slap the turkey neck and its hanging from a pigeon wing

i think karma hates me. its that, i'm having a groundhog year or i am a naive bubble person.

sing me to sleep sing me to sleep

lying there and staring at the ceiling

being awake at 5.14am is not a good time. the only time it is a good time is if you haven't been to bed yet and have a drink or illicit substance in hand...oo, wait, the only other other time is if you are in bed but "having fun".

hungry and dumb, hungry and dumb (so wait in line)

today, i am inspired by the humour and utter daftness of my friends. you make me feel not so crazy. i love you.

fat chicken jojomojo mary young

miss americas funniest home videos nerdatron, emma hawkins

new crazy british smart friend rachel sexton

and also, i am finding small things in palmy that are making me not hate it so much.
1. it is flat, so easy to walk. which is good for me as i am a loser with no licence.
2. there is an amazeballs shop called steve's bulk barn (in terrace end, officially the raddest part of ptown). everytime i go in there i feel bliss. and yes, this is sad, as it is a bulk barn, but it is organic/gluten free/dairy free heaven, with choice produce that is not sold in commerical supermarkets.

and thats it.
so far.
i am going to try and be more positive re. my home/current town. i will find this a struggle.

i refuse to give in to my blues

had i known pretty woman was going to have been released in 1990, i would've loved to have been a psychologist/sociologist...in roughly 1987. purely to do a "study" on the psyche of women before and after that film. i only say this because it was on sky tonight, and every damn time i watch it, i feel like love, and all the airy fairy bullshit that surrounds it might actually be true.

now, i know its not. 1st hand experience, and hearing the tales of mates tells me that love, in the hollywood/book/fairytale forms does not exist. but every goddamn time vivian kisses edward my stupid girl brain thinks true love is out there.

anyway, good film. on a somewhat unrelated side note, i believe the sexiest song ever sung is

(push the link above. thats how cool roy is. he's deceptive).

i'm miss world, somebody kill me

inspirational alcohol drinking music # 2

sleep offically hates me. or i him.

will you accept a collect call from robert plant?

sleep is being a right mysterious bastard at the moment. which leaves me awake at 2356 without the aid of stimulants, pondering what solid gold fm will sound like in 40 years time? if you think about it now, the classics are the beatles, hendrix, the doors, zeppelin, the stones, aretha, marvin gaye, even cher, going back to elvis, buddy holly, little richard, etta james, and forward to the ramones, the clash, television, blondie, patti smith etc etc
will "our" classics hits be ace of base, destinys child, jason derulo, the spice girls and justin beiber? mn8, peter andre, girls aloud, usher and ke$ha? its terrifying enough having to listen to most of the current pop (as in played on the radio pop) music, but to think that in 40 years time i will still be hearing lady gaga telling me about her poker face makes me want blow chunks.

It's so easy to laugh

And you even spoke to me, and said :
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight ?
I know ...
'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind

...think i'm having one of those weeks where you reevaluate your life and priorities. i think it was needed. but i don't think i was ready for it. too bad apparently.
in more exciting news, i don't repel at the smell of stale urine. bring on boys loos.

forest gump

it takes an hour twenty to walk from one side of palmerston north to the other.

google maps had it pretty spot on.

shite job working all those out...shite job that i have evidence that concurs.

bubble boy

whoa.

you know those days were you need a drink? like from 9am? need like you need oxygen? like you feel your body will stop all necessary boldily functions unless you get a drink?

thats my today.

whoa.

i never thought i lived in a bubble, actually fancied myself as quite "eyes open" about the world. but, as it turns out, there is a whole part of the world i have neglected and today it was shoved in my face, like pizza at a 10yr olds birthday party.

first glass has gone down smmmooooottthhhhhhhhhhhh. 2010 ema trash (o yeah!) on the tele. just gotta wait for the wine to hit the tear ducts then i'm hitting the shower baby.

going for a lash

sometimes i wish i cared more about things. life would potentially be where it should be if i did. but i don't. i'm a run-away-er and an ignorer of problems. my 'too hard' box is constantly overflowing (about the only time a girl needs a bigger box...ba dum dum daa).
for example, i start my first nursing placement tomorrow, so technically i should be excited, nervous, keen to learn and experience nursing blah blah blah. but i am not. all i care about right now is simon cowells eyelashes.

they are stunning.

the gloriousness is at 4.57

i have long eyelashes, so technically they should be a feature on an otherwise unimpressive chipmunk face. but i struggle daily with annoying people. i get incredibly frustrated with said humans, to the point of having to rub/hide my eyes and pretend they are not there. hence, my mascara spends most of its life on my upper cheekbones.

Simon, i would have thought, would have the same problem. not all of the 'talent' on the talent shows he seems to shit out actually have talent. but his eyes remain stunning. glorious. if i cried over such things, his lashes would bring me to tears.

someone offer him a revlon contract stat.

toothbrush wine test

precious put me in a surprisingly good mood. so good i proceeded to dance around my room to a 'mashup' of stop in the name of love and free your mind

damn glee shits

i think that is a fair representation of how drunk i was. but not so drunk that i neglected my dental hygiene. and boyo am i glad i didn't. when brushing teeth, check the colour of the bristles of the brush. esp after 'brushing the tounge' (which i wish was a euphemism, but sadly, is not). using the colour chart below, i believe you can gauge your levels of red wine intake:

[the following has not been scientifically tested, but i am fairly confident it will stand up to vigorous testing, of which i am volunteering myself for]

barely recognisable as purple - not enough red wine.

purple hue - you could probably drink more.

light purple - at this point you also need to consider the colour of your front teeth. i have fairly prominent front teeth (they are in a big teeth brigade that is fighting crime worldwide) and if they are anything darker than light purple you need to be adding some lemonade to the glass of wine you just poured to lighten the colour.

purple - how far through the second bottle are you? is there a third? how many people are you drinking with? is it a tuesday night? these are questions one needs to be asking themselves once the tongue has reached full-blown purple.

dark purple - too much red wine. too much red wine.

black - if you're not drinking in hell with hemingway and the lizard king, you soon will be.

steeling myself for mariah carey sans makeup

i have heard through a variety of sources (one of which was oprah) that precious is quite the emotional tumbledryer. so, to ensure i come through the experience with what little remains of my sanity intact i have spent the last 4ish hours drinking and watching two feel good films. although up in the air is not as feel good as i thought. in fact it is somewhat depressing. esp when he shows up at her door...
but! away we go has come through for me. such a quirky lovely sweet brilliantly acted story. totally got me ready for all the daddy raping and momma throwing skillets. bring it lenny kravitz.

sam mendes genuisness-ness

...ok, so, in between thinking what a brilliant soundtrack precious had, and how amazing glitter would have been had mariah not worn make up, i think precious was a decent film. the emotive aspect did not really hit till the "postive" thing, and after that there were some semi tear inducing moments, but it wasn't the emo fuck fest i expected it to be. whether or not the two bottles of wine had anything to do with that i don't know. all i know is my parentals units need a big up.

you know you need a life when you have a dying coriander plant.

and you name the plant colin. and your mum (whom at 28, you live with) asks how you know its a boy. and you answer "i just know".


Inspirational alcohol drinking music #1