feels like high school all over again. i’ll fish around my archives in a second for glow in the dark mini golf pics from when i decided to look like charlize theron in sweet november, basically d-y-k-e-y at 18.
baton twirling is in my roots. new pants thanks stitches you cheap bitches. very shiny.
i wear black on the outside because black is how i feel on the inside – The smiths. nice one guys. unlovable much HA song title joke pahaha ah.
mall rattin’ it up big times.
losing my abs.
1/2 off tan til friday, 4 bucks for super bed 8 minutes. love a deal.
not too sure how the suburbs are taking to your hero.
hey brosz7 i’m huge in poland!
and in zines.
my “articles” have been printed many times over in various publications. i have stacks of magazines and junk oh whatever. before they crinkle up into dust may as well take a picture for posterity’s sake.
man, fat sucked.
some real artists out here let me tell you.
regrets? yes. not stuffing this in my mouth.
i get it jack astor’s, you’re hangin’ on to some of the wacky. yawn. more like yawny yeah, that’s the extra comments i shoulda left on my bill slip. just kidding when i fill those out i give glowing reviews cos i need to be liked, even after i leave. especially then.
paused the teev for a seceroonie for a drink or a piss can’t remember.
turns out someone’s eyeball is lazy town.
kinda sharon stoney a la casino.
if this gets back to you see-see i will totally hang. no hard feelings at all, really.
to me you are perfection. i seriously commend your non-brit accent capability.
hey hey now, you were mid-blink talk mode not me!
maybe if you’d’ve gotten to the point i wouldn’t have blasted pause.
i changed my mind, you are more patsy kensit. how’s mel gibson by the way? (lethal weapon 2) you are to patsy kensit, what mel gibson is to patrick swayze. RIP guy. (kevin bacon moment)(six degrees please tell me at least one person gets my jokes). OMG SORRY.
lets do shots!
you’re welcome for exposing this one you guys. blood on my hands all for you.
i kind of think rocky looks like my uncle. just the facial expressions. i think it’s a compliment. my dad took this, go arty dad go!
wild suburban times.
brian epstein moment with my dad, scouting out a new singer from the corner of this dive hole. man dive holes, great scene, not even being as sarcastic as i’m intending to be. i think noel and craig get what i mean.
suburban diet as of late. second time wolfing down deep fried pickles the last couple of weeks. awesome.
fat fuck snack. probably the best garlic cheese bread i’ve had out anywhere aside from the supermarket stuff in the foil bags you throw in the oven. you could tell they soaked the bread in loads of garlic coating before cheesing it up. am i a foodie?
keepin’ it dainty.
so long summer i dunno what it is about this season or what, just turned all on its own without consulting any of us, feels like.
everyone has personal stories about these things.
not as sketchy as it looks, nite time shot taken without flash made to appear like early morning shot which we all know are impossible to deal with at that time of party. there is no excuse for ghost blur face however.
BULLSHIT. who is this chick?
beating guitar hero – suck it rush! that song is impossible, even on easy it just keeps going and going and your right forearm burns like you beat off an entire fucking forest. the trick is to suck as little as possible at the hard parts then give’r completely on the easier areas to make up for the suck. i called my brother to brag that i beat it finally, unlocked a new venue then realised i beat the game. his game (well niece’s really) and he couldn’t believe it. my family is exceptionally competitive.
hey man at least i passed it.
sundays: made for antiquing. i’ve long since been a huge stater that it is the loneliest day of the week. plus everything closes at 5. yeah cool?
nice stance. you have captured the essence of haunted perfectly.
there’s a postcard of this someplace in a book of old xmas postcards i rifled through every time i visited the grandfolks. sometimes you have to look at something over and over again and it still is not enough.
64 year old doll. the lady who brought it in said she got it when she was 4. why would you sell that? no family to pass it on to or they don’t care? i do not “get” the world sometimes.
crouching tiger hidden poison anyone?
loved it intensely here we are again.
i love vintage christmas, that comes from both sides of the fam. i’d burn down a house in a second for these lights.
those are earrings teachers wear i dunno why they just do. ever stare long and hard at all your teacher’s outfits and think, why? what is even going on here? my favourite were the french teacher’s outfits everyone had crushes on them and they made you listen to celine dion. listen to fly en francaise, it’s called vole and it’s about a little girl who died of cancer and you will explode into tears, it’s so much more powerful in french omg see what french teachers do to you!? (i promise* i will never fucking mention celine dion ever again on this blog promise not guaranteed just listen to the part where she belts it out lie down on a bean bag chair).
uhhhhhh. well not to include it would be, what? whatever.
this is cute. take notes.
my parents collected old smoke tins. everything has been hung on to, kinda obsessive secret collecting hoarders we are. maybe i will be given permission to sell the shit in my own minimalistic retro shop someday….HINT.
i didn’t even bother looking at prices i have far too many necklaces as is. but still, still!
baby shoes (vintage) creep me out cos they remind me of that little kid from pet cemetery and that movie makes someone put shit in my pants!
brooches should be spelled BROCHES. who says brewch? idiots.
is this even interesting to you or am i in my own little world of thinking everything is amazing all the time “sort of” lets put it on my blog wait and see what happens?
new flats from mom thanks and they don’t pinch!
pirates were heavy into kahlua apparently.
how badly do you want a doll that looks like george costanza’s mother? how often do i make george costanza references: once daily.
number one reason i started blogging: i thought i was special and that the world should know about it as soon as possible and i didn’t want to have to wait to be a superstar for that to happen.
unearthing old cds holy moly guacamole (that’s my new saying now)(no it isn’t)(yes it is but just for right now) what a time-warp. currently spinning AIR the one album i’ve exclusively only ever listened to baked, high, insane by (is exclusively plus ‘only ever’ redundant? it must be sorry no more brackets i am constantly in an inside joke with myself apparently) and each track is making my stress level peak soar crash then up again i’m doing this why? self-sanctioned suffering is good for inspiration because. it occurs to me that the world is waiting for some big announcement via raymi wire. can we just go back to the regular old tired shit, here’s what i ate and thought about it, here’s a trinket that reminds me of some dumb story that happened when i was a teenager and that is a lamp post in the nite, be affected by it! as usual flickr is not cooperating so i can’t even do that. there’s some newbies-ish photos on there if you care, one specifically of a chick decked out in pink, piles of yarn hair pink tutu pink mesh finger gloves i didn’t get her whole get-up just the sneak pic behind her head on the subway i almost asked if i could get a shot but then i’d have to give her my card and then you’d all be mean about her and i dunno, put too much thought into it i suppose. wanted to ask where she was going, not a clue, velvet? guvernment? systems? i applaud her bravery and 90’s rave scene/japanese harajuku explosion homage i def do not have the cajones for that. oh wait here we go a pocket of internet connectivity.
sometimes you just don’t want to write about yourself anymore.
what’s this? oh good one. (boatloads of sarcasm)
ugh hahaha i’m sure the genius who scribed this is very pleased.
sensing a theme.
and one more shot of our hero.
rocky and cid communicate via these flats that are on their last, flats? i like to kill a pair a season. i really miss my aladdin slippers. sigh, jewels, sigh pointy.
ghost vision. seriously the bottom half of this chick, so much going on.
joe rules. he says he can tell i’m a writer cos i’m cerebral. i think that means babbling idiot.
here’s more or less what i said as i answered the questions last nite i may or may not have been baked and i am not re-reading this crap before i hit publish.
Was it a complicated decision to become so open with your personal life in your blog?
no in all actuality it was quite simple at the time i had no outlook or any idea in mind for any possible repurcussions of my online actions, roughly ten years ago on the internet you could basically say and/or do all the seedy shit you wanted with virtually yeah, zero fallout. there weren’t comments or any sort of…
Where do you draw the line with privacy?
now that i know for fact the majority of my family reads my blog i draw the line now. i try not to freak them out, i definitely censor myself now cos i keep them in mind but before all that i drew the line at showing beaver pretty much. once i started working as an online “model” i was 19 i began upping the ante in terms of online exhibitionism. smoking weed too, i really enjoyed getting high and blogging cos your memory recall is pretty much nil, write it and forget it. oh i showed my tits? big deal. seriously at the time the pool of toronto bloggers was say 100 and of them i was the black sheep of the bunch everyone else was corporate minded, political, conservative, sports and tech. i had nothing to lose and in my mind only everything to gain so i went whole-hog and by the time blogging reached it’s first wave of “cool” peak i was a few years ahead of the game so i was in. nowadays the privacy line is pretty blurred, like, everyone went by aliases back then now people are shoving their real names down your throat because we all want to be known. facebook for one obvious example, some people are wickedly private there which is funny to me as why would you join that shit or engage in any sort of online activity if you have privacy issues? another thing, who cares? really. no one cares if your mom has status updates and we see who your cousin is? what do you have to hide, seriously?
Have you any regrets?
tons and none. do you mean in a broad and general sense like i never shoulda not went to college?
What are the benefits of being public?
notoriety, contacts, experiences, attention, getting the word out, making a name for yourself…
Based on your experience, how do you think the internet has affected our culture in so far as a social tool.
pluses and minuses – the positive is getting thr word out faster, breaking news up to the minute, the second reporting
What is your advice to people on the issue of internet privacy?
get over it maybe? how slow are news days when we have to sit around and hear about facebook’s new privacy terms? it’s called progress. how invaded are our lives anyway already, we get junk mail, spam, your interac transactions all that is recorded so that the next time you click on whatever the fuck a certain ad is targeted specifically to you, thats just the way the world is and if you don’t get that then you obviously shouldn’t be on the fucking internet.
everything is kind of a mess right now. you share so much with everybody and the moment when you have the most to share you just can’t bring yourself to say anything. things are in-flux, so much is going on and so much isn’t. when your personal life is out there for the world and daily you do your song and dance, when things change all the sudden you haven’t a clue what you’re supposed to do anymore. i feel like it’s nobody’s business but my own but when my business is getting on the noisebox what the hell right? do i explain my silence? i think compulsion is the only thing that drives this blog really. not so much solely narcissism or knowing there is a captive audience, when it comes down to it, when i keep my thoughts to myself i kind of go insane. this is my release. this is my grief this is my fucking obligation? saying nothing doesn’t help, it just gets people concerned while saying something, albeit wickedly vague also gets their backs up.
i would just like to simply say FUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK.
my advice is this: do not ever pretend, do not ever live for anyone else and always be yourself no matter what. do not be silenced, nor shamed.
it will all work out in the end.
or whatever joshmosh99 on youtube says it better:
thisis stupid i want to c VAGINAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
ten years in my leg what a little wimp hey? in four hours when flickr allows me to upload another photo of it get ready to be amazed. (that is a teeny tiny match ps. so according to scale i haven’t the first clue what to tell you maybe i should call a model train store?)
pulling that thing out was a serious high it came out all in one piece thankfully after fifteen LONG minutes of plucking and digging at it, prying and clearing the skin around the area then my phone starts ringing or something and by that time i was so fed up with trying so hard to get it out i just yanked the fucker out all in one go and it was like cumming (sorry parents, your fault not mine that you read this thing) i dunno, it was great. GREAT GREAT. feeling a foreign object depart your body is a relief you should probably shove some wood in your thigh too just to experience the thrill.
oh and i have to start practicing aussie i have to blog like i’m in australia (not on here, elsewhere on the netz) so any tips would be muchly appreciated.
