Sick

I am. I'm totally fucking sick.

Skinheads in Zurich beating a Brazilian woman and carving initials of Switzerland's main right-wing party into her stomach. She miscarried.
A victim of gang rape in Saudi Arabia sentenced to 100 lashes and a year in jail for adultery.
A pastor stating that the bushfires are God's punishment for the state of Victoria decriminalising abortion.
And seriously...Chris Brown beat the living shit out of Rihanna, but it's her fault cause she "started it"?

What the fuck is wrong with the world?
There are no words.

City Council: Workin' for YOU!

Yesterday when I got home from work, I thought for a while that it was raining because I could hear a constant steady stream of water. I went out onto my balcony to enjoy the rain, but what's this? Sky's clear. I look over into my neighbour's yard to see that they have left an outside tap running on full, straight onto the concrete. What the? I get kind of annoyed cause I fucking hate seeing people waste water, but I figure they'll turn it off when they hear it and remember. It's loud enough that I can hear it, so unless they're deaf, it's not likely to escape their attention.

That was 6pm yesterday. Fast forward to 1.30pm today and it's still running, there's water everywhere. So obviously, the people aren't home. There's no way I'm going into their yard to turn it off, as they aren't even in my street. Normally, I'll kind of just turn a blind eye, everyone else does, why should I care, but that is a LOT of wasted water, so I decide to take a page out of my Nana's book and call someone about it. So first I call the Brisbane Water Commission, who tell me that this is a council matter. They put me through to council.

I explain the sitch to the (unsympathetic) operator. She lets me know that even if I did put in a request for someone to come out, it would take 6 to 10 days for council workers to arrive (they don't drive cars, but harness snails for transport), and even then they would probably not venture onto the property because it is private property. She suggests I go and turn it off. Sure. I'LL go into someone else's private property for you.

Thanks for nothin Brisbane City Council. Not like we're having a water crisis or anything.

Help me find a movie

Hi all, I need a little help.

This Valentines Day, I am actually in a relationship, but my boyfriend is working that night, so I decided I might get out a chick flick and cry on my own. (Sorry Minna, but I wanna be home when he gets home from work, for the sexytimes, you understand)

Anyways, I haven't watched a "chick flick" since I moved out of my Mum's house, and I don't really know what is out there for me to watch. So I've got a list of criteria and I need some suggestions.

-Must contain British people. Their ability to express their feelings is usually hindered by their stiff-upper-lip. I can relate to this.
-At the end, they break their stiff-upper-lip-ness by doing something extravagant to show their love, like buying flowers, humiliating themselves in front of a large crowd of people, or beating up Hugh Grant.
-I'm kind of hoping that the main characters won't be dazzlingly beautiful people, but just normal.
-Something with the potential to make me cry. Even if it's crying like "aww that's gorgeous".
-I know a lot of this criteria equals Bridget Jones' Diary, but I am adding a new criteria right now. NO Renee Zellweger.
-Bonus points if it contains Colin Firth. I have a ladyboner for him.
-A happy ending.

Suggestions?

*Droooool*

EDIT: Haha...perhaps I shouldn't be so hasty to watch a "romcom". Check out this article about how romantic comedies give audiences unrealistic expectations of love. And all this time I'd been blaming that on my parents.

Commuter Idiocy #1

This will be a recurring theme, because the list of stupid things that my fellow public transportsmen are able to do to annoy me is endless, bottomless, the magnitude of the list is amazing.

So today...I'm looking at you. Yes, you, old man. Are you a maths teacher? Because you dress like one. That's not what I find stupid. I mean, I do. I can get over that.
But I do want you to know that standing curbside staring angrily up the road will not make the bus come any faster.

Hey you, lady with excessive coinage. Is it really necessary for you to run to the front of the line when the bus pulls up, so you can get on first and make the bus driver count your coins just so you can get a seat before anyone else? Some of us have Go-Cards.

Hey you, private school girl. I don't know if you've noticed the signs on every window, but they say that you paid half-fare compared to me. And I know you didn't pay it, your parents did. So stand the fuck up and give me a seat.

Hey you, entitlement-crazy old woman in the aisle seat. How about you sit down in the window seat so that when the bus fills up and I ask to sit there, you don't have to sigh and sneer at me like I'm trash as you move your knees just enough for me to squeeze my ass through right in your face to sit there. Perhaps you could have just moved over, or, I don't know, sat there in the first place.

Hey you, guy with techno playing in your earphones loud enough we can all hear it...You're not fooling anyone. Did you know that you can now, in this fine year 2009, purchase earphones that do not broadcast your "music" to the entire bus. They are available from JB Hi-Fi for $12.95, and they go in your ears which also helps to entirely keep out the sound of schoolkids squawking. You can thank me later.

That'll be it for today. Don't even get me started on train travel. I dread days when I have to take the train. If I wanted to be surrounded by scum, I'd go live in a pond.

Way to go, brain

I think my brain is getting extremely lazy when it comes to my dreams.

Usually I have pretty far-out stupidly extravagant dreams that don't bother me, and I think how awesome it was for my unconscious brain to come up with that. Like when the world was on fire, but only smouldering, and buildings everywhere had collapsed, but I was in the Queen St Mall and I just wanted to get to Hungry Jacks to have a bacon deluxe, but there were schoolboys everywhere and I couldn't get through the throng and gave up. That was deep.

But lately, my brain has gotten lazy, and done away with subtlety.

I dream about all my insecurities in action. But instead of being kooky and symbolic about it, it's just straightforward. As if I didn't already think about that every waking moment, now I have to think about it every second I sleep. I'm not going to go give an example, because it's so obvious and upsetting, I don't really want the world to know my weaknesses. I keep that privilege for a select few, who could and sometimes do use it against me. You know who you are.

If I could only dream symbollically and strangely like I used to, maybe I could pretend that I'm not dreaming about EXACTLY what I'm dreaming about. I could fool myself into thinking "oh well that obviously means I'm just troubled over the current state of my funds" or "well I'm obviously just a little overworked at the moment". But no. Thanks brain. I go to sleep to escape from my bullshit. But you just bring it right in there to sleep with me. I hate you.

I hate my brain.

Does anyone have skills in hypnosis or massage? I got some serious tension I need to get rid of.

Dear Stephen King

I love you. Maybe one day we can have babies that inherit your talent. But I'll keep my last name when we marry, and our children can be called King-Llewellyn, so that they will carry on our name...well mostly mine...and bring great honour to my already awesome family that is descended from Welsh Princes. Princes, Kings, it was destined to be.

Perhaps you could take me under your wing and teach me all the secrets that you didn't put in On Writing - I know you have more secrets, because you wouldn't just give that shit away for free. I mean, yes I paid for that book. Do you have some kind of note card system, where everytime you think of something that is evil and soul-destroying, you write it down, then you put them all in a hat and draw out three?
"Okay let's see what the cards say today. There's a....clown who....eats children....and he lives in the sewers!"
"Okay we've got a...bad cop who....kills everyone in sight....but he's actually a flesh suit for an evil being!"
I'm pretty sure I have you figured out Stephen King.

But then you trip me up with your unbelievably horrifying stories that are so simple. Like being handcuffed to a bed for a weekend, or trapped in a hot car by a rabid dog. Can I just let you know, I fainted and threw up while reading Gerald's Game. That's how highly I think of you.
I don't think I've ever read one of your books and NOT loved it.

Sometimes I get carried away and I imagine you are the incarnation of the Lord here on earth, and I think, you sneaky sneaky deity, trying to blend in with us mere mortals. How else would you be able to put on paper that which harrows us and makes us praise you that we are not in such a situation (hello, Pet Sematary)?

In all seriousness I'd like to thank you for creating so many awesome female characters - that's probably my favourite thing about your stories, and perhaps the reason I find myself sucked into a different world so often whilst reading. I'm not alienated by a useless screaming head with no character - your women are plunged into terror, and they don't always keep their head, but they always go it alone and they're JUST LIKE ME. You've written heroes that are women, villians that are women, and victim-hero women who defeat the evil men in their lives. Thanks for reminding us all that girls can kill an evil clown with a sling-shot, murder an entire prom with their mind, or kidnap an author and keep him in her house. ;)

Also, I love happening upon random columns you've written, or interviews with you where you lay the smackdown. Not to mention that you live in the greatest house known to man.

To quote Oasis...I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.

PS...You look like a character from Dr Seuss.
PPS...Here's what happens when I get bored and think about Cujo.

New hairz

I has them.


They make me feel better. Slightly. Stupid bad weeks. They happen too often. Everyday should be sunshine and purple hair and rainbows and lollipops and kittens. And zombies.

Kind of obsessed at the moment with the NYC Burlesque Pastie Blog. I can't stop thinking about this set...kitty titties! (PS In case you didn't realise, that site is Not Really Safe For Work...BOOBS!)

"The most she will do is throw shadows at you but she's always a woman to me."