The life and fucked up times of a 17 year old boy, where sex, drugs, fights, alcohol, indies, watermelon-throwing ninjas and fire-breathing pirates are daily routine!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Kwijybo
I'd like to make a special post to congratulate an awesome person that I know, who will go under the name 'aap' for now, to keep her privacy. Congratulations :)
Friday, May 28, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Footscray/Fights/Lectures from your parents
Harro again everyone! (that's probably like 3 people?)
It's been a long time since I've made a proper post, so I'll just get back to it now.
Last week myself and 3 mates went to Footscray so that one of my friends could get a haircut, we could go buy $2 DVD's, and have the best kebabs in town for lunch. So anyway, we need to catch the 401 bus from the hospital, down to North Melbourne train station, and then the train from there to the land of asians, africans, and white junkie knocked up bitches with a bottle of Jim Beam in the pram where the baby should be. Now, we were protected against the first 2, because we had a Chinese and a Somali with us, but for the last one, not so much...
Anyway, after the Somali got his haircut, after eating kebabs, after buying 2 dorrah DVD's, after racking a shitload of 5 gum, we were just near the train station, when some stooges from Simmonds approached us. They were 5, we were 3. Two of them had weapons (does a screwdriver count as a weapon?) They wanted to roll us. Long story short, it was either we run and get a rumour spread around that we were pussies, or stand up and fight.
The Somali kid whistled to these 4 tank black guys walking towards us, and without even asking what was going on, they just busted into those poor motherfuckers, and rolled THEM instead. Talk about karma.
Anyway, in the ensuing mayhem, I copped myself a black eye. Shit. How was I going to explain this to my parents?
I get home, and my dad doesn't notice me for like 10 minutes. Finally, he comes down to my room, sees my eye, and yells the highest pitched scream I've EVER heard a guy yell. 'WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU?'. Anyway, to spare you the pain of the 30 minute lecture that I had to endure, it was basically one of those 'I don't want you anywhere near those guys again, and you're grounded also' one-sided talks that my dad does so well.
So all in all, the consequences of the fight were nothing compared to the wrath of an angry french dad...
It's been a long time since I've made a proper post, so I'll just get back to it now.
Last week myself and 3 mates went to Footscray so that one of my friends could get a haircut, we could go buy $2 DVD's, and have the best kebabs in town for lunch. So anyway, we need to catch the 401 bus from the hospital, down to North Melbourne train station, and then the train from there to the land of asians, africans, and white junkie knocked up bitches with a bottle of Jim Beam in the pram where the baby should be. Now, we were protected against the first 2, because we had a Chinese and a Somali with us, but for the last one, not so much...
Anyway, after the Somali got his haircut, after eating kebabs, after buying 2 dorrah DVD's, after racking a shitload of 5 gum, we were just near the train station, when some stooges from Simmonds approached us. They were 5, we were 3. Two of them had weapons (does a screwdriver count as a weapon?) They wanted to roll us. Long story short, it was either we run and get a rumour spread around that we were pussies, or stand up and fight.
The Somali kid whistled to these 4 tank black guys walking towards us, and without even asking what was going on, they just busted into those poor motherfuckers, and rolled THEM instead. Talk about karma.
Anyway, in the ensuing mayhem, I copped myself a black eye. Shit. How was I going to explain this to my parents?
I get home, and my dad doesn't notice me for like 10 minutes. Finally, he comes down to my room, sees my eye, and yells the highest pitched scream I've EVER heard a guy yell. 'WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU?'. Anyway, to spare you the pain of the 30 minute lecture that I had to endure, it was basically one of those 'I don't want you anywhere near those guys again, and you're grounded also' one-sided talks that my dad does so well.
So all in all, the consequences of the fight were nothing compared to the wrath of an angry french dad...
Monday, May 17, 2010
Being Indie
Have you noticed all those people around you, who just don't seem that normal? The people who wear gumboots with dresses, have nose piercings bigger than anything that could come out of the actual nose, have ladders/holes in all their pairs of tights, wear red tight jeans, have a constant bong cough, own multicoulored vests and so on and so forth?
No, they're not from the circus's freak show act, let me reassure you there, but they are a growing species. The indie, or 'individual' as the scientific name would have it, is about as common as a seagull in society nowadays.
All these people dress the way they dress, act the way they act, listen to the music they listen to because they want to be 'non-conformists'. I mean, you have to be pretty non-conformist/fucked up if you voluntarily choose to listen to something with album artwork like THAT! ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
But doesn't that defeat the purpose of being an individual, if they ALL DRESS THE SAME?! I mean, come on, what the fuck, as if you cannot possibly see that they all look the same? Same weird combover-look hairstyle, same bright purple and green stockings, same stoned look in their eyes... (Okay the last one wasn't a good example. When you're baked you can't help looking like that).
Basically, the whole 'indie movement' is now part of the fashion of our times, it's become 'mainstream'. So if they REALLY were indie, would'nt move on to something different and leave all the general masses behind? Something like shaving all your hair off and wearing a crown of feathers like the Native Americans, or wearing nothing but a leaf over your genitals, like Adam and Eve? I mean, that's pretty fucking hardcore indie if you're willing to go that far...
So seriously, stop listening to Animal Collective or the Cancer Bats, you're just hurting yourself (and others around you who have the misfortune of overhearing your music), stop wearing plaid shirts with vomit stains on them and stop talking about new ways to grow marijuana in your backyard!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Parties
If you wake up at 1 in the afternoon on a sunday in a bed that isn't yours, next to a complete stranger who looks like this ->, with an onion in your left shoe, something sticky in your hair, clothes on that aren't yours and a few bruises, you know last night's party was pretty intense.
This is what happened to me. (except for the onion bit, i just thought it would be funny if i added it in)
So when i woke up, i hustled around amongst the bodies strewn all over the house that i was at last night, and grabbed my clothes (my real ones), then i left the sleeping beauties to find a way home.
Now I don't know about you guys, but i for one hate taking public transport home on a sunday morning after a party. All these happy, cheeful families coming home from the markets, they all walk past me, with my dopey hangover look and my hood on, and they shield their childrens eyes like i'm sort of ogre or a sex offender. Honestly, get used to it. Your children will be like that some day. You should be thanking me for showing you a glimpse into the future of your precious little kiddies lives, pricks.
So anyway. I'm on the train coming home, and i'm thinking of what went down last night. The party had to be good if i don't remember much of it. i can vaguely recall myself flirting with some random whilst my mate munted all over her dress, and that's about it. But honestly, parties are basically meet-n-fucks nowadays. You meet someone new at the event, talk them up, hook up, get laid, and move on.
It's like free speed dating, but with more alcohol, and drugs (if that's what you're into).
Like seriously, where's the party element to it? Yeah, sure, there's music and food to start off with, but what next?
No wonder you never see normal people at parties anymore... Fucking hell...
Moving on.
I'm home now, and i should probably go take a Panadol for my headache, so i'll finish this up by asking if anynoe knows any cures for hangovers? Much appreciated.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Salmon-Man vs the Pajama Elephant
I hate siblings...
Okay, so if the title isn't obvious enough, I hate my siblings. I have a 13 year old brother that could easily be mistaken for justin bieber, (except more gay and less singing), and a 7 year old brother who sticks to me like super-glue, but with the energy and talkativeness of Donkey from Shrek. Talk about a healthy family. They drive me off the wall. Like, seriously, today we were in the city, and i just felt like ripping a stop sign out the ground and clubbing them to death with it. Seriously, they're like a couple that's been married for 15 years! They yell at each other and run around the place... Can you just stop moving for ONE fucking second?!
Grrrr...
Weekend?
It's finally Saturday, the first day of the weekend. Yay. You'd think during these two days of much needed rest, young and old people should be able to relax and unwind after a (not so) hard week of work, right? WRONG.
Instead, teachers take pleasure in piling on the homework to their poor little students, expecting them to do 3 hours of work on a fucking weekend. So much for school counselors telling us to 'maintain and establish and functional social life'. Fucking hypocrites.
If i wanted to do that much work on a weekend, I'd go get a job, where i can GET PAID for what I do. Honestly, how much of a moron do you take me for Ms. or Mr. Whatever-the-fuck-you're-called? A pretty big one, I'm assuming. Because while you're having fun doing whatever boring, loner, sad middle-aged men and women do on the weekend (probably playing World of Warcraft or something like that), you expect your students to do work? Fat chance. (I also think that the kid in the picture hates work as much as i do)
So anyway, it's the weekend. Yay.
Friday, May 14, 2010
making a blog
Alright, here goes nothing.
My friend has finally convinced me to make a blog. After much heated discussion as to what to name the actual fucking thing, I have actually completed every little step towards making a proper blog, which I'm sure NO ONE will read anyway. (Unless of course you have too much time on your hands. Go do a fucking jigsaw or something, geez...)So this marks the end of my first post.
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