Weekend Groundings.

god, why does my life have to suck so much? it's always so difficult when your mother lets you sleep in till twelve (no sarcasm here. when i sleep in too late, i'm always up half the night, and because i have a serious lack of friends, there's never anything to do) and then expects you to be dragged all over haberfield to do her chores with her in sweltering heat when i could've been suffering in silence in the cool comfort of my own air-conditioned home.

i feel like more and more people are drifting from me, and that i'm having a lesser fun time than usual. might be due to my grounding and whatnot, but in the past two terms, my friend levels have reached an all-time low, and have dropped by about 80% than the amount of people i befriended/was friends with in term two of igs. it's kind of ridiculous, and i wish it would stop sucking so much.

due to all this friendship hubbub, or lack thereof, i've become extremely clingy to people like paddy and liam. and that's very poor for them, because then they're stuck with me, like, all the time. i'm constantly following liam around like a lost puppy, and with paddy, it's even worse! god, he's so freaking lucky he has a weekend where he gets to be away from me. if anything, this groundation is serving him well. he isn't copping any flack, which is good, because he doesn't really deserve it. he's getting what he deserves. which is some time well spent with friends who aren't me. besides, we're basically into completely different things and it would be sort of poor if i were to tag along to their little gaming thing + pizza + zombie movies. on account of me hardly eating (only when i do, it's heaps. yeah, what the hell, i don't know either), and me not even gaming properly anymore.

i know this is sort of a pointless ramble but god, i've gotta create something for myself to do, eating icypoles and watching the joker be a maniacal sex god has it's highlights, faw shaw, but then i just start to feel comatose, and i'm used to my brain being in constant overdrive. anyway, satan (aka my mother) is calling me to nibblies, so yeah. talk to you losers (not really though, because i'm the loser without the friends) later.

<3

9:45pm Padraic
but promise he only gets your metaphorical babies, i have dibs on your real ones

9:45pm Morgan
LOL



you're all jealous.

It's Weeam-Jean, betch.

ayyy bayyybayyy.

so anyways, this a blog about liam-dean, or more affectionately known to me as weeam. he's kind of amazing. infact, not just amazing, he's almost supernatural! (And yes, I DO love that show.)

he absolutely owns at school. did i mention he gets in the 90's for practically every subject? intelligence. hawt. and he's always extremely hilarious, makes me have much lols. i toastily missed out on "Warm and Fuzzies" today, so i'm making my own huge warm and fuzzy for weeam.

i love the fact that he's more into paddy and i's relationship than we are. he constantly makes huge deals over tiny little things, even if it means passing my first aid course (which i didn't, but i'm sure he would've given me a huge hug or something...) or me just generally being rude to rhiannon and calling her a chime. (which he thought was damn hilarious, don't ask me why.)

he buys me pizza when i'm angsty, he gives me hugs when i need them, even though it's totally weird, he lets me smell him (and god! does he smell good! dolce and gabbana, hoe.) if and when i need to. he's pretty much a legend amongst men (and women.)

another thing i love about liam is his complete denial about everything that he is good for. which is plenty, despite what he may tell you. he's extremely adorable (and yes, i mean that in the attractive way...) and even though people tell him all the time he just won't hear it!

he got a distinction in english the other day, and apparently that wasn't "good enough", which was such a joke, because then i began to think about my marks, and i'm going "wow, i wonder what he thinks of me?" which, thank god, had i been someone else, i might've actually over-analyzed too much. fortunately, when i was born, got granted with the gift of apathy.

that aside, all in all, i think weeam is totally amazing, and he deserves all the love in the world, especially from the one person he truly cares about. *ahem ahem* "this is a WAKEUP CALL for a certain youngen out there who doesn't understand the true concept of a babe when they see one."

WEEAM JEAN-JOHNSON

have my metaphorical babies.

Just for teh lulz.

it had just occured to me that i have never made a blog entirely dedicated to paddy. ever. sure, he's been mentioned a few times and such, and you've seen him in make-up and fishnets. but nobody has ever appreciated him to his full value. obviously, i can't share everything, otherwise it would ruin the whole "i know everything and you don't. sucks to be you!" thing. but there are a few things padraic should be recognised for.

1. he is a 1337 hax0r and is ultimate korean n00b ganker. ^^

2. he's a good drummer, and will pwn everybody in music one next year.

3. he is a constant source of much lols and make everything a lot easier to deal with, especially difficulties that only he understands.

4. he can dress himself well, and that doesn't happen often in men.

5. he dances like a boffin, which also makes me laugh.

6. he knows exactly how to cheer me up.

7. he loves almost everything that i do, and our childhoods are basically carbon copies, so we have much in common, and he basically just wins at life.

i'm so thankful that you decided to step into my life, because really, i don't know where i'd be without you right now. i'm not trying to lather on the cheesy sap, but i'm going to need plenty of maps for a lot of different reasons. (only he'll get that)

you just make everything so great, and i even show up to
school on time now because of you. i can also get through science lessons with the haggis eater of doom now. what with your constant wit keeping my brain alive and not turning it into scottish overdrive.

MUCH LOVE IS HAD. I LOVE YOU PADRAIC XAVIER GIDNEY. <3

No Food For Yoooooo (Crank Dat Solja Boi)

is it weird to not eat? and only drink fluid instead? because i've been doing this for about three days now, and i highly doubt it's an eating disorder, but i just don't like the sensation of eating. i've been secretly disposing of my dinner (force-feeding my cat/throwing it off my roof/spitting it into tissues ((there weren't many tissues in the box left after this))/moving it around my plate alot and squishing it all to one end so it LOOKED like i'd been eating it/feeding it to my father when mother wasn't looking etc...) i don't know what to think of myself. i'm sort of worried, but sort of not. i know i'll never get down to the 50's though, if i don't stop shovelling horse-loads of food into myself. so...yeah. :/ awkward decisions in life. it was a very facepalm moment.

ALSO: HELIUM BALLOONS. AMIRITE?!

Formal.

Yeah, so formal was kind of amazing. Mary came over to mine in the morning and her, Paddy and I went shopping at Broadway for last minute things (because we're organised like that). I'd only bought my dress the week before and I have to tell you, that thing was mighty awkward to wear. I had to practically inhale all the oxygen in the room and then randomly disperse it all to equal areas in my body, so I was like, a dress size thinner. It was so ridiculous. Even though I told Paddy it fitted fine (which is such a joke, and he's such a douche for believing me). I got my hair cut in Haberfield, by Clara, a raucous (sp?) Italian woman who's main goal is to drill you into the ground with her socializing and her raspy, friendly voice. I almost died.

Too bad the process of cut'n'colouring took far longer than expected, and Paddy almost exploded, because he was so tired. But then he just kinda passed out on the couch (he looked very cute whilst sleeping, but like, I wasn't watching or anything...) And then eventually, after the sweaty toil of getting your haircut in a hairdresser's without air con, we went and got gelati. Too bad the woman actually let us onto the bus, which is insane, they never do that, and it leaked everywhere, and we had to try so hard to not let anything get anywhere. But, because we're both 1337 hackers, operation K.G.D.B.C (Keep the God Damn Bus Clean) was a success.

Then we went back to our homes and got ready, and Mary and I headed back to Paddy's. His mother took many photos, with us doing solemn un-smiling faces, and then we headed off to formal, in her broken-down bomb car. It was fantastic. It was mega classy, and there were men opening doors for us and women getting us drinks and it was all rather intense. The night was mostly spent dancing around to songs like "Party in the USA" and "Hotel Room". The food tasted like aeroplane fodder, despite the supposed "elegance" of the place. Paddy and I got awarded "Cutest Couple" (Yeah, hooray. The noobs actually won something.) And then my parents picked us up and dropped everybody off. Pretty pleased with the night. Overall, was very fun.

Highlight? Watching Liam Dean Johnson get trapped in a grind sandwich between my boyfriend (noob-ganker extROARdinaire) and Louis Williams (the "Alpha male"). Now everybody is asking me if I knew he was gay. HAH.

Cheers.

Fernanda.

Had the strangest day the other day. Some random portugese woman in Broadway ordered Marlena and I about to do her chores/errands, because she was really sick. And she was an odd old thing, repeated herself a lot, asked personal questions like "Have you had sex with your boyfriend?" and "Have your parents split up? Because it would be funny if they had split up and they still had sex." I assured her that Yes, I was still a Virgin, Thankyou Very Much, and No, my Parents Were Not Divorced and even If They Were Having Sex, it's Not Something I want to be Mentally Pursuing. But obviously in a less extravagant way, considering she was portugese and her accent was as thick as the layer of grease on their chicken.

She insisted I come over again to her house and help clean it, and I gave her my numbers and I was off. She has a strangely addictive personality and a very funny way of expressing herself. Her flat was very dull and had very little decoration, so I thought I'd probably bring something over next time, to brighten it up a bit. Next time I went over, I brought Paddy, so she could meet the "man behind the legend". Too bad the "legend", so to speak, was a brief 5 second topic in the middle of the Kitchenware section in K-mart. (We went for plates, and ended up buying blue mugs, heck I don't know...)

Anyway, Paddy and I spent at least 2 hours in her house cleaning the entire floor, and I mean, moving the couches and everything, to mop and to broom and all that. Thank goodness everything was linoleum, and none of this carpet BS. She said next time, we could clean her windows, and I think I will. Next time I go that is. The thing is, you'd think I'd be doing this for money, or for that feeling of good morality and stable ethics, yeah yeah, we all know the ideal child, helping the old woman cross the road. Too bad she tried to help us cross the road, and basically ran into oncoming traffic, considering I was potentially responsible for her, I was practically tugging her back and screaming "Are you clinically insane?!" at the top of my lungs. She just laughs every time I freak out, and says "Cahlm dowen luhve, luhve, it iz zalright. My frriend Gustav and I, we do zis all da time!" And I'm thinking Dude, she is some crack granny on PCP. I don't know how her daughter or son manages.

But unfortunately, my parents have forbidden me from seeing her. Just like they do with everyone else. *ahem* ==' But that's okay. Because I'm just going to go on Tuesdays, and visit her. See how she is. Possibly clean more things. I think I'll get a little gift each time too. Make her apartment nice. She's like a little interesting secret thing. That I get to have. It's the one part of my life where I don't have to worry about doing anything wrong, or other people knowing exactly where I am, or who I'm with. I sort of just go into this unfamiliar territory. And I like it. It's like I don't exist. Anyway, just a thought.

What. The. Hell.

It's happened. What we all feared most. The paintball age has indeed been lowered to TWELVE.
Yeah, that's what I thought. I was thinking "AW HELL NO!" Because that's all turning 16 is good for! That, and being able to see your boyfriend more than once a week. =='
But I mean, now what will kids around the world do when they turn sixteen?

Usually it's all :

"Hey mum, I'm turning 16, what should I do?"
"Have a fairy princess party, dear."
"....Neh neh neh."

*goes to awesome friends who are awesome and suggest awesome things*

"Guys! I'm turning sixteen! What should I do?"
"Legal sex age! Weeeeeew."
"Ummmm, apart from that?"
"Duh. Paintball of course..."

It's just so ridiculous! It's like they've only JUST realised that they'd rake in MULTI-fucking-TUDES of young children! I mean, it's about freaking time. But now it just means it's a big deal to turn 12, but not a big deal to turn 16. :/

Let It Be

Ahh, the wise words of the Beatles. Just saw (500) days of Summer. Worst. Ending. Ever. Chelsea and I were both thoroughly disappointed. And now Chelsea is upset for a reason I don't understand, and I'm so confused. But tonight was one of those nights where you aren't sure whether you want to cry or not. D:

"where's my smack?"

today, about half a block up from the school my friends hui, paddy, lambert and i came across a very strange sight. something that is usually better concealed in the inner west, where we attend our secondary education. we saw a shaking, vicious (and obviously mentally deranged) man in the middle of the street screaming random things at the two policeman (well, one policeman and one policewoman) towering above his body.

deranged man: "where's my smack?! YOU SAW ME GOING TO THE DEALER'S HOUSE!"
policewoman: th-
deranged man: "i had fifty bucks, i was going to SCHOOL with it!"

now, by this time, lambert's face had all the colour sucked out of it. he was so frightened, and later on, i realised why. when he proceeded to ask me what smack was. i have to say, it was definitely one of those *facepalm* moments, but what can i say? he's just a protected little white boy. he doesn't know of the evils in this world, and is definitely NOT aware of the damage smack can do to you.

basically, to sum it up, there was a smack addict half a block away from our school with an apparent "fifty dollars" he was going to go to the "school" with. which could've been our school, and that scared me, because i'm thinking, as if the police aren't dealing with this lunatic who could head towards our preschool-year 12 school, and start hurting kids?

just food for thought...

*cold swarm*

i love my cat. that is all i can say at the moment. she has saved me from the potential hypothermic clusterfuck that could've ended me on this brutal sunday. my feet are like icecubes, regardless of the twenty pound cat and fifty layers of blanket that are swarming over me.

why is it that it's so damn hard to do work when you're sick? i've been trying for a whole two days to start my art assignment, but it's just not happening. time is short. as in, i have two minutes before i go comatose.

my shoulders have some unexplainable pain in them that calls for some serious morphein injections.

...

but seriously though, has anyone got any?

Rage

everybody.
butt.
the.
fuck.
out.
of.
my.
existance.
for.
tonight.
please.
thankyou.
bai.

Everything, everything, everything.

don't you hate it when you don't know what to write about? i mean, today was just the most whacked out day in existance. i got bible-bashed by an ex-best friend about not calling his girlfriend a "malnourished prairie dog". and my current best friend paddy having gay relations with rifle-shooting, car-driving, bear-bumming, moose-humping, tree-felling 15-year old matt. pree sure he wears flannos when no-one's watching. and pree sure i just won the padraic xavier honourable award for the most accurate description ever. one day i'm going to measure matt's voice on the richter scale.

i'm sort of losing my faith in igs womankind. they've all become such corrupt drunkards and it's scaring me. they constantly hook up with each other and mole rat, sewer dwelling creatures and in some cases dogs, and then proceed to tell me all about it and try and make me agree with the adorability of it. *shudders* why, oh why must we fall into this crazy sense of drugdom?! eek.
i don't know about you guys, but i'm in some serious need of fast-forwarded skype calls. D:

Owwwwright

hello everyone. i'd like you to meet dhani harrison, son of george harrison my absolute favourite beatle. i don't actually give a fuck who the mother is, all i know is that she's a punjab, but DAYUM did SHE produce a fiiiiiiine son.

i mean, he is thirty-one and all, you know, just twice my age, but he's mega musical man, and lanky, and *drools*

i mean, mr. daly is thirty-one, and he just got BITCHED. like, cock slapped over the earth by dhani. but then again mr. daly, well, let's put it this way, he has this stubble which he thinks makes him look like some sexy, rugged indiana jones-esque man, but in actual fact, he just looks like some penniless drunken hobos on kings cross that can't afford to shave.

but this guy? *creams self*

he rips a hole in the time babe continuum.

12:29PM

morgasaurus says:
my jammies are so awesome.
Otis [FIRE EVERYTHING!!!] says:
what are they?
morgasaurus says:
they're a mickey mouse t-shirt, red shorts and red, black and white over the knee high socks.
Otis [FIRE EVERYTHING!!!] says:
tri coloured socks. nice.
morgasaurus says:
although knowing me, i'll probably just end up sleeping in my underwear.
Otis [FIRE EVERYTHING!!!] says:
dome.
morgasaurus says:
doh-muh?
Otis [FIRE EVERYTHING!!!] says:
you'll get it.
morgasaurus says:
...do me?
Otis [FIRE EVERYTHING!!!] says:
WOO. we have a weiner.
morgasaurus says:
x]


yeah, i'm slow. what of it?

Sub cultures

okay, first, let me start by pointing out that edward scissorhands is NOT EMO.
emily hogg, pls to be noticing that you have no idea what emo means. it's called ART CULT.
tim burton creates ART CULT films. you don't see people knocking creative genius, you, you just don't. you just....DON'T. tim burton is a creative genius, and even the most misinformed, culturally retarded lad could tell the difference between emo and tim burton (well, maybe not. but still, you better see what i'm getting at). i do NOT want to hear this "edward scissorhands and sweeney todd are emo" bullshit. i want you on your knees! crippled, broken down and PARALYSED because of johnny depp's beauty! now, when master burton's alice in wonderland comes out, and we all see johnny depp looking amazingly hot (as per usual) i do not want to hear negative feedback when i see you at school. johnny depp does not recieve negative feedback.
he is the reason the world goes around. he's the reason the sun hasn't exploded yet. johnny depp in himself is bigger than any fucking supernova. *nods*





underlying message?





GET OFF MY PLANET.

*swoons*

eddie, you make the world go around.

Broken Hearted?

yeah, again, one of those days where you don't know what you're doing, where you're going, where your life is headed..it's just dead ends everywhere you go. no matter how much crumble and cream you eat, how much japanese stationary you buy, how many times you blubber to all your friends about how much of a mistake you are, you can't get over that one person. and they are constantly on your mind.

sucks to be broken hearted.

And Someone Always Gets Left Behind

it's amazing how something can go from being the most peace thing on earth to a massive crap on my face in a matter of three minutes. turns out spending a whole week with all your closest friends in a deserted valley in newcastle isn't the best idea for a vacation, and usually ends with you crying to older brothers in a dark, damp phonebooth about a 2K trek from the camp.

oh, and those little asian children that interfere with quality talking time in parks? they should be shot dead. yes harry, i'm talking about you. next time, please make the effort to recognise matt and i's attempts to be rid of you. the middle finger doesn't mean "hello yes you can come sit with us and be loved because even though you look like a sufferer of severe allergic reactions to egg, we love you anyway."

yes harry, you do annoy me greatly. so please leave the next time someone screams at you to leave the premises of which they are in.

harry. leave.
i mean it.

no? you're going to stay?

oh i see. with me and matt.

now it all makes sense.

GET OUT.

I HATE YOU.

yes, indeed there is nothing like getting shunned from your social group, eating five servings of carbs for every meal, getting chased by a crazy fucker of a rooster around your cabin and getting dumped by your semi-boyfriend in a rainy carpark.

G.I. Moe

when all else fails, i don't.

yes everyone, this has been G.I. Moe, giving you your weekly mantra. use it well, and of course often. angst can be harmful to your perspective of life. especially when you're working your ass off to make everything seem better.

Whoregan the Hermit

okay, so i'm aware of the fact that i don't have a proper life where i go out and do totally awesome, jawdroppingly exciting stuff, but i do the best with what i've got. and unlike sarro (whom, i will add, just for those of you out there who don't watch the land before time, he's a dinosaur ((well more specifically a brontosaurus)) who is part of little foot's tribe, little foot being a little ((surprise surprise)) brontosaurus), i am a storyspeaker, and hence can make a tiny story into an epic tale (and not just bs about dinosaurs racing the wind down mountains and rescuing your sister purely for the sakes of incestual shit).

today, i saw harry potter: the half blood prince, twice. you'd think that i'd be sick of the movie by now, but no. it was extremely compelling from start to finish. of course, sans the fact that there was an obvious lack of potter orgy with all of paddy and i's favourites. my mother and i came to the conclusion that the reason why the harry potter movies never cease to amaze everyone (aside from having an amazing plotline) is because they are british actors. yes, i know, we've actually found something the brits are good for! acting, and reese's peanut butter cups. still a shame about lack of orgy, but you know, life goes on.

another thing i noticed was how amazingly babelicious hermione and ginny have become. i mean, those girls have seriously blossomed, especially hermione. although she lacks character, as does ginny. if you want character, see "luna lovegood". my dad is in love with her. everytime she came on the screen, dad just went "i dig this chick." ahh, the sadness of my family members.

all over, my holidays have been fairly eventful except for this week, the title of this blog is "whoregan the hermit", confused as to why it's named that, but we'll keep it there. just for name's sake. still at a loss of what to get matt for his birthday. ahh, ideas?

Padraic Xavier Gidney and Co

padraic, or more commonly known as pad, paddy or padz0rz, exists as an unlimited resource of entertainment, fun and happiness. not only does he have a potato bucket in his home, and has an extremely high alcohol tolerance, but also dresses stylishly in drag. he's always up for popcorn and middle-of-the-day hardcore potter porn. this child knows how to dance, sing and clap retardedly, and he also pwns annie feng at science. this is a commendable quality, as annie feng exists only in the world of homework and study. a feng is a rare species of teenager, and the only ones likely to find one, are the people who know where to look. this is paddy. this my friends, is the pinnacle of light at igs.

verena laurelai osman king. world's smartest blonde. makes everything said by any kind of person take on a deliciously dirty perspective, which always ends in tearshed (only of the good kind, of course) and never fails to lighten the atmosphere. this little girl seems innocent enough, but when portrayed in the correct light, and if you are like me, her accomplice, and have a vast knowledge of her plans for the future (includes evil plots of the destruction of certain people's lives), then things could get a bit hairy (if she were here, that would've automatically become an innuendo).

chelsea, chelsea, chelsea. where to start?
firstly, she is the only bogan i know that i actually love to pieces. the rest of them are horrible and disgusting. i saw a fat eight year old boy in whyalla with an ac/dc shirt, a rats tail and an ear piercing and i almost suffered from cardiac arrest.

she admits that she's a bogan, but she still loves the fact that she is. and i respect that.

she lives in flannos and boots, and we both talk about our chunky

black boots and how video did in fact kill the radio star.

she always tells me when something looks good and when something looks horrible. she's honest and she's good natured.

she can even laugh when a grassy marshmellow is stuck to her favourite pair of jeans and joel is pointing and laughing. coming to think of it, that was so damn funny. she looked like a sheep, with a dag hanging off her ass, if only she were woolly...*looks distant*

alex claire mcconnell, also known as just plain alex is, in short, the reason i live. she's a born comedian and does the most hilarious impersonation of slim dusty you will ever see. i've known her for most of my life and she just cracks me up. the times we've bitched about our imperfections are countless. but she's perfect in my eyes. i love her to absolut vodka. she rocks the casbah.

matthew john george davis. the most ridiculous name for the most ridiculously AMAZING boy. ohh, see that quick save? verena says it's a stupid name because it sounds like a recitation of all the names of the books in the bible. but apparently it's his grandfather's names from both sides of the family.

why is he upside down you ask? because he's cool enough to be upside down. why is he holding a knife you ask? because he's cool enough to hold a knife. oh, and that comes in handy for the occasional stabbing here and there.

he reads, which is amazing of course. considering boys of this age don't usually do anything requiring brain strength/intellect. his hands are always warm and he looks nice in grey skinnies. *iz awesome*

so basically these are just little dedications to the awesome people that make my life simply amazing and all that jazzzzz.

cheers big ears.

Passive Aggressive

so there are always those moods where you stop and think: "i could easily go after someone with a knife right about now." or maybe you're one of those people that think: "wow. that was incredibly innapropriate. i may step on their foot subtly later on." or maybe you're one of those psychotic killers that go out and instantly kill the first person you see and drag the body behind some bushes and then get the hell out of there.

now, we've all had those morbid moods. but then there are those moods where you just feel like bursting into tears, or eating a whole five packets of your favourite flavoured chips, or telling the 440 bus driver things that should not be repeated on a site, much less a site that may be being stalked by family members of mine.

or what about the moods where you want to sing all your favourite abba hits really really loudly and embarrass everyone around you? or tell a boy you love them and then go and jump on their bed and make it really messy? or what about those moods where you feel really kind, and you go and make your mum a hot water bottle and read her german bedtime stories?

my life is one massive infusion of all of these feelings put together in one, and it can sometimes get very crowded in my head, with lots of thoughts, feelings and paddy's jokes going every which way. (who might i add, has given a continuous nostalgic feel on all aspects of my life in past months, and i truly thank him for it). days are long, hours are hard but it all pays off in the end.

yeah...it was one of those days.

Late Night Thoughts

1. Why does underarm hair grow back practically right after you shave it?
2. Why do boys only like you, once you've stopped liking them?
3. Why do models still think they're fat, when everyone else around them are three sizes bigger?
4. Why does the government say they're there to help, but they exploit everyone?
5. Why do black people get extra services and rights, when they abuse us caucasians just as much as we abuse them?
6. Why does Micheal Jackson get more credit now that he's dead, than when he was alive?
7. Why do paedophiles continue to rape young children even though they know that all of society shuns them, and they are fully aware of the consequences?
8. Why is it that Germans and Irishmen have a higher alcohol count, yet Brits drink far more often?
9.Why am I hungry?

Just some random questions floating around.

Caro is teh shit

Pree sure Caro shits on all you other german exchange students. Infact, these last couple of weeks have been so awesome with her here.

She racks up a pretty gnarly impersonation of Aussie girls too. Especially their laughs. She even thinks we have a particular dress code. i.e. bombers, skinnies and raybans. I couldn't stop laughing at her cute ways of saying things. Like "uck boots" instead of "ugg boots".

Naww. Caro. <3

For teh Lulz

They look similar, or so Otis likes to think.
But I would have to say that in this particular photo, the saturation in his eyes mostly contributes to the similarity.
But I can assure you that Otis is not a vampire, just because he can drink a cup of melted butter doesn't mean he'll drink blood.





Verena and Yayoi Kusama.
Their shiny fabrics and crazy eye shite.
Complete opposites yet exactly the same. If I could pull that Salvador Dali quote out of the arsenal, I would. But I've forgotten it. Anyway, it had something to do with his brother that was also called Salvador. They were like "two drops of water" but if they "looked in the mirror" they'd see "two completely different reflections".









Nana Maskouri and I.
Her voice is probably the most disgusting thing ever and kind of sounds like a cat being skinned alive. Still, the glasses make for a dorky resemblance.





Alex and k.d. Lang.
Of course Lang having a beautiful voice in comparison to that of Maskouri, I would have to say I am jealous of Alex for resembling her in some fashion. But maybe that's just my eyes telling that. Stay tuned for more.

The Art Fag Capital

i visited melbourne (art fag head quarters) last week, and let me tell you, did i have good times there. firstly, there's salvador dali. always an inspiration with his crazily accentuated hourglass figure women and his skull-raping pianos. a day in pompeii exhibition was completely genius. the casts of the preserved people was pretty darn cool, even if some women did run out to be sick.

we stopped over at canberra, and that was truly horrible. we stayed in a pioneer's cottage overnight and the temperature reached minus five. we had about every article of clothing glued to us while we slept under three duvets. my german exchange student however, was not so lucky and did not even recieve the anna spoon warmth that i did. she was in the living room with all but two paper thin blankets and a nightie. her lips were blue by morning.

the weather was beautiful, despite how grumpy we all were. we took some nice shots with my wonderful canon dslr (but he likes to go by the name mortimer). it kind of sucks when your friends are complete arsehats with photography, because then they always look nice in photos, and you always look like the munted quasimodo that pretends like they're part of the group, but in reality, you're just hobbling behind, looking casual (as hard as that is when one shoulder is bigger than the other) and stealing their breadloaves.

but trips always have their good sides. we were on the waterfront, with a wonderful apartment (lovely views of southbank and the naked woman who continuously forgets to close her blinds when changing) that was completely modern and HEATED. unlike the aforementioned pioneer's cottage, which apparently was the home that raised several children. with one bathroom, i can't imagine. but now i am back in sydney and loving the completely unlimited access to all forms of communication. and have my own wireless thankyou very much you stingey melbournians.

scrapbooking heap

i've started a journal, and it's probably the best out of all the ones i've kept.
it looks pretty amazing and the collages are all closely knit and the writing is romanian.
ahh, the wonders of google translate.

verena told me she'd be at glebe markets today with max wilkinson, that local musician trying to make his way into the music world etc etc. his music is quite nice and peaceful. and it reminds me of a boy version similar to that of kimya dawson.

my latest flashback was walking through the streets of what looks like cardiff. i'm wearing my red gloves and matching beanie and i was breathing out and watching the foggy breath disappear and mesh into the cold air. i think i was four at the time. that particular street that had the street lamps that resembled the one out of narnia. i wish i was four again.

new found obsessions

a new found obession with acoustic music from my childhood has left my mood elevated and bright. the likes of the kinks, joni mitchell, belle and sebastian and k.d. lang have been constantly sending ambient streams of music from the loft being my room.

i've been using father's recording studio as means of creating my own music influenced by specific artists. it's a good thing i came across a passion that flowed deeply as music, because i was starting to need a productive way to expel my creative energy.

my friend verena believes i have the talent and could go professional if i so wished. i already had a discussion about this today, and i thought it was a ridiculous sentiment, because we all know how reckless and painfully abusive the music industry can be to one's soul. i've also taken up painting, writing and drawing. my careers educator thinks i should pursue a career that's more creatively inclined. i feel compelled to agree.