Doris is still a babe, also: Nirvana Party

   The last time I wrote about Doris was here, in which I was reassured about the "youth of today."

   Doris is still a babe.

   So maybe a week or so, I had my last exam, which was Drama, which is probably the wordiest, hardest, most difficult exam there is. Seriously. I've never written so much about Post-War American Realist Theatre in my life. (And that was pretty much the only thing we studied this year.) As per exam rules, we had to leave our bags outside the examination room.

This, naturally, was my bag.

   Apparently some kid saw the Nirvana bag and thought it was the coolest thing ever (it basically is) and took a whole lot of photos of it. Because that's not creepy or stalkerish at all.

   While we're on the subject of creepy...

Not super duper creepy, more just odd

   Which got us talking about Nirvana and that we both really, really love Nirvana, and dammit, let's just have a Nirvana party.

   We did. She turned up in her (homemade) Nirvana shirt with a couple of DVDs and Kurt Cobain's journals. I had a good three albums on my iPod which was my contribution. We literally sat there and flicked through the book, trying to make sense of a lot of it. Heroin's a helluva drug.

   Having a flick through, there are some bits that are awesome (his comic for Mr Moustache, in which an unborn child kicks their sexist, macho father) and some bits that make very little sense and some bits that made us giggle ("punctuation yeah I was stoned alot when learning that stuff") some bits were insightful (for example, where he explains how he first got into heroin) and some bits were magical, watching something I was so familiar with unfold and develop before my very eyes. (As much as Kurt was on the record of saying "Smells Like Teen Spirit" did not deserve as much of the attention and adulation that it did, seeing the constant reworking of the lyrics, the imagery that he was putting into it that just gets mentioned so many times throughout the journals, really showed the amount of thought and care he was capable of putting into his work.)

   I don't want to put any pictures from the book in here as that may be against copyright laws (I'm not sure/Doris has me scared of Courtney Love) but if you're a fan of the music, it's definitely worth having a look at if you ever get the chance.

   Sorry this has ended up being something of a book review. If it makes you feel any better, this isn't a typical book at all (at one point he's scribbled notes for a driving test. Just sayin'.)

AWWW YEAHHH

   So guess what. I'm going to Auckland next month!

   What with living in a small town in the south of the south island and all, this is cause for celebration enough. But guess what else?

   I'm going to go see Dom and William!

Dom is this babe right here, in case you're wondering.

   As exciting as it is to see William and the next winner of New Zealand's Next Top Model (Male Edition), that is not what I'm showing off about here. (Though I totally should.)

   No kiddies. This is what I'm showing off about here.

I've got three of these sexy, sexy tickets.

   Keep in mind that I am entirely entitled to show off here. I've been wanting to see the Foo Fighters since I was twelve years old. I've got childhood dreams to fulfill. And I'm also very, very excited. Also, David's super-duper jealous at the moment. I'll buy him a t shirt or something. If they're not too pricey. Because I'm a financially responsible sister.

   Anyway, there'll probably be another blog post when I come back from Auckland (sooooo 16th December) about all my adventures there. Because dammit, it's always adventures with me.

FUN TIMES.

:DDDDD

In other news, I've finished all my exams and probably just scraped through with university entrance. It's been a long year.

Mr Whippy's Long Awaited Return to Fernhill

   I think it’s been close to fifteen years since I last heard “Greensleeves” (yes, that’s the icecream truck song) echoing through the suburb I grew up in. Well. We’re surrounded by hills. Everything echoes here. Regardless, yesterday the waves of nostalgia and Greensleeves drifted through my window. Holy wow. MR WHIPPY HAD RETURNED TO FERNHILL.

   The street I had grown up on was a small residential street that leads to nowhere, and has nothing but small, family houses. The most exciting things that happened there was a stranger danger incident from when I was quite small (I blame Barney the dinosaur) and Mr Whippy paying us occasional visits. If my mum was in a good mood and had some coins on her, I was allowed to go buy myself an ice-cream. But only the vanilla one with rainbow sprinkles. The other ones were too expensive.

Bane of my childhood.

   It became almost an expectation over the summer- that Mr Whippy would come up my otherwise uneventful street and cold tasty fun would be had. It was a marvellous arrangement. I mean, sure, we had ice cream at home. Heck, we even had rainbow sprinkles at home. (For fairybread purposes, of course.) But it just tasted better from the back of the icecream truck. Which, even I’ll admit in hindsight, sounds dodgy as hell.

   I don’t remember when Mr Whippy stopped coming. But over time, he slowly disappeared.

   In fact, I’d almost forgotten about Mr Whippy until a few weeks ago when I was skyping my friend Dom. Suddenly I heard a familiar sound in the background- Greensleeves! Shortly after, his dad entered with an icecream. Hurrah. He got one with the chocolate top (which I was never allowed) which showed that clearly, his parents love him more. Or have more disposable income than mine did. Close enough.

   I was slightly envious, but I thought that was that, and it was just that he lives in a more populated area than myself, and that Mr Whippy was a regular occurance for him.

   I was sitting in my bedroom, writing a blog post about how I swear I’ll write something decent soon when I heard it.

   Da- da- da- da- dee-dee- da- dee-da…

   Greensleeves!

   Mr Whippy had returned to Fernhill. As if to taunt me, he parked right outside my house. How I had missed him! How delicious ice cream would be at last!

   Alas. I had no money on me.  There was only one solution.

“Muuuuum! Mr Whippy’s back!”

“Yeah, I know…”

“Um, do you have any coinage I can borrow?”

“Coinage, yup. Borrow, nope.”

   And that is why I haven’t had Mr Whippy in fifteen years.

Inspirational Quotes (questionable use of the word "inspirational")

"Girls are like cellphones, they have to be handled carefully. Press the wrong button and you'll be disconnected. Guys are like buses- if you miss one, you can just catch the next one. Guys are like buses. I hope one hits you."
(lovingly inspired by this.)


"Love hurts. I knew I should have bought more lube." 
-Anonymous
(that quote alone is why I chose not to illustrate this post.)


"Sleep is for the weak. Actually, disregard what I just said. That's not really a general thing, it's more for specific cases. Fuck, just go take a nap or something, you'll feel better."
-My brother, after I quoted him last night.


"Girls are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree.The boys don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. So the apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree."
-Some self-important foreveralone girl. 


I don't think I've ever read a quote that makes my eyes bleed as much as that one. Oh, wait, yes I have!


For your *ahem* enjoyment:


 "I TOOOK OUT A CIGARETE END STARTED TO smoke pot."

Source.

Sorry for the Delay in more Enjoyable Content

   I've been rather busy, what with having Sarah staying with me in Queenstown (fun times) and studying for my exams (lol, I'm a liar) and actually doing my exams (one of them, anyway. I've got my Drama one left to do) and being a lazy person (and by lazy, I mean, hey, let's see what's happening on Reddit today! And next thing you know it's 3am and you've done nothing productive.) So that's been stopping me make any quality posts. Sorry.

   I would prefer to make a small number of quality (Christmas in October whores notwithstanding) posts rather than regular updates of rubbish, so I can assure you that I've hopefully got some stellar posts on the way. Maybe even some traumatic childhood memories. Maybe even with some MS Paint pictures. Who knows, I might find the motivation because I care about quality content that much.

Anyway, yeah, cool stuff coming soon. Writing time!

New Hyperbole and a Half!

   I will admit, I haven't been checking Hyperbole and a Half for ages because it's been so long since the last post, and even I can be a bad blogger, and the longer I put off updating, the harder it gets, which is why I ended up with shitty blog posts about whores, tinsel fetishes, and Christmas in October.

   However, I decided to go back for one last nostalgic look at H&H to re-read about Kenny Loggins (a personal favourite post of mine) when, lo and behold:

   THERE IS A NEW POST AT HYPERBOLE AND A HALF!

   And it's rather eloquent. Pictures are excellent, too.

   Anyway, this is rather how I've been feeling for the past couple of months, so it gives me hope that eventually I can get through it and even, maybe, touch a spider.

   Time to draw a spider, I think.

I've named him William and given him a sophisticated top hat. YOU'RE WELCOME.

Christmas in October

   I was in The Warehouse the other day with my mother because she wanted to buy herself a new kettle (“There’s something wrong with the old one, it makes a noise when it boils!”) and I’d been dragged along to assist in the kettle selection process. Eventually, she decided none at The Warehouse were up to her standards, and I found her later outside Smiths City with a shiny new kettle that promised to make “minimal noise” (I’ll be honest, there is a difference, but only slightly) and my mother looking very pleased with her purchase.

   However, minimal-noise kettles is not my point.

   While we were browsing the aisles of The Warehouse, I noticed that, although Halloween hasn’t even occurred yet, (leaving you some time to arrange your slutty costume) Christmas decorations were up already. It isn’t even November yet. Excellent.

   Personally, I believe tinsel should be available for purchase year-round. How else are you going to go to a Halloween party as anything that allows you to indulge in a glitter/sparkle fetish? (Ke$ha notwithstanding.)

The sex symbol of our generation. Also, the glitter on her chest could  be to cover up breast herpes: because breast herpes isn't a phase. It's for life.

   Here are some home decorating ideas using tinsel and Christmas decorations, to prepare you for Christmas in October.

• Keep your ho's at the table 

   First of all, I cringe at the sight of an apostrophe to denote a plural. I know it's wrong. But I can't seem to find anything here that looks right. The OCD in me wants to apologise for that. Anyway.

   Christmas is a time of celebration, and Christmas in October is a little odd, so why not celebrate Christmas in October in an odd way? With prostitutes, that’s how. First consult with the law to see if this is legal in your area because, ya know. Legal safety first. Then, take out a large bank loan, because these will cost money, and I’m ethical enough to believe you should pay them fairly. Next, follow the instructions on the link to create this charming table decoration, and treat all your purchases to a delicious Christmas dinner. In October.

• Organise your Christmas recipes

   If you're going to cook Christmas dinner for all your special guests this October, you want to keep things as easy and stress free as possible. Why not make a recipe card holder? And if you want a unique twist to dessert for your Christmas in October, you could try these recipes.

• Christmas pillow cases

   After treating your “guests” to Christmas dinner in October, you may want to actually get the service you paid for and go to the bedroom. But alas, no Christmas-themed décor there! Never fear, here’s a link to instructions for Christmas pillow cases. Good luck, have fun, and use protection. (It’s an industry standard.)

   I apologise that this post has, yet again, fallen into debauchery and prostitution. It seems to be an unintentional ongoing theme on this blog. But really, if we’re going to talk about Ke$ha, breast herpes, and Christmas-in-October, I can’t really see this going any other direction.