Tuesday, September 22, 2009

A Mess.

my house is in complete turmoil right now.
boxes fucking everywhere; i found a pair of underwear hanging from the back of the couch this afternoon.

i went to the dentist today; K.Rudd sent me a free dentist appointment.
K.Rudd is a girls best friend - he's Centerlink's SugarDaddy.
A lovely little indian dentist was there today. Whilst not George Costanza, my dreamboat dentist, he was really quite funny, however I doubt he would have understood nor appreciated any of my distasteful jokest. He poked about my mouth, and in the first two minutes, diagnosed me with a terrible condition.

I can't be a grinder!
Do you knwo what that does to people's teeth?!
It wears them down, cracks them - I'll be a gummy! My world is coming to afucking end! My vanity might as well up and leave now - I'll have no straight teeth to pride myself on. Who cares if they're a little coloured from coffee and cigarettes, that won't matter any fucking more BECAUSE I WONT HAVE ANY TEETH!
I might as well get myself a greying mullet, change my name to Sherryl or Therese. Because I'll be the most rank and vile thing on this planet.

Of course, poor Indian-Dentist-Not-George-Costanza copped my slight erratic episode in the dentist chair, about how my sex life will now be COMPLETELY redundant, my good looks null-and-void and that I'll be forced indoors and develop agoraphobia due to this condition.
Apparently, whilst it isn't preventable let alone completely curable, I can get this hideous contraption known as a "Night Guard."
basically, they radiate the shit out of my face with an x-ray, put some clay in my mouth, send it off to some labs to be analysed and make me up a night grill.
I asked the dentist if I could get the "night grillz" customised; pimp-my-grillz.
He blinked at me.
"They're made JUST for your mouth!" He grinned, giggling.

The man just doesn't understand.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

In Transit.

Photo from my Backyard @ Dad's.

Free from it all Im not gonna change till I want to And Im free from it all Im not gonna change till I want to By the way she looked, I shouldve calmed down I went too far Oh, thats all Ive got to say

- In Transit
Albert Hammond Jr.

Albert speaks the truth, you know.

My life is changing; I'm changing.
I've gone from trying to keep myself far away from any kind of love or relationship, or my classic "I'm not looking for anything tomorrow. But right now is perfectly fine" - to wanting someone to just be around, spend time with and do idealistic, romance-in-the-coffee-shop, soppy couples shit with.

I used to be a boys wet-dream fantasy, and I feel like I've exhausted that. Of course, changing from my golden classics -whatever they are - that can hardly be labelled a 'routine', risks me becoming common "girlfriend material".
I'm hardly girlfriend material at the moment: I'm not preened and proper, I'm far too black and white for most people, I smoke like a train, make distasteful dead baby jokes, drink with the boys, smoke weed on the occasional weekend with one of my best friends who's a lesbian with huge tits; I want tattoos, I want granduer and adventure, red hot passion and fun.

Then again, what is "girlfriend material"?
You tell me; I have no fucking clue.

All I know, is that I'm pretty sure I would make a fuck-off great girlfriend. I mean, I'm a fantastic cook, I occasionally clean, I wear nice clothes and when I'm not making horrible dead baby jokes, I'm deadpanning one liners that stick with you.
What's worse, is that I haven't been in an "official" relationship for more than 2 years; I've just had "yes, we're fucking. But nothing else" kind of agreements with people.
And to be frank, they absolutely were the worst ideas I've ever had.
The guys were fantastic people to hang out with - well, one is, the other one is a fucking bipolar headcase that needs to be assessed - but they didn't want the same things as I did.
I wanted a little more than "just fucking" or the girl that is "just there".
I downright sick of being the spare vagina when stocks run low.

Also on the "Trash" list, along with the worn out jokes, is my incessant need to smoke (cigarettes). However, I may or may not continue to smoke until I move and/or meet a boy who doesn't. In the meantime, I'll retain the saying, "Smoking does what to my health?"

I don't really want to change who I am underneath the hair and fabulous good looks, but there are definately a few bad habits I've picked up over the last few years from having absolutely no stability and constantly chasing after various equally unstable men, countless pipe-dreams and drunken rendezvous.
I'm quite happy having the attitude to life that I do; I suppose I'm just sick of the kind of people this attitude attracts.
I need someone who shares the same passions as me; the same need to see things and be places, or relax with a nice coffee in bed for a day of snooze and soppy cuddly couples bullshit; who can sweep me off my feet in a spontaneous act of kindness or passion.
Or is that just a shitty pipe-dream?

i forgot to add my broken riding jeans that no longer have a functioning fly or button, that are tied up with hayband.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Update, Update!

click thumbnail for larger photo.
1) Anishka and I Are in Love
2) See Above
3) "This Straw Is Not Recommended for Hot Drinks"
4) Jo & Jacko
5) Jo & I (soberface)
6) Baby and I (tiredsoberface)
7) So, I Dyed my hair dark again.
8) Hard @ Work, Trash and Blow HQ (The couch)
9)Moe and I in Bed, sometime in the afternoon.

Trash and Blow has been left dateless.
It seems since my previous whiney post, when I felt as if I was the most repulsive creature God ever shovelled guts into, my life has neither taken a turn for absolute better or for diabolical worst.

See you IRL!