Creepy baby rapists stalking me.

Today dad said I could take his car out for a spin if I walked the dog after. Fair deal I said and we shook on it.

I didn't crash dads car and returned home. Being a good girl, I held up my end of the deal and walked my dog. I walked to the corner shop and got candy to tempt little kids with. When I came up to the lights to cross the road. On the other side of the road there was someone with a pram with a baby in it. I could not tell the gender of the person.

Now I show with pictures.


Red cross is me. Green cross is creep with pram and blue dotty lines are the paths taken. I crossed the road, shown in the picture. Once over the road the genderless creep called out to me and waved. Since I had my earphones in I didn't hear their words, just mumble. Being polite, I smiled and waved back.


They crossed the road. Innocent enough. I mean, you gotta cross roads to get places. They called out again, again I just heard muffled noises. I walked slightly faster.


I got to the next set of lights I had to cross at. They were still behind me. I looked behind me and they were waiting to cross.


They crossed the road. At this point I realise they are most likely stalking me. I was fearing I'd be raped by some genderless creep and their baby.


I decided to find out if they were really following me, I went down a street that wouldn't be either of our regular paths. They followed me down it. I freaked out.


I walked around the side street in a big loop. They were definitely following me. I was going to die.

The purple in this next one is the route they took and the blue is the easiest route:

Clearly, if they wanted to get to the other point they would take the short, direct route, not fucked around following me.


They followed me right round and I freaked even more. The blue arrow represents 'RUN LIKE FUCK'.


I ran dangerously across the road and looked back. They were standing on the side of the road. Not crossing. Not moving, just standing. They waved. I waved back, being polite. They still stood there. I walked until they were out of my sight and I was out of theirs and safely got home with out them seeing where I lived.

No shit, I thought I was going to get raped and die. My dogs a pussy and would never defend me. I'm just so glad I got away from them. I have no idea who they are and why they followed me but I do know I want a rape whistle. My rape bells don't work that great.

The streets will never be safe again.

That paper gives me the right to terrorise the roads.

Last year, in October I believe, I passed my learners test. This gave me a license to drive with a fully licensed adult and learn to drive. This license had a picture. A brilliant picture might I add, one where I look like a severely pissed off hooker. The one who just missed out on a sale from an attractive young guy and now can't afford her daily dose of cocaine.
Sadly, I do not have it anymore.

Learning gave me many experiences. Right back at the beginning, first time I tried to drive up the driveway, I hit the fence. I was going 5km/h and only left a dent. Visually, it was only a little ding. Sadly, my amazing talent of fucking shit up came back to get me and it turns out I knocked the wheels out of alignment, fucked up an axle or something like that and damaged the cars internal computer. GO MICHELLE. $3600 worth of damages. Thank golly gosh for insurance otherwise I'd still be paying it off.
My mother has still not let this go. Even though I've conquered all sorts of stuff like parallel parking, hill starts and even BACKING up the driveway, she still freaks out whenever I drive with her in the car. It's annoying.

She always is on my dick, yelling at me when I mess up slightly. This does not help. While parking in a narrow spot, loud, abusive women are not appreciated. Yelling does not help, it makes it worse. Now I kick her out before parking.

I still stall occasionally. Once at the lights I stalled and missed the green light, and so did the impatient asshole behind me. He honked and used angry hand gestures. I hate assholes like him so next green light I move away slowly, stop and when the light goes orange I go around the corner, window down, middle finger out, feeling very proud. I purposely made that dick miss the second set of lights. Don't fuck with me, douche.

One time I was at the lights and stalled, missing the lights. Second set of lights, stall again, miss again. By this stage there is an 18 wheeler truck right up my ass, tailgating like all hell. Next set of lights, stall again, begin to break down because I think I suck. Truck practically touching my car. Mum tries to calm me while I complain about being a failure. Mum says calmly 'Knock it into neutral and then back to first' I do this, burst out laughing, see the green light and get through with no problem. I'd been trying to take off in third gear, which is impossible in mums car, but not dads as I learnt.

When cocky jaywalkers jump out infront of me, I speed up to scare them. I am reckless. It's fun to see them run from me when they realise I will plow them down.
I've always wanted to drive through a crowd and see who is smart enough to jump out of the way.

I went to my brothers school open night to pick him up. Parked in the school car park. Children everywhere. They never stop coming. I roll off slowly towards them, turning to direct myself out of the carpark. I had my intense face on that says 'I will run you mother fuckers down because I hate children'. They moved. I had some ninja side stepping along the fence to avoid my rage. I think I dinged one child. 100 POINTS ;D

Today was an exciting day. I've waited ages for this day. I get to go for my next license. I have to get up and ready before the time I'd be awake for school. I drive mum and dad over to the other side of town, throw mum out at work and drive all the way back over to the AA for my 9am driving exam.

The assessor comes over, he introduces himself and addresses me as Sarah. Anyone who knows me will know I only respond to Michelle or Sarah Michelle. I didn't want to correct him so I just adapted to responding to it. He introduces an oldish man wearing hardout rapist glasses. This creep is a trainee assessor. He gets to sit in the backseat and learn how to assess people.
We get in the car and I follow his directions. "Left here, Sarah" "Pull in here, Sarah"
By the end of it, I was only responding to Sarah. Michelle who?

I forgot sunglasses and it turned out to be the nicest day in ages. The sun was right in my eyes, blinding me. My eyes began to water and I was like to myself "I am going to go blind, crash and die" I am miss positivity.

20 minutes later we returned to the AA. He goes over with me where I went wrong and what I did well. He had his hand over my result. I was shaking and thinking "I failed. Oh shit. That's such a fail" He moved his hand to show a result of 88%. He pointed to it and said "This is what you want to see. Do you know what that means?" I was like "88 is bigger than 80 and you need 80 to pass so I passed?" He nodded and gave me a high 5. I got out of the car and went in with him while he filled out my temporary license. I left, grasping it in my hands, unlocked my car, tore down the L plates and had a party in my head.

Dad was off wandering. I found his and celebrated right after Facebook'ing and Tweeting my pass result.

Oh the joy of not having those L's.

Dad was like 'Do you like food?' I was like 'Duh' and then he ordered me to go to New World, where I work so he could buy food. I walk in there and get weird looks because it's school time and I should be in school.
We get food and go home.

School -_-

Home ;D

Daddy lets me drive his car for the first time ever. His accelerator is so touchy compared to mums.
Elliott comes over. I talk him into letting me drive his car. His accelerator is touchy too, but not as much as dads.
Although their indicators are wrong to me. Mums are on the left, every other car has them on the right. I wipe windscreens instead of indicate. I finish scarring people and here I am now.

I no longer need adult supervision while driving so road users, WATCH OUT.

Hair cuts and class with a little ass.

So I got a hair cut for the first time in like, years.
Then the next day was the formal.
At the formal I pretty much got labeled bisexual due to my friendly nature with females.
Grabbing boobs and ass is just how I roll. Even Elliott, my boyfriend, isn't too sure that I'm not bi.
Oh well, all good. Andog is joining us for a threesome. I love her.




My hair length before.


Aaaaand after.


Sexy webcam pictures with brother theeeeen....


Cherry red hair dye time ;D


Here it is all red and pretty.

Next day, formal day. I get to look pretty ;D


Here I am showing how amazing I can look in black and purple.


Sexiest photo of all for sure. I was laughing.


Here I am with my beautiful Andog.


Sexy as always. I have no shame.


I can't remember why I was being tolded off, but I was.


BOOB SHOT. Andog's boobs were just so gropeable.


There were no seats left so I sat on the floor. Everyone else was reluctant to join me.


They finally joined me and we got the looks because I eat with my fingers, got sauce everywhere and looked so informal.


I had a really fun night. I actually danced shamelessly. My feet were killing me but I just enjoyed myself and got frisky ;D I think I had my ass felt and boobs groped a couple of times. It doesn't bother me any more ;D
I was shattered afterward. I hope next year will be as fun.

Photographic shit.

Every so often I do something artistic. That is amazing considering I can barely draw a stick figure.



Here is a photo of me actually just tripping over. It looks clever and well captured but seconds later I was rolling in sandy water.


Here is a photo I captured at 8.15am in my little city. I was 15 minutes early so I took a photo from where I was sitting, munching on a cookie.


I hated this child. He hated me too but this photo was an accident and looked motherfudging awesome.


I'm just colourful. I did this out of boredom. Aren't I just the brightest spark in this dull world?


I stuck my dog up a tree FOR ART PEOPLE, FOR ART. He couldn't get down and I laughed.


Look. I can fly. I'm a real bird.



My dog looks intelligent. I love swimming in the gross Avon river with my dog. I end up smelling bad but it's good fun.



I have more but I can't be bothered and most of them are complete and utter vanity shots.

Life is like a pick and mix, you pick and ya mix.

I shall compiled just a bunch load of shit from my life. Funny shit and other shit. Just pick and mix basically.

To start off, an old rhyme with shit added ;D
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me.
Unless those words mess with my head
and make me wish that I was dead.
Then give me those sticks and stones.
I'd rather have the broken bones.

Today I had a chemistry exam and the only thing going on in my mind was Permanent December by Miley Cyrus.
It catchy but doesn't help me work out the mass of Silver Nitrate that will dissolve in 100ml of water at room temperature.
Yes Miley, you've been all around the world, yes Miley, they just aren't the same. Now Miley, tell me what sort of solid is Solid Z. Yes Miley, it is like a permanent December, yes Miley, it is colder than you remember and you wont let me go. Now Miley, molecular mass and empirical formula of antimony trioxide. Okay Miley. I'll leave the light on for you. Oh Miley, you've been to New York and LA? Did they have antimony trioxide there? You were wrong when you said you didn't need me? How sweet.
I did finish the exam and I think I did well. I understood it all. Antimony trioxide is Sb2O3 if you wanted to know.



Work. I have a job. Yes, someone employed me.
I'm a check-out chick. Oh the people you meet.

I have a Batman Band-Aid on my hand merely for decoration.
This guy came through my check-out and said
"What a cool Band-Aid!"
and to that I was all "I know! I'm not even hurt, I just wanted to wear the cool Band-Aid"
He was like "Some things are best left unsaid. At first I though 'Poor girl, got hurt, but HEY! She got a cool Band-Aid'. Now I'm thinking, 'Poor girl, she's lost her sanity'."
And he walked off. I felt told by a 50 something looking man.


I HAVE A BOOB SCAR.
Story of how I got it?

My cat likes to bury herself in the clothes in the wash bin in our bathroom. One time I stripped, got in the shower and a minute or so in my cat woke up, I hadn't realised she was hiding in there, she heard the water running and freaked out. She tried to climb out the bathroom window, but it was shut. She ended up getting stuck in the blinds. I sensed she needed help, being loving and all I jumped out of the shower, fully naked and dripping wet to go help her. SCREW TOWELS. I then learnt, cats hate water and nakedness. My naked body was covered in scratches and blood and my cat looked traumatized. And it scarred. Yeeeah.



Demon cat who hates naked and water!

Old guys hit on me. It's creepy.

Then there are the crazy bitches who want a motherfucking mop the only day we don't have motherfucking mops and has some super bitch freak out at me, as if it's my fault we don't have mop heads.




Sorry for a somewhat lame ass post. My mum's worried about my mental stability and I'm not in a good place at the moment. I'll try and be more creative. I'll go eat some shrooms or something, just to have some interesting shit to tell.
If I end up in a mental institution, I want you to know you've got to feed my cat. She'll die like my goldfish. Apparently food is important to goldfish. Who knew?

UPDATE: DUUUDE. Sucking on thumb tacks is a bad idea. I think I just got a tongue and cheek piercing. Goal: DON'T SWALLOW ANY! Ouch. The roof of my mouth just got stabbed.

Why my mother thought I'd end up an alcoholic serial killer

To your left, observe cute little blonde me and big tubby monster teenage me.
Opposite as it may seem, but my mother was far more concerned about the mental health of little me than she ever will of teenage or adult me.

Little wee Sarah Michelle really concerned her mother. Mother was certain I was going to grow up, end up in jail after a string of murders I'd committed while battling a serious alcohol problem.

This all started as a pre-walker. Those darling walkers you stick babies in so even when they flail their legs like a retard, they still move the little UFO shaped thing. If you're confused: http://www.newbornbabyzone.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/baby-walker.jpg <- That thing.
Anyway. I was a drunk walker child. I drove that thing with my legs, while trying to back up to get a better angle to terrorize my grandparents while making dinner, I backed up too far and fell backwards down the door steps. This probably brain-damaged me.

Being a slow child, behind in everything (I mean everything. I was bald until I was 1) another concerning thing for my mother was my first word. Most babies say something cute like mummy or daddy or their siblings name, but not me. I was different. I observed my mother like a hawk, apparently. My parents are the sort to just say 'shit' casually. After many attempts to get me to say mummy or daddy and even animal names and such, they thought I was just set up to be retarded. At dinner, mum put my wee bowl of food up on my high chair and had her dinner on the table. She turned to feed me and knocked some food off her plate onto the floor and muttered 'Oh shit'. I was destined to be awesome, as soon as the food incident occured I picked up my bowl, tossed it over the edge, looked over casually at the mess I made, looked at my mothers disappointed stare, dead in the eyes and said 'Oh shit'. Mum knew this was only the beginning.

When I was two, it was summer and dad was drinking cold beer out on the deck. He opened a new bottle and put it down and went inside to pee. By the time he came back, I'd managed to drink the entire bottle of beer. As a two year old, I was very much a lightweight. I was one drunk ass baby, even stupider than usual. Clearly this was not good. Most babies can't even direct a glass bottle into their mouth. This sent alarm bells to my mother. Everytime daddy had beer, I knew what it was and wanted some. Alcohol became well hidden and consumed only when I was not in the room or anywhere near it. I wonder what my little baby hang over felt like...

At the age of 3, my parents decided they loved me enough and popped out the little brother I begged for. After inspecting the little smelly bundle or joy, I looked my mum dead in the eyes and said "I don't want it anymore. You can take it back" Clearly I was hard to please. Unless that screaming shit maker was bringing me beer, I didn't want him. Anyways. We ended up keeping him and I somewhat grew attached to it. I was either late 3's or early 4's when the next incident occurred. Mum doesn't remember my age, but that thing she didn't take back was between 8 and 11 months old. He was crying because I was playing with him and left him in a corner. I climbed up the bench, I was a climber; part monkey, and got the new can of fly spray. I was excited to find out what it was. I strutted back into the lounge where I'd left my victim, he was still in the corner, and I went right up to him and began to empty the can of fly spray into his face. Mum was used to crying, but she'd never heard battle cries like this and came running from the shower, in a towel. Realizing that her darling daughter was pretty much trying to murder her stinky son, she was freaked out. My brother was losing the ability to breathe and I lacked empathy. After a doctors visit, he was declared fine, just probably mentally scarred.

Mum says that all of my childhood, I showed no empathy. I lacked emotion towards other things and people, so much she was genuinely concerned. After the attempted murder, she was even more concerned for my future. Was I going to end up a serial killer with a drinking problem and a gutter mouth who can't back up a car?

A string of other events happened in my colourful childhood. I still make my mum wonder if I'm okay mentally, but I haven't killed anyone recently and bring home good school marks that show I will go great intelligent places in my life.

Right now, all that scares her is the fact I can drive and I'm bloody close to sitting my next driving exam. I mean, I'm not that bad, I only hit the fence once and it only cost $3600 to repair. Not that bad.

I have many more great experiences to have and many more chances to make my mother fear my existence.

A bitchin' problem.

I hate people.
This is all.

Deep pee diving.

3.45AM, the overwhelming pressure in my bladder warns me 'Get yo ass out of this comfy ass bed and pee or risk waking up in your own urine' I roll out of bed and grab my phone to use as a light. Once at my peeing destination I place my phone where it usually sits, on a small window ledge. Once finished expelling urine from my bladder, I stand up, pull up my pants and grab my phone.

Photo to your left, Phoney and I bonding at the seaside park or a kiddie ride on thing

Okay. I didn't actually grab my phone. I kind of may have dragged it with my fingers, expecting to pick it up, but noooo, I flung it and it went straight into the urine and toilet paper filled toilet I hadn't flushed yet. I freak, throw myself on the ground and take my hand DeepPeeDiving for my baby phone, only realising afterward that I would end up covered in my own urine. Being smart and feeling sorry for my phone, I wash my hands and phone under tap water. I don't want a pee smelling phone.

The screening went a funny inverted colour but no matter how hard I smacked the buttons, I couldn't reply to a text.

I rip my baby apart and collapse to the floor with a towel, drying my darling. I remove the sim card, memory card, battery, everything. I shake him like a dog to get the water out and smack myself in the face. Genius. I rush him to the boiler cupboard and look frantically for rice, which I read a few days ago helps dry phones out if you place them in a place of dry rice. None. Just the only week we don't have rice.

I must have woken my brother because he's looking at me, confused and zombie like. Doesn't help I have no pants on and I'm wearing his hoodie. He offers me his phone to check if the sim card works and thank fucking god, it worked.
I sent my text and retreated to my room, where I sit like a crazed old lady, fearing for the life of my phone.

6.15AM I finally nod off. 9.30AM I wake up and run out to see if my baby has regained life. I stick the battery in and nothing except some crazy non-stop vibrating. This is not healthy. I look down in sadness. Is my baby going to make it? I mean he survived a lot. Stair throwing, falling 8 metres at the tender age of 2 weeks, to concrete. Playing bounce the phone. I torture phones.

Oh please, phone baby, pull through. My money in savings is to get a car, not replace some idiot DeepPeeDiver.

Oranges and rapists. Vitamin C and sperm.

Welcome to my first blog post. I sure hope you folk enjoy this.
Take time to read it please. I'll give you a cookie ;D

Late on a Wednesday night, wide awake as my brilliant mind told me drinking caffeinated energy drinks at 11.30PM was a grand idea, but instead it just left me wide eyed and twitchy.
I trolled Facebook trying to entertain myself and came across a status update about oranges. Immediately I craved an orange, which is odd because I'm not that much of an orange fan.
Remembering we have oranges in the fruit basket on the kitchen bench, I skip out there, skipping quietly past my parents bedroom.
Not bothering to turn on the light, I keep walking, arms flailing like a blind person. My hand slams into the side of the bench top with force and I have to suppress all the loud bad words.
I grab an orange and skip back to my room. I spend ages working out how to get it naked. I claw at the skin, almost giving up when it tears. I silently celebrate. Once I strip it of it's skin, I try to pull a segment out gently, but noooo, it tears and throws sticky manly orange juice at my laptop keyboard and screen. Like a smart person, I rub the juice in but that just makes it worse. I give up and just attack the orange with my teeth rabidly. I quickly discover my lips are chapped by the way the oranges acidity burns like a mofo. I reach for my chapstick and apply it liberally then return to murdering the devil fruit. Quickly I feel the pain again but I'm a real man and keep going and endure the pain until the orange is completely eaten. I use my sleeve to clean my face and laptop before reapplying the chapstick.

2 hours later, it's 2.15AM and I'm boredboredbored. Feeling rebellious, I put on some track pants and a hoodie, slip on a pair of flats and walk right out my front door. I walk to the end of my street, feeling brave. I turn down towards the river and stay on the side of the road which is well lit. Freaked out slightly but the idea of rapists, I walk swiftly, occasionally breaking into a run. Everytime a car approaches I hide and hope they don't stop and kidnap me. I cross the bridge and walk down a well lit side street. I realise the other side of the road is a park full of bushes. I hear a noise, look and see a bush move. I RUN LIKE FUCK AWAY FROM THERE. I decide the safest option is to walk down the alleyway leading to a well lit street instead of walking past the park again, all I need to do is walk down a small street. I brush past a flax bush, making it rustle and think there's a rapist. I RUN LIKE FUCK and make it to the street I was looking for. I walk with confidence, so the rapists will fear me. I murmur "Fuck you, motherfucking rapists don't motherfucking well rape me" in a very manly gangsta voice. It worked, no one jumped out of any bushes. I turn down a dark, scary looking 'hood' street as it's my way home. I chant my anti-rape chant a lot. It worked. I remain unraped. I put my hood up to make sure I look scary and manly. I walk past a tall fence, startling a dog who makes noise and I sprint faster than I've ever sprinted before. I make it home from my scary adventure and fall asleep pretty much instantly, dreaming of all the motherfucking rapists I scared with my manly chants.

I don't think I'll go rapist scaring again anytime soon. That shit's scary.