Or at least, my blog. It says so, on the hit counter madoozy.
And I’ve updated my profile photo, as you may realise if you’ve ever been here more than once. I figured that seeing as I spend most of my life in a state of intoxication, my photo should represent that. I had a better one of me with the box of a goonbag on my head, but it was really blurry, and it wouldn’t co-operate and flip around…so I’ll save that one for a later date. I just realised that my new picture makes me look about 40 though. I’m not. I’m 21.
Anyway, I have a few guilty pleasures in life. Shopping is of course one of them. Secretly loving hip hop (but not gansta rap. Let’s make sure we know the difference, okay kids?). Or not so secretly, as it may seem. Fashion magazines, a la Vogue/Madison/Marie Claire, are the third. Very ridiculously overpriced lip gloss.
And STM.
Yes, the Sunday Times Magazine. Not all of it, but some. It makes good Sunday morning reading, if you happen to be awake on a Sunday morning (which, despite a heavy night the night before, I always am), and it has pretty clothes and makeup and accessories and gossip columns and food and what not. And it’s about Perth, and if I like something in it, I can actually go buy it (provided I have the money). Anyway, there is a point to this. One of my old lecturers from last year is in this weekend’s edition – “The eye generation”, pp.12-15. He’s in the bottom right hand corner, holding a mobile – Tama Leaver. Woot, I’ve been taught by a semi-Perthonality. All jokes aside, though, he’s actually a really great educator, easily in the top two or three I’ve had at university.
Moving right along. I’m in for the biggest week of stress, this week – I’ve got a barely-started essay of 3000-odd words due on Tuesday afternoon, and by Friday I need to have the skeleton of my thesis introduction ready (and I’ve barely had a second to dedicate to doing that, over the past few weeks). I’m aiming to have about 2000 words of it done by Friday – it’s not the be-all and end-all, but it’d be nice to present something sufficient, rather than a few very vague dot points. I’m very much looking forward to it all being done, come Friday afternoon. I might even have to sit around and do nothing to celebrate. So technically, I shouldn’t be updating much before then – I plan to be at uni most of the time. But we all know I will, because I’m addicted to the Internet. At least I’m not ashamed to admit it, I suppose.
I woke up with a numb toe this morning. The numbness seems to be progressively taking over my foot. It’s getting worse, and I can’t explain it. I’ve already got a black nail on my other foot from wearing ridiculously high heels a couple of months back, and causing serious foot damage. I don’t need two retarded feet, sacrificed in the name of fashion.
I did buy the hottest shoes EVER the other day, however. They’re awesome. So high, yet so comfy. I’m in love 
Yesterday was a very el-bizarro day, and I’m not really 100% on exactly what went down. I went to the races – but barely remember being there (though I did bet $3 on a horse called Shirazamataz, or something. Trust me to pick the horse with alcohol in its name. I didn’t even think about that until just then). Then we may have trashed a friend’s office, but he shouldn’t be so irresponsible as to let drunk people into his workplace 
(Go on, have a bitch if you’re reading. I guarantee that nothing that was trashed, was my fault. I’m most respectful of offices, because I love stationery). Then we got dinner – I remember eating steamed vegies, but not very much of the fish & chips I shared with someone else. Then the night is some big random semi-blur. I remember seeing a big pink drag queen (the pride parade was on in NB last night), and going to Paramount and it being empty, and somehow ending up at the Deen, and doing whatever the hell I did in there for a couple of hours, then going back to Para and doing some stupid dancing.
My lowlights of the evening?
When I didn’t get into the Moon & Six because I was allegedly “too drunk” (I was drunk, but far from too drunk), and then being told by one of the people we were with that I had had the ugly girl rule exercised on me (and like, I know I’m not perfect, but FUCK OFF). They eventually did let me in, but I had to sit at the table closest to the exit, and I wasn’t allowed to get up to go anywhere, except to leave. Grr.
When I got spewed on by some random chick in Paramount, and had to stand in the bathroom – in a dress – with my foot in the basin to wash off said spew, because the girl working the bar wouldn’t give me a glass of water to wash off my foot. Don’t be so fucking cheap, you stupid scungy club. People who have been thrown up on should be allowed free foot washing water.
Other than that, my weekend was pretty mediocre. Nothing great, nothing shit, just normal. That’s fine by me.
Holidays in 5 sleeps time
