Body of Art

Imagine if everyone that ever touched you left a mark on you, their prints would slowly cover you until you were some kind of solid piece of artwork composed of everyone you ever knew. Which is kinda what ends up happening anyway. Each person had their own mark though, with different colours, textures and patterns.There would be all these bits of your body that were never touched, then there would be these parts of your body where you knew only a few people had ever touched. It could end up beautiful and profound or on the other side of the spectrum it would be scary and disturbing. Either way, I think it'd be pretty cool.

Let's dance for fear

Jumping Parklife was the riiiight decision, I had the best day.

The afternoon started by circling aimlessly around the venue watching many people failing to get in. A group of guys pulled down a fence and there is always that moment when everyone's hesitant on whether to commit or not, but if you do it is oh so very worth it. We managed to jump the second fence and get in with no fuss. It was the BEST feeling in the whole world, I could have cried from the adrenaline.

Crystal Castles, as good as they were, was not enjoyable for me at all. I could hardly breathe in between fat, sweat-drenched men. I was so thirsty that I would have considered licking the beads of sweat falling off of an acne ridden boy. Someone fell on my head at one point. I was on the ground three times with one too many people on top of me. I had my hair stuck in someone's arm pit at various points. I had one weird Black Shirted guy who had his arm around me and wouldn't let me move whilst violating me with his grinding movements. I also had a guy with his hand on my boob and when I said "What the fuck?!" he had the audacity to say, "What's wrong babe?" "YOUR FIST IS IN MY CHEST". 

What do festivals have an abundance of? Skanky women and seedy men.

Skanky women can be identified by:

Looking black- they have streaky legs and are walking advertisements for skin cancer.

Wearing bikinis- because they are hot.

Wearing that multi-coloured pattern- boob tube, skirt, shirt, dress, why does everybody have the same one?

Having their tits out- because that is the right and only way to attract others. 

Blogbear standing with her sister:

Seedy man, "Are you from Japan?"

Us, "No."

"Where are you from?"

Sister, "We're from here, Australia."

Seedy man, "I love your looks. Very sexy."

Seedy man thinks we are laughing with him but we are laughing at him.

"Yeah I can tell you're sisters, so sexy."

Turn away, "Ok thanks... fuck off." 

You know what makes that okay though? The kindness of strangers, like when everybody helps each other jump a fence, or when a random man holds my hand so I don't fall off of Alex's shoulders, or when I'm underneath a fat man and everyone helps each other up. 

Dancing the night away with our badass moves. Scabbing enough money at the end of the night to buy a can of delicious coke. Practicing cartwheels and spy rolls. Coming out of Parklife as the winners. Sitting outside the hospital at the emergency entrance pretending that I was a tight arse, bitch wife whilst Alex was my homosexual husband. Also checking out the docs. Eyeing the vending machines. Decided that God was in the waiting room and betting on which one he was. We came to the decision that he was either the fat woman at the back or the disabled man.

Spectacular, Spectacular

No words in the vernacular

Can't describe this great event

You'll be dumb with wonderment

You Can't Always Get What You Want

DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT?

1) I want to use capital letters to stress my urgency without yelling.

2) I want ahremen@hotmail.com and tokomanidis_18@hotmail.com to stop adding me. Please stop! I don't have enough time in the world to keep denying your adds. There is either something fucked with my messenger or it's you.

3) I want my nose to stop running or alternatively I could get a box of tissues in my room. The current cycle I'm trapped in is sniffing my nose, then tasting the phlegm in the back of my mouth, then leaving it there, then swallowing it, then back to square one. It's disgusting and it's painful.

4) I want a room in my house that resembles Mecca Cosmetics. With many-a colours and brands of everything.

5) I want to be a seal. Are seals hairless?

P.S. I wrote this on the 11/29/09

The Dog Days Are Over

Time has reached September, the Nein Month; the Month of the Long Knives. 

A massacre will be committed without an obligation to care ;), without a moral compass.

Sharpen the knives, load the gun, slip those knuckle dusters on, get ready for the stink-eye.

The children will not hear the warning siren.

Their blood will run deep down into the drains.

You will sit in your bedroom below the scene of the crime. 

The blood will seep through the carpet and fall,

Drop by drop until your skin is red. 

"You love her like a dog loves its owner."

"And the owner loves the dog for so doing."

Person X is on a roll

Background infomation to understand the joke: Dirtbag is possibly staying back a grade because of her D average.
Dirtbag: Go do a 69 with Whitey!
Person X: Why don't you go hang out with the Year 10's so you might have some friends next year?

Later that day...
Person X: Oh my god, I need a mango sorbet on a cone!!!
Blogbear: No you don't need it, you want it. You need to know the difference between what you want and what you need. Like you need Whitey's dick.
Person X: Aw yeah, because I need to give Whitey head but I want to do 69 with him.

...Later that day...
Blogbear: How big is Whitey?
Person X: Well, Le Toy is apparently 20cm so he says.
Dirtbag: Yeah, so how big is Whitey?
Person X: Whitey is like 18. Would that be centimetres or millimetres?
Dirtbag: His dick would be like 2 centimetres.
Cue EPIC laughter.

...Later that afternoon...
Person X: Come to the toilet with me, I need to pee.
Person Y (This person is embarressed so we can't put their name even though we want to): Yeah ok, but I need to poo too.
Person X: Then poo, it's after school so the cleaners will clean it
.

Texts From Last Night

(780): Best text conversation ever. Other than the one we had about using blood for lube.

blood for lube hey? i think we were onto something...

The ring of suffer

Last night I got drunk, too drunk. Dirtbag believes it was my mind set, I don't know what to believe. My stomach is churning, my tongue has that gross taste of blandness and what hurts more than my headache is the embarrassment.

There's emotional drunks, there's aggressive drunks and then there are drunks that just throw shit into the pool. Last night I fell into the first catagory. How fucking embarressing, I became who I hate. I haven't spoken to anyone today that hasn't asked me how I am feeling. Memories are coming back to me, stories are being told to me. I'm surprised I didn't die last night.

Things that suck:

• Vomitting into a bucket,
• Vomitting out of the car at the traffic lights,
• Finding a hole in your dress,
• Waking up in last nights clothes including rings, stockings, cuffs that have left your body feeling numb,
• Thinking about skulling vodka and shivering- voddy, vod, no, no.

I came home and my dad asked me why I wanted to go home early and apparently I said, "Find......................Person X" and crawled upstairs.

After laughter (comes tears).

Vaginal Quest #2

Yes Blogbear and Dirtbag left no rock unturned to find the motherfuckin' truth about vaginas.

Ahhhh nothing makes me laugh harder than the truth.

BlogBear says:
but i have a question of curiousity for you
Person X says:
im on the other side of the world
BlogBear says:
haha
i have a very important question for you
my life depends on it
Person X says:
go for it
BlogBear says:
is there a difference between having sex with a virgin and a slut?
Person X says:
hahaha
is that a serious question
BlogBear says:
YES
very
so serious
Person X says:
and what makes you so curious?
BlogBear says:
because dirtbag and i's friend got called loose as a sheet of paper
and that sounds disgusting
i just wanted to know
Person X says:
hahaha
yea i guess there is then
BlogBear says:
what
really
wowowowow
look at dr. X educating teens everywhere he goes
Person X says:
thats what i was put on this planet to do
BlogBear says:
ha!
no but... say you had sex with a slut blindfolded and then you had sex with a virgin blindfolded (fucked up hyperthetical) would you be able to tell the difference.
i can't stop laughing
Person X says:
hahaha
nah probally not
BlogBear says:
damn it janet
Person X says:
haha
anyway im heading
catch
BlogBear says:
seeya later aligator
thanks for the words of wisdom
Person X says:
hahaha
anytime


and a little closer to home, in a same hemisphere endevour, Dirtbag's at it too


Person Y says:
what's the question
Dirtbag says:
can guys feel the difference between fucking a slut and a virgin?
Person Y says:
yeah
Dirtbag says:
clear difference? like you could tell blindfolded?
Person Y says:
yeah i'd say so
Person Y says:
oh nah definitlely
Person Y says:
a virgin and a slut
Person Y says:
whyd ye ask?
Dirtbag says:
and i get the whole virgin apeal like if i were a guy i'd fuck virgins but are they tight in a good way?
Person Y says:
it depends how tight
Dirtbag says:
like there's too tight is there?
Person Y says:
like some girls are so tight they are unfuckable
Person Y says:
literatly
Dirtbag says:
hmm
Person Y says:
whats with the questions
Dirtbag says:
just curious
Person Y says:
anything raise your curiousity
Dirtbag says:
"she was as lose as a sheet of paper" those words haunt me
Dirtbag says:
is all
Person Y says:
she was so loose you could clap her hands in her fanny
Person Y says:
thats my favourite
Person Y says:
clap your hands*
Dirtbag says:
but a guy'd say that out of disgust right? ewwwwwww
Person Y says:
yeah ahah
Person Y says:
'she has a cunt like a trench'
Dirtbag says:
grossssssss

Hear ye, hear ye. Women and children. It is fact according to our semi-reliable sources that sluts and virgins have physical and emotional differences. The emotional you can not help but the physical you can. Either close your legs or begin your vaginal excerises. The day your vagina gets called a sheet of paper or trench is also the day you die.

Tumescent

This is the story of a man named Mean Mr. Mustard and a girl named Aurora.

Mean Mr. Mustard traces the soft of your forearm, his clammy hand grabs yours in an attempt to entwine your fingers with his. He licks his cracked lips. Your throat, tight. Your chest, hollow. Your body trembles as he and the night grow. His dirty fingernails dig into the spaces in between your ribs. His bitter taste is left in the back of your mouth. Let the sun go down on you. He is forceful and clumsy; never having experienced anything finer, you clench onto the wet grass beneath your body and accept the reality of the pleasure.

His throat to your mouth, you mark the cattle. No, no, obviously you suck. He reaches to his back, to his arse for a condom. You are ready as the day you swore your love to him, you smile, the metal that adorns your teeth shines for a moment as it catches the white light that excretes from above.

He covers your eyes and you giggle. He slips a shaft of coldness inside you. Your voice is soft at first but as he shoves it further you pull away in growing hysteria. The revolver looks at you in the eye. He cocks the hammer. He tells you not to yell, not to make a noise. Either way, he'll leave you bloody, holy in the park. Your voice begins loud as you scream but it ends in whimpers like a child's. He holds your torso steady not allowing you to move. He knocks the gun across your face, he strikes as you yell. The metal beats repetitively across your mouth until almost every tooth is ripped out of your gum and is now left hanging by your braces. Your face shakes in acute shots of pain. The Animal laughs, his face scrunches up, his dirty hair stands high.

He forces himself into your mouth. He orders you, and with a gun against your temple you know what to do. Your tongue, like a baby's, touches the soft of his foreskin. The Animal grunts, it moans in response to your movement. The pain engulfs you as his penis would have. Your blood makes for great mobility, your gums are supple, perfection. He can feel your loose teeth and braces scraping against him. He comes down your throat; thick and bloody.

Your face is wet with blood and tears that stick to your cheeks, your delicate neck, your youth. The shirt has been soaked through. He thrusts the gun inside you. He shoots, your eyes enlarge. You cry, you ask why, you beg. The gun only clicks. The barrel is empty. He shoots again. Each shot is met with your pointless yells. You are in grief aren't you? Bargaining has left. Acceptance is on it's way. The noise is distinct, each click echoes in your ears. Fourth time lucky. Again, and again, it becomes sinister. Your innards are left seeping out and staining the ground.

The moon shines down onto your newly red hair, your red lip stick, your flushed cheeks, your red eyes. You're so pretty, smiley face, exclamation mark. You are serene, staring aimlessly ahead until he flips your eyelids over. He leaves the revolver inside you. Nothing hurts more than how love feels.

101 things

Dirtbag and Blogbear love:

1. Big, fat, glorious magazines with seeminly more adverts than content.
   


2. Constantly talking shit with friends.
   


3. Accents. Hearing them, guessing them, imitating them. South African to American. All good.
   


4. The fact that Sexy Music Man is back. The man of my 14 year old's dream. The man who literally made girls "head over heels".
   


5. Dumb bitches.
   


6. Nudity. "Here, we’ve only got a few options in how to react to the naked body: be aroused, be amused, or be repulsed. Boo to that." Hey Nuuuuude, don't make it bare take a short skirt and make it shorterer...
   


7. The idea of having a gun pointed to our faces and asked for our last words and offering a nonchalant shrug "dun matta".
   


8. People who can multiply decimals in their head because it's suprisingly sexy.
   


9. Knowing that Bindi Irwin is subject to a ventriloquist up her bot bot.
   


10. Taking the blows in my face and my body.
    


11. The Assassination of Our Futures by the Coward Procrastination.
    


12. Sarcastic jokes about and during inappropiate situations.
    


13. When people don't acknowledge us and avoid eye contact.
    


14. Filling our sorrows with the words we borrowed.
    


15. Morgan Freeman narrating my life in one ear whilst Adrien Brody whispers sweet nothings in another.
    


16. Kisses on the nose and ear.
    


17. Quotes said at the correct moment which allow you to win life with one smart arse comment at a time.
    


18. Public displays of affection.
    


19. Calling for whores to fill our empty, empty.. cavaties. Slut! I need somebody. Slut! Not just anybody.
    


20. When fat people kiss with their eyes open on rides at the royal show.
    


21. "Never take it seriously, if you never take it seriously, you never get hurt, you never get hurt, you always have fun, and if you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends."
    


22. Public displays of affection in public toilets
    


23. World of Warcraft. We don't play but in our eyes it's possibly the most amazing thing. We love its following and the followers' obsession with it and loyalty for it and dependency on it. Again, we don't play it but how can you overlook a game which has such an effect on people, it's fucking sick. We also find this YouTube very relatable so how could we not love WOW
    
    
    
    
    
    We once knew someone who within 2 minutes of meeting us, asked us if we owned an external hardrive. That's the kinda thing we love.
    


24. When people stare at you and then you stare back until they break eye contact. You win.


25. Taking stalker photos. Example: walking down Beaufort St and seeing someone that Dirtbag is obsessed with, then pretending you are on your phone outside IGA to get a photo of him.


26. Alexander Wang, Alexander Wang's clothes, the Alexander Wang Girl.
27. People who shit in pools.

If you ever need a stranger

There's this same woman who I always see when I come to school.

The other morning she said to me, "It'll get better".

I love strangers, every now and then they get it right and it makes you smile.

It Just Sounds Like Sex?

Do ya feel her warm fingers working deep beneath your skin. heating you up as she goes up and down and up and down and faster and faster till you're feelin it in your whole body and you're feeling really hot but a good hot, like perfect temperature. are ya? yeh? and is it nice to have her perfect thighs against your sides as she holds you slumped between her legs. yeh, she's playing with your hair, blowing on your neck. she's so homely but the way your head is carelessness rolling about her chest leaves you light headed. well if this is how it is, she's not gonna stop and she's got ya feelin so good. you're in her play tonight.

That's lady alcohol for ya. So, can you feel the effects yet or are you yet to be intoxicated?

Cause i just wanna know how you're feeling after that, and whether or not you're feeling goooooooooood yet :)

Fuck Seeing Your Councellor

I am going to make amends right here, right now. Welcome to the Unnamed Female Protagonist’s BHA (yes, the Broken-Hearted Anonymous). Spotted was E waving the white flag- not because she meant it, but because she’s too tired and has a hefty workload to tend to.

Here’s a question for you to mull over in your next Community of Inquiry: “Why is it that we want things to patch up so badly and pretend all the bullshit never happened? Why can’t we just cry and wallow and be petty and misunderstood and dramatic and over-reactive all at the same time?” Because life is too fucking short that’s why. Everyone screws up. Even you screw up. And you know what? Karma’s gonna getcha’. And no matter how often you flinch with jealousy as you watch me zoning in on your best friend, and no matter how many times you get to macking the hunnies in the most inappropriate of all places- Karma’s going to be there waiting to give us both a piece of his (I assume karma has a gender) mind.So for those of you out there who have been graced a second, third, or maybe forth chance to get your act together, I advise you take it. And for those of you who think you can get away with sneaking around undetected- “BEWARE OF THE DOG”.

So here we are on our moral high-ground. It is glorious up here, but it is lonely. As Dizzee Rascal advises, we might just “fix up, look sharp” and end up winning after all.

Just remember, we may forgive-but we never forget ;)

Pretty Vacunt

On Saturday night Blogbear and I found ourselves in a pretty shitty position, but knowing us, we made the most of it.

Left cashless and phoneless we had to do a runner from our cab. We were kind, we gave a back-up story, we gave him an abusive, stealing boyfriend, we offered tears, we offered bruises, we offered our mobile numbers but he gave us no choice. We have no strength to forgive those who have sinned against us. We hate people when they aren't polite, so run, run, run, run, run, run away! As we left I threw 20c onto the back seat. I don't even know why exactly, but it wasn't out of compassion. I think I thought 20c could maybe pass as our fee. who knows (drunk Dirtbag does).


What you can learn from this night:

• Every now and then you can rely on the kindness of strangers, we knocked on the back door of some Asian restaurant for what felt like that prison phone call.


• You can wet yourself by peeing on a slant.
  
• You can also cut yourself from running into spiky bushes.


• Dancing to Immigrant Song with Blogbear, Dirtbag, and Blue Eyed Boy in a bathroom is more fun than getting your mack on in the "hook up room".
  

Just ask fallen girl:


"Hey fallen girl, whats up with you?"
"I'm tired of hooking up, let me get a little nap in to refuel and we can go again"

It's A Hard Knock Life

Let me decode your life according to Annie.

You don't have Mrs. Hannigan instead you have other people who control your behaviour and such. These people are called bosses, teachers, parents, tax collectors, police, da law. These people inflict fear and pain on you till you find yourself staying up making sure the floor (your life) shines like the top of the Chrysler Building.

Annie has successfully fooled many of us that the sun'll come out tomorrow when really it won't. Let me bust the lie of eternal life. I did the favor to you by researching this shit, I googled "the sun will blow up".  Upon reading I found out that the fate of the earth is fairly precarious. The sun's evolution will last about 10 billion years and we're about half-way through. When the sun slowly engulfs the earth and people die their acute deaths I bet the very first thing on their minds will be "Remember that song Tomorrow by Annie? My god, what a lie that song is." 

We're sad but we're happy. It evens out.

P.S. This is a Red Giant aka a big arse star.

Happy Fatherfucker Day

Here's a story for you to learn that the simpliest and funniest things can lead to sadness.

This Friday night I was in bed watching something I'm too ashamed to admit to on the world wide web. Let me lay out the ground work for this story, both my siblings were out. One little piggy was at a red charity party, one little piggy was going to watch Dappled Cities, the third little piggy was alone snuggled up in bed listening to the rain (Blogbear).

So Papabear knocks on my door to ask me what I'm doing and my first instinct is that he thinks I'm up to no good and sneaking out. It's kind of awkard at this point because my door is locked and we're speaking through a wall.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing. Just in bed."

"Oh ok. I just took out a movie. Do you want to watch it with me?" At this point I'm silently freaking out because my father never takes out movies nor does he ever ask me if I want to watch them

"Um... what movie?" This is when I come to the door to speak to him.

"It's a horror film. Friday the 13th?" This is met with my laughter.

"I can't watch that. It's R 18+ and I won't be able to sleep for a week." Everyone in my family knows I can't watch anything remotely scary. As much as I can enjoy it... it's just not worth the following week which I live in paranoia and fear. So I go crawl back to my bed till my dad comes returns after 15 minutes.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing... why?"

"Are you doing any homework?"

"No?"

"Do you want me to drive you to the video store to take out some movies?" HE NEVER DOES THIS. I HAVE TO BEG HIM TO DRIVE ME. I figure he just wants to bond with me. You know, quality father and daughter hang out.

"Ok... I'll get a coat." I'm seriously weirded out but I remain calm.


So we're walking down the stairs together when he asks me if there are any movies at home that I want to watch with him. I wonder... and so we both go off looking for movies. Then I deciede we watch Million Dollar Baby. I walk to the T.V. room expecting my dad to follow me. Then he's like, we can watch in bed, which is when I'm kinda freaking out and I know this story is walking down the road of some weirdo incest story but no, it's much sadder than that.

"Isn't mum asleep in bed?" I walk into their bedroom to find that its empty.

"Nah she's left somewhere."

"Where?"

"I don't know."


The pieces are fitting together and this is when I realise that my dad is just lonely because nobody else is at home. So out of sympathy I lie in bed pretending to watch Million Dollar Baby as I text Dirtbag what just happened.

"Blogbear, how can you watch the movie if you're on your phone texting." So I put my phone down.

Mamabear comes home about half an hour into the film and calls my father some names. This is my cue to leave. I go to bed with a smile but also feeling very sorry for my lonesome Papabear.

This is the funniest and saddest thing that happened on my weekend. A thank you for those who managed to remain interest throughout this post.

Au reviour emeny.

Sexual Advances by the Youth's Front

Our good friend Voldemort (alias because we prefer to keep them unknown and Voldemort is he who shall not be named and also because our dear friend resembles the dark lord both physically and is known to mentally embody him too), anyways yeh, when Voldemort was in year five she had a sudden epiphany. She felt, they had solved a world wide dilemma. Voldemort raised her scrawny pre-pubescent arm to ask a question, "Teacher, teacher, two boys can have sex together, all they have to do is use their arsehole". The teacher hushed the child and returned to their desk with a prompt top up to their coffee (alco-ma-hol). True story.

Yuman Biol

"Teacher, Teacher, does the baby lick the mom out when it gets birthed?" This can't even be blamed of a child's naivety because this person was 15 when they said this. Not sure if they were trying to be funny or are actually a fucking retard but either way this person sucks cock.

Child Genius Vs. Year Ten Douche Bag

P.S. If you're game google vaginal warts. actually don't or do, whatever. It caused me to yell several times. Just expect the same reaction you got in watching The Hills Have Eyes when the monster sucks on the chick's lactating breast right after raping her sister, except this time prepare to clench and cry. Well yeh, do it. I dare ya ;)

My Pun Gun

There's something I have to admit to everyone. It's not something I'm particularly proud of but its blatantly true; I suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Pun Disorder. This doesn't mean I constantly make good puns although I do try. Most importantly is that I take a fair amount of joy in them. I'm that kid who has her jaw dropped as she slaps her knee laughing when that daggy teacher refers to our subject course as "2B or not 2B".

Typically a pun is a play on words. When a friend says "I think she was head over heels over him" when referencing to the act of fellatio on a peer or "It was a handy situation", I laughed longer and louder than I should have. I love the subtlety of a pun. I love the way it can breeze past your ear without anyone noticing it until that glorious moment that is united with laughter... but mainly groans and insults. One of my best friends, she has guest blogged as the Unnamed Female Protagonist, is a fucking queen of puns. I wish her puns weren't as personal as they are so I could post them on here but some day I will but by then I am afriad they would have lost their stigma... ohh pun.

I hope for a day when I am so talented that I speak only in puns. Walker-bys will stop to stare as I greet everyone with endless amounts of puns. I wish I could provide you with a few witty ones right now but I'm ashamed to say I can't think of any... but soon enough crowds will gather as I speak in P/M (puns per minute). Soon there will also be a police force and laws that will limit my puns to a particular amount.

Exampe A: I come riding down past a school ripping into 6 year olds with my puns of 100 P/M until a cop pulls me over and wacks me a ticket for going over 50 P/M in a school zone.

The laughter and hysteria created will only bring death to the frail and those who suffer from OCPD. Premature babies will come crawling out of the birth canal in laughter. I will be welcomed by standing ovations everywhere I go. I will part the Pacific Ocean single handedly with a pun as a fuck you to Moses. I will live as a joker in K. Rudd's castle. With each pun the sun will shine brighter till... till we all burn and die. Death by laughter, the right way to die.

Buisness of Stangers

While walking dogs we meet people, talk and shit. well no, actually. Women talk to your dogs and you're meant to smile politely. This must be the reason why i am not a hit with the strangers. I'm either too forward or, as I've been told, appear bored.

SITUATION 1

Woman X: (talking to the dogs) what are you guys doing?
Dirtbag: sitting (bluntly)
Woman X: ohh, ha you can hardly see your pretty eyes
Dirtbag: Yeh you can't, too much fur. But look, same colour as mine
(Woman X backs away)


Also today i went into Fresh Provisions and thought i saw a friend of mine (who was i kidding) so i ran directly towards him with the intention of jumping on him from behind. Luckily in that moment as i hovered above them but my feet still on the ground, although my breath could be clearly felt on their neck, i realised that i did not know this person and so swiftly ran away. Ha, luck was a lady tonight, or I'd have had another stranger's judging eyes pierced on me.



Beating around the bush can be really annoying but when it comes to old women's crotches I'd prefer if they weren't so open. Avoidance is another thing to learn, like when your dog's got his nose up some other dog's arse, just pull them away, don't exclaim that he's gonna get pink eye, just don't do it, walk away.

SITUATION 2

(dog sniffs woman's crotch)
Woman X (same woman as before): Well you can tell it's a boy dog

SITUATION 3

(dog sniffs woman's crotch)
Woman Y: Hey, don't sniff my crotch. oooh you're a wicked dog!


You used to get it in your fishnets, now you only get it in your night dress?
is that how it is?
Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness and landed in a very common crisis?
Can you remember when you used to be a rascal? yeh well the best you ever had is just a memory now.

well sorry ladies but even though you've already became, it's not very becoming of you to pine over this, they're dogs remember.

To Infinity and Beyond

How can one day be so endlessly embarrassing?

If you haven't already gathered your disembodied parts and started to reassemble yourself after your body was destroyed as the hell mouth opened, maybe wait a moment because you'll only be blown away again. Bad News: i did not win the pi competition. However so, nerves may have got me, this is no excuse and i shall rise above my epic fail of this year to glory in 2010.

I entered the arena (classroom) confident( nervous as fuck) but after gaining knowledge from my entourage(sluts) and support team (bitches) that i would in fact have some competition i lost faith in my 270 decimal places. After the years sevens (babies), eights (todlers) and nines (those annoying kids at age eight-ish) were done abusing the privilege to even know such prestigious numbers, up walked a shady figure (shady cunt). She delivered the numbers perfectly until... she stopped, she stopped at 265. i began to pray because i knew that she had learnt over 300 but if she fucked up now i could still win. I waited, i held my breath for the entire minute then bam, she was off again. Why must my emotions be toiled with, WHY?! and so i hung my head low and tried to shy away from weeping. When finally it did come my turn, i was so ashamed i could barely bring myself to rise. The crowd i had raked (there actually was a crowd) were not sitting on chairs or desks but the brittle scaffolding of my empty promises. What a terrible fool I'd been to boast of my endeavours deep into the decimal places of pi. I'd like to leave the details of the actual performance disclosed as I've never been so humiliated in my entire life and on my own behalf, so i hope you understand.


This has been a very hard day and an embarrassing one. I felt as though i died at least two times. I was severely under prepared in my debate tonight too which didn't help and so i fumbled about with my palm cards and played with my hair and scarf without raising a single point. Oh and here's another for anyone taking note of my suckyness, my mom walked in on me singing to BlogBear on the phone my own version of American Pie... i changed the lyrics to be about pi- how pathetic am i?

"A long, long time ago...I can still remember how those numbers used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people proud and maybe, they'd be happy for a while.
But September-er made me shiver with every number I delivered.
Bad news as i sped up; I couldn't get the order.
I think that maybe i did cry when I heard that others did know pi,
but something inspired me deep inside the day that i performed pi.

Did you write pi everywhere, and do you still know it now your done,
i bet you don't even care?
Well do you believe in 2010, can numbers save your mortal soul,
and can i claim the title next year?
Well, I don't think you're in love with pi
cause you don't seem to be very high.
You just used those numbers. How bout tender love and care!
I was a lonely teenage maths student with some free time and a memory
and if I'd known I'd be out of luck
the day i performed pi
I'd still be saying, pi pi 3.1459 265358979323 84626433832 saying 79502 884197

Well i know two seventy places of pi, I may
have had a performance, oh, but i never got the chance!
cause the other players tried to take the field;
those numbers that for me did yield.
The classroom was adjourned; a verdict was returned...
but I'll keep on saying, pi pi, most infinitive pi, 16939937510 582097494 singin, i can't believe i screwed up, the day i performed pi. "

i am so very very very lame.

ohhhh well, here's proof (if you take my word for it)
3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510
58209749445923078164062862089986280348253421170679
82148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128
48111745028410270193852110555964462294895493038196
44288109756659334461284756482337867831652712019091
45648...

how I've loved you so, pi, and yet you betrayed me. I shall rise above this temporary hate for you your never-ending-highness and you and i shall take home the trophy next year. yess next time, my pretty, next time...

P.S.that was honestly by memory. I did know 270 at lunch today but that there's only 255 as today my memory never ceases to let me down and so i continue to fall.

"in admist of a dark hour, Dirtbag/Blogbear deliver gold to my fogged up glasses"

At school we use a website called Mathletics, already, how hilarious of us, but no, that's what it's called. Anyways the site provides you with a user name and password when you sign up.
some password examples would be bunch 55, house 14, skirt 90

Well we can't help it, we're only teenager you know, so with the discovery of someone's password being Chop27 and Blogbear's own being Crew32 we could not resist the stomach clenching and mouth grinning.

We are ever so lame

I feel there's a change in weather coming along... yes i realise the first day of spring did pull in some mighty winds and rain and all but come on, haven't had a funny night like this one in a while

The antici... pation is killing me

Tomorrow is either going to be the greatest day of my life... or the death of me.

You'll feel it though, a sudden warmth in your heart, a shiver down your spine, a cool breeze on your face. You will know, my friends, the moment when i achieve ultimate-ness. Yes you will all feel the moment.

And if for some mother fucked of a reason i am beaten at my attempt you will feel the earth tremble beneath the carpet, hear the sound of chairs knocking over as thousands are compelled to commit suicide, hear the crackling of your skin as you narrowly avoid contact with one of the many fire balls which will be-a-flying, see the blood upon you hands as you murder all those around you and then you'll find yourself at the bottom of a diving pool filled completely with every single person you've ever loved skinned alive but still breathing and squirming and you must climb out to what you think will be freedom and a life away from this hell only to hear the yelling of "Nein Nein Nein Nein Nein Nein!" grow louder and louder as you push up past the bodies, your toes in eyes, your hair sticky from blood and torn off bits of your best friend caught in your armpit... and when you think it could not get any worse you'll catch the spark that bounces off your most hated enemy's eye as they are crowned royalty.

so... anyone who dares to take me on tomorrow in the contest of all contests, be warned, the universe is against you.