Wednesday, 18 September 2013

The Laws Of Relativity.

I got given an apprentice yesterday.

I also have a headache.

Preeeeeetty sure those two aren't at all related though.



The Deal Of The Relationship.

The boy doesn't like spiders.

I don't like moths.

So naturally we trade off the employment of Who Gets To Kill What.

I don't mind killing spiders either. They're there. You see them. They most likely see you. They don't move.

Moths will suddenly bong a red bull and Jackie Chan the fuck out of a fly kick - right to your face.

Spiders are a lot more courteous.


Fuck moths.

Thursday, 12 September 2013

What I Learnt Last Night.

Strip poker is a lot more competitive in a onesie.

Like A Boss.

Job interview today to work in the bar at one of my favourite clubs.

The guy interviewing me was possibly the coolest individual I've ever met in my life. At one point he goes silent, picks up my CV and looks at me saying:

"You're 22... And your resume screams to be cummed on."


You see kids? If you kick the shit long enough, eventually you'll put yourself into a position where everybody wants to kick yours.

Tuesday, 10 September 2013

Election Time.

Politics for me - at least with a two party system - is like having a guy that wants to cum on you.

Let's say you are given the option of face or tits.

You will sit there and make your decision and have 20 arguments supporting that decision and why it's the right one, or the right one for you.

But at the end of the day...

You're still just getting cummed on.

Sunday, 8 September 2013

The Answer To All Problems.

My neighbour just caught me top-half naked walking around the house, through the living room window.

Now, I should be embarrassed. But for some odd reason, I'm not. I'm actually slightly comforted.


Because he gave me the thumbs up.


To everyone I go to festivals with.

As we are currently finallising our summer calender, I have a few points that need to be addressed.
It has come to my attention that majoirty of people I know are fully aware of my loser tendencies. I believe you have named it "straight edge".

However it has also been noted that this apparently makes me the perfect candidate for the designated job title of the "Look After Everyone's Fucked Up Asses" gal.

Just no. Stop it.

You should take note that: I am already laughing at you. If one of my dearest closest friends is fucked up, googed up, naked, drunk, dead, masturbating in public or making out with a tree branch, unless you choose to do so AFTER the headlining act I'm purposely going to see, I will be of no more assistance to you than every other Joe Somebody there lolling hysterically at you... Possibly with a video camera for future blackmailing purposes.

In the anticipation of such events, (and because I'm a freaking genius when I don't drink too much) I have prepared "Please Return To:" cards which I will distribute if required.

Best. Idea. Ever.

Grammar Nazi.

Bitch please, if you're going to insult me, call me a loser, not a 'looser'.

I really have no idea what a looser is but it sounds painful and unnecessary.

Sunday, 1 September 2013

Bah Humbug.

Currently in a fierce confrontation with my bikini top, which has attached itself to the strap of my wallet and I have no idea how.

This is all kinds of frustrating fucked up-ness.

Beer O'clock.

Chatting to a Scottish guy at my hostel.

"It's time for a beer."

To his response of:

"It's ten in the morning..."

"It's midday somewhere in the world goddammit! Man is not a camel!"

Chef 1: Scot: 0


I am starting to miss the little things about home.

Like going to the bathroom where my stuff is already there.

Getting a glass of water from the tap.

Big, fat motherfucking chips. None of this French fries crap.

Walking around naked, without the fear of some German backpacker copping a B-grade full frontal.

But mostly:

I miss a toilet being a toilet and a shower being a shower.

Whilst this does promote some pretty satisfying multi-tasking...

Those two were never meant to be one and the same.