Stolen From Frankie #2

I plucked up the courage to leave the house today. Which, to tell you the truth, is a pretty mean feat - but I'm sick to death of my pyjamas with three blind mice carrying a plate of cheese and the shirt I stole from my Dad that says 'foolish behaviour' on the back with the i's dotted on the bottom for some reason (a reference to his boat, not his character. mostly).

Anyway I went for a gander and bought a Frankie. Now, I used to live in college with a girl who had an orgasmic voice, impeccable taste in housewares and clothing and reads Frankie religiously. I used to sit in her neat little college room lamenting the fact that mine smelt of moulding-somethings and dirty sheets and look at all the pretty pictures on pretty paper wishing my life fit into a pretty little mould like her room did.

Anyway Sian stole a list-idea from Frankie and I've just spent the past hour reading about creative-people (whom, admittedly seem like the kind of people I detest. I bet they don't enjoy Buffy or watching Miss Maple with their mummies) and I'm sick-to-death of the magazine. Sorry to those who read it religiously, but the only thing I like about this publication is the paper it's printed on. If I see one more not-so-subtle limedrop or romance was born reference I will scream.

So here are my own answers to the questions being asked of all these creative-types who can make pretty things I can't afford and own shops at ridiculously young ages.

What do you do? My average day at the moment consists of waking around noon, having a cup-a-soup and considering whether I should go back to sleep or try and read more about gender. I tend to try and avoid the fact that on paper I attend University. Or the fact that I am alive is sometimes too much to handle when I'm suffering for the previous night's spontaneous four bottles of $7 Cab Merlot cleanskin purchased from Brunswick Cellars.
How did you start out? With a lot of fluids and a hairy, 10cm dilated vagina.
What challenges have you recently overcome? What? Other than putting two feet to the ground and being vertical for approximately eight hours everyday? This morning I had a headache, but had to struggle through my glass of Riesling anyway.
What are you here for? What? On Earth? To cause a riot. No! To deteriorate my liver? To grow old, achieve little and eventually stop dreaming.
What's one thing we should know about you? I'm an Optimist!
What do you stand for? A greater understanding of the implications different body technologies have upon genders and sexualities. Oh, world peace blahblah loving neighbours (I actually do love my neighbours. Alex-the-Russian only speaks about them in hushed tones, claiming them to be 'drug dealers'. Bigfoot calls them Up-sters) and um. The transformative power of a good bottle of Cab Sav.
What did you want to be when you were little? An astronaut (which until 30 seconds ago I thought was spelt Astronaught.

Do I make the cut for Frankie's pretty-papers?