Fathom this

He's got a ticket to Bob Dylan tomorrow night and she doesn't. Usually he would stand there and pick out the things in the woman he did not like but she was perfect.

"Let's take your old man's car out for a spin," he says to her.

She smiles, "I'm sure papa would let you drive his car."

"Ditch everything and come watch Dylan with me"

"You're cruel" she pauses, "I'm going to stand outside there tomorrow night and feel the vibrations of the man I love."

"Are you still talking about Bob Dylan?"

She laughs and whispers, "I think I'm losing faith..."

"What?"

"I said I think I'm losing face."

Anger is a futile emotion

In anger I've done stupid things. In anger

I don't think any words or actions should be taken personally...

My anger's got me mother fucked in the ass this time round though. A week ago the stupid action of throwing out three possessions of a hated one. As soon as I did it -instant regret and instant karma!

I fucking smell of garbage juice right now.

yaaaaaaa wanna know why?

because one week later come to the present and have me walking home at 5.30am to save these three material possessions from being thrown out into the garbage collection.

a few good reasons why not to do anything in anger:

1) you will end up walking home in the morning bare footed with nothing but the clothes on your back.

2) eventually broken glass and hard gravel will take its toll.

3) that oversized jumper and your dirty hair is not shabby chic.

4) going through your garbage bin when what you want is at the very bottom is anything but desirable

5) your fellow wisteria lane neighbours will look at you in embarrassment and shame

6) delving through the bin is a bit like time travel -you get to visit all the trash from your past week! the further into the past, the crappier the smell!

7) having half of your body in the bin and reaching your hand in as you almost projectile vomit is worse than you think.

8) hearing the garbage truck coming down the street is like a final fuckdown.

have a good australia day ya smelly, angry australians!

Gatetrix

Madness madness madness. I can't go to bed because there are women hollering. no seriously, there are. If I had the courtesy to happily walk to my room I'd be a fool; a fool who openly subjected them self to... what? I've done it before, and from past experiences I know nothing happens. I guess they see a flash of light, but they aren't paying attention so only a drawn out violet of a shadow. No lions or witches or dinosaurs or any other cliched tormentors I know of that T- junction. Okay, so if I get in my room, I no longer kid you (or myself). I cannot sleep. now there are witches and they're cackling. Fuck tapestry, fuck the Amish, fuck clothing, fuck warmth, fuck the needle in the hay because the damage is being done! Let me fucking sleep. Our lives aren't this or that. We aren't offering a lifestyle to be envious of, well I mean, you know, not an offering but a glimpse? We'll pay for our limo cause we caught the driver off guard. Come on! fucking come on! I listen to the same musical entirely at least three times a day while playing solitaire. I'm home. I'm home.

Bananas!

A coversation that just took place...

15 year old who looks 8:
We go to school like 300 days a year.

Blogbear:
We do not go to school 300 days a year.

15 year old who looks 8:
That was a rough estimate...
I've thrown out 3000 bananas in my life time.
That's alot of money.

Blogbear:
Why don't you just tell your mum you don't like bananas?

15 year old who looks 8:
My mum would just shove two bananas in.

Blogbear:
What? No she wouldn't!

15 year old who looks 8:
You don't know how this bitch works.

It's a True Story

I knew this bloke once, right. And... he used to masturbate so much that he grew very fond of his hand. So much so, that he began to talk to it and he put a little face on it and he called it Muriel. And after a while Muriel began to talk back to him.
He would get her all doled up in make up and specially made little clothes and at night she'd go down and make intense mad passionate love to him.
Anyway, one night about three am he wakes up in a cold sweat. And hears all this panting and moaning and groaning coming from the next door neighbour's apartment. And he looks down at his hand, there's nothing there. Its gone. Its just this bloodied stump. So he staggers out into the hallway and he sees that the next door neighbour's doors is wide open. So he pops his head in and what does he see, on the bed, his hand, Muriel, all dressed up to the nines, make up on, going down on the next door neighbour.

Stubborn has got a stick up it's arse

I swear I'm never this stubborn but when it comes to this one person I could happily die with a grudge. He drives me to the edge of every cliff, on the edge of every continent.

The funny thing I've noticed is that he's become cautious of me. When he walks and sees me his body thinks automatically to approach me but then his mind (that obviously works slower than his "good body") reminds him I'm still angry at him.

My favourite things to say to he who can probably be named:

1) You're an idiot

2) I hate you

3) Get a job

The way I see it is that you have to promise your past self that you will do her/him the favour of never forgetting the sheer anger and annoyance that she/he had to endure. A good example would be if your past self had told your future self: "Never forget how disgusting it is to have to be in the bush for ten days and be under the control of two dictators! Don't forget how bad it was to hike up giant hills in the heat with no toilet breaks! Don't forget the tent that smelt like stinky, old, sour men! Most importantly: Look back in anger and never use the term "it wasn't that bad" because you were there.. and it was!"

In the same way I feel about bad experiences is the exact same way I feel about holding a grudge. When I'm not pissed off at him I remind myself with every disgusting thing he's ever said or done to me and my blood slowly boils and my hands slowly bunch into a fist until my nails start digging into my palm and come out of the other side of my hand.

I love your stinkin' guts

I don't know if I believe in God but I believe in the sheer joy of beautiful shoes. I'm about to go to bed and since I know from watching the news and regularly reading the financial review that finacial miracles hardly ever happen. Instead I'm going to pray to you Chloe.

Dear Chloe,

I love you so, I love your thin heel clicking away at the ground, I love the feel of your shoe box when I run my hands across it so slightly. I love the smell of fresh leather. I love the way you make my heart beat, I love the way you always make me superficial. I love you, please appear on my door step when I awake.

Thank you.

Yours sincerely.

P.S.

THE FUCKING REASON WOMEN BUY SHOES THAT DON'T FIT THEM IS BECAUSE YOU TORTURE US WITH YOUR BEAUTY AND THE LURE OF GIVING US INSTANT PLEASURE. WORST OF ALL IS YOU DON'T CARE, YOU JUST REMAIN LOOKING GOOD AND EXPENSIVE!

LOSERS

STRAIGHT OFF OF FACEBOOK CHAT

Blogbear

where am i going

10:00pmLoser

pattos

10:24pmLoser

yes

10:24pmBlogbear

oh

to do what

10:25pmLoser

hang out?

CHilL

10:25pmBlogbear

wow

i don't know

that'll require me being social

i don't now if i can do that

10:25pmLoser

haha

get fucked

ass hoel

10:25pmBlogbear

yep

thats me

a fucked ass hole

I Loved You At First Sight. And You Smile Because You Know It.

BlogBear: hahahaa
we are so desperate
that it's funny.

Dirtbag: hah not desperate BlogBear,
in love .
We're just in love.
(With people who don't know us).

IN FUCKING SANE

There is nooooooo anger in the world that can match the anger that immediate family can bring.

The kind of anger that results with you looking like the world's most disgusting sibling and child. You seriously would relish in stabbing wounds and bullet holes in your enemy's head, you could be in court pleading for temporary insanity because thats the truth: they drive you insane.

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

rage against the machine is the only answer in times like this.

Colour me grey

I love the '30s and the '50s, I love Drew Barrymore, I love Little Edie, and I love Grey Gardens.

Them Friday Night Rights

It's a friday night, the holidays and what am I doing?

Studying chemistry.

MARGE!! The Rains Are 'Ere

Key To The House Baby

currently I am sitting on a winning percentage of 20% in Solitaire. I've had it higher before, maybe at at 23? I'm not really sure. Anyways of my 2748 games played I've won 576 which is 20.96 percent. Since I'm 0.04 away from 21 percent and 0.0004 multiplied by 2748 is 1.0992 that means to raise my winning percentage to 21 I need to win 1.0992 games. Oh my fucking god.

I know, I know whatever. It's just Solitaire, right? NOT! Man, I've been shedding tears over this game tonight and I'm fucking praying that I reach that sweet sweet coming of age digit.

Besides having a break to get myself together before I begin one of the greatest endeavors of my lifetime, I just thought I'd post this so maybe one person will view this in the next few minutes and pray that I make this, cause I'm telling you, I want this so badly.

Now if I don't win the next game (heavens forbid) then, since 0.0005 multiplied by 2749 is 1.3745 I'm still okay but if I loose that one too I'm going to have to win the next two games in a row and after that I'm not sure I can be bothered doing the maths.

Oh well, here goes everything!

Listen Up Boys

:)

Happy Listening Everybody! :)

I Just cried when I opened my itunes to 4200 songs. Tears of joy! Who knows where the others all ran off to but god all mighty am I glad. I'm SO glad. I didn't know what to do, didn't know what to do, didn't know what to do. I was tired of weeping, tired of moaning and I was tired of groaning for you, dear music.

But Hurrah! I managed to find some of my music hidden on my computer. The salvaged music seems really random however and I am clueless as to where the rest of is hiding. But man am I happy to have something, anything, to be occupying my lovely old itunes. Perhaps I was gifted with the intelligence needed to find the lost files because of my abstinence from that hell sent shiny lip gloss? who knows.

Excuse me now as I return to admiring a valid music library in all it's glory, I just thought a sweet update on the music sitch would be nice.

Something's Gotta Give

My irritating rash has been with me for ages now. I seriously never had anything like it until around June last year and now it seems to be everywhere. I've been tracking the nasty bugger and it seems to be trailing my perfume hot spots. To be honest I've suspected this for a while and have acted on observations by wearing my perfume in the usual places (wrists and neck) until the rash catches whiff and then I'll spray a little further up my arm next time or to the side of my neck. However now the rash has moved there too! I'm seriously fucked. My parents seem to think it's the perfume causing the rash, "WHHHHHHHHHHHHY? I've been wearing this perfume forever. This doesn't make sense!". Apparently you get rashes from things you already know, just like allergies.

What am I to do? I love my perfume. I've worn the same one for the past three years and it's starting to become me. I guess love hurts...

And then I fell in love with the most wonderful boy...

He's wonder! And I fear that no one will ever meet him. 

He feels sick, sits at the desk away,

Eating Oreos, sipping on his La Vie.

Hotel reception mistakes my bare back for a hookers back

and we meet their eyes for judgement, 

we laugh together in the elevator

following him up to his room

but gross no, relations like that are for the massage therapist

Underated people, are there any better kind of people?

He left and he'll leave again,

He fingers plush toys, he rips them at the right spots,

he's going to kill you one day,

i'll say i knew him.

lubb dubb to the max 

Nam Part 1:

I don't really know what people think of Vietnam, I think maybe... asian third world country or the vietnam war? It's so many fucking things for me. Vietnam is weird, it's not a "cool" country to me, it's annoying but great in many ways. It's got superstitions that I can't relate to and deep down don't want to understand. It's got the big city lights, it's got constant noise, it's sometimes got foul smelling alley ways and dirty streets, it's got wild traffic with equally crazy power-lines. It's got Saigon, where there's ten million people and food stalls on every corner at any hour and most importantly there's something going on at every hour. I've seen pretty much everything from South to North, there's alot of amazing sights but I don't enjoy the touristy shit and things never look like they do in the pictures.


There is a way stronger sense of community in these neighbourhoods than there is in ours. I've been here now four times and I feel like I know the city well but I've apparently only seen perhaps 1/10 of the city.


When someone dies in Vietnam it's followed by days of celebration, worship, prayers and mourning. The body is kept in a coffin in the house and all neighbours, friends and family visit to pay their respects during these days. Prayers commence early in the morning and continue throughout the day till nine at night. Depending on the wealth of a family the funeral can be very elaborate or much more simple. The immediate family of the deceased is given on the first day a piece of thin flimsy white material to wear during the funeral. Every child of the deceased wears a white top and bottom over their clothing with a white head piece thats triangular shaped. The eldest wears a strange wired headband-like piece over the white cloth. All of the grandchildren wear a headband that makes you look like a ninja, it has a coloured circle to indicate if you are a child of a son or daughter. You only really have to wear it during the prayers and when guests are over. What I got from this though was how the community supports a family during a big loss like this. There's crazy and very irritating Vietnamese live music that plays regularly and annoyingly loud during the day and night. Trust me, if this was anywhere else there would be a noise complaint to the cops about a day or two in. On the last day you walk out from the house as a family to the main road or a portion of the way to the cemetery. There's a live band following as well as people throwing fake money as you walk. This whole funeral process is meant to help the person either get into heaven or get in swiftly. A Vietnamese funeral like any other is bizarre to experience but also it's beautiful, intense, sad and compassionate.


Vietnam is a communist country where the police look like soldiers and corruption is of the norm. It's also a heavily developing country which you can tell if you've been here recently and noticed the large increase in infrastructure. There's also poverty though, I kind of expect poverty to look like it does on t.v., something like people starving on the ground stealing loaves of bread from each other but it's a bit different then that. You don't necessarily see the poverty so much in Saigon, it's alot worse in rural areas, when I was a child in Vietnam I once pointed to a hut and asked my mum if thats where birds lived. My mum would tell this story for years on to embarress me; I mistook someones home for a bird nest. You get beggers who hold onto their children as a tool for guilt. A lady approached us holding a sleeping naked baby and I just shook my head at her, as to say we weren't going to give any money. Economically, we're not meant to give them money right? Is that right? I can't make sense of this, economy and morality, do they even mix. One side says that not giving the money equals not supporting the unemployed therefore encouraging the creation of more jobs right? Then another side of me says, hey what's that baby and what's her mother going to eat for dinner?

There is a mix between country where it's much more rural as well as big city life of Saigon where it is densely populated in a small amount of space. Here in Saigon the houses are very small, only a few metres wide, but all at least two stories in height. People here work for cheap labour, the people at KFC work for 10 000 dong per hour, that's less than one Australian dollar (the exchange rate is about 17000 dong to one Australian dollar). People's work place is also happens to be their home, just the upper stairs areas. I wonder how anyone here escapes from their work when it's always there. The stores here specialize in the funniest things. Did someone ask for a mirror shop? A lollipop shop? A plush toy shop? A shop full of mini-shops? A shop full of buddhas? Imagine growing up and instead of picking what you major in university you pick what you'll sell for the rest of your life. Yes, I would love to major in corn, or popcorn, or bread.


Do you realise that people always say that people of a country are "so beautiful" or "so nice"? You know when someone talks about Australia and is like "Oh my gawwwd, the people here are so nice and relaxed!", wait wait, and the people from your country are so mean and unrelaxed? I haven't seen that yet, I want to but to me everyone around the world is the same. People are beautiful, people are nice, and some others are not and it's the same no matter where you are. One thing that being here has made me realise about Australia is that we are actually so multicultural, like reallllyyyy so. People here stare at white people and to me it's rude but then I realize it's actually different to see a white person. I mean if a Vietnamese person came walking down Murray street no one would think twice.


When I talk about superstitions, everything seems to be bad luck, weird or rude here. Wearing nail polish when there's a funeral is bad luck, so is wearing shorts, not wearing your head piece, wearing your head piece in front of other peoples houses and so is whistling in a car. On a much off topic, the Western food here pretty much sucks cock even though I've been eating alot of it considering the fact that going to Vietnam and eating the country's food is not something new for me since my mother puts it on the table almost every night. Lulu and I went into this cafe that was all red and super romantic with roses and dim lighting to realize that the menu was all overpriced we then gave the menu the finger and walked across the road to discover a place called "I Love Burger". My god, I've never had a burger as good as this. My mouth is salivating right now just thinking about it, we went here one night after we had barely eaten all day and all of us became delusional and those bites were to conclude to the best meal we'd ever eaten.


You know what Australia has that Vietnam doesn't? It's got democracy, it's got non-humid hot weather, it's got fucking good beaches where I don't feel plastic bags float across my stomach, it's got people who don't stare at your for wearing short shorts or for being foreign, it's got road rules, suburbia and more than one major race of people and religion.


You know what makes me feel home sick and makes Perth seem better than Saigon? The fact that tonight I could only count nine stars in the sky. The pollution here is disgusting, the beaches are brown and the river is like a sewage, where pollution in the sky stops and where clouds start I can not tell. I crave fresh air and starry skies.


I may love burger, I may love Saigon, but I love the sheer freedom and lifestyle of Australia much more.

My Last Five Hours

And there's that really awkward moment where I try to show I wasn't encouraging this (though of course I sort of was) and I don't want to look whipped in front of this woman which is dumb - I shouldn't care what she thinks since I can't FUCK her ANYWAY!

The Great Escape

baby pandas :)look at this one, "oooh my god! I'm sitting on the Shaq!" Here he tries to act casually, like he gets this sort of attention from beautiful women everyday
HAHAHA check out this this one try get out
Shot 1 Shot 2 Shot 3 Shot 4

Shot 5

(I can) suck on that?

I suck at eating and taking photos. I ACTUALLY DO!

I remembered about spoon feeding the other day and I asked my dad at what age I stopped getting the "here comes the car, broom broom" treatment. He said he wasn't sure, "maybe eighteen months?"...
That's odd because I remember being spoon fed. And not the fake memories you think are real but were really just told to you once or seen in a photograph or completely made up. I remember aeroplanes, trains, bloats, and like I said, I remember. I ain't no skanky consumer.

... so what? You remember things from around three years and up? right? okay... fuck.
Even worse I have definite memories of being older. How much, I'm not sure. Four maybe? Five? Oh god!

I ensure you I could eat. I'm sure it was just an occasional tantrum thing or a plate of seafood. But I guess my need to be spoon fed at such an old age is what accounts for the small feast that I toss about with my toes under the dinner table. I leave a mess. I do. I miss my face when I feed myself and I tilt my glass too soon when I drink. Check my seat at a table; and by seat I mean the chair itself for puddles of source which dodged my body after originally missing my mouth and landed on the edge of the chair, check the floor- that's the smorgasbord and then it's probably worth finding me too and observing the way the lettuce leaves cling to my shirt or locating the damp orange patch of juice to the side of the old minestrone soup stain.

yeah yeah, I've exaggerated but it is something I struggle with, something which I suck at more than I should.

Here's another, well I already said but here's the elaboration: taking photographs.

Gimme a digital camera and you'll be awkwardly switching smiles and reversing your body tilt till next Christmas. I don't know. I press the button. So don't fucking tell me to press the button because I know. I do it. It's a problem I deal with on a regular basis with the whole need for documentation and publicisation. And I completely understand the whole push down halfway first business but something just doesn't click.

These are two pathetic failures of mine that sadly I have to keep failing at. They're parts of our everyday lives which I'm sure everyone else has mastered. I, on the other hand, have a master and in majorly sucking.

Phoscine

Have you ever been to a party which changed your world? sadly I don't mean in a good way.
ever stood still and watched a party move about you and observe how much it sucks, well for you? I have.

It's like watching a massacre, a war, an atomic bomb go off. And you've got the best seat in the house, which isn't really the best because you're right in the middle watching with a 360degrees view of it all. You're detached yet within the chaos.

I watched Avatar in 3D at an IMAX cinema, best thing in the entire world. Well this party situation is kinda like when Neytiri's bird creature dies and she's suddenly withdrawn from the moment and is able to see everything going on around her. She sees all the destruction. It's like everyone included in the fighting is so caught up in it but with the loss of her creature she has a moment, like a jolt, and suddenly it's all real.
There's minmal sound and the scene is horrific. Similar to the scene in Atonement with the long shot of the beach.

And you're the bastard. If this unfortunate but true thing ever happens to you don't take it out on the abusers. Hey, they're just going at the norm. You're the unusual one. You're the one not enjoying yourself, bottle it up. You're the one left feeling sick, repulsed; they're they ones being disgusting. Deal with it.

I'm not sure if it's triggered by sobriety. However, I think maybe yes.

Because I had been drunk prior to seeing all the revolting-ness and I guess I'd become more sober by then. It's weird, it's the reality which drunkenness takes from you.

I guess the reality's good. Why wouldn't it be. I'm all for being drunk (clearly) and I definitely did not enjoy the party from hell but I guess there's another side to reality/drinking which gets lost in the binge.

I was at a different party not too long ago where I seriously felt high when all I'd had were some sippy sip sips of my vodka and redbull. It's started in my body, like my body felt high. that lasted for a while. Then, there went my head. It was soooo weird. I'd only been sipping at my drink and hadn't drunk a lot.

A few times in Thailand I experienced the same thing, I felt high in my body. Now I never had enough drinks to get drunk so was this what alcohol is? Had all the sculling and NEED to be drunk made me miss out on the best feeling stage? Just like skipping over the reality and rankness, did intoxication jip you of all alcohol has to offer?

Like smoking a cigarette? Well for me.
I don't smoke
but when I do I feel it in my head and it's the NICEST feeling. Makes me feel sweet and happy. Truly pleasuring.

Should everything be drawn out like the months between my smokes or the mingling between drinks to be experienced in the ideal way?

Do you notice all my questions? I guess I'm just a sweetheart for drunkenness and I can't commit to statements right now. But hey, heard of compromise without loss? I guess I can get drunk and still feel 'high'. It's called steady drinking. And then drinking more.. but steadilly of course, then some more! This way you avoid any chilling reality checks and ensure you get all the goody parts. Steady drinking is actually something which BlogBear and I had a go at this time last year. I'm gonna spend the next month getting used to it. Then I'll be at my birthday and truly over the teenage binge drinking scene. I'll be making my way to adulthood one drink and a pause at a time.

I pre-empt that I fail. But at least I'll give it a shot.

What Lies Beneath

Holidays are for not showering for ten days

and the plane trips home are for competing with vigor at seeing who can scrape the most crap from their scalp beneath their nails

and then digging it out and rubbing it into the chair infront of you

Love Will Find a Way

I never thought I'd be saying what I'm about to say and had written previously a third option of how our NYE would end up as "to be continued" with the intention of writing some lame tale of how we went to a fancy hat themed party and in all had a pretty dismal night. Well here i go starting on that foot because that is how, indeed, our night did start.

Our Hotel threw this extravagant party, it kinda was. All The Hotel staff were super dressed up and there were two separate MCs both dressed in an Asian attempt at opera attire. There was a stage inside which was opposite the buffet and seating and a stage outside at the end of a food court and a strip of carnival games. There were also camera men around the whole event filming the stage and the people and it was all being played on large screens around the place. Sounds impressive right? Impressive yes, yes it was. We even watched a hilarious dance by a troupe of transvestites wearing short shiny electric blue dresses and painted faces like they were in the Broadway adaption of The Lion King.

Remember the NYE OC episode of season one? This was sort of like that. Pretty cool and drinking Mojitos but just not that into the party.

Already upset that we weren't in Bangkok for NYE which has been dubbed by multiple Internet sources "the fourth best place to spend NYE" we kept on raising the subject through out the night. It wasn't till our company had dispersed that our thoughts had full control over us and we allowed ourselves to indulge in the 'thought' of going to Bangkok. Soon enough we'd gotten our selves very hot and bothered and we began begging Aum (leader) to get us to Bangkok. He suggested a taxi so we literally ran through the party, up stairs and to the hotel reception to ask for a taxi. No taxis would be driving to Bangkok. Fuck. So we asked about tuk tuks. No tuk tuks would be driving to Bangkok. Trains? No. Boat? No. We ran back down to Aum and he said "Any how, ahhh just wait one minuet... okay? yes I will call our drivers." which he did. We put our palms together as if to pray at him in the way that the Thai greet and thank eachother. Aum suggested that we did actually pray rather than thank him. And so while he made 5 or so calls (no joke) we stared above and payed (no joke). We had no one to pray to though, so i just prayed to thin air, sometimes to Ganesh and then the occasional one directed at god.

Then Aum goes, really nonchalantly too, (i think he lost his emphasis in translation and gained a barred vocabulary mainly consisting of anyhow and just one minute) "Anyhow one of the drivers will take us if you ahh pay for the petrol and ahh you will have to sit in the back where there are no seats. okay?"

FUCKING YES YES YES YES YES

and so the ecstasy began. We could not stop smiling. It was like a fucking movie. LIke I began with, I never thought it'd happen. Again we ran through the party (I slipped) and went up to our room to get ready. On the way we saw our driver, The Helping Man. We went in to shake his hand but could not resist a full group hug! It wasn't long till we were riding in the back of a van, sitting crossed legged, leaning on some bikes and adding Aum of Facebook via his new blackberry. It was the greatest ever.

We got to Central World Bangkok and it was packed. Here it was like the Tijuana episode of The OC when they first arrive in TJ. Hectic. We walked through the crowd for ages but most the stages were all closed by now. Aum bought us beers and then we made it to the entrance to the big stage... one kilometre from the stage. oh well. We lined up and just as Aum stood in the metal detector it hit 11.30 and they closed the section. Fuck that.

We walked back a bit and just hung in the crowd around some rowdy drunken Germans. A minute before the turn over I held on tight because as if I wanted the year to end and a new decade seemed too daunting. ahhh well. The countown wasn't in English and there was no Auld Lang Syne but there were masses of fireworks. I think I spent the last 3 hours of the naughties in the best way possible running our mission impossible all to experience the fourth best destination for NYE!

For the ride home we slept on the van ground with our legs between wheels and handlebars and our heads upon eachother. Back in our hotel room we had the best night sleep ever.

Happy New Year everyone!

hi, it's me mageret

god of all gods, i have a few questions to pose to you:

dear vodka,

why do you provide such fun yet taste so bad?
why do i skull you?
why do you give the promise of a good night but then fuck it up at the same time?
why do i shiver when i drink you?
why does my vodka vomit smell a particular way?
why do you taunt me with that burn in my throat?
why are you so endlessly great?

my, my, my, why are we all binge drinkers?

dear incestuous person,

why do you not realise that that girl is related to you?
do you not understand that second cousins are still cousins?
is it that maternal likeness that attracts you to her?
do you realise that you are not a part of the amish community?
do you want to have fucked up babies?

dear wealthy old men of vietnam,

why does your facial expression instantly make my stomach turn?
why do you grind against that prositute with your big fat wallet?
why do you touch me when i don't even know you?
why do i have to say "i'm 16" in order to scare you away?
why do i have to fear for the type of men who will not be scared by the above?

what has this night taught me:
90% of the partying population need alcohol to have a good time.
5% of people consider incest in their lives
80% of white men in asian countries are chasing costly vaginas.




SAD FACE THUMBS DOWN