Hair 2

Hair.

Some of you may know that I have a little bit of an undercut happening at the moment.

Here's what it looks like:

You see, I got rather drunk one night and my sweet, malicious housemate robbie thought it would be fun to suggest that I cut my hair. Next thing I know I'm standing over our little pink sink in the bathroom with my sister (pictured in background) taking photos of me shaving a patch of hair off with electric clippers. Which is somewhat different to most of my experiences over a sink.

Oh - sorry for the lame photo, I was a bit shocked that I allowed someone to talk me into hacking my beautiful locks.

Anyway, now it's a bit grown out and I thought I would bleach it like this:

You know, minus the cock-sucking lips and myspace pout.

It's Official!!

I've hit rock bottom.

Here's why:


- Today I have watched not one, but THREE Sabrina the Teenage Witch movies. The original one, the 'Sabrina Goes to Rome' one and the 'Sabrina Down Under' one.
- I've started letting slutface lick my neck. Pretty sexy.
- On my way home tonight (at ten thirty) and after stopping off at seven eleven to buy dinner I met a guy from Singapore who was crying. He was in the city from Gippsland celebrating his 23rd birthday and lost his wallet. Amidst tears he told me he needed fifteen dollars to get a v-line ticket back. I gave him $7, everything that was left in my wallet. But the worst part is that for a second I considered bringing him home and giving him a spare bed. But whilst I was considering it my mind wandered to having steamy sex with him, and I nearly turned back to let him stay over.

It's either the end, or the beginning of the end.

Feeling Down?

Christmas got you grinding your teeth? Is the family staying with you taking up your bed? Does the dog you sleep with snore too loudly?

Youtube flashmobs. Here's my fave:

White Blouses.

So, I have a month in Perth over Feb, and Sian isn't going to be there cos she's away in urbana champaigna (I know it's not called that for the record), so I thought I would learn how to sew. Anyway, I have this like - woolen shift dress, but I hate the neckline and have always planned to get an awesome collar to cover it. Something reminiscent of The Uniform Project.

Like these, maybe.

 

Hopefully Mummy can teach me to do this.

Kara-yo-ke

Tonight I went to the final Hip Hop Karaoke at the Bird. While it probably wasn't worth leaving work early for (and losing $36. Yeah, that's right. I make sweet Fuck All per hour) it was an enjoyable evening. Particularly because I got to see people like this:

say things like "I just wanna fuck bad bitches."And a girl who's dermals were crooked (although she was pretty fucking good at rapping "HIP HOP HIP HOP IT'S BIGGER THAN HIP HOP HIP HOP. And this guy who was totally amazing AND wearing a santa hat (and he won):

The night would have been way more enjoyable if more of my Alcoholic Friends were there.

DL Rampage

My housemates are away, which means I have the internet ALL TO MYSELF!
This is what I have downloaded:

Girl Talk's Discography
Max Normal - Ninja from Die Antwoord's previous alias
Missy Elliot's Discography
Sleigh Bells (see previous post) - Treats
Sufjan Stevens - The Age of Adz
Step Up 2: The Streets Official Soundtrack (judge away, but I bet you secretly with you had more phat beats like me)
Karen Elson - The Ghost Who Walks
Sage Francis - Li(f)e (witty album title - yeah!)
Charlotte Gainsbourg - IRM
Kavinsky's discography - house beatsrah.
Broken Social Science - Forgiveness Rock Record
Joanna Newsome - Have One on Me
Jack Rose - Luck in the Valley
Neil Yong  - Le Noise

Also some very very trashy movies:

Letters to Juiliett
Leap Year
Going the Distance

I'm in the process of trying to download Kanye's latest but it has failed me.

Body-furniture and angels

This freaks me out/ intrigues me.

If you can't be bothered looking it up it looks something like this:

Also if you can be bothered reading the 'words' part of her website, it's rather cool. Or it's cool for the gender-nerd in me, and seeks to transcend interior/exterior conceptions of the body. Hoorah for the body's fluidity and what that means for gender theory.

She should hook up with orlan:

Ciao!

Evilboy

sleigh bells

Maybe I'm waaaay behind all the trendsters but raaaaaah!!!

This has become my new cleaning music.

I finally man'd up and got something else pierced

I give Mum three days before she notices and Dad until the end of time/someone points it out while I'm standing in front of him. Which ever comes first.

I'm kinda pissed I can't sleep on my left side for a while. The left side is the best! That's the side that faces the wall and away from the horrible Lightness of Day from my window.

Quickie

Things I like about slutface:

- She snores like a human
- She's warm, and at the moment it's a little cold here.
- She likes to cuddle at night times.

Things I don't like
- She snores really loudly and likes to sleep in beds
- She farts. Filling my room with the aroma of sulfur.
- She insists on touching as much of your body as possible at night times
- She trembles when she sleeps.


Therefore I wake up in the morning to find more and more pieces of my golden (literally) $10 outside couch littered over the backyard.

Here's another picture of her ready to kill. (for those of you who don't know, slutface is the dog)

Auf Wiedersehen!

Evilboy.

For Samantha

You're not on chat so I'm telling you about the shenanigans of Saturday night here. For the few readers who aren't Sam, my friend and I threw a party at The Deen (gross, I know but it's cheap for students) because we're both going on exchange next year. I can't remember a whole freakin' lot of last night so I'm assuming it was good.

Lloyd and I demanded that everyone buy our drinks because they didn't turn up before 8pm so we missed out on our bar tab.

Drank many, many free vodka, lime and sodas.

Got kicked out of my own party for falling off a bar stool. The security guy also told me to eat a kebab. I had a burger. I vaguely remember thinking it was fucking good.

Had a sneaky pash with Lloyd.

Went to Amps with Rob but we couldn't be bothered waiting in the giant line so we went to The Moon with Lloyd and his friends. Drank some more. Attempted to visit vom city but I didn't make it.

Made friends with and shared several cigarettes with a skimpy while waiting for the train. Can't remember her name. She had an impressive rack.

Walked home (at about 2am) bare foot because I had a blister the size of a 20 cent coin on my heel. Dropped my phone about 10 times as I drunkenly jogged/stumbled from the train station (in the right direction of my house), in attempt to get home faster so I could get a decent amount of sleep before work at 8am.

Slept through my alarm, was late for work and was almost caught by my boss's dad (who owns Carine Glades shopping centre) having a vom out the back.

Apart from the fact that I've had that feeling that I said something I shouldn't have all day, I'd say it was a success.

How a Taximan saved my life

Last night I went to see Pablo play with his band Applejack. The series of events that lead me to become lost somewhere in the West of Brunswick go as follows:

- Drank for two hours before getting in a cab from house.
- Poured a large portion of the remaining goon into two bottles.
- On arrival, my sweet friend Josh who is normally v. quiet starts to demonstrate his techtonic skillz to the soundtrack of applejack playing folkypoppy music.
- The goon is poured into three glasses.
- Aforementioned friend goes for a smoke.
- Applejack finishes, I'm a) desperate for a smoke; and b) a bit worried about josh because it's been about half an hour.
- We don't find Josh.
- Next band plays. We dance, I drink more goon. We figure Josh took himself home (as he does this often).
- I discover that I am horribly drunk, and someone yells that they spotted Josh walking away from where we were.
- Josh is found, and I later find out he spent half an hour passed out in his own vomit.
- Skip an hour of smoking and dancing to nineties trash and I'm taking a hit from a maroon bong somewhere in West Brunswick.
- I nearly vomit, decide to not inflict that upon a room of people I have only just met and run to the gutter.
- I call my sweet, darling friend Sian (who happens to write this blog with me) and we decide that I'm too drunk to be calling Perth for directions in Brunswick, and I have a sneaky suspicion that I'm walking in the wrong direction.
- Ten minutes of me walking towards Flemington instead of Sydney road (look it up) I discover the life-saving-abilities of taxi-men. Here's why:

1. They let you have the window open when you think you're going to vomit.
2. They alert you to the fact that you aren't walking towards your home, in fact you're heading exactly the wrong way.
3. They stop at seven eleven for you to pick up a sandwich, powerade and microwave pizza. Score.

I profusely thanked my taxi-man and I'm guessing he ripped me off because I woke up with half a sandwich missing and only $20 in my wallet.

Tchuss!

Evilboy

Ageist

Recently I've been researching masters degrees in America, and getting really stressed out that I'll a) lost my social life and b) be really old by the time I get to do my masters. These are actually things that have gone through my mind:


- What if my fellow masters students don't like to get drunk mid-week?
- What if there is no time to get drunk mid-week?
- By the time I'll be finished my masters degree (and may or may not be finished with tertiary education - depending on if I find a job I like or not) I will be like. 27 or 28. That means I would have wasted from the age of eighteen to twenty eight on university. Even worse, on gender studies. My youth will be behind me.
- What if masters students in New York don't smoke weed?

See? I'm not worried I won't get in or that moving to a different country will be scary slash incredibly expensive. I'm worried I won't be able to get inordinately drunk mid-week, pass out on a friends couch and wake up, go to class, smoke a joint, write some thesis.

Maybe it's easier for me to stay in Melbourne..

adrenaline?

SO I've decided I need more kicks. Therefore in the next week this is what I am going to do:



1. A pregnancy test. I'm not even close to preggers. My life is far too unexciting for such things. But I reckon that ten seconds or two minutes or whatever I'll still feel the kick. I might even wonder what would happen if I was pregnant. Thinking about it now I feel rather maternal. I might even keep the baby, call it James and teach her the joys of postmodern gender theory. According to this add on tv kids learn the fastest between the ages of one and five. I'm going to read my child Judith Butler and Foucault. Maybe she'll even help me make sense of Irigaray.

2. Speed. Never done it, crave the rush. Don't want to sleep for a few days.

3. Cycle drunk more often. It's quite refreshing.

4. Devour the Christmas hamper that my mum is sending me out of pity :)


Peace.

Evilboy.

Youtube and Artistic Shit

I fucking love this.

Taking over the Interwebz

Some could say that it's far too early in my blogging career to start another blog ("but no one even reads this one..."). Imma be blogging about my time in yankidoodle town and Sam and I didn't want parentals reading this blog (so we can be free to write about our scandalous lives).

I spent way too long coming up with a name, choosing a colour scheme and which links would be displayed on the side and the finished product isn't even that fantastic. Anyway, my original idea was to have one of those billowing photos of the American flag with a super dramatic photo of me photoshopped over the top. And maybe an eagle too. I got as far as downloading an image of the flag before I changed my mind (partly due to laziness at the thought of posing for a photo and then staying sober enough to use photoshop). This isn't actually the image I had saved, but I think it's wankier and therefore better. Click on it to read my other blog.

Melbourne: The Bad

Those of you who know me would know that I fucking love living in this city. Something will be open 24hours every night - even if it's just seveneleven - the booze is cheaper and it's full of boys who look like girls and girls who look like boys. Oh, and leather shoulder bags, of course. But unfortunately living here comes with a whole lot of wank, as well.

I previously mentioned a poetry night that I thoroughly enjoyed. It's a new stream of skinny-jeaned boys I never thought to discover. Unfortunately, I was half-dragged, half-convinced-by-free-booze to the launch of a new magazine called steamer at a store under degraves street that I never knew existed. Anyway, we had some drinks and eventually the poetry started flowing.

Someone actually got up and did a poem of hand gestures called Escape from Coverband Island, that involved them gesturing the kiss symbol, the ac/dc symbol, shaking their head a little and putting their hands out like a cyclist about to turn. I thought poetry was about shaping phrases and ambiguity. Metaphors and similes and shit. Otherwise I would have got up and signaled YMCA all through high school. The thing that really irritated me is that everyone stood there, surrounded by jewelry labeled as 'trendy, edgy jewelry' laughing at this poem as though it actually had something constructive to say about like 'society and shit'.

Maybe I don't understand his poignant take on the state of coverbands and signaling cyclists these days. Maybe he's attempting to create his own postmodern poetic aesthetic that transcends written discourse, but if he was he would be better of doing it without a straight face.

In the future, I think I'll stick to horny gays.

Sorry Luke (if you're reading this),

Evilboy.

Glamrock

I kind of think that men were meant to look effeminate. Shoulder-pad clad, skinny, tight-panted and with a green askew kind of colour that indicates too many wild nights is far more attractive than bordies clad, buff and wearing an ugly hat.

Just watched Velvet Goldmine for the first time (but definitely not last).

Here is what I learned:

- Ewan McGregor and Jonathan Rhys Meyers were meant to have sex.
- Everything looks better when there's a skinny topless man involved. See...

- Shoulder pads are always necessary.
- Cult fan bases are super-freaky
- Every star requires an orgy scene or two, the odd black ass just thrown into the mix and polymorphous sexual tendencies.

I also feel as though fashion should follow its natural progression and hurry up and look more like this:

Tchuss!!

Evilboy.