I Can Eat My Words

, well drink them, because you know what I said about being over cocktails? Total bullshit! I found out that the further you get from Bangkok the less sugary and stronger the drinks get! Yes mother fuckers, YES!! It's NYE! and for once we have a decent bar fridge!

There's a party in the basement of our hotel tonight. Suddenly bringing glitter and purple lipstick along with buying four different rubber masks doesn't seem so stupid. Also our room is on a separate hall to everyone else so we're gonna paint the town red later.

The last two days we've been riding on dirt track (however not Voldemort, he (she) piked out). Dirt track can suck my dick. gladly.
At one point today I found myself in a very frightening situation. I was in the middle of the pack which no longer was a pack as it'd dilated with a very big range. I could see no one ahead or behind me when I was attacked by a vicious dog. As I approached him in the distance I saw that, whilst having the usual open cuts on the barren patches of skin where the fur simply is not, this Thai dog was not lethargically sleeping, but standing. His body looked abrupt and tense but neck up he held himself low but level. I was fearful from the moment I saw him and screwed up my face as, when I got nearer, he seemed to walk towards me, stealthily. Then suddenly he ran up to me and was barking and snapping. I froze and screamed. Quickly I rode off and luckily he did not follow. And now i feel deathly afraid of dogs. What happens to my dear old Beagle when I get home? :

After our ride today we went swimming in a waterfall. There were these little fishes which ate the dead skin on your feet. really gross and scary. The dutch said they were simply kissing us. But my tendency to call bullshit surfaces it's scummy little face.

Kudos to Voldemort who just located the backpacker's strip of our town along with some night clubs; but to find them we have to look for a large sporting field which opposes them? I vote backpackers.
Oh but as I write this, she just fucked up the printer. Oh well, all in the efforts to ensure us a good night out. She's printing of some maps and the like x 55.

On Our trip we have two of the best drivers in the entire world. At dinner last night Voldemort was trying to scape the flesh off of her coconut which housed her pina colada. One of the drivers leans in as Um, our leader, commentates, "He likes to help!"
Oh yes he does. He sat opposite us at dinner and we hardly lifted a finger. He served all of our food, filled our drinks and would have spoon fed us had we not already beaten him to it. He did like to help. He did LOVE to help. Ahhh they're the best!

NEW WORLD HOTEL!

like oh my god, like are you serious? nup i'm sorry but can we all not?

nah, we can't all not.

currently in our "vip" hotel room. yeah... right. we have some kind of crazy sauna/spa/shower/music/thang. aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh the cigarette smoke is making my nose itch, the room is filled with it.

its time to go... soberity (is that spelt right?) well, i'm amazed that the keyboard isn't being all foreign. i've been battling all day with this fucking weird letters that have all these signs, but its behaving.

weelllllllllll time to go to the roof top, time to go to that place... yeah yeah, we've written it down so don't you worry.

bye bye bye sober blogbear, bye bye sober lulu. we'll see you in the morning.

Oolsdickpsychbye, Clsdickmuss, Retsdikarcig

we had our first day of cycling through Thailand today. I really enjoyed it.
ll over Thailand there are feral dogs. They're unclipped. They're big balled. Big Nippled. Big scary teethed. Big threat!
I'd latched onto this idea/plan that if ever one of the dogs tried to attack me I could simply ride off smug, screaming "bite dust suckerssss". I was majorly discomforted when told a dog would be much faster than me. Very very discomforted.
Our Group includes two Germans, two dutch people and us; and tourists come and stare at us, blow bubbles with their gum, have fun. After picking up on their ability to fluently speak English as well as their native tongue we felt very vulnerable. Who knew what they could say about us and it sure gave them the upper hand. And so was born Sparkle Motion's beautiful brain Child:

ESTAVAGORGHRE

Ibza leaf estdickgrate iradikfuck pledikpee noza leef etdickplan, Nixfer far Hart!

Dirtbag and Voldemort are not a force to be reckoned with! We've got original handshakes and a language under our belts so unless you're a manky dog and good at finding wayward teens in Thai jungles, good luck!

Yes, so as promised the saga continues with the infamous three dots, not two senseless dots but three

three hits of meth ,
,
,

...

1) We stay in and work on our newly acquired linguistic skills and kinetic movements. The whole night long. Preferably in the dark and maybe the curtain slightly drawn but enough for the full moon to lend us some basketivity.

2) We sneak out and get stolen by some men and then fucked and then fuck each other arse to arse by the only white man who prefers whites over Thais. "If this is red, what's orange?". (As I write this I look at Voldemort who's currently cheek to cheek with me on a chair and I think to myself "I wanna go ass to ass with you" and I know she's thinking back "I wanna go ass to ass with you.")

3) Do I dare eat a peach? and draw out this any further? Situation 3 is undecided. to be continued...

BedTime! Fuck running the red light, hit the RED LIGHT!

(district)

(9)

(L)

A.H. for Little Miss Piggy

xx

;)

Foreign Correspondents

I, Dirtbag, am in Thailand with Voldemort and BlogBear is in Vietnam with Lulu. You see we're very close to each other. So close yet so far.

Today we did a tree top tour called Flight of the Gibbon all by flying fox.Wicked. We saw tigers, rhinos, hippos, giraffes, elephants, ostriches, emus, monkeys... and yeh. Thailand is pretty cool. Better than Tokyo but worse than Cambodia. I think economically that doesn't make sense but that's my order, order of preference.

I'm sad that we made it to the red light district and left without having seen the ping pong show. Life goal still left uncompleted. I really want to see some white women with Thai men cause vice-versa is really getting on my nerves.

Went to a roof top bar. It was really nice. Cocktails included Sex on the MOON! crazy right. I got a kick from it. I am sick of cocktails though, too sweet.

We did our tour today with some Russians. Man their accents are cool. They look so Russian too; You can pick one.

Tomorrow we're cycling into the wilderness. Heading to our New Year's Eve destination. Hurrah!






...NAWWWWWT!

Voldemort's job was to google all bars, markets and shopping centre and she conjured up a list any wizard would be envious of. My job was to plan the ultimate NYE, which I did, but there is somethings in life which are out of my control and on December 31st/ January 1st we'll find ourselves in one of three situations...

to be continued...

Motherfuckers go to timfucktu!

MY NAME IS MAN I AM IN NAM WITH MY BEST FRAN WITH MY FAM TO VISIT MY GRAM!

yeah.. mother uckers, merry christmas!!!!! you know what the spirit of christmas is? its called being given all the freedom and trust in the world by your parents because you happen to be in a hotel half an hour away from them and by being in a foreign country. you know what else christmas is about? its about not holding it against one of your best friends the fact that he ruined one of your nights by vomitting onto your suitcase and in your bed and therefore cancelling all the rest of your plans that night (tonight). but you know what, i had such a fucking good night, he couldn't actually ruin it!

we went into the center of the city and celebrated christmas eve with the other millions of vietnamese people, we held giant balloons and fake snow, we ate a bad version of macdonalds called "lotteria". we went into a friends bar and abused the fact that we could have as many drinks as we wanted. singing to christmas carols drunk? yes fucking please!

alright, i should probably leave and check out how my drunken fucking friend is. the hotel staff here think i'm a loser because i'm spending 12.53am of christmas day typing this in a stained dress without any shoes on.

happy christmas to all! i hope you find the spirit of christmas, and i hope that it doesn't or does involve alcohol.

love your lover.

CTRL + SHIFT + C

Greese is the word? Sims is the word. Sims is the world. Sims should be the world.

You don't have style, you have fashion and wealth.

rosebud. ROSEBUD. ROSEBUD;!;!;!;!;! copy: ;!;!;!;!;! paste ;!;!;!;!;! = ROSEBUD;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;! copy: ;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;! paste: ;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;! = ROSEBUD;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!;!

I hate you so much. I fight urges to kill you. I want the pleasuer of killing you but mostly the pleasure of you gone. I want a vanishing act. murder is not that.

Move ojects--------> Delete

I want to save the game then Move ojects--------> Delete myself. yes. I've a pleasant mood.

Fast forwad a year. Be a kid forever. Never be a kid. Be an adult forever.

I used to say that losing my Sims disk was the worst and best thing to happen to me. I lived for that game but without it i had a proper life again. Now i say that it was definitely the worst. I want a Sims life because this proper one blows.

They look so cool.

The Trouble With Love is

This one time when Chris Brown and Rhianna came to Perth, I downloaded all the Chris Brown and Rhianna songs I could find because I had heard they'd been in Mount Lawley and spent twenty grand on Beaufort st. It was my first time using limewire and the first time I'd heard either of their music. Some could even say they were my first loves... (nah not really)

I thought of myself as a massive fan after that. To this day I think I still like Rhianna but not her boobs which are weird and not her "hella stylish on the for front of fashion and controversial" outfits. Same goes to you Lady Gaga, but I love nothing about you. Nothing.
I don't hear much about Chris Brown anymore. And since I am the token bandwagon fan of his it's probably because he hasn't been within a one kilometre radius of me lately and I'm just not amused anymore.


:) :) :) Love Games

"These Pretzels Are Making Me Thirsty!"

I frequently have dreams where I drink alot of water, and I mean alot. It's either me standing at a fridge which dispenses water or at a kitchen sink with two glasses so that while I'm drinking one I can be refilling the other. Sometimes the whereabouts of the kitchens changes. I could be at home just drinking by myself or trying to do something but I can't cause I have to keep drinking or at a party where I exclaim, "Hey guys! What the fuck! Haha look at me go. Haha no seriously, look! I can't stop drinking! This is insane, right?!"

The best things about these dreams is mostly I don't notice how annoying the scenario actually is, I mean once, like I mentioned, I was trying to do something else so the excessive need to drink really fucked me over, but in general, because you don't find it annoying these kinds of dreams are pure satisfaction! I mean you have no other purpose and while you're drinking all you think about is drinking and so you simply get to feel the pleasure of swallowing a mouth full of water when you're parched; the greatest feeling in the world.

Now I know I only have these dreams because I go to sleep thirsty and don't realise it but I still find them bazaar and hilarious. Like come on, I have dreams which seem to go for hours of me just drinking water and doing nothing else except maybe basking in the sheer splendor of drinking so much fucking water! Man, everyone has these dreams, and they're crazy! I love 'em!

Question

Do you think that two people can be in love (when I say love, I really mean "love", what I really mean is infatuation [short-lived yeaaaaah?] ) with each other in such a short amount of time?

To the point that:

- one person takes it up the arse even though they don't want it

- people refer to them as the same person

- their names are used as an adjective and or verb. Example: You're chucking a James and Ruby! Man, your dress is very James and Ruby. Wow, I was just about to do a James and Ruby. 

- in order to get into contact with one person you must call the second half

- being too tight and too tall is enjoyable

- they are no longer refereed to as 'them' but rather 'it'

- they use the term walks in the parks as a decoy and or code for fucking

- they have no other social traits but the ones they share

- their stories only include each other

- one person would happily wear the other person as a coat if they were ever to be the only two surviving people in the world

- people will roll their eyes when you mention their names

- you don't ask them what they are doing because you already know the answer is each other

well, i wonder if they're in love, or caught in a spider's web, or extremely lustful for each other, or if its just the honeymoon period, or if they both believe they can't survive without the other, or maybe the sex is just that good.

apparently, we are all born with a soul mate. i learnt that you're born as a big blob of soul and spirits but then you're split. i think it had something to do with some lord fucking up then one of the gods got pissed off and split everybody up. therefore, you have a soul mate who is literally your other half. that's actually where the true meaning of platonic came from... or maybe i've got the story wrong. 

i hope all those lovers really are each others soul mates, because if not well you're really fucking annoying. i even hope to find my other spiritual blob some time in the future, if not in the near future in the far, far away future.

Dear Darla: Part One

As the title suggests this is part one in a series of posts called Dear Darla. There will be three parts in total and most likely they'll be quite separated depending on whether anyone has reached the highest level of disgust which I can take.

This is a shout out to one of my favourite movies, The Little Rascals. I hope you understand where I'm coming from and if not, hire the movie, it's the greatest.

And now because you make me sick, and I mean literally and physically, the inaugural Dear Darla,

YOU MAKE ME VOMIT!

cause you fucking do. I mean I did and I'm not even the yacking type, unless there's goon involved.

Love Alfalfa

P.S. Here's what Darla (front row, second from the left) grew up to be:

If Muhammad won't come to a healthy lifestyle, a healthy lifestyle must come to Muhammad

MUHAMMAD'S (MY) SLOB LIFESTYLE

Muhammad would awake at noon and return to his bed in the early hours of the day. Sunlight, human contact and reality was rarely on the agenda, however reality t.v. might be on the cards.

Breakfast is actually lunch, and that would be a toasted sandwich with a couple of healthy pieces of ham and cheese, often followed with some sugary Ribena -which is despite the controversy isn't actually good for you.

Foxtel was the next thing on the menu, of course Muhammad would set out what his day would entail (a series of fortunate t.v. shows) or he'd go through every show and film he'd previously recorded. You see, the great thing about Foxtel IQ (and Muhammad doesn't mind sounding like a sales rep here) is that you don't miss a thing! When he left the house (that should be IF he left the house) he would record everything he'd miss and when he'd go to bed he'd do the same.

Life was absolutely and wonderfully slobby. Muhammad's personal hygiene also declined with the increase of television. I could make a great graph for that, with an awesome strong negative correlation but instead use your imagination to picture how dirty Muhammad would have been. The great thing is, no one would have to deal with that, only Muhammad's family had to deal with him -poor them.

MUHAMMAD'S (MY) LIFESTYLE CHANGE

His lifestyle change was really due to two unfortunate things:

1) The dentist happened to find five cavities in Muhammad's mouth.

2) Muhammad was forced into slave/child labour because of his parents.

MUHAMMAD'S POST SLOB LIFESYLE

The days no longer range from 12pm-3am. It ranges from a working day of 9-5pm, and you know what? It's not actually that simple, Muhammad happens to be slaying the man till dark, till the hours of a juvies curfew. Muhammad can no longer sit and eat ice-cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He can no longer live in pajamas and avoid human contact.

Two of the cavities have been filled in as of today and Muhammad can no longer eat sweet candy or soda, apparently he's got enough eroding teeth as it is.

What's the result of a slobby lifestyle?

A $700 dental bill, a lot of extra weight, a decrease in intelligence and knowledge, psychological issues that include not being able to draw the line between dreams and reality, and a loss of social decency.

The lesson? Stop the tooth decay, put down that can of coke and that lollipop. You are NOT Lolita, so start brushing your teeth every quarter of every hour. Stop the fat intake and get outside. Put down the fork! You butterbody, butterface, buttereverything. You cellulite sally, tina the talking tummy, love handled, double chinned, wobbly piece of fat. (I just described Muhammad in one sentence ;) [any ladies up for that?] )

So yeah man, get down and jiggy with a long life span and say goodbye to your foe cardiovascular disease.

Hahahahahahaasjdhjhfgka

A four-year-old boy in the US state of Texas has been found drinking a beer on the streets after allegedly stealing his neighbours' Christmas presents.

Hayden Wright's extraordinary behaviour is believed to have been a deliberately provocative act on his part so he could join his father who is in jail.
According to local police in Hamilton County, Hayden was found wandering the streets at 1:45am wearing a girl's dress and with a beer in his hand.
He was taken to hospital to be treated for alcohol consumption.
Hayden's mother April Walker, who recently divorced his father, told that she woke up and panicked when she noticed Hayden was missing from his bed.
It was not the first time her son had tried to run away, she said.
"He wants to get in trouble so he can go to jail because that's where his daddy is."
Police say Hayden escapades started when he rang the door of a neighbour's house with a half-consumed beer in his hand.
Hayden then snuck away from the shocked neighbour who answered the door and entered another neighbour's house through an unlocked front door.
There he stole five wrapped Christmas presents, one of which contained the girl's dress he was found wearing.

No Mo Mo?

Just like in my post about solitaire there's been another time when my brain did something subconsciously in a split second which majorly freaked me out. Again I was shocked and initially swore to keep what happened simply within the walls of my body but as time went on I found it all pretty funny and ended up telling a lot of people and so here i am, much like in my solitaire post, not seeing any reason why i shouldn't just let it all go on the Internet. So here goes,

I was watching There Will Be Blood when i came across the most beautiful thing, this:


and the thought which my brain conjured up was this, "What an impressive moustache. Moustaches are cool. You should definitely grow an impressive moustache like his. Imagine how cool you'd be." all in a split second. (minds are really special in the way that they're similar to Narnia- in your head you can have really long trains of thought which actually occupy no time in real life out of body time). You see this scared me, I sometimes scare myself. I was very still and I think I did some kind of shifty awkward eye movements just to suss out whether anyone could have possibly known what had just happened. I remained stunned and motionless until i sternly told myself, "NO. You cannot grow a moustache! You are a woman(/girl)!"
Like I said, I really scared myself.
I continued to watch the film and Daniel Day Lewis and all his facial hair goodness along with the film and score themselves were incredible.

I'm A Loser Baby

For the first time in my life I finally won Hangaroo! except it didn't even feel like winning. There was nothing.
You see I happen to be some kind of a champion at Solitaire. I've played close to a million games and at one point I had my winning percentage on 22!!!

Have you ever suffered from a thing called addiction? I have. Back around the end of year nine I found myself with a lot of time on my hands so i decided to fill it with Solitaire. Nothing could have torn my eyes away from the computer screen and onto a little thing called realisation other than 'the incident'. When 'the incident' occurred i swore never tell anyone but I later found it sort of funny and have since told alot of people and so what difference does it make if I tell the Internet. Here goes,
I was watching TV one night and you know how your brain does things subconsciously like recognise a dog as a dog and shit like that, well i was watching TV and there were a whole heap of characters on the screen all wearing different style clothing in different colours and arrangements and my brain, ready for this, in a split second, looked at the screen and found a way to rearrange them all as if it were a game of solitaire. It's so hard to explain. It was sort of like "well she has a blue (heart) T-shirt (black) so she can go on the red (spade) trousers (red) and then pink (diamond) singlet (black) can go on the red (spade) skirt (red) so long as my next move involves putting the green (club) T-shirt (black) on to the pink (diamond) shorts (red)"- you see it doesn't really make sense but at the same time it did make sense because it was all very logical according to solitaire. Is that what my brain had become? Logical according to solitaire?
It all happened in a split second and I, no joke, shook my head in that fake confused manner when I realised what had happened and left the room right away. I'm not sure what happened next but I think I sat in a room all by my self and swore never to tell anyone about what had just happened and then probably opened a new game of solitaire, that was way back when my winning percentage was still 19 or something so i was pretty serious. So 'the incident' may have opened my eyes to my addiction but that didn't mean I was going to anything about it.

When you win Solitaire it's a beautiful occasion, all the cards bounce about and there's a confetti display much like fireworks.
My expectations of Hangaroo were quite high and I was let down very very strongly. Therefore today could have been observed as the first stage of addiction but i swear to God the incident which prevented me from becoming addicted to Hangaroo was it's poor finale. Plus it generally sucks cock.

I hate Hangaroo

Two Days

Our american friend Holi is coming home to Perth on Saturday! Here are some of her drawings

I'm sorry i can't figure out how to not cut off some of the image but here's where some more of her pictures are hiding.

The Fresh Maker

"I hear Tyler Durdan gets facial reconstruction surgery every 2 years."
"...That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard"

and the stupidest thing I ever heard is this story:

There's this girl fooling around with this guy and he tries to get a little creative in the same way a pornstar's idea of creative input is licking a toilet seat (no Sasha Grey, you got gonorrhea from that, dumb bitch); not all out enough to be kinky and just a little rank. So this guy decided to put 6 Mentos Mints up the chick's vagina. god knows why. He does this then continues to pleasure the lady. When he later applies maximum suction, I assume, oh actually maybe he used his fingers/hands/fist/both fistsss!!!! he pulled out... 1 Mentos... 2 Mentos... 3 Mentos... 4 Mentos... 5 Mentos... 6 Mentos...
AND A SEVENTH MENTOSSS!?!?!?!!?!?!

and with that conclusion to the story the narrator stared with gigantic eyes at me, pissing herself laughing. I didn't know how to react, I mean I was confused. I asked her what the point was, she didn't comprehend what I was saying, so I asked again. Still she didn't get me. "I don't get it? he'd counted wrong? what's so funny about that?"


I mean a woman's vagina can have all kinds of crazy effects on men, one being lack in numeracy skills. Some kid I knew once had killer skills in maths when he was younger but the day he learnt to divide he used his knowledge for the worst, or best(either/or). He'd rearranged the division symbol from being two dots on either side of a line to two testicles and a shaft. He learnt to divide legs and said goodbye to an education.

But nonetheless the chick kinda kept looking at me weird. I responded, "soooo that was the story. he'd lost count or something?" to which she replied "OMG!!!!!! NOOOOO IT WAS A BALLLLLL OF CUMMMMMM!!!!"
"what? a ball of cum?"
"YEAAAAAAHHHH"
"no, I don't understand. What? so you're saying she had inside her vagina a hard ball of dried cum which resembled a Mentos?"
"YEAHH"
"no. no way. that's bullshit. he obviously lost count"
but apparently not cause this narrator kept insisting it was 'a ball of cum'. what? did it taste minty too? That's the shit a nymphomaniac comes up with when their not busy fucking and they're having a little nap and a wet dream on the side. Breath mint made of cum? Fuck off.


and yeh. that was the stupidest story i've ever been told




Physics class at a co-ed school circa anytime after Einstein's rise to popularity

Hunk X watches as his girlfriend, Slut X, rubs her legs together during class igniting fire in her groin by stimulating her clit piecing. Hunk X, wishes he was in the toilets with her fucking her senseless. Hunk X knows that his penis has gone up and it ain't cumming down so he says fuck Newton and opts for some temporal satisfaction in the fine Tang of Mentos Mints. Lucky for him, as he delves into his pocket he finds Mentos Blast Gum; Slut X you little squirter, you.

Nobody ever loved me like shoe does

Ok so these are the top two meanest things you could do to me, both crimes of which my mother and father have already committed. If I ever accidently castrate you or break your heart, well you can use this as a guide to break mine back.

The problem about this is it's not the kind of heartbreak that goes away. Every single time I think about it, even though it has happened a year ago, the pain well it pinches my stomach in exactly the same way.

You can come to the conclusion after reading this that the only two things I value are superficial and materialistic well that just isn't true. I won't die if you do this to me but I will love you less and I will want to one-inch punch your nose until it isn't a nose but just one big hole in your face.

1) Throwing out my magazine collection. This still breaks my heart every single time I have to think about it. After I had collected over 150 magazines over three years my mother and father thought that throwing my collection in the trash would be some kind of fucked up incentive to cleaning my room. The ironic thing is, my magazine collection happened to be the only organized thing in my room at the time. The fact that they were probably recycled into some kind of eco-friendly toilet paper and the greatness of those pages are now being wiped with shit all over them, well that just breaks my heart.

2) Ruining my clothes. I'm actually a hypocrite when it comes to this because there's been about five times when I've either tried to be helpful by doing laundry or just been drunk and ruined my sister's clothes. But now more than ever I completely understand how much it hurts to have your clothes ruined. The fact that you poured your soul into earning those dimes (or your parents did). Your clothes are not just clothes. They don't wear you, you wear them. Every single time my suede shoes get scuffed or any alcohol is spilt on me a bit of me dies inside whilst another side of me will be silently or violently filled with rage and anger that if not retained could lead to death. I really don't care what people say, "but it's just a shoe".... when will you realize it's not just a shoe?

Call me melodramatic but the sad thing about these two things is that there is pretty much no way you can repay the person who you've caused the heartbreak. Those magazines can not be collected again. Even if you wanted to track down every single one of those magazines, you won't. And that one of a kind vintage dress with the lace back you bought on eBay? That can't be bought again. It's a fucking collection, a fucking past time, it isn't an investment or symbol of money.

Look, the way I see it even if you DO buy it for the person again, or pay the person back with the same amount of money, it just ain't the same. The money doesn't mean half as much as the times that one dress has been worn, what that shirt meant to the person, how those shoes made that person feel. That money, and future subscriptions you give the person won't repay for the magazines that gave the person hours of reading time and inspiration. Those clothes and magazines is what gave that very person (me) the entertainment and joy when the rest of the world failed to.

Yeah.. I'm going to be one of those women who die with a ridiculous amount of shit and nothing else to show for my life aren't I? Oh well, I hope I die in blue suede shoes reading a magazine.

Some helpful tips that may prevent a suicide:

Leather: should not have vodka spilt on it.

Suede: should not be worn at parties in the backyard's with grass/dirt involved.

Silk: should not be put through the wash or it will turn into a short piece of crepe paper.

Blood: should be washed immediately and if not washed properly will only spread and stain your clothes forever.

Alcohol: should be drunk naked so that you don't ruin your own or even worse someone else's clothes.

Don't let us down, and when I say us, I mean my clothes, magazines and I.

P.S. Here's some ridiculously privileged people. This is what my parents should have shown me instead.

Black out

So there's me lying in bed on a Sunday night on the mac doing whatever shit I usually do. Talking, checking, reading, yadda, yadda, ya. Then there's a black out and suddenly the only source of entertainment I have is candles and making pretend horror films with my video camera on night vision. That proved to be fun for about half an hour till I realized I couldn't do anything else. No electricity meant nobody to call, nothing to watch, nothing to listen to. I decided to lie in bed until the electricity would turn back on, that was riveting. When will it turn on? Nobody knows. 

My parents saw the black out as no means of ruining their night, instead they cleaned the bathroom by candle light. Aww, cute! Who said anything about a mid-life crisis or trouble in their matrimonial paradise? 

Violence and Voodoo

"Oi, What the fuck!"
"nah man he was being racist"
"What? He was being racist? to you?"
"Man he was being a racist cunt"
"Yeh well you're white, get over it!"

The act of racism hadn't actually been committed to this fellow, he's white, what'd ya expect, but to his friend who got called an "Asian cunt". you know what? FUCK OFF. I bet you call him an Asian cunt. And if you disagree I bet you've described him as Asian once before and then on a separate occasion when you weren't too happy with him you decided to call him a cunt. Now no one deserves to be hit just because they conjugated all the middle shit to give the more concise gist of it all: "Asian cunt".

And so that means all you "commiters" surrender to the pack mentality and gang up on one guy? You are all arseholes cause you know what, most of you aren't gonna do a thing. Ooooh you're a tough cunt are ya, oh i see you're holding a chair, hmmm oh okay, so are ya gonna throw that chair now, you know, since you're such a tough cunt. Oh oh so now you've got a pot, did ya dig out all the flowers yourself or do tough cunts like yourself just have a sixth sense for empty things good for throwing, oh wait, are you even gonna throw that pot or what, ooohh shame, you didn't throw it, oh that's okay, in my eyes you're still a tough cunt, cause anyways tough cunts are just all show. man, you're the toughest cunt I've ever known.

Kicking down all the lights in someone's driveway translates to a hissy fit. You're just boys pretending to be men. All of you. You act like you're so hard done by, that the streets aren't safe, that you've got a bad rep. I call bullshit! People in nice houses shouldn't throw glass bottles.

Dumb Dog

I was in a changing room, getting my kit off when I witness this fuckwitt's train of thought

Fuckwitt: The dress is 30% off so if it costs $100 then thats... ahh... errr... um.. err.. 9 times... add... ahhh... $30! and then that means you pay... hmmm... errr.... umm.. are... take that from that... errr... $60!
Dirtbag: $70!
IDIOT

So please, hear me out next time I rebuke your ignorant celebration when you decide to drop maths.

What Not

These are things that have happened this month that in my mind were not worth blogging about but now I am going to blog about.

The following is what has been brewing as a draft for a month:

yoko ono,
It's been a year since the fun begun, it's been months since I've felt this happy. There's been mad dogs breathing down my neck but I just can't give a fuck. No boy, no girl, no man, no woman will bring me down. I just won't let them.

A week later I added to this post:

ohhhhh this was written a week ago, it's untrue as i've figured out.

Anyway on a less solemn note, I've got a lesson to teach you three people who read our blog, Hello Rowdy, Hello Unamed Female Protagonist, Hello Killer of Love. The lesson is to judge selectively. I know everyone does because depending on the person, your judgement can be very validated and be used as a good tool to keep away from those infected with HIV or say a man with a purple dick. But you know still, on the other hand it's keeping you away from all the beauty in the world that lies right in front of you. Here's my little story. This may be nothing, but listen out.

There's someone I met over a year now. I've seen them round the place and I've hated them. I saw them as someone weak, someone who did not stand up for themselves. A push over, well maybe they are but I held that against them and I didn't allow them to ever make another impression on me. I only realised much more recently how sweet this person really is, so fucking sweet that I'm falling in love you know. You meet someone, and there's a certain weight of respect you have for how much shit they get and also there's annoyance for the fact they cop it.

The greatest thing? This person will most likely read it, do you know what's even better? They won't ever think that it's them I am talking about.

P.S. collectively, this was written over two months now.

"This summer will rock!"

To all the hopeful girls and boyz,

Right now I'm lying in bed after hours of slumber, after hours of wasting my time watching endless television. I've eaten tree Trumpet's, two chicken wings, one toasted sandwich, omelet, handfuls of jellybeans, half a pizza, two scoops of ice-cream in the past 24 hours. Life couldn't be more wasteful and right now it's great.

Cigarette smoke is traveling into my room from the working electrician. Lately we've had a lot of smoking men around the house. Nothing to do, nowhere to go. I love the lack of plans.

You know when you smell something and it reminds you of the same thing every single time? Lynx chocolate, I have it with that. Well we both do. Last night was the first time this year it's reminded me of something new. The guy that it reminded me of is basically the last man standing and what it mainly marks to me is new memories. Summer is here and life is new all over again.

I hope that everyone has the greatest summer before the majority of us embark on "the most important year" which I call bullshit on.

Let's get ridiculously drunk, laugh inappropriately, lose our shoes, sleep in, sleep out, watch stupid amounts of films and t.v., gain weight, lose weight, fall in love, get burnt, get tan, jump festivals, hold the hand of a musician after you jump the festival and kiss that one person or none.

My grade 5 dictionary says that "the meaning of life is to have fun", I don't know about the accuracy of this statement but it fucking applies for summer. So everyone, get fucked! In the greatest way possible!!

Is That a Gun in Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

I have a friend who had sex with a Melbourne drug-lord in an alley way a month after being in jail for stabbing his girlfriend. This guy has also had a character of him feature on Underbelly. How fucking bad-ass is that!

P.S If you look carefully NicTaMere just got a million times better (a status which had a short lived run a little while back)

Guess Who

We've added a new feature to NicTaMere to add a little 'fun-n-games' just like when the curriculum council decided drama should be a TEE subject.

Having grown sick of hearing that Dirtbag and BlogBear needed two separate accounts we decided action needed to be taken to satisfy our readers (hey Bridget) whilst also being sensitive to Dirtbag and BlogBear's co-dependence and reliance on their Burt and Ernie living arrangements.

So we've added a poll to the end of every post where you can vote on who you think wrote the post! Genius! Because you're left in the dark so the mystery still lingers as always but now you've atleast got some other people's hands to grab hold off and who knows, it could be a little more like seven minutes in heaven and soon enough you'll get enough friction for a spark to occur. I wonder whether our writing styles are distinct enough for the most popular choice to actually be correct? let's just wait and see...

Happy voting everyone!

Dogs Are Covered in Hair, I'm Covered in White/Pink Sensitive Skin

This morning I woke up early and got up out of bed but was still tired. I saw my dog come up to the door and knew now that I was awake he wouldn't be able to sleep, so I didn't want to go back to bed. I went outside and laid with him on the bricks cause that's what he likes doing and slept there. And now I'm sunburnt. This sucks!

dogs can lay in the sun all day because they are dogs and they are fury. I cannot because I am A HUUUUMAAAAAAAAAAAAN BEEEEEEEEEEEING and not fury

Caring is creepy

Orange Cuntry

I'd forgotten how funny The OC is, but thanks to mandatory marathons of summer holidays I've been kindly reminded.

I'm sure you all remember Oliver, and whilst the infamous quote in the season 2 finale after a series of unfortunate events, "Seth: With the way things have been going, I bet that's Oliver", was incredible to say the least, Oliver's hey day itself didn't shy away from some killer lines.

EXHIBIT A
we have Julie cooper: The guy who lives in the pool house is giving me advise on the guy who lives in the penthouse?

nice, Julie, a composed comparison with a very favourable dabble into alliteration.

EXHIBIT B
One by possibly everyone's favourite born again character Luke, who quickly recovered from a lifetime of idiocy and a more recent spree of jealousy, hate and most predominantly prejudice, and an even more recent gun shot wound to become OC's golden boy, well atleast in my eyes. This beauty arose in response to the hated man of the hour himself while talking about the coveted Marrissa,
Oliver: She's not talking to Ryan anymore
Luke: Well is she still talking to me or are you doing all her talking now?

wow, wicked call Luke. See this is a perfect example of character development within The OC. Disclaimer: anything that I write concerning character development refers to season one were everything was plausible and realistic unlike sudden personality clauses or the god-forsaken dream world plot device we saw in season 4, I think (not too sure, I lost track when it all turned to shit), which I'm sure we all rather we didn't see.
yes so here we have a bit of the feisty Luke whom we all grew to hate in the first four episodes resurface amongst the new saved Luke. This reinforces the idea which TV series creators aim for and which josh Schwartz lost after season 2 which is believable characters. And while we're on the topic of believable characters, I stand by Jimmy being the best character- everything about him is entirely true, I can totally imagine a guy exctly like him in the real world saying everything his says and doing everything he does. kudos to whomever is the model of this sad, failure, midlife crisis-eree; I can't remember what happened to you in the latter seasons but i hope you got yourself together.

EXHIBIT C
Now the most amazing thing I've taken from my past 24 hours in what I call total peace, well being and solitude which could be observed as me in a black room directly in front of the TV with no breaks whatsoever so at the right approach the one beam of light from the gap in the closed shutter could allow for some light reflecting of off my piss which had settled nicely into the creases of the leather couch, was this beautiful quote which before stood previously undiscovered by Dirtbag kind.
Of course it comes from OC's truest diamond in the rough, Luke. He's talking to Ryan about Oliver and expressing his concerns over this obscenely rich kid,
Luke: just give me the word and I will drop the Great Gatsby!

ahhh so very very splendid. Man, Luke, who'd have thought. Shine on you crazy diamond, man imagine the more amazing things such a character could have said if the writers had chosen to include him more and let him find his voice.

basically this entire love fest over the OC was just a ploy to let me post two of my not-so- finest creations which I'm secretly proud of anyways. Who is anybody kidding right? The OC rocks, I don't need to tell you that, or have it told through the disciples' own words. And without undermining the geniousness of EXHIBIT C I admit it was the perfect opportunity to throw in these two babies. enjoy :)

ahh what the hell, and here's another of my brilliant paint endeavours cause BlogBear thought it was funny
yeah it's not actually funny, oh no, read this like I'm little miss indecisive (I kinda am) cause you know what, it is funny; funny that people actually dress that way. I drew that picture to let my msn contacts know of the atrocity I had witnessed that day. You know the image itself mightn't be all that hilarious but the truth which it's based upon sure is giving the OC a run for it's money.

Gone daddy gone

leave. leaving. left.

return. returning. returned.

ohhh distance has a way of making love understandable said wilco

absence makes the heart grow fonder said who?

absence is to love what wind is to fire... if the fire is small the wind will put it out and if the fire is big the wind will only intensify it said diane von furstenberg

who's right? huh huh huh

don't you wish those who have left you would return to you as you had always loved them?

then again, why'd you stop loving them or stop acknowledging your love for them in the first place.

ch-ch-changes. what was wrong with the way you used to be? huh mumma bear? huh brother bear?

sometimes, you see a glimpse of them that you love and that loves you.

but i don't know if can you love someone without knowing it.

it's not as if new york city burnt down to the ground once you drove away said rilo kiley.

but, i'm enjoying the distance, the absence for another six hours and another eight weeks.

P.S. I just ate a pie with what I realize now was used by tomato sauce.

You Know That Man You Hate? You Look More Like Him Everyday

Talking to my mom on the phone after being split up

Dirtbag: I'm walking to the car.
Mom: You're talking to the car?
Dirtbag: No. You're such an idiot.
I hang up

once more, such an idiot.

Wifey Life

Life at the moment is lonely, and sitting back from time to time and letting it absorb and contain me is nice.

Mamabear is gone, Grandmabear is gone, Cousinbear is gone, Sisterbear is gone. Brotherbear leaves at any and every chance. So it's just Papabear and Blogbear for now. It's not that I'm alone all the time but for more than a year I've never been home alone. There's always someone home in my household but things have changed lately. Papabear is busy bringing the bacon home so now I'm solitary. The thing is, I feel incredibly guilty when I want to go out or when I have the chance to. Or even if we're both at home and I don't hang with him (not that I ever do).

Usually I never clean, I don't like cleaning dishes, doing my laundry, making my bed -anything that involves my hands becoming wrinkly or smelling like I've been bleaching porn star arse holes all day. Now that there's no other women in the household I suddenly feel this gravitational pull, which is more guilt than a comfortable position, that I've gotta fill as the woman of the house.

Previously I could go months allowing a bowl of cereal to become solid or until there were a noticeable decrease in clean glasses or cutlery. If my room were ever messy I would just avoid it by never looking at it in the eyes and avoid sleeping in my own room but now I just get this pang of guilt whenever I see mess. I feel like the house is falling apart, I feel incredibly guilty knowing how hard Papabear is working, knowing he's only slept for three hours in the past couple of days. So I'm battling with my selfishness that would rather not pick up the slack around the house.

It's sad, it's so sad. Papabear can't live without Mamabear for too long. He can't cook for shit. He asked me to make him eggs for dinner... I wanted to cry. We're going out tonight because Mamabear's food has run out and so this is the best option.

This afternoon I felt lame, but an enjoyable kind of lame. I came home and washed the dishes... I never do this, ever. I cleaned my sneakers that Mamabear had been nagging me to clean for so long. I spent half an hour trying to work out how to use the ladder to get up to our attic. I found the Christmas tree amidst the dust and pulled it down with my weak arms. I was building up a sweat as the combination of my shaking arms and dust in my eyes made me want to jump off the ladder and die. So yeah, lame Blogbear put up the Christmas tree by herself.

Uh yeah, annnnd a guiltbag.