ode to follower #8: Megan

Well... what can I say about my friend, and new blog follower, megan? I could talk about our 'pretend' attraction to one another that has been a running joke for the past 5 years. As I heard said on "that 70's show", we are one bottle of wine away from making out. Haha. No, somehow I don't think that will ever end up happening, despite how much it has been discussed. I don't think I could be a lesbian in reality... I dunno. I still think you are beautiful Megan, but I love boys (in particular my boy) too much :) What am I apologising for? She isn't gay either hehe. Anyway. Let me tell you a little bit about Megan. The following may or may not be factual information... and she may or may not be wearing a top in this photo:



Megan Rainbow Baggins was born in a remote village in the Australian outback. Her parents were on a whirlwind tour of the country before child #2 came along - effectively hampering their travel plans for a while - when Megan's mother went into early labour. After they were all well enough to travel, they returned back to Victoria and settled in to raise their new daughter properly. Megan's father worked as a male nurse, which came in handy during the outback birth of his baby girl, and he often worked long hours away from home. When he came home from night shift he would serenade his baby with songs he invented about the Periodic Table and cell division and a step by step sing-song about how to properly administer an epidural. Perhaps some of this rubbed off as little Meg's first word was indeed 'radioactivity'.

As years went by, and by the time she entered High School, it was clear to those around her that Megan was in fact a genius. A genius disguised as a fun-loving beach babe. Megan excelled in her studies, and was often labelled a "nerd" by her peers who were obviously jealous of her abilities in the classroom. This didn't bother her too much, for she had very thick skin. It's a medical thing...

Anyway, Megan was one of those mystery girls at school. Very pretty and popular, but then also cast asunder for being so smart, and having 'nerdy' interests. An avid Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings fanatic, Megan could be seen at all the conventions and meetings swishing her cape around with a maniacal grin across her face as she stroked 'her precious'... and by that I mean the replica "one ring" she had purchased. Megan excelled particularly in Chemistry at school, and chose to continue studying this at University. 6 Years on, Megan can be found still stroking her precious, still watching LOST, still studying Chemistry, but with the additional awesome fact that she is almost DR. MEGAN RAINBOW BAGGINS. When she isn't taking part in the above activities, she can be found lecturing University students only a few years younger than herself, and inventing new stuff in relation to Diabetes. If only my memory was amazing enough to explain how clever this girl is, and shed the appropriate amount of light on her achievements. HEY EVERYONE, COME SEE HOW GOOD MEGAN IS!

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

PS. She was wearing a top in the photo... but I cropped it to be a smarty pants! Also she is a genius and invents stuff and makes me feel inadequate as a human functioning in society. *cry*

new follower: PIXIE_BEX

two great things have happened to me recently. First: on "Hungry Beast" last night I watched an exposé piece on women's vaginas and discovered that i have a beautiful vagina, one that adult magazines EDIT vaginas to look like. It is a great day for me. However, before last night I did not even know what "protruding labia minora" was, and had no idea that a vagina could look that way - some of them quite shocking. And that is apparently normal. They said on the show that many girls get disillusioned growing up because they only see these perfect vaginas in the media and textbook diagrams etc... and many girls dont know what other vaginas look like.

I am almost 23 and I don't even know anything about vaginas. I have been lied to my whole life! It was the first time i realised the term "labiaplasty" was a real thing, not just a silly plot line on Nip/Tuck, and to see someone's labia cut off with a scalpel is not something that i enjoyed watching..at all. I have a new perspective on life today, I feel twice as hot. Hooray! BTW: i said the word "vagina" 8 times just now, hehe

The second (non-vajayjay related) thing is that I have a new follower!! That is 6 now, count 'em, 6 followers! WOW! My pea-sized head just grew a few inches right then and there!! Now I can finally stop shopping for hats in the childrens section!!! I might even pick myself up an Akubra to celebrate :D (not)

Where was I...? Oh yes, here is Bec...

or is it...HILARY DUFF?!?!? Nope, it's Bec. And that crazed brunette lunatic clutching onto her for dear life is the one and only Moi. Unfortunately you cant see my vagina in that picture, it wasn't the right lighting for it anyway! Bec just so happens to be my cousin - the one who lives in Adelaide. Let me tell you her harrowing tale:

Rebecca Timbaland Kelly XIV spent most of her childhood locked in the dark attic of a cattle farmer's house in the Victorian countryside. Don't get the wrong idea here - she wasn't being held hostage or as some kind of baby-machine or anything- rather, she locked herself in there at will... frequently. The police arrested her 47 times for trespassing before she had even reached the age of 10. The fact that she lived 4 hours away and had no connection to this farm baffled everyone - the Police especially.

One night when the farmer's daughter awoke to Rebecca perched on the end of her bed with a knife between her teeth and a ripped up restraining order on the floor reeking of human excrements, the Police were forced to take stronger action against this once harmless intruder. It was clear to her family that Rebecca had truly lost her mind, and at only 15 she was dragged back home once again by police, this time beaten within an inch of her life. Her parents thought this was a fitting punishment for all of her bad behaviour so they did not raise the issue with the policeman who handed her over. Instead they noticed his split and bloody knuckles, all broken from the justice served upon poor Rebecca's face, and offered to get him an ice-pack and some pain killers.

Poor Rebecca was left in the front entrance-way to die, like a sick baby bird ejected from its nest. Every morning when her parents would step over her festering almost-lifeless body on their way to work, she would wait for the breakfast crumbs around their mouth to fall down to the ground, within reach of her tongue. Sometimes if it was windy outside a leaf or two would blow inside and fly into her mouth. Eventually she found the strength to get up after she swallowed a mouse who stupidly thought her open mouth was a little hidey-hole. It was after this day that Bec became a vegetarian and also began her life-long addiction to Coke. Coca-Cola that is.

When she finally was on her feet and saw her mangled face and poorly re-formed bones in the mirror she howled in rage. Her parents heard the noise from the kitchen and froze as she hobbled toward them on her broken leg. They had hoped she would just die, but now that they could be jailed for negligence, they knew they had to finish the job. They started pelting her with cans of Coke - the nearest thing in reach. It was like a warzone. She matched their firepower with all she had to fire: her teeth. She spat those little white bullets further and with more velocity than a speeding bullet. She had taken down her parents with only 3 teeth. She bent to pick up a can of Coke which was dented and fizzing on the ground by her feet, and she drank that whole can like the man on the Solo ads. The sugar rush took her pain away, and from that day her mantra became "Coke make bad go bye bye".

With nobody to turn to for help, Bec started wandering the streets until one day she found herself in the neighbourhood of her cousin Jade. Weak from hunger, and anxious to get away from the mob carrying pitchforks and torches that had been following her for 2 days, Bec had no choice but to turn to Jade for help. Her face was so badly pulverised that Jade has trouble recognising her, but quickly took her in because she is such a nice person. At only 13, Jade didn't have enough pocket money to pay for Bec's facial reconstruction, and in her condition Bec was unable to work. This left only one option for the two youngsters. Bec decided that Jade should become a prostitute and that she would be her Pimp. The details here are a little sketchy but one source tells me that Bec used Jade's obsession with Leo DiCaprio to her advantage, by promising that if Jade ever wanted to marry Leo he would want an experienced wife. Jade believed every word and they started business together. This went on for 2 years, in which time Bec made more than enough to pay for her surgery, but her Coke habit was costing her hundreds per week. She prefered to buy single cans rather than bulk packs, so her expensive taste won over on the bank accounts. Eventually Jade had calculated how much money was being thrown away and told Bec that the game was up, and that she couldn't do it anymore. This is when they had their epic falling out. Bec reminded Jade of all the nights she had nursed her after a bad trick, pouring Coke slowly into her mouth as she lay there exhausted and almost unconscious - but to Jade the damage had long since been done. Jade sent her cousin away with just enough money to get her facial reconstruction surgery, and said she never wanted to see her again.

Bec got her surgery but the healing process was hell for her as the doctor made her look like Hilary Duff and she was stopped by every 2nd person she passed on the street. She continued drinking a slab of Coke per day to ease her pain and the other hobos she lived near warned her that she would overdose soon, and that she wouldn't like where she ended up. Bec was too foolhardy to listen, she kept drinking more and more. One day, after her 80th can of coke her craziness started to vibrate her whole body until her water molecules broke into steam and she simply disappeared floated away into thin air. She landed in Adelaide some days later, and by this time she was withdrawing hard. A local nun took her in and nursed her back to normalcy, until Bec found a share-house and a job.

She began stalking me on my blog about a year ago, and since then we have become close again. I should know all the details of this story quite well for I... I am her cousin Jade in the story...

*sob*

Thank you for becoming a follower Bec, you made my day - hopefully this story makes yours :)

a letter of hate

Dear Scumbag Fuckfaces who broke into my car,

I hate you. I don't actually know you, but I can confidently say that I hate you.

The reason for my hate stems from the fact that you have invaded my privacy twice now, and I am assuming you felt no remorse for this. The first time, you felt it was a mad idea to break into my car in my own driveway and steal my CD Player which I got as a present and all my CDs. Awesome. Not only was I now fearful for the security of my car, i was also mildly afraid for my life and all the possessions in my home. If I were to make a list of the Top 5 people I would never want in my house, you would be on it. Lemme break it down for you...

5) THE PUSSYCAT DOLLS
4) A CREEPY OLD MAN AFTER MY FLESH (ANY)
3) SNOOP DOGG
2) KEVIN BACON
1) YOU AND YOUR SICK FUCK FRIENDS

I didn't really let myself get too worked up about the incident as I was running late for work when I stumbled across the evidence of your late-night visit. However, when I realised that you stole my PEZ from the car I was utterly shocked. Why would you possibly want my PEZ re-fill? I had to laugh when I remembered that little packet of PEZ had been living in the bottom of my handbag for a few months and was covered in perfume, lip gloss, and other bag content residue. I was secretly chuffed 2 days later when I saw the PEZ laying in the grass of my front lawn. Obviously upon closer inspection you realised that it was not as desirable as you had previously thought. Hazah! It was like I planned it all along. A small disappointment for you there, albeit paled by comparison to my own disappointment that fateful morn. Looks like you'll have to get your sugar fix elsewhere, junkie!

So, needless to say, I didn't see the point in replacing the CD Player any time soon. I worried that you would just come back and take my new one. Plus you only took the face-plate. You fucking stupid idiot. Not only could you probably not sell it to anyone unless they have the actual CD player to correspond, it makes it tricky for me to get a new face-plate too. I will just have to buy a whole new CD player and get the useless old half-one removed to make way. Then what to I do with the old one? I will leave it beside my bed so that next time you come skulking around my lawn I can throw it at your toothless head!

The second time you broke into my car was 3 days ago at my local train station. I often see evidence of your handywork scattered in little piles across the vast carpark. I had always thought that perhaps one break-in was enough for me. I thought my Karma balance was pretty good. Apparently not on Tuesday, it wasn't. I approached my car which was waaaaaaaay at the very far reaches of the carpark and when I got to the drivers side, it was like de ja vu, the little button was popped up. Joy. I swore under my breath as I opened the door and sat in the drivers seat, looking around in despair at the mess you made as you emptied the contents of my bin all over the floor. I must admit I was happy that you didn't take anything this time. Not that I had anything of value, but it didn't stop you last time from taking my precious PEZ, you fucker. So I guess, thanks for not smashing any glass to get in, and for obviously having done your homework to find out that my old car will open with just about any key. Yet, on the other hand, fuck you. fuck you SO MUCH and go suck on a horse's balls for creeping me out.

Here I am, assuming that you are some derro bogan junkie fuck, but you may not be. I just can't imagine why else you would be skulking around in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep, or in the middle of the day when everyone is at work. I don't like to generalise but what is clear is that you are a peice of shit. You may have a job, you may have 12 kids and need the extra cash. Maybe. Probably not. Anyway...

Because I don't really know where you live, I am going to assume it is in the dark depths of the Western Suburbian sewers, so I shall make a point of dropping this down the drain tonight addressed to yours truly. Hopefully it gets to you! I feel confident that you wont track me down as doing this is your job, and you must have so many clients that you begin to forget them after time, right? So I hope you enjoy this letter, and remember that the world thinks you are a:


Much Hate, Hope we never meet again,
Jade
*stab* *stab* *stab*

family follies

I was reminded of a great story yesterday, and i thought it was just too good not to share with the world :) let me set the scene...

So the year was 2000, and I was at the ripe young age of 13. Over the Christmas school holidays my dad, a fencing contractor by trade, enlisted the help of myself and my brothers to assist him on a job. This fence was along a main road and was the boundary to a large housing estate. So we were working away, lining up pailings etc. and my dad said we could have a go with his nail gun. He showed us that you need to push it hard against a surface for a nail to be released, and we thought that was the most awesome thing since Tazos, or when Oreos made their way to us via a friend going to USA. Anyway, Dad seemed to like the way that it had transformed us from squabbling to overjoyed in mere seconds, and decided to show us another trick. He chocked a bit of wood or something in near the nozzle so that the nail gun "thought" it was pressed against something at all times, thus allowing you to fire it like a gun.

He started shooting it at the dirt and we were all backing away laughing. He then started shooting it near my little brothers feet (he was 10 at the time) going "dance, dance!" maniacally. You think I am joking.. but my dad really does that shit. My little bro Daniel was squealing in a mixture of fear and excitement, then started to run away from us. He was running over a slight hill, and my dad kept shooting the ground a few meters behind him. As Daniel was slowly going up-hill dad had raised the nail gun more and more after him. When he started on the decline, he turned around to look at us and my dad shot again but had the gun raised too high. All we saw was him laughing and waving - then he clutched his eye and fell to the ground screaming.

I don't think i have ever been so close to actually shitting myself. We ran up to him expecting the worst, and finally we pried his hand away from his face, and saw that the nail was not sticking out of his eyeball as feared... it was nowhere to be seen. all he had was a little nick under his eye and a bit of blood. We all breathed a sigh of relief but i don't think I have ever seen my dad so worried. He swore Daniel not to tell my mum what happened or else she would probably leave him or something.

Now, Daniel is definately not the most subtle of people... i think somehow he wanted my mum to find out. When we got home she asked what happened to his eye and he explained "i um, tripped on a rock.... and fell onto another rock...." which she miraculously believed. Obviously he would have to try harder to let mum "find out", so he started drawing pictures of the incident and leaving them around the house. Here is a fairly accurate one that i remember...

(In hindsight, i probably shouldn't have done a backwards "e" as he was 10 at the time, which i calculated after creating this masterpeice in Paint.)

Anyway, Mum still didn't realise what was going on, and Dad was thinking it was just a matter of time before Daniel wrecked the whole arrangement. So around the table at Christmas Lunch my dad told my mum he had to confess something, and told her the whole story. What an awkward finish to a lovely day THAT was :s

So yeah, Daniel is the accident-prone one in the family. I don't think he has done any damage lately but he used to hurt himself in horrific ways all the time. There was the time he stepped on a piece of roof guttering that was up the side of our house, and it sliced deep in between his big and second toe. There was a trail of blood to the back door and everyone was freaking the fuck out. Then there was the time he cut his calf on a bit of sharp wood and his skin kind of folded back from the cut exposing the fat layer. It was like on star wars when Han Solo cuts open the Tauntaun's stomach and all that shit spills out. He was asking me to get mum and i was yelling "no! I'm having too much fun atop the spinning clothes line" that was until i saw WHY he wanted me to get mum and i nearly vommed. Anyway, enough of that. It is lunch-time and i don't want to lose my appetite :P

more japan stories

I thought i would share a few more stories from Japan. Let's hope they turn out accurate as this was over a year ago and i have the shittest memory ever.


Picciture 1:
ah yes, our first night in Japan...
So the story goes that we had a 6am flight out of Melbourne and a few of the guys thought it would be a good idea not to sleep the night before the flight so that they would be able to sleep the whole way there on the plane. In theory I suppose it is a valid idea, but it didn't really work like that as i had anticipated. I think they couldn't sleep sitting up, try as they might, and were getting frustrated and grumpy and still dead tired. It was kiiiind of funny but also really bad.

We flew into Osaka airport and got a train from the airport station (best thing ever) into the city where we were all super excited at everything we saw. Think "Oh my god, look at those lights!", "Omg, we're in Japan!", "Oh man, i want to come back here and look at this shop tomorrow!!". We wanted to walk to our hotel cos we didnt want to blow money on taxis and plus we wanted to take it all in. i had the lonely planet guide map open trying to navigate to our accommodation. One thing i have found about those maps is that they are sooooo not accurate. Only the main roads have street names, sometimes. All the little alleys, which in Japan are...well... EVERYWHERE, are not named. Plus the scale is all whack, you think you still have like 5 minutes of straight walking until you reach a street, and all of a sudden you realise you walked past it already. I remember walking along a main 4 lane road wondering where we were on the map. I think we got lost inside this undercover shopping arcade, it was like a black hole and we came out somewhere totally different than where we thought we were. The guys couldn't figure it out either.

we eventually stopped and asked a Japanese guy for directions who was the owner of this buffet restaurant. He was a funny character. He had an American English accent and was trying to use his GPS on his phone to help us find the address. He was telling us to come back the next day for lunch and explained that "soft drinks... all FREE" in this heavy american accent. so strange. Anyway he sent us back the way we had come. After a while we worked up the courage to ask this other Japanese guy to help us with directions, he was a hippie and we thought he looked nice and friendly. Cos a lot of Japanese people get scared off when you start talking to them or try to get their attention. Anyway we asked him to look at the map and asked if we were close to the hotel and he shook his head and laughed and indicated that we were way off. None of us could believe how lost we were and how no-one could help us cos our map was in English. So yeah then we got in 2 taxis and asked the drivers to take us to the address and they said they didn't really go to that part of the city, they only knew the other part of the city. Weird.

We eventually got to the hotel like hours after we got to the city and wouldn't you know it.... they didn't have our reservation and were fully booked. 6 people, little sleep, tensions running high, no place to sleep. I showed them the email that they had sent me which said "thankyou for your reservation" but apparently by saying "thankyou for your reservation" they actually needed me to reply confirming again that yes, ontop of the last email with all of our details and credit card details, i would AGAIN like to say that i would like to book. I wanted to blow myself up and take everyone down with me. So after much conversation we discovered that they had a sister hotel on the other side of the city and we managed to get a suite for all 6 of us. Then we had to get cabs again over there and the poor night guy had to stay back and wait for us before he closed up for the night audit. We crashed hard after laying out the futons on the ground - which is what is happening in the picture above. I was so embarrassed and angry at myself cos i was meant to be the Japan expert and first night i looked like the biggest dick head. It was a pretty shit night but also really funny at times and we were all joking about things we saw and Stevenz was imitating the American accent of the Japanese guy for the next week, it was hilarious.

Piccy-ture 2:

This isn't a story per se, but i like the picture. That flower I stole from the entrance of a Pachinko Parlour. I would link to a description of Pachinko, but i could just give it: it is a gambling machine similar to the pokies. you put all these little ball bearings balls in the top and they clatter down and somehow you win money. like that carnival game where you have to get the ball in the clown's mouth. Pachinko is massive in Japan. They have gigantic buildings dedicated to it. People sit in rows and it is a sensoral RAPE when you walk in the doors. You are accosted with a wall of deafening techno/j-pop music trying to rise above the noise of billions of ball bearing balls clattering all over the place. And as in Japan you are allowed to smoke indoors the building is so thick with smoke you feel like you are in a nightmare club. anyway for some reason they all go overboard with the fake flowers to decorate the entrances.

Pici-ture 3:

this was after a big night of drinking - maybe after our little episode at Club Pure in Shibuya i think (someone correct me if i'm wrong as we seemed to be hungover a lot). We had to check out the next morning and we were all pretty devoid of happiness or life. We caught a train to harajuku and locked our big bags away so that we might be free to roam around a little. On the map we saw there was a park near the station called Yoyogi Park so we stumbled over there hoping for a bit of peace and quiet. We all had a little nap on some benches - hobo stylllle. It was so relaxing. Eventually we were awoken by a strange smelling smoke that wafted our way but were too chicken to investigate it's origin. We watched the rockabilly dancers for a while before heading off into the gigantic park for a stroll. It was the end of autumn so the leaves were falling so delicately and serenely from the trees, i have never seen anything like it before. it was like a dreamscape! We eventually came upon a big dog pen where everyone put their dogs so they can play off the lead. We stood looking at those dogs for hours... i think they saved our lives a little bit. I'm pretty sure that at some point we were plotting the dognapping of a few of our favourites. I didn't like the ones in clothes. A lot of them were wearing clothes. It was intense.


Piccyture 4:

This was a poster at the train station, trying to reinforce the Japanese peoples love for peace and quiet on trains. The man who is disapproving of the behaviour looks so freaky. His eyes are dead. I think the poster should read "this party is a zombie free zone" and the poor zombie is left out *cry*. The most rowdy behaviour i saw on a train there was at night... this one Japanese guy was on his was home from a night of drinking, and he was falling asleep but was leaning on the girl next to him and he dropped his phone. He was trying so hard to stay awake, and trying to appear normal....but everyone was like *DANGER DANGER* and cleared out the carriage. It was bizzare! Here i have seen people "nodding off" on the trian but not because they are sleepy but because they are needle junkies. I have seen people take pills in unicen on the train, seen a few people smoking and a lot of people drinking, see a few fights, seen a near stabbing... yeah different worlds.

3 nights of note in Nippon

hell-oooo all you subarashii people :) i have recently been looking back on my time in Japan with fondness. Like, oh my god, like, when am I NOT!? so anyway I thought I would share a few stories with you guyzzz. You must realise my words are precious and like a gift wrapped in the finest silk known to man... so this is a reward for my "Followers" and a little something to entice my other blog stalkers to become followers... so i may see who you are. It's like this chant they used to have back in 'Nam: "Come out come out wherever you are..." yeah i dunno creepy... ANYWHO, what the fuck am i talking about...

STORY 1) MARCH 2008

So, Joshuella and I went to Japan Land for a wee holiday in March 2008. We realised after we booked that we would be there at the time of our 3 year anniversary. How convenient! So we flew Melbourne - Nagoya and stayed overnight then headed up into the Japanese Alps to stay in Nagano for a few days. (BEST PLACE EVERRRR!) Then it was on to good ole Tokyo for a bit of fun! The plan was to go out in Roppongi on the Eve of our Anniversary, then the next day travel from Tokyo - Kyoto on the bullet train and check in to out lovely romantic accommodation at : Yachio Ryokan.

So we were staying in the next "suburb" to Roppongi called Akasaka, and we set off to find some delicious dinner. Only 2 blocks away we found this cool restaurant called "Uoshin Restaurant" in Roppongi. It's part of a chain I think, but we were immediately drawn to it, as it was a really unique looking place - different to many of the places we had eaten already. It had a cool al fresco part to it which was undercover and people were laughing and drinking and loud punk music was playing. How could we resist, right? So we go in and the place is PACKED and there is fish hanging from the roof, and on ice and on grills and EVERYWHEREEEEEEE!! So they sit us at the bench so the chefs are right infront of us, then hand me this menu which is entirely in KANJI (like chinese characters) and i was like "uh... sorry babe, I'm not really sure what this says...". They noticed the horrified and slightly starving look in my eye and asked if i wanted an English menu. YES PLEASE! So everything was cheap and the drinks list was long and also cheap! We ordered what seemed like one of everything, and chowed down while watching the chefs at work. We noticed after a while that this punk music was playing that we had been hearing everywhere so far. We had heard it in a shoe shop in Nagano and I asked the guy what it was, so he wrote it down for me in Katakana alphabet: Makishimamu za horumon - yeah i had no idea what that meant, i just knew it was meant to be English. Turns out it's MAXIMUM THE HORMONE! and they are awesome. So we said to the chef we liked the music and she was like "yeah we love it too, we are in a tribute band..." i thought she was joking. No sir. The manager of that amazing establishment (pictured below with the headband) promptly came out from behind the grill and started playing videos of them rocking out in live venues. Incredible! The whole staff were in a tribute punk band.

The Manager recommended we drink this spirit called Shochu, and that we should have it on the rocks. I asked what it was, like if it was similar to Vodka or Sake or something, and he explained that it is similar to Sake and that apparently they used it in the War to disinfect wounds. Josh was hooked so we ordered 2 of those, and 2 more steins of Kirin Beer. That's about where things started to go downhill for me as we had already has a few steins each. The more i drank, the better my Japanese flowed, but they of course were trying to speak English so i didn't have to translate for Josh. We didn't have a camera on us, so Josh ran back to the hotel to get one so we could take some pictures.

While he was gone I got talking to the manager who was telling me his life story and said that it is his dream to go to Australia and go surfing. He then said he was a model, and got this magazine catalogue thing out which was all about chef supplies and uniforms, and he flicked through it showing me all the pictures of himself and his wife and baby daughter modelling clothes. Very cute!

Josh comes back with the camera and suddenly everyone wants to pose for us! It was sick. I really wish i stopped drinking but i had taught Josh how to say "2 more of the same please" in Japanese so he just kept ordering 2 more when we hadn't even finished our current drinks. We were having so much fun i guess i didn't realise how much i was drinking and didn't care that i was mixing beer with shochu and some lychee concoction that Josh kept ordering.

That is a picture of 2 of the chefs. They were sickkkk! The girl's name was Midori but Ican't remember the guys name as it was so long ago (oops). Holy shit i just realised she is holding a big 'thing' of OKONAMI sauce, my favourite. I don't think i had discovered okonamiyaki at that point. omg primate. Anyway, below is the Manager showing us how to play the traditional Japanese game Kendama. Basically Japanese Ball in a Cup.

He was fucking unbeleivable. Probably some sort of Kendama champion. So you let the ball dangle then you have to flick it up onto the cup it's on in the picture, then around onto the other side, then onto the cup on the base - near his wrist, then onto the spike! He did it deftly as a kendama ninja! I don't have access to youtube but if you look up kendama champion you will be shocked. Or maybe i was just drunk and easily impressed...? most likely...

Anyway Josh was going nuts with obsession for it, and got the hang of it straight away. Everyone was cheering him on, it was great! So at some point we realised that the whole place was empty except for us and that they wanted to close up for the night! Awkwarddddd! So i went to the toilet and when i came back Josh had paid (I found out later he had used my money though haha) and we left promising to send them pictures and stuff. I don't really remember much of the rest of the night except that we stopped at a CONBINII (Convenience store) and got some Japanese Pringles and fried chicken - i only know this because i found it the next morning in our room :s

Fun fact about me: when I am drunk i cant sleep because i feel too ill. i toss and turn holding my stomach and cant "sleep it off" like many lucky chumps out there. So i had a broken sleep and got up at 7am to vomit. When i came back to bed i saw josh cuddling a bottle of water and the USB cord for the camera... haha, oh Josh! Yes so i spent pretty much the rest of the morning vomitting and not letting Josh in the bathroom. Actually i think i let him in once but i nervously paced outside the door as I was going to vomit AGAIN. probably the most after-grog bodily expulsion i have ever experienced. It was disgusting. So Josh was trying to hurry me up as we had to check out. Working in Hotels i know you dont have to check out RIGHT on time. There is a bit of leeway, especially if you are going to vomit all over the reception desk if you arent ready to come out of the bathroom. But he gave me a plastic bag to hold JUST IN CASE and we set off for the day. It was possibly the worst day of my life. Did i mention it was our anniversary? Yep.

We checked out and stumbled through CRAZY CROWDS to the local station and got a local train to the big Station, then had to try and organise tickets for the Bullet Train, and find what platform it was on etc. For anyone who has been hungover - Japan is the worst place to spend your hangover day. People and noise everywhere, and as your brain also got vomitted out, it's pretty hard to remember how to speak Japanese. My patience was so low for everything and everyone that I wanted to either kill myself or kill Josh each time he spoke. Poor Josh. Eventually we got to Kyoto and got another train to our accommodation and walked there and checked in, and just lay on the floor. We went out at 4pm to get some breakfast. haha. Josh wanted spaghetti bolognaise (i am not even joking) so we went to look for some and eventually found it and devoured it and felt slightly better. happy anniversaryyyyy........! oh well, it was at least memorable to stand the test of time and remain in my limited memory bank!


STORY 2) NOVEMBER 2008

So I went back to Japan again later that year - crazy now that I think about it. I think there were some mega cheap flights so I jumped on it. Yeah i got a flight $189 from Melbourne to Osaka! why wouldn't you...? So anyway, this time i went with 5 boys who are friends of josh and mine: Evan, Stevens, Trav, Nash & Corey. So pretty much everyone just wanted to drink heaps and party in Tokyo which is fair enough. So we went out to Shibuya to look for a good place, and atfer a few tries, eventually came across CLUB PURE! Basically guys and girls pay a different flat rate and you get a wristband and a cup. You can fill that cup with anything you want from the bar all night. I think entrance was like $50...? or a bit less. BUT as you can imagine, everyone just goes crazy! All the guys were trying to talk to Japanese girls but because of the language barrier, I was called in to translate. I think they were more interested in me to be honest, and they were telling me i was SUPER CUTE! Everyone likes to hear that :D

So after a few too many apple drinks Evan started to lose his shirt - quite literally....

And pretty soon he passed out at the table....

BUT Japan being the interesting place that it is, you are actually allowed to sleep in clubs and the security guards don't hassle you at all. So he was fine. We were just sitting around chatting to some Swedish people, and his head was drooping in the direction of my lap. I kept pushing him away as i didn't want him to vomit on my lap. I got up to go to the toilet eventually and on my way back i passed my friends dragging Evan to the toilets with vomit still dribbling from his mouth. PERFECT TIMING! I got back to the table and everyone was freaking out about having vomit on their clothes, it was hilarious - as i wasn't involved of course! When Ev came back he was sober again and started to drink again and party the night away. Meanwhile, here is a great photo of Myself, Corey and this Swedish guy who likes blue chewing gum...

Oh it was pretty funy, the next day we were confused because we could smell vomit everywhere we went then eventually we found the stain on someone's pants. I think it was Nash's pants. Dried up vom, yuckkk!

Story 3 ) ALSO NOVEMBER 2008

So after Evan, Stevens and Nash went home it was just me, Corey and Trav knockin about in Japan. When we were in Hiroshima, we decided to get a ferry across to Miyajima Island and go for a hike up Misen (the big mountain on the island) one afternoon. So we got a tram for almost an hour, then a ferry to the island, then went to look for the cable car to the summit...

great views from the cable car, great views!

once on the summit, we were surrounded by monkeys. The signs said to put your belongings in lockers otherwise the monkeys will maul you for food. Hmmm, no thanks!

So yes, it was raining and I suddenly regretted my eagerness to climb or descend a mountain. Corey led us to this path swearing it was to the summit, but we were going downhill. So yeah after about 10 mins he agreed that we were probably going the wrong way so we went back uphill and started towards the summit. I started to lose it, like i am convinced i was having an asthma attack but i have never been tested for asthma so don't know if it was, or even what it was. I took off my jacket and jumper and was just in a t-shirt in the rain and wintery weather. I was wheezing and kept asking the guys to stop. my face was like beetroot red and i couldn't catch my breath at all. I was so embarrassed as only Josh had seen me lose it like this before, and they didnt seem to even have broken a sweat. The thought of taking one more step made me want to cry so i took the room key and went allllllll the way back alone in the rain and impending darkness. In the cable car the only other people were this lesbian couple who were making out and feeling each other up, while i was shaking and coughing in the corner. I got back to the room frozen to the bone and had a hot shower and snuggled up on the futon mattress with the blankets and turned on Japanese TV for some company. I started to get really worried cos the guys were now running down a mountain in the darkness and the time was ticking by... but eventually they came back drenched and we had a nice little futon picnic of snacks and drinks and of course Corey's weird Korean concoction of Yakult and Soju shots. That was another memorable day.

Now that i think about it, I have so many more stories I would love to write about! Like Yoyogi Park in Harajuku! I'll save it for another day my friends!

domestic disturbance

so i went to my dad's place last night and was watching tv with my brothers. I kept hearing this loud banging noise and kept asking "What WAS that?!" and they were all *shrug* so i forgot about it. Then it happened again and again, then we heard some shouting above the TV. We pushed mute and peeked out the window to see the couple across the court having a FULL ON DOMESTIC on the front lawn. They both looked way feral, but the guy had a pole and was bashing the fuck out of his wheelie bin and she was crying and screaming. He then started bashing the trees and was threatening to hit her with the pole, then tossed the pole and was raising his fists and walking toward her. It was really scary. I saw their next door neighbour come out to his car, get something, and go back in... i thought "Why aren't you doing anything!?!?" but then i thought what would i do? Some alcoholic psycho is happy to beat up his wife in the street, imagine what he would do to me for getting in the way. It's so bad but.... whatever...

My brother called the cops and soon enough 2 cop cars came with 4 cops. The couple had already gone inside and i was freaking out imagining what was happening in there. The cops got her out of the house and were talking to her for like half an hour but the guy was still inside. I think they tried to talk to him but obviously it wasnt going well. I was freaking out that she would be like "oh yeah, everything's cool... thanks anyway" and then the REAL punishment would come. But one cop left and soon enough came back with a Divvy Van and another cop. So 5 cops went in with mace and were in there for a while then dragged him out and he was kicking and punching them so they tripped him, slammed him to the ground and cuffed him. Then off he went in the back of the divvy van. I got the sensation that every single neighbour in the court was peeping through the blinds just as we were. As he was being lead away, my brother did the clapping part to "you're going home in the back of a divvy van" really loud and i saw one of the cops look in our direction haha fuck.

The whole time my litte brother was taking pictures of the whole thing with his massive zoom lense. so bad.... but yeah if i can get a photo i will totally put it on here... and maybe i'll blur the face just in case.

So yeah looks like my dad lives in the ghetto after all. apparently this crazy guy was screaming at his wife the night before and said he would slit her throat. what the fuck!?! i shudder to think whats going to happen when he gets let out of the lockup. people are fucked. seriously.

strength

That, boys and girls, is an image of a vegan pooping his pants. Well, i don't know for sure if he is mid-soil, but it sure looks like it. I can't help laughing when i look at his face, because i have never seen Hayden angry before. Not even that time when Josh and I went mini-golfing with him and his ex Giselle, and those jocks started calling us "goths" and "freaks" to taunt us. I kid you not... this is not a scene from a corny American daytime movie, it is a chapter from my life. Granted we were wearing sneakers and black T-shirts, not pink polos with popped collars, i guess that was where the confusion came from. Although these days even jocks look like emos, but back then we seemed to really visually offend them. Tell me, does the fellow in the above picture look like a goth to you...? If the answer is "No" then join me in inventing a time machine so i can go back in time and use my golf club for pummeling those doinkers at the mini golf course!


Anyway I have seen a goth IRL, and he was proper goth. He was reading poetry on the train with big black boots, black pants, black... (i'm going to stop using black as an adjective because i think it's safe for you to assume everything was indeed black)... ruffled shirt, trenchcoat, painted nails, and heaps of over the top silver rings and those whole finger talon things, as well as a top hat, long hair, makeup and he had a dead fox draped around his neck. Those that know me personally KNOW i love to exaggerate but I dont even think this time i am doing the guy justice, he was more goth than my brain can handle. So indulge me, do you see the man in the above photo, the VEGAN man, wearing a dead fox draped around his shoulders... no...? Well then, it's time to stand up for vegans and mistaken identity non-goths everywhere and help me teach those crab-apples at the mini-golf course a lesson in not judging books by the cover.


Speaking of which.. this is the front cover of the book we wrote about/for him. We started writing it about 3 years ago, and missed his birthday, and christmas... and the next birthday... and the next christmas... and were stuck on the last chapter, and then i realised his birthday this year was approaching in mere weeks, so I finished to job. It has gotten pretty rave reviews, as many friends are featured in it.

Long story, short synopsis = awesome. Here is an exerpt from the book, to tickle your fancy and give you a clue as to our exaggerated flamboyant writing style. Josh wrote the following part as a footnote describing his character (himself) in the book...

[1] In the opinion of this humble author this character has not been adequately described. He is too fantastic to see as one entire person, we simply have to focus upon each individual quality so we don’t explode our mortal hearts with desire. With eyes like blue ice chips and a chin of strength it seems that his gaze can tickle the erogenous zones of anything he focuses on; man, woman, beast or plant. His stubborn refusal to bathe or use toilet paper seems to only enhance his sexual prowess, and women would kill each other for the chance to pick his nose... if, that is, he deigned to use anything below silk wedding dresses. One thousand poets working for one thousand years could never give justice to his distinct and heady musk. And the same poets would be shot and turned into soap for midgets if they even attempted his smile. To be caught in a cloud of Josh’s methane gas is said to be shrouded in the gentlest of air currents, making people think of their perfect summer day and has been described by professionals as smelling of cut grass and rainfall on wind.

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

the one...the only...chester

My cat. My cat is a constant source of amusement and frustration to me. My friends and family seem to like him for their own various reasons, although his life was one with humble beginnings, riddled with neglect and malnutrition. Our story begins about 8-9 years ago. I received a call from a friend one day who was visiting another friend. She informed me that there was a stray kitten hanging around and asked if i wanted to come rescue it. Of course i said yes, and my family and I went down to pick it up. When we got there we saw the cutest little baby kitten ever, and it was so malnourished and had these massive goggle eyes. The girls were feeding it birthday cake and it was totally going to town on it. My mum expertly concluded that it was a boy cat, which was fine with me. We took him home and I named him Chester - i beleive it was a mixture of both a liking for linkin park lead singer and sean william scott's portrayal of chester in "Dude... Where's my car?". Hey i was like 13... like omg.

Anyway the vet assured us he was a boy, although as he was so young his testes hadn't dropped, and we waited for them to drop so we could get him desexed. We were further reassured of his male-ness when my younger bro was holding him like a baby stroking his soft white belly, and out came the lipstick! to this day i have never seen DK (bro) move so fast and look so disgusted... muahaha.

Anyway, over the years his cuteness seemed to shine less and less bright in our household. He didn't grow to full male ginger tom size, and his testes never dropped - but we had forgotten all about this somehow. Soon poor chester became the butt of jokes, most ran wittily along the "ranga, fanta pants, blood nut" vein. He was also never called Chester, he was called "whore" or "slut" or a variety of other awful names... Playfully of course. My older brother took great delight in thinking up more and more awful names for my poor little cat. Like a mother bird who senses her baby is weak and runty, i pushed him out of the nest of affection, and it seemed my mum was the only one who would care for him. He soon began to be an outdoor cat, and the foolish teenage me couldn't care less.

We found out after a few years that he was actually sleeping in our neighbours house, and eating their cat's food. He would casually go in through the cat door and make himself at home, they didn't mind. He also did this when living at my dad's house, and our neighbours started calling him "James". Shit cat name IMO. Anyway he is a vagrant.

One tragic afternoon we were driving home as a family, and pulling into the driveway, Chester ran forward to greet the car. Unfortunately this was the day he learnt his lesson not to tango with big cars. We all felt a definate "ba-boom" as my mum ran over him. We clamboured out of the car but he was nowhere to be seen. All that was left was some red fur stuck to the concrete and tyre. We found him later that night by shaking his box of cat food in the middle of the court, the sound echoing over the neighbourhood. He came back and was totally not happy. Over the next few days he developed a bulge in his stomach and leg where he had been run over. We thought there was internal damage and took him to the vet, where he told us that out little Chester would be fine. He also told us that Chester had what he likes to call "Inverted Testicals" and that if left alone could become cancerous. I was worried but didn't have the money for surgery, and my parents didn't seem to think it was a big deal.

Years later - in 2009, Chester came to live with me and my partner. It was his 5th house i calculated. The last house where he lived was with my dad and brothers (and me before i moved out). This was his rebel period, where he hated everyone and noone paid him attention, and he hated human contact, and he disliked being indoors.

However when he came to live with me, he seems happier than ever. We have a nice little relationship now, as i am the one who feeds him, you see. He goes by the name Chester at my house, also sometimes Tootsie, Toodie, Baby, or Little Boy. There is none of the name calling or insult slinging going on here. He is, according to one of my friends a "tripper", as he stares at the wall for hours on end purring. My dad was talking to a vet recently and he asked how much the surgery would cost, and she told him that cats never have inverted testicals and that it is common in dogs. She informed us that Chester is more than likely a hermaphrodite. Yes that is right. My cat is not quite a boy. He has a very strange personality. He dislikes toddlers (not mine - i dont have kids) pointing at him while he is licking his soft white belly... see below:


He also sleeps in weird places, like this footstool. Or on the book you are reading, or on your laptop keypad. He actually shit on the carpet TWICE in the same spot recently. I came home from work to find him inside and the smell was like a hot punch in the face. I was like "where is it...? WHERE DID YOU DO IT?!?!" to which he merely meowed and rubbed against my leg. I found it in the most hard to reach corner and it was the most disgusting thing i have ever cleaned off the carpet. yuckz. Then about a week later he did it again. So ashamed of him.


And he never drinks from his bowl. He refuses to drink unless it is from the fishbowl. He never tries to attack the fish, but just likes the water. It's so normal to me, but when we have people over they all lose their shit over it and grab him off the table. There was that one time when he stood on the kitchen bench next to a glass of water, and carefully dipped his foot into the water and licked his paw dry, and continued for a few minutes. It was weird. But he is weird so it's really not that weird.

So that is the tale of Chester and his weird habits. Yep.

Leather Hackett

I don't know what the hell kind of demon posessed me, but a few years ago i thought it was the most brilliant idea to buy a $400 leather trenchcoat. Now, I know what you are thinking, the Matrix right? NO no no no no NO!!! First of all, it was brown. Secondly, I was in highschool when the first Matrix came out, and I boycotted the 3rd movie, and this whole leather trenchcoat thing was after all that. The nice people at the 'facility' where i spent some time after watching the Matrix had finally convinced me that the world i lived in was in fact real, and that no amount of picking up ringing phones and trying to will my body to liquify and suck up into the earpiece was going to change that. I am ok now. I digress..

Perhaps it was some sort of subconscious sick joke to play on my vegan and vegetarian friends and family members.. who could know? All i know is that I was bewitched by the feel of the crushed leather, the intoxicating smell of the hide, the way it made me look like a 1920's pilot if i wore it with a white scarf... i was in love. So i played hard to get by leaving it on Lay-by (or lay-away for those of you playing in America) for a few months, only giving it the slightest bit of attention every now and again. Once i had it, my life was complete, our 2 worlds collided and we were now one, ready to hit the streets of MElbourne and strut. But then the most curious thing happened when i tried to wear it for the first time. I did up the last button and suddenly the voices of ghostly and angry protestors, and the distant "mooing" of cows bombarded my conscience. I fought it, and wore it out to work anyway. Sadly, I could no longer feel like a superfly 1920's starlet in this jacket because all I could think about was what people were thinking of me in my bloody cow skin. I think i have worn it perhaps 3 times since i bought it. value for money - i think not.
I told this to a lady at work, and she confessed she had just bought a leather couch without realising just what it is made of. I saw her face fall as she came into the same head-space as me. I'm sorry cow, i love you.

The Mystery of the Black Stocking Socks

i have been finding little black stocking socks sporadically over the past... hmm maybe 2 years in various, or not so various places.

The first time i was at my boyfriend's house and found one on his floor, amongst the clothes, homework, dvds, cds and rubbish. I picked it up and went "hmm.." regarding it with utter confusion. He said "What is it?" to which i replied "It's a stocking sock." he asked if it was mine and i replied in the negative, for i don't wear ankle high stocking socks. Then i got angry "Well whose is it??" to which he got defensive "I don't know, how should i know?!". It was rude of me to assume foul play, i know. I threw it in his laundry, and thought that was the end of the stocking sock.

Wrong. A short while later, one turned up IN HIS BED! I held it up again and he started to laugh at the expression on my face. He swore he was as alarmed as I was. He had no clue how it got there. My mind naturally, and unfairly, jumped to horrible conclusions which just upset me. He was kind of amused/insulted at my reaction, and talked me around and said it was probably his mums, to which she verified that it was- although she didn't know how it got there. OK Stocking sock thing over.

Wrong again unfortunately. I found one nestled in the bottom of his backpack!!! So now i was thinking that perhaps he was a cross-dresser. I thought he should tell me the truth if he liked wearing ladies clothes. "I have some great stockings if you want." I said, jokingly. He didn't think me to be funny at all :) He said his mum had borrowed the bag.

Ok so now it is 2009, and we have moved in together. Last week i found another shin-high black stocking sock on our bedroom floor, near the door. I swear he is doing this to taunt me. he was brushing his teeth before bed, and i walked over to the bathroom door holding it by the tips of my fingernails, and held it up to him. He saw it and rolled his eyes. After spitting out the toothpaste he asked if i thought he was cheating on me. I said "not really, but why the fuck are there always stocking socks everywhere i go?!!?!?!" then i asked what he does with them, wear them on his feet or to 'wrap his package' or something else strange. He said he didnt even know it was there, and thought it was mine.

Then this morning, walking down the ramp at my local train station, what was on the path before me... but a fucking.black.stocking.sock. What is this?! Why am I being taunted?? I hate black stocking socks! They are the bane of my existence, they are the thorn in the side of our relationship, they are the elephant in the room, the black fly in your chardonnay, a death row pardon, 2 minutes.. oh wait...

one night in osaka last november...

I found this draft...

last night was awesome. we are staying in Shinsaibashi in Osaka which has turned out in our favour to be a fucking awesome spot for fun times of the disorderly nature. it was about mmm 8 or 9ish, and time had eluded us as it often does here. it may have something to do with the fact that we don't wake up until lunchtime, but i digress... it was our first night knockin aboot in osaka, and it was a friday also which added to the concoction of fun. we (corey and trav and myself) decided to get some ramen and started to walk around our neighbourhood in searce of such a feast. immediately we were immersed in a sea of lights and shops and of course insane people on jitenshya adventures who ring their bike bells about 1 second before they slam the brakes on and you can almost feel their perfectly sculpted hair moving in the wind (pfft as if it moves) as they are thrown forward in motion. we walked aimlessly for a few minutes, until we came into a large (in japanese standards) clearing which had a circluar brick clearing with 2 levels seperated by steps. ok bad description, but i am hungover. the bottom was a circle, then it increased in size with the 2 or 3 steps, and the top level had seats and benches and a fountain. also now i know where all the rubbish bins of japan have gone. there were roughly 6 in that area, some days you might carry a bag of food rubbish and empty cans for 2 or 3 hours before you spot a bin... anyway... there were japanese skaters trick skating a makeshift ramp, and there were some anglo punks knocking about also, a few of which turned out to be from brunswick area in melbourne. as it is legal to drink on the streets here, everyone was steadily becoming more drunk thanks to the convenience store opposite us, selling a bevy of japanese beer and canned cocktails. the police showed up a few times to tell the skaters off, but as the skaters were mad sick rebels they kept skating. the police who aren't so fierce just kept coming back saying a few words here and there, and then disappearing. we then found out the police box was right next door. lawwwl. if it was melbourne, the cops would have smashed the boards to smithereens the second time they had to come back. i was trying to convince trav to make friends with the skaters and show them his moves, but he said he needed to be more drunk in order to get the courage (but that would severely deminish his skill) haha. He ended up making friends with some guy that owned a skate shop nearby, and he thought he was king of it all. corey and i were trying to shake off the attention of these japanese dudes who wanted us to go dancing with them hehehe. also corey was eyeballing this really stylish japanese girl and her friends, and then he went to get a drink. while he was gone she walked over to me and trav and was all "where do you from?" (so cute) and we thought they wanted to be our friends. turned out after a few minutes of chatting they were just working as recruiters for a club. getting people to go there. pfft. PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT!!!! yeah it was a busy night, so many new people. also this american guy we met called dave, his japanese was impecable, even despite the fact that he was paraletic drunk. he had this loud craziness about him that reminded me of matthew lillard (stu from scream / shaggy from scooby doo), he was a champpppp, so funny. he was just yelling out to locals and they would come up to him and chat and make friends, it was amazing. i think he was living / working in the area. anyway. america town triangle park is fun, you should go there. jk over and out

busking in japan-land

it crossed our minds that if we simply illegally busked, we could make a small fortune of yen, which would currently be next to nothing in AUD. After observing the lcoals, we decided that busking for coin is about as rare as seeing a cat dressed in a tutu sitting on a booster seat eating at a dinner table, and howling... oh wait i saw that on jap tv last night. disregard.. anyway, people here busk for the sheer joy. rockabilly guys dance around yoyogi park in harajuku for weekend shits and giggles, the cosplay kids primp and pose for no reason but to be admired, and musicians play in arcades just to make people smile. fuck that, a brothers gotta eat, i'm going to start a revolution where we make our living by begging, screw graduating college and "çhoosing" your job for life. even the homeless here are respectable and they take their shoes off before entering their own carboard capsules in the underground catacombs of hiroshima station. i have never once been aproached for coin. try walking down swanston street in melbz and see how many times the same aboriginal woman asks you for $2 and then record how many words beginning with C she can attack you with before you get a chance to get away with the green walky man. i got shunted there once, a guy actually was throwing himself shoulder first at people walking toward him in order to... i dont know really. jerk face. none of that in japan no no... if i had the courage and the heart of a lion i would totally busk, but i am a weed. lawl.

today i slept on a park bench in tokyo and my friend petted a homeless lady`s cat.

I wish i remembered more about this draft, but unfortunately I only remember the first half. We slept in Yoyogi Park in Harajuku area. It is the most beautiful urban park i've ever seen.

I don't know why my friend petted a homeless lady's cat, and i dont know which friend.. haha sorry

the grey teletubbie

You know in those old detective movies they talk in that cool "jazzy" way, almos(h)t with a purpos(h)ful lis(h)p, s(h)ee? Well start thinking in that way, and this tale will be 13.4% better...

The year was not important, almost as unimportant as the godforsaken name of the godforsaken place in the godforsaken town where this all occured. Like any humourous memory which you carry to your grave, clutched to your bosom in order to entertain you eternally once your soul passes the threshold betwixt life and death, this one always seems funnier (in a strange way) each time it is retrospectively analysed.

So there i was, minding my own business, tending to the guests of the quirky accommodation facility at which i worked. The weather outside was such that made every fiber of my being yearn to be out there, frolicking the streets and diffusing into the hustle bustle. But alas, my contract for some reason omitted the part where i am allowed to be aloof and run off sporadically out the door with no explanation whatsoever, leaving a queueueueue of alarmed guests wondering whether the crazed look in my eye was that slow insanity that comes with boredom, or the rapid and unsettling insanity that explodes within and causes a relatively harmless girl to commit hate crimes against segments she did not even know that she hated. But i digress (as i more often than not, do)...

I was chatting amiably with my co-worker when the strangest sight appeared before my very eyes. A lady, clad in black tracksuit pants, and a grey hooded jumper. Do not jump to conclusions and write me off as a tracksuit hater - hear me out. Now, the strange thing about her was that she had her grey hood pulled up over her head, and the drawstrings pulled tight into a bow, leaving only a small circle of her facial features exposed- mouth, nose, large glazed eyes, part of a chin, and also part of a forehead. Perhaps if it were subzero temperature outside and she was some sort of express post delivery woman (which would explain the wheelie grocery trolley in tow) delivering some sort of body heat generator so we didn't all freeze to death, then i would bat no eyelid at her bold fashion statement reminiscent of kenny from south park.

Anyhow it surned out she was a guest at the hotel, our conversation went a little like this:
*She walks up to the desk*
ME: Hi!
HER: Do you have an alarm clock?
ME: No sorry, we did have one to lend out, but it went missing.
*A long awkward silence in which she doesnt blink*
HER: I'll give you my passport
ME: Uhm, yeah... but we haven't actually got one to give OUT. Do you have a phone or something you could use?
HER: No. Checkout is tomorrow, I can't guarantee i will wake up...
ME: Oh, if you sleep in a little we won't bother you - we will understand
HER: But i might not wake up at all...
ME: (thinking: wtf) I'm sorry, but i can't help you. Perhaps if you buy a cheap one?
HER: No... (very calm and eloquent, her voice trails off as if she's looking to the horizon)

This broad stayed for a few weeks longer, and awkward encounters were had by all staff members. The fact that she wore the same outfit every single day (even reportedly sleeping in it) whilst remaining fastidiously clean and fragrant (in a good way) was a credit to her. She reminded me of a teletubbie because she couldnt get out of the clothes, and you could only see a small circle of her face. And so it was that the nickname stuck "the grey teletubbie".

Throughout the weeks we unravelled more of her enigmatic existence, by the hear-say of other guests (terrible i know) and even one guy who had coincedentally stayed with her before in another country. It turns out that in her wheelie trolley which is permanently attached to her side, she collects plastic bags which she finds around the streets... fascinating. It also turns out she gently shakes the other people in the dorm room in the middle of the night and whispers "shhh.... you're breathing heavily..." and then recedes into the darkness like a nightmare fading as you re-join the waking world.

I came to believe that she lacked hair under that hood, but one day i saw a strand poking out which put my crazy fantasies to bed. Anyhow, she had common OCD indicators, and also seemed to be heavily medicated at all times, having a conversation with her was like conversing with someone on the other side of the world, experiencing the lag between question and response. It also became apparent that she slept in large blocks of time - perhaps about 36 hours as one room-mate recorded. That must be teletubbie hibernation.. a few days at a time!

This lady also complained of high pitched buzzing in many of the rooms she stayed in.. all undetected by everybody else. She professed that it wouldn't be wise of us to put someone so highly strung into a room with a high-pitched whine. Another time she claimed "someone" had deposited excrements on her bed - under the blankets, and asked if we could flip the matress as it was rather disturbing for her... personally if 'someone' did that in my bed, i would demand a new room... not just a flip of the matress - she didnt even mention that it should be cleaned!! No smoke without fire, teletubbie... no smoke without fire. i know it was you...

I shall always remember the strange ways of the grey teletubbie, i shall file it away in the "work memories" section, and revisit it with a chuckle, and start to wonder where oh where she might have gone off to next? Perhaps she is off to clean the streets of another city, in another country... who knows? I bid her well on her quest to collect stray plastic bags and hibernate on ever continent... god speed you grey beacon of light. i will miss your antics...

2009: A Jade Odyssey

Author
Dr. Jade Kelly
Born in Mexico during the 1980’s rebellion against horse farming Jade began life as a female. As life would have it she remained that way until today… the way that sentence rhymed was a true indication of just how poetic this girl was to become. Her love of horses drover her to Australia in 1992 and allow her to dig for gold. She found potatoes instead and became knows as Ms Smiths Chips in 1995 for her musical appearance in “Chips”! However, “Chips 2” in 2001 was not as widely acclaimed and she found herself floating face down in the river Murray.

She was fished out by a lanky boy and they were married on Christmas eve 2008 in Japan (because that’s where she thought the Olympics were… actually it was a secret mission to enjoy the Japanese culture again and convinced everyone to follow suit! Actually, most people couldn’t be bothered with China and preferred the porn vending machines of Japan). Their wedding was held on a boat that was pulled along by dolphins deliberately induced with a seizure drug called “splash a lot”. A romantic night with lots of noise drew Jade's attention to Rock’n’Roll, and seeing as Japan was the ultimate lock’n’loll place on the planet, Jade quickly became a member of an all girl rock group as a bass player.

Her rising stardom drew her to the world of Harry Potter, and her interest in books began to slowly slide down the wall as though it were a heroin addict taking their final hit of horse hammer. It was in the pits of this despair that she decided to cook a medium sized cake and name if after Lamington Bartholomew, an influential racist at the time who was convinced that if you paint darker skin white you would cure the disease, Lamingtons. Her recipe rose to fame and her interest in writing began to swell up insider her like a high school kids penis the morning before maths class with sexy teacher Miss Lolly.

*Biography courtesy of Sir Daragh Quinn PHD in History, University of Adelaide.

a clam story...

i once read a story about a man who invested every last penny in the clam trade, and one day the stock market took a terrible turn so it somehow worked out that he OWED the clam industry 4.4 billion dollars. Anyway of course he was distraught. While he was on the edge of a bridge with a rope around his neck wearing a pair of fishnets and hot pink heels (he was also an avant garde death artist and decided his death would be a exhibition to celebrate his life's work) his beeper went off, but as he wasnt wearing clothes he had stored it up his bum. he checked the beeper to see what the last message of his life would be... it was from his stock advisor: "oops, i fucked up, the industry actually owes YOU money. haha, my bad. drinks later?" He was so excited that his massive boner attracted the attention of a pelican which flew up and nipped it, and then he fell screaming and consequently died by hanging.

The good news was that he became famous in death, and came back as a ghost but that wasn't cool or avant garde enough so he inhabited the body of a little boy, which freaked everyone out heaps. the poor little body couldnt cope with all the smoking and the drinking and the partying, and one night he choked on a clam during a kinky sexy night with what he thought was a woman. so he died a second time and the devil said that this time he wasnt allowed to come back. When the man asked why, the devil explained that when people get put back on Earth they enter into a reality show screened exclusively in hell, it's called "so ya think you can haunt?", and it's the main form of gambling in hell, apart from the flaming soul race tracks. Basically the devil releases 10 souls back onto earth (each season) telling them that they have a chance to complete their unfinished business once and for all - and everyone back in hell watches every gorey detail 24 hours a day. all the inhabitants of hell call up and vote for their favourites, and this particular man was the favourite for sure. The devil was so confident that he would continue with his haunting the longest without getting bored or giving up, so he bet his favourite sex slave gimp on it. Well when the little boy choked on the clam, that was it! the man was promptly transported back to hell right in the middle of the eviction ceremony, and the devil screamed, and created a shower of faeces and blood for 10 days without stopping. (that's only one of the perks of living in hell)

The good news with that is that the man somehow became the devil's artistic advisor and suggested he use human skin for curtains, but gather it at the bottom for country charm. the devil was a softy for country charm, and asked the guy if he wanted a promotion to 'sex slave' to which he replied "take the pressure down... i can feel it.. it's a rising like the storm" which in hell means 'no' at which the devil got a little uspet. The man explained that he still had the beeper lodged up his bum and that it just wouldn't work. luckily the devil was happy enough to keep him as artistic advisor and home decor expert. the fact that the beeper was still inside him, and still operational meant that he could still communicate with people on earth, because hell had a great network. anyway he started haunting people FROM hell, then got thrown back into the show as a wildcard! oh happy day. anyway he haunted this one paperboy that once threw a paper at his window, leaving the ink imprint of the headlines on his bedroom window. this was all ok, except the headline was "i'm videotaping the whole thing", and if he ever had any ladies in the room they would think it was a sick joke, and get all huffy and leave, vowing to never sleep with an artist again. so naturally his sexlife deminished... which is about the time he got into clams, therefore he held the paperboy directly responsible for his current situation. he haunted him like there's no tomorrow, and consequently WON the whole "haunt" competition.

Back in hell he had gained a following and started to turn the whole situation around, and eventually they made a proposal to overtake heaven. everyone up there was way too busy laying around in ecstasy (and on ecstasy) that they didnt read the proposal so all the hell people got really mad and waged war on them. it's a common misconception that people in hell are trapped souls. they can really do whatever they want, but they are all pussies and dont bother slaughtering anyone. but this was too much. they promptly went up to heaven and enslaved all the 'good souls' and consequently had two levels of hell. obviously the one below the ground was "hell classic" and the one upsatirs was marketed as "hell with a view" so all the perverts and stalkers went up there so they could be blissful in watching people all day long. and so it was that there became two hells. after this victory the man set plans in motion to overtake earth too. they were obviously going with the name "hell on earth" but they just were waiting for the appropriate time. biding.. biding....