children - because Udders would be way more effective for that and he gave us boobs instead).

And as it turns out, he was driving to the city in the car next to us, messaging me as we went along. He then later on proposed that I 'come out to the club' (he knows I'm not 18, way to rub it in); that I should come and give him 'a kiss', and that I should meet him in 'the carpark'. So... clearly a year has taught this boy nothing. If anything he should have learned that I will NEVER get with him (not that he's ugly, he's cute; just not in a bangable way), especially if it has nothing for me in it.  Boys with this little intellect seriously shouldn't be allowed out in public.

But that's just my opinion.

Seeing as Lover has been seriously sick for the past couple of days and snogging-fest-2011 has been postponed, I have been seeking out Paintball Dude. Or rather, replying in a nice fashion to his texts and messages.

It must be stated that I am showing attention ONLY so that I can go see a free movie, and have free coffee and a laugh. I'll leave all shagging and snogging up to Lover (once he's no harbouring longer an illness waiting to jump into my nasal cavity). Just in case you thought I was going soft and not being a cold, hard bitch.

So, out of boredom and lonliness (and spite that I'm the ONLY ONE OUT OF EVERYONE EVER INVENTED that doesn't have an ID or 18 years under my belt), I decided I would take the poor guy up on his most recent offer. and meet up with Paintball Dude.

This was regardless of the fact that I knew perfectly well that I was supposed to see him on Friday and Saturday night and go on two seperate dates within those two days; and that whenever he talks for more than 30 seconds uninterrupted my brain totally shuts down and I am unable to do anything more than smile and nod occassionally.

I'm sure he's a really funny guy. I just can't be bothered listening.

So me and Paintball Dude chilled for a couple of hours (til 12:30... ooooooops), doing nothing but smoking (me, mainly) and talking (him, mainly). And then he went home, an hour and a half later than he'd told his totally strict Croatian father he was on his way home. I'm sure that wen't down REEEALLY well... hehe ;).

So I probably will be dateless due to PD's probable groundedness for the next couple of nights (seriously who grounds their almost 19 year old son these days?!), but it does mean I'll have more time to blog. Not that anyone reads this drivel anyway
:)




Love from the Cold Hard Bitch (who really is just warm Milo on the inside, with extra marshmallows).
Be good... but if you're too good, you get a spanking anyway. Because that's just way more fun than a choccy biccy and warm milk.

And Some Days ...

I have days where everything I do and say is fucking exciting and/or hilarious (at least that's how I feel), and I squeeze through all sorts of little scrapes; with only a bruise or the slightly blurry memory to remind me of it - as I drink to the adventure later on; a refreshing beverage in hand, and in the company of some close pallies.

Or when I sit there remembering those times with all the crew at a party, hot and sweaty (but still fabulous) after dancing in heels and little dresses for hours, feet aching like we've walked a thousand miles and our whole body calling for sleep (which incidentally will never come).

Then I have other days - like today - where the most exciting thing I do is go to the shops and buy a packet of cigarettes and some sushi and drive home complaining to myself about how shit life is etc. etc.

People in other cars even stare at me like I'm a loony-escapee who just escaped out of a loony-bin; as I complain to myself (often times out loud), driving along. Today a little kid even pointed at me. I yelled at him through the glass, "So now you're the only one allowed to have an imaginary friend?!?!?! F*#%ing Ageism these days! Not young enough to harmlessly console myself out loud, but not old enough to drown my sorrows in loud music and drunken boys at a night club?!?!?! Where, oh baby Jesus, is the compassion in this world!".

Luckily (or unluckily, as the case may be); this small child did not hear my words, as their parents drove off; and I'm pretty sure I wasn't yelling loud enough to penetrate two layers of glass. However, I will content myself with the fact that the child in question -

a) now is perfectly oblivious to the world of teenage angst they will come to befriend in a mere 12 or 13 years

b) will be too afraid to leave the safety of their parents watchful supervision as they may be attacked by a Passion-Fruit-resembling-loony; and thus have self-taught themselves about 'Stranger Danger'

and c) , even if they could hear what I was saying, I doubt it would make any sense to their 3 year old brain.


And that was my totally beautiful and interesting day.

The only other highlight was getting more or less ignored by current lover-boy.
Earth to Lover :
I'm not looking for an in-depth conversation, an engagement ring or even a BOYFRIEND. All I want is a snog (ok I lie, a shag) and someone to share a cigarette with. For god's sake he doesn't even have to supply the cigarette!

Time to find a new one me-thinks. God knows how I managed to pick him out of all the other stupid girl-obsessed Italians running around. In fact, I've been warned off them before by a (possibly-homosexual-pending-further-enquiry) male friend; who had this to say on the topic of men of this ethnicity.

" Never go for those boys. all they want is for you to make them pasta, buy a BMW, become a so called 'Catholic', be dodgy and wear filthy Adidas clothing and have mullets... " ~ E

Wise, wise words. Why did I not listen...
Better still, why didn't I manage to find one who would have had a BMW. There would at least have been a point to shagging him then...


I guess, if I actually listened to E's advice, I might have learned something. And that is something we definitely couldn't have.

Chin up little ones, I'm sure I'll be back to fabulousity soon enough.
x

 ** UPDATE **

Dear Munchkins,

I decided to revisit and revise this post, as it was thoroughly boring and utterly shit-house.

I thought I might actually finish this post off by telling you a story about the boy I am going on a date with this weekend. He shall be known as Paintball Guy, as he works at a Paintball Range and enjoys dressing me up in his Paintballing gear.

We met one night a month or so ago, in a dark and lonely time when the lover was away at the coast (irresponsible boy that he his left me by myself for New Years as well - so I just kissed someone else at midnight ;) ). It was one boring night, and my best (straight) guy mates (we will call him Triton, after his awesome ute I sometimes drive) was just chilling at his house, whilst his whole family was up in QLD working on their house up there (his Dad own's a building company that he also works in). Their house is quite fucking amazing, it has two stories in brick and wood, with a deck/balcony complete with fully built-in BBQ area and sunk in swimming pool.

So this one night me and two of my friends went over (Barbie the stunning blonde besty I've had for years and years, and one of my other reallllllly good friends M who is also a total babe) and had a BBQ and a swim with Triton as his friends from his old school (all boys school may I add).

As I was driving, and Barbie doesn't drink, we were just being our normal selves (which is probably not that normal), and M was getting a little tipsy, with some of the boys joining her. However, we were controlling ourselves fairly well; and after chilling in the pool for a couple of hours we got out and ate and (the boys and I) smoked.

By this point (lets just call him...... Paintball Guy) was fairly drunk. And a couple of the other boys were on their way there. They were all very nice though, and as a matter of fact Barbie is going on a date with another one of them sometime in the new future as well. Once everyone else went inside, only me and Paintball Guy were outside with his friend Wombat Boy (because his nickname sounds like wombat, and he resembles one), chuffing some cigarettes and eating steak.

Paintball Guy somehow got it in his head that rapping/singing to me in pretty awful Croatian would be a good way to woo me (I suppose), but all it really achieved was the feeling of breaking all my ribs in silent laughter with Wombat Boy. I don't even speak Croatian and I could tell he was both tone deaf and shit at his national tongue. After a couple of songs, he asked me if I would go to the movies with him - and mainly out of pity I found myself agreeing. Also because if I didn't he might not have let me dress up in his Paintballing gear, and that would have been a TRAGEDY (it seemed like a good idea at the time)!

"Heck, I figured, he probably wouldn't remember it by the next morning!" I reasoned to myself.

I was very, very wrong. Not only did he remember; he told all the boys I asked HIM out! Luckily they all realised he was talking shit; and pissed themselves laughing the next night when they told me of this little 'development' at 12am in the Macca's carpark. I almost inhaled my lit cigarette up my left nostril, that's how hard we were all laughing!

He messaged me for a couple of days, until the day when we were supposed to have our date (coincedentially the same day Lover came back); but messaged me on the day saying that he was grounded and couldn't make it. I had been trying to get out of it by making it seriously akward, and was quite pleased with the result at the time.

However, when he messaged me tonight and asked if we could go out this weekend, it was a Hallelujah moment. I've been feeling so alooooone recently, it was nice that someone wanted to see me.

Well, a male someone. And he doesn't even expect me to fuck him! So I'm going, and bollocks to all those little voices in the back of my head telling me it's a bad idea.

Hope that this has made your reading slightly more less boring and depressing.

Muchos Loveeeeeeee Amigos

How To Catch A Pony

Dear Readers

Today, instead of entertaining you with a hilarious anecdote of my latest and greatest stunts and achievements, I thought I might distract you with a fully illustrated guide to catching ponies - to disguise the fact I am indeed far too lazy to write a half-decent post.

Please take this 'advice' with a warning, and a grain of salt. Ponies are mischevious and devilsome little creatures who would probably rather walk across hot coals than do any form of work (and the main objective once they are caught is often to exercise them). They will avoid being caught at almost any cost.

The only way to lure them in is with bait, preferably a carrot, apple or bucket of horse pellets.

However, the tricky little sh*ts will often eat it and f*ck off, with only a kick in your direction for your troubles.

Be careful the kick in your direction doesn't turn into a couple of hours in the ER and several days bedrest with a broken face.

It would probably be better to just ignore my instructions completely and never go near a pony; but that wouldn't be fun or adventurous (or distracting) would it.


Pip pip good fellows, and bon voyage for the wherever todays adventures take you.

p.s

I will probably blog tomorrow, whingeing of sunburn and the like - as I am going to the pool; and my near-albino skin doesn't react well to sunlight. But don't let me tell you I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

The same thing happens EVERY SINGLE TIME I go to the pool; and I never learn.

Oh well.

x

Shit Gets Serious

And I'm sorry guys, but it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to. Even if it's my fault and I know exactly what I've done wrong as a responsible and consenting adult individual of age. And I bet almost everyone out there will want to kick me in the head for being a stupid teenage girl, who is having a whinge for being stupid teenage girl.

I'm so used to having the upper hand that it fucking scares me so much when someone has it over me. The only problem is that it makes me want that person quite a bit more. I've had a fair share of boys. Only slept with one or two; and haven't really done much with anyone else. But it's not for lack of opportunity. It's not even for lack of opposition on their parts. It's just mine.

I don't have a problem at all with other people having sex with a lot of people. It's just me, myself and my own lady parts.

One of the girls I work with is an adult; and she's had boyfriends. Many. Long term ones even, and older ones at that. But she's still a virgin. I almost wish that I had her self control. But then again, I really don't. I like having sex. It's fun and I always feel like I'm doing something good for my body. Exercise is good for you after all.

The only problem is that before the current lover, I'd only had sex with my ex-boyfriend. And he was very attentive; in fact he barely left me alone. I never trusted anyone who showed too much interest after that. Didn't want to make the same mistake again. And somehow it seems I've made the same mistake of picking the wrong guy again, but worse. I've started fucking someone who's actually the exact same person as me. Just with some balls and a dick where the tits should be. Not exactly the same spot... but still.

And funnily enough my attention-whore self really doesn't like tasting my own medicine.

Oh well. It's not like I'm going out with or married to the SOAB (Son of a bitch). I can just as easily forget his pretty little Italian ass and go find something even tastier. Even though the sex is pretty decent. I guess I'll just find someone who wants more than a booty call, and save my current lover for when I'm feeling extra-specially lonely.

That sounded slutty. But what doesn't these days? Jesus even Macca's sounds slutty. 'I'm lovin' it'? Now, that sounds like you're a Kings Cross Hooker looking for an extra tip.

Also, unrelatedly. Me and my little brother just rescued one of these.

It's a striped marsh frog, and the source of the mysterious croaking noise coming from under our Christmas tree. But now it's outside and hopped away after a little convincing my ferocious attack terrier (aka oversized slightly overweight canine white rat-resembling pet).

So chin chin good chaps, and top of the morning to you.
Or evening. Whatever.

x

The Reason I Am Currently Brain Dead and Uninteresting :)

Dear Readers (not that there are many of you - but regardless),

I must apologize sincerely for being completely f*cking boring. It is because I started work yesterday, and my body and brain (six months out of work) have been completely f*cked over by lack of sleep + a 9 hour shift.

This is what my brain now looks like:

Let's just say he's not happy. Will write when it gets a little more contented.

Also, don't unfollow me because of the swearing. It's a side effect of serious sleep deprivation. Google it if you don't believe me.

Love and pancakes

xx