|
You
actually came here? Damn you must be bored! Hope it doesn’t disappoint. 04.01.02
Clearly I am insane. I spent about 2hrs at the Internet Movie Database going
through the listings of identical twin boy actors. Why you may ask? Well at
some point in my illustrious future film career *snort* I am going to require
identical twin boys who can act, don’t mind make-up/drag (just in case) and don’t
have a massive problem with looking ‘intimate’ for the camera. To make matters
worse I need ‘em to be tall. Like over six feet tall, without heels. So anyway,
here I am listening to Stabbing Westward because it was in reaching distance,
with a list of actors names before me. I tried the stupid google thing that my
dad suggested for looking up shit. Yeah, goodie it has an image search bit.
Great. So it’s yahoo with a photo gallery. Using google I tried to put faces to
the names I’d gathered. Fucking useless that was. Couldn’t even find websites
on these people. Although I have established that while ‘The Odyssey twins’ don’t
seem to mind looking ‘close’ I have no need for porno actors in any of my films.
I have a feeling that could be one of those bold statements that comes back to
haunt me… So
what has this supreme waste of time achieved? Squat. I’m simply
procrastinating. I’m at that annoying stage of wanting to write where all the
ideas and concepts my writer’s block has held at bay for the past month have
come flooding forth and are presently drowning my already fragile brain. Hence
my mind tricks me into doing anything but writing so that it can gain some
extra time to organise things in there. Then it cleverly tells me that whatever
time wasting project I’ve chosen this time is ‘Research’. *sigh* So
now I’m tired and cranky, especially since I also found out that Orlando Bloom
(the blonde elf boy from Lord of the Rings) is not a twin and is only 5’11”,
and have got absolutely no further in my own little world of casting. Anyway if
there happen to be any 6’2”< identical twin boys out there in their late
teens to twenties, who can act, don’t mind a little glamour and have no issues
looking intimate for camera, contact me… I may need your employ at some stage! Yes
I do live in a completely different reality and no I don’t think there’s
anything wrong with that. ;P 28.12.01
Okay, I’m ranting again, yay. I was reading through my website checking
spelling and whatnot (since my computer insists on have the spell checker on American
English as default, it doesn’t like a lot of my Australian variations *grr*)
and I realized I have actually been quite narky in regards to religion. This
has actually been playing in my head since I started an argument with the
Baptist boy in the media labs one day. No one spoke to each other for about an
hour. I didn’t mean it! Anyway, I figured it was time I had a rant to: 1.
Get it out of my system 2.
Tell you all what I really think of Christianity/religion
in general (worried? ;) 3.
Hopefully not offend anyone else! So
here’s the deal. I do not believe in a God or gods of any kind (or Satan for
that matter you narrow minded fools of my highschool) I just can’t justify that
concept. I did not arrive at this decision lightly, my belief system just makes
more sense to me. I also spent three years at a Catholic school, so it’s not
due to a lack of education—far from it—being exposed to it has only
strengthened my disbelief. I do not inherently hate Christianity or other
religions or the people who believe in them. Everyone is entitled to their own
beliefs. If it makes them happy and feel fulfilled, what’s wrong with it?
Despite the fact I often slag it off, I would never think less of a person
simply because of what they believe. However…
(you heard the ‘but’ coming right? :) I
do dislike it when people claim to be Christian/religious ‘n’ good, then do one
or more of the following things: 1.
Perform random acts of bigotry and hate 2.
Tell my Grandma she won’t be seeing any of her deceased
friends in heaven if she doesn’t ‘get in touch with her spiritual side’ (this
from her own son, would you believe, bite me arsehole!) 3.
Presume themselves to be a higher life form because
they’ve got God on their side 4.
Try to ram their religion down my throat (I have my own
beliefs thank you) 5.
Kill a shit load of people in the name of God/gods 6.
Use their religion as a scapegoat (ie but God told me to…) 7.
‘Do as I say, not as I do’ 8.
A heap of other bad things I can’t think of right now but
really are out there. This
is my biggest issue with Christianity in particular: contradictions. The bible
is full of them, but some people still consider it the be all and end all. The
amount of times the bible has been rewritten and translated and reinterpreted,
it can’t possibly be saying the what it originally did. People saying they’re
good then proving to be racist, homophobic, bigoted etc. is something else I’ve
noticed a lot. That and I think many people use God as a crutch because they
haven’t got the strength to take responsibility for themselves. Anyone who uses
their religion like that should probably sit down and have a think. There’s
always some bad apples in the barrel, but you know most of them have got to be
okay. Something
else that always intrigues me, is the way Christianity is considered ‘the’
religion. In book stores you’ll find texts from other religions (ancient and
not) mixed into a kind of new age, mystic, heebee jeebee kind of section, but
the bible and Christian books have their own shelves. I know it’s the largest
religion in the world an all, but a majority of people thought the world was
flat too. I
guess what I’m trying to say is, you have your beliefs, other people have
theirs’. There is nothing wrong with this. If you want to follow the bible and
do good to your fellow people by all means go ahead! The world could use some
more good. But you’ve got to let people live their own way too. If they want to
run being a cheerful pagan/Hindu/Buddhist/Baptist/whatever, or sleep with
people of the same gender, or if they happen to be from a minority group of
some kind, that’s allowed. If everyone accepted everyone else and tried their
damndest to not harm anyone the world might just be a little bit easier to live
in. Go
out and smile at someone, damn it! 17.12.01
In case anyone cared, Uni went well—I got my first high distinction—happy
dance! As a present to myself I got another 2 holes put in my ear. ^_^ Despite
the general good-ness of this semester, I do have a little complaining to do.
Surprise, surprise. Dumb Cock, as we now cheerfully refer to a certain
lecturer, has royally pissed me of. Once again we received a credit for a piece
of work that we felt deserved more (and might I add another lecturer hinted at
being worth more) especially since the mother fucker of a project involved two
months of work (interpret: 21 hours straight in the media labs on any given
day, sleep depravation, no life, making over 200 fucking images, learning a new
program ourselves ‘cause said dick-lecturer couldn’t be bothered teaching it)
and interrupted the general passage of my existence. What’s more, I we can’t
even contest this mark with Cock Head because he’s gone away until January. How
very convenient. This man seriously is the epitome of half-arsed, he gives the
term ‘slack’ a whole new meaning. He still has a friend’s zip disk from last
semester, I asked him 3 weeks before the semester was up for feedback regarding
an essay I also thought was unfairly marked—still waiting for the response on that
one—he never actually told us that our stuff was there to pick up at the front
of his office, he said to get it next year—sure I’m going to leave our
stationary and CDs out the front of your office for 3 months, no worries—and he
has generally tested my patience to the very fucking limits! Why have we been
cursed with such a burden?! Might I also say that despite generally being very
harsh with the marks in most sections of our project, he was so kind as to
give us 5 out of 4 on one of them. Go
figure. Christmas
is a creeping up, and this means three things: way too much Catholicism/dodgy
religion bullshite; way too much commercialism; my birthday. Particularly
scared by that last one. One thing I will give the little money makers credit
for this year is the copious amounts of purple xmas decoration. I managed to
score some pretty plastic stars on strings. Mind you those are just for my room
and as far as I’m concerned not xmas decorations. Seriously though, I think
people tend to forget that most of the shiny, sugar-coated, tinsel bound crap
we’re spoon fed at this time of year stems from the bible and the whole Jesus
thing. Hence I refuse to stick a star on top of my tree—I have Elizabeth
Bathory instead—and have chosen to go with two xmas trees this year. Personally
I preferred our xmas stick, which consisted of a dead branch spray painted
silver, but we’ve resorted to the usual plastic pine tree. I want to paint it
black, but certain people who rule my household said no. Anyway, back to the
point. We have two trees. One is the conventional tree, with the stupid
colourful tinsel, Santa Clauses, mice (when the fuck did mice become a
symbol of Christmas, was it before our after they reached plague proportions
and pest status? Don’t get me wrong, I like mice, but this escapes my
understanding… *thought* is it that stupid story with the ‘nothing was stirring
not even a mouse’ line?) it’s the evil tree. I don’t like it, but everyone else
seems to like the decorations. Namely the mouse in the telephone booth (although
apparently that’s because it reminds them of the tardis) I don’t get it either.
My tree on the other hand is just dandy. It has a colour scheme: black, silver,
purple and red. It doesn’t have stupid Santas on it, nor mice (although there
are a few reindeer lurking around the back where no one can see them, but I’m
pretending that those are demon spawn, or something else interesting) but it
does have, glitter, spiders, roses, Elizabeth Bathory at the top, and
decorations that kinda look Victorian. I like the tree. I
think I’m about all ranted out. I’m tired and need a fag. Oh, and as for my
birthday I’m pretending it’s not happening. Birthdays are on hiatus until my 21st
next year. *sigh* I’m going now, I promise. TTFN. 09.08.01 It’s
been so long since me last rant, this’ll probably do us good. Yes, that’s
right, us. Myself and the voices in my head. CRAZY! Anyway, moving right
along… We’re
halfway through our second shoot for the week. When this one is done we have
another one to follow. Three shoots, eight days, you do the math. Actually
let’s do it together! (3
shoots / 8 days) + (plot princess’ noisy brain x her general incompetence) +
sleep deprivation = STRESS!!!! Hence
I am crazy this week. We had lots of fun this morning with light meters reading
incorrectly and me forgetting that when you lower the frame rate you expose the
film for longer. I’m hoping that the two things we fucked up cancel each other
out and our tilt looks perfect. I think I’m being way too optimistic. Finally
got my fucking zip disk back from Coxie. I’ve been waiting on that disk and my
marks from that particular lecturer since last bloody semester. Along with
everybody else in the class. Penguins could have distributed those disks more
efficiently. And been a lot cuter about it, too. Not
too much is making me pissy at the moment. Except for Uni stuff I suppose. Ooo
like the bitch lady who is teaching us about documentaries at QCfuckin’A. She
insists on referring to myself and my friends as ‘you people from Nathan’ or
‘those Nathan ladies’. She’s irritated because she has to take five people from
Griffith Uni into her precious class of super special QCA students. She doesn’t
seem to like girls too much either. I think we pissed her off the other day
too, ‘cause we know what we’re doing. She’s pissed me off because she’s a
fucking rude bitch! First class she actually had the gall to ask us if we knew
how to use a camera. Michala wanted to respond ‘which one?’, which would have
been highly amusing. The
brain dead lecturer’s wonderful piece of advice last week was ‘when you’re
shooting a doco you should really get used to using a tripod, they’re
important’. No shit! Stupid Qcfuckin’A (sorry, taken to calling it that) bitch
woman. Die in a hole. My
neck hurts from looking through a camera lens for hours. Actually this is sort
of funny. At one point my brain and eyes were so tired and pissy with me that
my left eye refused to close and my right eye refused to open. Why is this a
problem? ‘Cause I was looking through the camera at the time, which can only be
done with my right eye, and the camera was running at the time. I hope that
shot worked. It was sorta important… I
think it’s time for me to depart. I have work to do and film to pick up. And
I’m tired and crippled. *sound
of plot princess dragging her limp decaffeinated body off the chair so that she
can crawl to her cigarette packet in the hopes of reanimating herself for a
couple more hours* 30.05.01
Well, I’ve got a lot to say today… so prepare yourself. Where
to start… Okay, a few weeks back I was researching for a paper I was doing
about John Howard’s fucked up drug plan and I came across a newspaper article
with a title so very insightful that it really didn’t belong in the Courier
Mail. I’m thinking it would fit a little better in say… some stupid ‘men’s’
magazine designed for the portion of the male species with an IQ smaller than
their shoe size. What was this title you ask? ‘Why
Do Women Have Breasts?’ Well!
What an absolutely fascinating topic! How very clever of them, no, brilliant,
to ask such a stupid fucking question! One may just as well ask ‘Why Do
Men Have Penises?’. In this author’s case the answer clearly is: to detract
drastically from his brain power, rendering him a useless, drooling,
breast-ogling bastard who can’t string a sentence together without somehow
referring to a piece of the female anatomy and perhaps occasionally wheezing
whilst reminding himself to breathe. Believe
it or not it gets better. Laughter already at a hysterical level, I read
further. What other mind boggling, pressing and obvious truths were being
pursued in this genius’ article? ‘Is
it just to lure men or, as a new theory suggests, could there be more to it?
Michael Hanlon reports…’ Congratu-fucking-lations
Mr Hanlon! You’ve just provided the world with solid reasoning for lesbianism
and made a complete arse of yourself! Just to lure men indeed. From my
perspective, I must say that I have never once used my breasts as a ‘lure’ of
any kind. They’re just a bit of fat around a gland, with skin and a nipple to
cover it up. I really don’t understand the fascination. And as for your new
theory, Sir, lets try an old one: See,
when a female mammal gives birth, it tends to produce milk to feed the child.
Guess where the milk comes from? Surprise, surprise it’s that funky little
mammary gland in the BREAST! Wow. Such a hard concept to follow. Je-sus! Would
you people just find a real news story already?! This is fucking pathetic! Onto
my next little bitch… my family. Okay,
so everyone knows that their own family isn’t normal. It’s a scientifically
proven fact. I just want to recount one recent evening during which I had to
lie, ignore, put up with every attitude towards minority groups that I hate,
suffer Christian spoutings, and stupid idle chit chat, all with a smile and
without a smoke (I’m a good girl after all…) nor any alcohol. It
was my Grandma’s birthday, the same Grandma who leaves messages on our
answering machine like "well we’re not dead" when you haven’t called
for a while, and we were going to the usual little restaurant around the
corner. Here we’re presented with our first dilemma. Being a very strict
vegetarian, I tend not to trust other people making my food and thus never eat
out. I just go along for the ride so to speak and try to drink myself under the
table (not this time of course). So I sat through the usual condemnations that
go something along the lines of: Random
family member: "Why aren’t you eating?" The
Plot Princess: (How many times do I have to say this?) "I don’t eat out,
only what I make myself." Random
family member: "You should be eating!" The
Plot Princess: *sigh* "I ate before I came." Random
family member: "You need to eat, you know… blah blah blah…" The
Plot Princess: *staring into space* (No shit! Maybe if I ignore them, they’ll
go away…) Okay
so after everyone’s accepted the fact that, indeed, I am not eating dinner
here, as always, I have to listen to them converse. My head hurts just thinking
about it. You get the usual "how’s the crime rate in Brisbane?"
directed at my brother, ‘cause just because he’s a cop he has to know
exactly what’s going on all over Brisbane despite the fact that he works at a
station outside of Brisbane. And of course everyone finds said idiotic question
so very amusing. Newsflash: it’s wasn’t funny the first time, so the
thirty-third time it ain’t gonna be any funnier. After they harass him further
about things he can’t possibly answer, they move onto me. "Got a boyfriend
yet?" I have a really great response to this question, with comments about
how we no longer live in the fifties, that women can get along just fine
without a male counter-part, how laughable I find the concept of said
‘boyfriend’. But I simply bite my tongue and offer a monotone "no".
Out of politeness they then question how uni is going. When I start to answer
this question, talking about how great the production I’m working on now is and
how much I’m actually learning about the equipment and technology, their eyes
sort of glaze over. Then someone, usually my Grandfather (I swear he’s senile)
asks my brother how the crime rate in Brisbane is. At which point I simply go
back to reading whatever book I’ve dragged along for this particular episode.
Now the conversation sort of spirals down to back-water hick level: my
Grandfather mentioning how "blokes with earings have got to be bloody
poofters"; my little cousin tugging on my arm talking about boys and what
stoopie teeny bopper band she likes this week; my pot-addicted Uncle attempts
an intelligent conversation with me and somewhere we both get lost. My ears
begin to bleed. This
time I got lucky. No. Really. So
I’d dragged along my drawings folder (what else am I supposed to do for three
hours while everyone else eats and makes eye-popping remarks?) and was
attempting to fix a manga pickie of my lovely Niki. This is a calming process,
it does me good. Now, my little cousin (who’s been brought up by born-again
Christian people—my Uncle used to be really cool, it sucks—that sort of eye me
warily every time we go out and don’t let their kids see movies above PG rating
even though one is almost 15) grabs the folder out of my hands and starts to
flick through it. I’m kinda okay with that, she has a good eye for proportion,
and if she’s encouraged to focus on art as well as maths, she could actually
become quite a good artist. Anyway… we’ve all seen my drawings and how, well girlie,
my boys tend to be, so out comes the inevitable question: "Is
this a boy or a girl?" repetitively
for half an hour. Most of the time my response was "boy". To which I
received a shocked look and a "but only girls have long hair" and
even "boys don’t wear boots, only girls wear boots!" Say what?!
Ignoring the weirdness of that comment, who the hell teaches children that sort
of shit in this day and age. Hell, if they saw the people at the
clubs/pubs/cafes I frequent they’d die! If they saw half my friends they’d die. But
to top all this off… Remember
how I said most of the time "boy", well we inevitably get to that
part of the folder with the pickie of my Will and Niki snogging. "Are
those two boys?" How
to answer, how to answer… Niki hated me for a week but I said that he was in
fact a girl and Will was a boy. My little cousin seemed relieved at this
answer, breathing a little sigh of relief and muttering "Just as
well". I
wasn’t happy. At all. I had lied about my characters gender to appease a
backwards majority, and was sitting next to what was essentially a 10 year old
homophobe. It’s
about this point that I want to stand up and announce "I smoke, Grandad I
have a navel ring and a nipple piercing and I don’t like boys!".
But I restrained myself. About the piercing thing, my Grandfather would disown
me if he found out my navel was pierced, just ask my mother, so I can’t begin
to imagine what he’d do if he found out about the nipple. *sigh* Okay,
so I’ve bitched a lot. My family is my family I can’t change that and like
everyone else I simply have to deal with them. Mostly they’re okay, even if
they are totally fucked up. One good thing did come out of all this though,
when my cousin asked me if I was getting married I replied: "No,
I’m going to live in a two bedroom apartment, with three cats and throw empty
liquor bottles at random passers by." She
proceeded to repeat this response to her mother. That at least made me smile. ^_^ 10.04.01
Today I went to visit a little web site recommended by a work mate (who
should really put some of his drawings on my site): www.thespark.com. Found
it highly amusing. Especially when I took the gender test and it told me I was
‘definitely a man’. Indeed. Really, I’m not surprised though. I get accused of
being too male quite frequently. What I did find particularly interesting
though, is that apparently (I’m sure I read this right but it was 1 am) most
women would prefer to die lonely than bleed to death. Hello?! Knock, knock,
anyone home? I find this totally bizarre, given that as a girl you practically
bleed to death every month anyway. Jesus, you think you’d be used to it by now!
I’d certainly prefer to bleed to death, I can assure you. Now, how often do you
hear someone say that? According
to the ‘personality test’ I am a Mastermind (ie like to think laterally and
plot). Don’t quite get that either. Mind you, I’m not about to put a whole lot
of emphasis on a web based quiz. Eh, it kept me entertained for half an hour or
so. Just
thought I’d share those little tidbits. 29.03.01
I want to slag off a little, so here I go. Firstly, I’m going to bring up
something I’ve been wanting to discuss for ages: little bitchy goth girls.
Okay, most of the gothlings I know are lovely people who just happen to have
excellent dress sense and enjoy their eyeliner. However, it’s come to my
attention that there are snotty little wenches lurking in the ranks. I was in a
class last year titled appropriately enough ‘Something-or-other and the Gothic
Novel’. It left such an impression on me, can you tell? Possibly because I
turned up to maybe four of the classes for the entire semester. My reasons for
the non-enthusiasm? Every time I actually did drag my arse to Uni at some
ridiculous a.m. hour, I got stared down by two wench goth girls. This is an
excerpt from an e-mail I wrote to my Dark Muse in reference to said girls: >
Only snotty little 'gothic' girls (with their over-permed hair and less gothic
clothes than mine) >pass judgements like that. Hmmm, not that I'm passing
judgement on them or anything... : ) >I'm
sorry, but people like that shit me, they think everyone else has to meet up to
what they >consider gothic, or punk, or glam, or whatever, and anyone who
doesn't is dismissed as not >being worth the make-up. >Fuck
'em, I say. Seriously,
they glared at me from the moment I walked through the door to the moment I
scampered away. Creepy, and not in the good way. So, I get to thinking and I
start to observe the interactions of other little gothlings. I think the
subculture can be divided up into groups. You’ve got the nice goths, who are in
it for the look, enjoy the scene, like things a little on the dark side, and
are generally accepting of people’s idiosyncrasies. Then you have the nasty
goths, who like to make you feel uncomfortable, can’t bare the thought of
cracking a smile, hate the world, and generally suck. This of course leaves you
with the Manson goths, who love their commercialism ^_^. Oh it’s nothing
personal, I have issues with the band, people can like what they want. And damn
but I hate that man, he’s only in it for the money, all his songs sound the
fucking same, and people still buy the shit! Went on a bit of a tangent, no?
Anyway, all I’m saying is, if you’re in a minority group you really should
cherish your fellow freaks. While
I’m in the mood, I’m also going to comment about SPAM! That’s right, it’s not
just a hideous tinned meat product (people who eat meat from a can scare me),
it’s fucking annoying junk e-mail! [Say it in one of those 50s American voice
over guy type voices—you know the one I mean.] What’s more, it’s fucking annoying
junk e-mail I never received up until a month or so ago. Somehow I obviously
managed to make it onto to some nasty people’s mailing list (if it’s because of
something someone else has done, may they suffer for eternity), and now, if I’m
lucky, I get assaulted with porn every time I check my mail. Yay! See that
puddle? Yeah, I’m dripping sarcasm, ‘kay? It’s also come to my attention, that
msn seems to provide e-mail to a bunch of rather grotty people. Of all the porn
I get, a majority of it comes from something@msn.com. So, in the interest of
fairness and a twisted sense of humour, I decided to share a few of my
favourite addresses. These are by far the most ‘creative’ I’ve seen to date.
Ooo, and if you feel like, say, I don’t know, maybe sending copious amounts of
shit to any of these addresses I can’t really stop you now can I… Humour me. cummingcarmen@msn.com this one actually
made me laugh. Just
fucking charming isn’t it? People have far too much spare time. Maybe I
shouldn’t comment on other people’s usage of time when I’m writing shit like
this. Yep, I’m still avoiding that assignment. I feel exactly the same way
about porn as I do Christianity: if it’s good for you, fine, just don’t try and
push it onto me! I’m
done for today, don’t you think? 28.03.01
Sooo, it’s assignment time! Yay! Something I’ve noticed about this time of
year, I always seem to write and draw more, I read enough fan fiction to make
any ‘normal’ person ill, my web site seems to get fed more often, and shit is
my room clean! Funny that. I hate assignments, especially when it’s something
evil and shit boring like ‘Media Communications Research’. The title is enough
to make me sleepy, the lectures are plain torturous and having to write a
non-essay about TV violence, and not being allowed to state my opinion
(bring on the guns and carnage!), is just cruel. It strikes me as being a
journalism subject. Funny part about that is that I’m not doing
journalism! That’s the assignment I’m avoiding right now by typing this up
instead. The evil bastard is due in two days. Eh, what’re you going to do?
Besides it’s only 1000 words. I’ve left a 4000 word one til the night before
and still passed. Speaking
of not planning, who wants to know how the not-so-organised filming went?
Despite the major cock-ups (not our fault I might add), rather well. The work
tape did make me blanch the first time I saw it, but it’s amazing what you can
do with editing. All in all I’m so very proud of our little group. We all
deserve a fucking huge pat on the back. The music we chose went perfectly.
Somehow we managed to fluke it, and high points, cymbal clashes, and freaky
violin in the music matched up with our cuts and action. It was totally trippy
and really fucking cool. We’ve got an extra half-hour of editing tomorrow
‘cause the ditz girl double booked our editing suite yesterday and we couldn’t
get started on time. After that our baby will be cooked and ready to serve. I’m
so proud! ^_^ 13.03.01
I have to shoot my first short film tomorrow. That’s pretty scary, seeing
as we have no script, no shot list, and possibly no male actor. But we do have
a pretty storyboard! I think it’s going to be a fly by the seat of our pants
type experience. About two weeks ago, I remember seeing other groups sitting
down to work out shot lists and finalise scripts. Freaks! People who are that
organised are sick. Very, very sick. And we came to the conclusion that they
simply aren’t cut out for film. They don’t smoke, drink coffee, and probably
freak-out about last minute changes or additions ‘cause their perfect plans
can’t take bending. Weird. They’re going to burn out by the end of the
semester. We, on the other hand, will be thriving on the stress, totally wired
on caffeine, and so fucked up that we simply have to do well. No good can ever
come of planning. Trust me. ^_^ On
another note, I still find it creepy that in our workshops, the tutors just
dump a $50 000 dollar camera in front of us and basically say ‘here, play with
it’. It’s like giving a small child a Ming vase and a hammer. So far we’ve
managed not to break anything. Give us a few more weeks, I’m sure we can at
least melt some wiring. The power board with around 120 power points in it
scares the living shit out of me, too. I’m just waiting to fuck that thing up.
Nor am I overly fond of the sound desk. But the boy who was showing us how to
use it was a dead ringer for Niki—he probably thinks I’m a bit strange ‘cause I
couldn’t stop staring at him (and grinning like an idiot)—I really do wonder if
he can act. See, I can be talking about anything and somehow relate it
back to my characters. It’s just a talent, I guess. I
really don’t know why I felt the need to share all that. I think I’m just
slightly excited ‘cause I’m finally doing what I want to at Uni. And going into
this project with only half the shit we’re supposed to have is really, really
fun! For once I’m actually not being sarcastic. I‘m going to be totally crazy
by 10am tomorrow. I can’t wait. : ) 14.02.01
(Awww…Valentine’s Day, give me a bucket—the pink and red everywhere I turn is
making me feel ill) So,
what do I have to be so pissed about today? Well… Firstly,
I found out yesterday that the Red Cross does not apparently accept blood
donations from gay males. How absolutely fucked up is that? All I can think is
they’re worried about HIV. Well if that’s the case, you ignorant people, then
shouldn’t you also refuse blood from: anyone who’s ever had an injection or
used a needle; anyone who has had unprotected sex (regardless of gender or
sexuality); anyone who plays a contact sport; anyone who’s actually had a
transfusion or come into contact with blood at some stage in their life;
basically the whole fucking population. You’ve
got no idea how much that irked me. I hate people. Don’t take that statement
personally. But
don’t worry, there’s more fun! Pauline Hanson, the bigoted politician we’ve
grown to hate has surfaced from the depths of hell once again. What intelligent
statements have come bursting from her mouth this time? Nothing new,
apparently. She’s just rehashing the whole ‘I hate homosexuals’ bit. She
actually has the gal to get up there and say ‘it’s not natural’ and ‘I believe
in the family unit: mum, dad and kids’ (I’m paraphrasing but it’s damn close).
You’re the fucking freak! The family unit, as you call it, has been defunct for
decades. The family unit was never a stable system, it was simply a way for
people to pretend that everything was okay with the world, for women to be
exploited some more, and worked to cover any little perversions people might
have. As for the not natural statement…fucking hell, where to begin? How
exactly is it not natural? All the bits fit, people have a good time, what’s
the fucking problem? It’s more natural than anything you’ve been doing lately,
I’m sure. There’s no batteries required, after all, if you get my meaning. You’re
obviously just a nasty vindictive little woman with nothing better to do with
your time than cause a stir and slag off at minority groups. None of your
policies are at all realistic or beneficial, nor are you prepared to make any
policies that would have any real impact. You’re stupid, completely ignorant to
society’s needs, have probably led a very boring life up until your ‘political
career’, and refused to support/put up with your own family. Where’s the dad in
your family unit? What happened to your son, Ms. Hanson? I think you’ll find
that you’ve more or less disowned him because you don’t like the fact that he
comes from one of those minority groups you love to attack. So much for that
point, you piss-weak little hypocritical puppet. The
only people who are going to vote for you have a life expectancy of five years
because they’re either crusty old backwards people who’re about to die, too
stupid to survive any longer than that, their inbred little backwater brains
can’t cope much longer or are about to die in some accident involving the lack
of motor skills because they’re drunk 24/7. You will never run this country,
partly because as a collective we’re not stupid enough to vote you in, but
mostly because you could never handle it. The majority finds you offensive,
annoying, unattractive (in every sense of the word), inefficient, a total
embarrassment to the country, no, human race, and would sooner see you die in a
hole than in a seat in parliament. Why don’t you just crawl back into that little
hole of a fish and chip store (where you were obviously spawned from the union
of cockroach and that weird fungus that grows on the refrigerator seal) lie
down (preferably in the deep fryer) and take a very, very long ‘nap’. I’m
out of breath, so I’m going to stop now. I think you catch my drift, though,
yeah? |