a fear of self-mutilation

today i wanted to have a productive day so i decided to do one of my monstorous biology pracs.

i proceded to read the instructions, and i was disturbed to find one of the materials i would need was blood.

but where would i get this blood?

i continued to read, only to find out the blood would infact come from me. yes, to do this prac i will have to 'puncture my skin' with a 'sharp jab'.

JOY

thankfully a delightful little sharp metal object was included in my prac kit to help me achieve this task.

JOY^2

i attempted to do a practice, so when it came to the real deal i would be confident enough to stab myself, but fear overcame me.

oh sigh i just dont know what to do, i have a fear of self mutilation.

how to make good poetry

Here is an example of a perfectly good poem:

I raked leaves today
down
down
down
down
down
off the roof onto
your job interview came in the mail?

Powerfully suggestive, endlessly evocative, but ultimately impossible to parse.

Here, by contrast, is a shitty poem:

Mark lent me his ruler this morning

What makes it bad? The lack of mystery, of the suspense of un-knowing, or antiknowing, or "knowing without knowledge".

2 things that make me angry

1. when i am serving a customer and they dont respnd when i say hi, then they throw their money down onto the counter when i am standing right there like its so much effort just to hand it to me.

2. when my neighbours have parties and decide to play black eyed peas music at unnecessary volumes in the middle of the night. listening to i gotta feeling made me want to rip off my skin, eat my skin, shit out my skin, set the shit on fire and throw the shit at people who listen to the black eyes peas.

I have learned 3 things this weeked:

1. It is advisable to take your chewing gum out of your mouth before you brush your teeth

2. I like the feeling you get when you push your headphones into your ears so it feels like the music is in your head, but I also learned that doing this in public makes you look like a dick

3. I most likley have a stomach ulcer developing after friday night due to stress, panic and general hysteria

my blog is now interactive - welcome to the future - what did you learn this weekend?

cheer me, up I'm a miserable fuck

story of my life...



...well minus the sex part

ode to ree

really. she is a bucket of nonsence.

example 1

ree: lope, that sounds like elope

till: do you know what that means

ree: yes

till: what does it mean

ree: to have sex


example 2

ree: what does enigma mean

till: its like a mystery

ree: oh, is that like the church thing that mary has on her hands?

till: no thats stigmata


example 3

ree: (in reference to a wedding dress) i couldnt find where the toilet paper was under all the foliage. i dont know if foliage is right it that sentence..ill assume it is

till: foliage can be defined as the main organ of photosynthesis and transpiration in higher plants. (so in other words, no, not right)





as you can see she is a humerous person te be around and lunchtimes would be quite dull without her

how to be cool checklist

dye your hair blonde

dye your skin brown

listen to heaps cool rap/hip hop/rnb

the subject of a previous blog

just to clear things up this is the subject of my previous blog.
he is the kind on monster you'd like to find under your bed, or maybe even in it?
but probably just under it.

the adventures of death-face and his smart arsed parrot: the drill

death face had just bought a new end table from IKEA. it was large and white and sat in its box in pieces.
death-face tried to assemble it, but no matter how much he screamed at it or what he threw at it, it stayed flat in its box. even when he spat at it and gave it the cold shoulder it lay there, passive agressive, taunting him.

death-face was desparate as he reached into the box to find the instructions. 'take piece 1 and join it to piece 2', said the instructions. 'what the fuck' said death-face, 'i dont understand this', speak english you foriegn alien, go back to sweden.

sudenly a great idea struck death-face. he went into the garage and returned with his largest power drill. it was 5 feet wide and 5 feet high. he started to drill at the pieces, and was pleased to find that instead of the loud buzzing sound he had expected from a drill of this size, a pleasent tinking sound eminated from it. five minutes later, when the table pieces still lay gloating on the floor, it dawned on death-face that it wasnt actualy a drill he was using to assemble his table, but a piano. he set it on fire and threw it out the window.

death face was despondant. he needed to sleep and forget his worries. normaly he would take one sleeping pill if he wanted to sleep for one night, so logicly if he took 37, he would be asleep for 37 nights, which would be sufficient time for him to get over his failiure. he conumed the whole packet, not bothering to take the pills out of their foil and plastic wrapping.

19 DAYS LATER

a ghostly figure hovered above death-face. "how many fingers am i holding up" said the parrot. "5" replied death face, "no" replied the parrot, "4 fingers and a thumb".
"stop being such a smart arse" said death face, "and you dont even have thumbs, your a parrot". the parrot left the room in a huff.

with a pang of anguish, death-face saw the end table. rage engulfed him so he set the pieces on fire and threw them in the bin. unfortunately his bin was made of lighter fluid, and when the burning table pieces hit it, it erupted in a ball of flames which death-face then threw out the window.

THE END.

angst.

i feel cranky and pubescent today and i dont know why.

my parents are dead, my life sucks, i cant hold down a girlfriend and i'm surrounded my fucking goblins and shit all the time i mean what the fuck.

chicken heart

tonight while all the cool kids are at their cool parties or out at cool clubs with their cool friends i will be at home with my chicken hearts.

thats right, as we speak there are 200g of fresh chicken hearts in my refridgerator.

my task is to mash and crash them to extact their enzymes so i can use the enzymes for learning purposes. fun x 10^-16 . in other words not fun.

so as you (if you) are sitting at home on a friday night thinking how much of a shit time you are having, just be greatfull you have no hearts in your fridge waiting for you to extract their mushy goodness.

fully badass yo!

this morning i flouted authority by not going to school on time. instead i went down to camberwell junction and you know what i did. because im mega badass fo sho i went to a book shop and bought... yep you guessed it.... a toffee apple!

but really.

i am wicked to the bone and no authority will contain my teenage impulses of rebellion.

jukebox sunshine and a poetic moment

i had a poetic moment on the way to school this morning. i was admiring the daffodils, and thinking how lovely it is that they hide away during summer then pop up out of nowhare to brighten our cold winter days.

now to draw a parallel that would warm the heart of the coldest english teacher:


i was pleased to notice the new holloways song had popped up on youtube out of nowhare to brighten my cold winter afternoon:

a hopeless future

last night on the way home from the city i underwent a terrible trauma.

i arrived at flinders street station filled with hope, joy and chinese food only to find my train would not be departing for another 20 minutes. after realising my bladder was filled, most likely with urine, i asscended the escalator into the wide flinders st station atrium, i made my way to the toilets. this is where my trauma begins:

i whitnessed a 14 year old vomiting into the sink saying 'i'm never going to drink again', to which her 13 year old friend replied 'yeah you said that last week, and the week before, and the week before'. this lead me to think that the youth of today run free without boundaries. i shed a quiet tear for the hopeless future.


on a lighter note: i mean every word i ever say ever, because i'm harry potter.

laugh-a-tron 3000

a joke for those who do furthur maths:

what did the scatterplot say to the bar chart?


Skew you!


please try not to laugh too hard as internal bleeding may result.

bags on seats.

i believe this to be the height of rudeness.

people who think their bag deserves a seat on a packed morning tram, bus, train or helicopter deserve to be made to shoot themselves in the faces, then clean up the splatters.

if your bag has shin splints or chronic fatigue then exceptions can be made, but generaly speaking, bags dont mind sitting on the floor, they are pretty 'down to earth' items really, not so 'high and mighty' as their owners may think.

did you like my puns? pretty punny yeah!

on a more posetive note:

"I stick my hand down my settee and I get stuck I can’t get free, all I find’s a measly 50p
And now I’m stuck down my settee with one hand free and shit TV, and I cant quite reach my cup of tea"

I feed my rabbit people food

this morning i gave it two vanilla wafers.

its has also indulged in cullianry delights such as chips, potato gems with sauce, shapes biscuits, scotch fingers, saladas, weet bix and doughnuts.

but dont worry it eats rabbit type foods too, i just think life is more fun when grass is not your staple food?