Hooker hunting and hang-over food.

So last night I stayed at my friends house. Her parents are overseas and her sister ditched to go to her friends for the night, leaving us to do whatever the hell we wanted.
In our city, there is a street well known for hookers, Manchester St. We decided we'd go hooker hunting.
We hopped into my car and took off for town. We organised to meet 2 of our friends in town.
We picked them up. 2 guys, both over 6ft, Steven, a loud ginga and Cheyanne, has a lisp.
They are two awesome guys. We cruised up to Manchester preparing to go down hooker hunting.
Steven and Cheyanne rolled down the windows and each one they saw they yelled something at.
"BARE MY CHILDREN!"
"CAN YOU NAME ALL YOUR STI'S?"
"IF I HAD MONEY I'D PICK YOU UP'
And there were billions more. I'd never seen so many whores in my life. There were shemales and fat hookers too. We saw one who was actually really decent looking and we slowed down and told her she was the nicest looking hooker we'd ever seen. She smiled and thanked us.

We went up and down Manchester a few times and saw one or two get picked up. It was exciting.

Sadly, we had to drop Steven and Cheyanne off.

We had to yell things ourselves on the way home. It was still good fun.

We got home just before the 'No cruising' time came into play so we were okay.


This morning we woke up, hungry as all hell and nothing in the house to eat. We got in the car and went to McDonald's to grab some breakfast. We realised we must have looked tragic and I think everyone at the drive thru thought we were grabbing our hangover food. Sunday mornings are when drive thru's get have to satisfy their hungover customers. Even though we hadn't even had a sip of alcohol, we still felt like we were classed as hungover by them.

All in all, it was a great hooker hunting night. We decided we have to do it again sometime soon, make a habit out of it.

Trashy beauty.

Occasionally I write.
Inspired by a writing exercise in English, I ended up writing this next piece.
What people wrote as a happy beach scene, I wrote as one of utter despair and true beauty.
Reading it would mean a lot to me.
It has a small, yet simple moral.


Sharp bullets of sand, shot at my bare legs by the icily chilled wind, sting my delicate, pale skin. Sea spray adds a salty taste to the mid-winter air. My thin cotton dress waves violently in the wind. Long, curly copper hair repeatedly impairs my vision. Gentle rain cleanses my tear stained face. Little shards of glass try to embed themselves in the soles of my feet as I walk. Behind me, a trail of little blood spots. Above me, a grey, dismal sky inhabiting a few brave, screeching seagulls. The wind, raging in anger, throws sea spray and loose sand at me, as if telling me to leave. I am alone. No one walks along the beach on a day like this. I walk out into the shallow, yet angry sea water. Salt water stings my battered feet, yet the pain only pleasures me. Sea water, so cold my feet numb quickly. The waves crash, metres from me and I feel the water rush over my feet and ankles. I take in a heavy breath of the chilled, salty air, shut my eyelids over my terrified, depressed green eyes and throw myself into the surf. My body freezes in the painfully cold water. With the little strength left in me, I drag my limp body up the soaked, brutally cold shore. No longer in the water, but still drenched, covered only by a short, strapless and now completely sodden cotton dress. My weak legs struggle under my shaking body as I climb to my feet. I secretly wished the ocean had been more violent, dragged me out, and damaged me. Standing, only just, my legs about to fall from under me, I know I’m only doing this in an attempt to harm myself. Mad at life, I begin walking towards the pier, weak legs, stumbling along, intending to end my suffering in a short few minutes. I have never learnt to swim, so I doubt that I’ll be able to fight the water. I reach my pathetic, thin arm out and my shaking hand latches onto the railing of the staircase that will lead to the end of my suffering. I take my first step with little hesitance, almost with excitement. I feel something brush the back of my leg, I turn swiftly to see littered sand. Colourful packaging, bright rubbish and glittering junk create a decorative wasteland. I lower myself onto the step and sit and stare in awe. I look behind me, up to the pier and my eyes dash along to the end. I could be there; I could turn around and finish what I started. I quickly look back over to the wasteland. Rays of sunlight break through the clouds sparsely, reflecting off the decorative litter. A small smile plays on my lips, first in a while. I no longer wish to continue up the stairs, instead I realize what I live for, I live for the beauty in the little things. Finding beauty in what would otherwise be considered trash. My life, made worthwhile by one of the most unlikely things, an admiration for the trashy beauty of which, would be considered by most, as an atrocious mess, but by me as, a piece of beauty. If I can see beauty in rubbish, people can find beauty in me and I can keep discovering beauty in the most unlikely places.


Moral? There is beauty in everything, even if you have to look, it's there.


I might share some other writing of mine another time.

Hiding out in hills with babies and murderous assholes.

Recently I've been ill. I've had nausea, light headedness, been quite anti-food, set off easily by smells and stomach pains.
All these are symptoms experienced in pregnancy, in particular, morning sickness.
A few people have said 'You could be pregnant, you know' Thanks for scaring me guys.
Most people know I don't really like children. I'm one of the few females who find babies ugly and repulsive.
I've always said 'If I get pregnant I'm aborting that mofo straight up'

Last night I had a dream. In my dream all my illness turned out to be a pregnancy. I thought long and hard in my dream and decided to go through with the pregnancy and promised my child to my friend, Hannah, who absolutely loves babies. I got a shock at their birth, I ended up having twins, a boy and a girl. Immediately I fell in love with them. My babies were beautiful. Even though frowned upon for being a 16 year old mother, I showed everyone my twins proudly. I told Hannah I wanted to keep them and she didn't like that. She tried to steal them but I was so attached to them. They were my darlings. I wasn't giving them up. I ended up hiding out in the hills with just me, my baby daddy and my twins.

This dream honestly has changed me. Doesn't sound like much, but it's changed my view point. I feel now, if I did get pregnant, that I'd have trouble even considering abortion. It kind of made me want to get pregnant and have my own twins for real. I still hate children, but my children will be beautiful and decent, unlike everyone elses. It really has effected my view on having children. I'll have one, Vixi-Cobalt Canberra or Cobalt Dallas Cobalt is a pretty name.



On another note, I almost got murdered today.
Hannah (The baby snatcher) and I were waiting to get on a bus. This crazy guy got off and just pushed through everyone. Like, completely recklessly. Everyone watching him walk away with an expression that said 'That guys a douche'. I said out loud to all these people I don't know 'Clearly, he's a dick' but it wasn't loud enough for him to hear.
Hannah commented on his lack of a belt 'I can see his underwear'
He turned around, it was pretty much impossible he heard Hannah's comment but he turned around. He started walking towards all of us waiting to get on the bus. I saw this crazed glare in his eyes. I desperately tried to board the bus A.S.A.P but he made it to us before I could. He clenched his hand into a fist and swung his arm at me and Hannah. We both ducked and missed it. Everyone looked at us. He tried to kill us! I could have died. I got on the bus before he could make it back for another go. It actually terrified me.
I'm never making fun of anyone ever again!

A slice of the life.

My life has been average to me.
Injuries and running down children. Just the norm.
I've been having to wear a support bandage on my wrist since monday.
It hurt all of monday then at work I lifted something heavy and it snapped out of underneath and hurt like a mofo.
It hurt so bad for 3 days I needed mummy to do my bra up for me.

Heeeey sexy. Nice wrist support. My chest support is sexier. We'll stop at that...

But before that I got into an epic fight in the shower, naked and soaking. Blood everywhere. I also looked like a whore.

Hey you bloody whore.

Then I had quality time with my cat, Mia Jezzabelle.


Cat's don't make good scarves.


A montage of Mia and I. That's her happy face. She didn't claw me, noooo...

Then today, the moment I've been waiting for.... MY PLASTIC LICENCE.
I look like a depressed semi-suicidal chipmunk!
Better than my last one where I look like a severely pissed off prostitute who had her crack stolen and had to have sex with dirty old men to buy more and she doesn't like dirty old men or the high price of crack.


FEAR THE ROADS. Suicidal chipmunks are on them.

I had the chance to run down several children. PICTURE TIME :D




So I am driving down the road to pick mum up from work and I have do do 5km to avoid leaving children imprinted on the road. In the car with me is my brother. I, the driver, have this crazed look on my face and my brother and I keep yelling out about how many points I could score killing each child. I yell "BONUS 500 IF I MAKE THE GINGER BOUNCE OFF THE CAR" and my brother's like "BONUS 2000 IF YOU GET HIS PARENTS TOO"
I'm pretty sure people could hear us. I was getting all these weird looks from parents cheering their horrid children on.
I resisted the urge to floor it and watch their tiny pathetic bodies bouncy off my windscreen.
I made it into mums works car park and speed up to 10km which feels like speeding. Then I park in the car park labeled 'President' so I proclaim I'm Obama to everyone I see. Then explain to mum how she is now Obama's mother.
I steal a drink out of the fridge and bags not driving home.

That was my week in a nutshell.

The biggest reason I hate society.

Piece of my mind time.

Sarah Michelle is very passionate when she believes in something.
Gay rights I have a lot to say on.

Let's get this straight, gay people are people too. I believe they are my equals. I treat them exactly the same as everyone else. I have no idea why the hell people are so dead set in believing homosexuality is bad.

The Bible says it's a sin? Oh fuck the bible. You know what else the bible says? It says women are not allowed to speak in churches, their place is to sit and listen, their words shall not be heard within a church. Now their are women who are the people who speak in churches and educate church-goers. It also states any women found to be be a non-virgin on their wedding night will be stoned to death on the door step of her fathers house by all the men in the town the following day. If that happened in this day and age it would be found to be disgusting and completely immoral.
There are many more that in this day and age would be considered utterly wrong.
So the Bible is against homosexuality? It's also against women having short hair cuts.
Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve?
Well, why don't over half of all females get stoned to death the day after their wedding night?
The bible is all for that too.
No one takes notice of all the now considered immoral shit in the bible but anything about homosexuality is analyzed beyond belief.
Oh, you don't like gay people? How about I stone you to death after your wedding night.


Okay, enough biblical shit.
What's up with people saying 'That's so gay' and using 'gay' as an insulting word?
Oh, but I want to stab people in the face when they say 'That's homo'.
I can restrain myself when it's gay but homo sets me off on a flying lecture rampage of verbal violence.
Since when did gay mean lame, stupid, dumb etc? It used to mean happy. Now it's so derogatory.
How come someones sexuality, which you don't actually choose, is also now an insult?
I may not be gay, but I'm offended when people use it as an insulting term.

Gay marriage?
I believe everyone has the right to marriage. Marriage shouldn't be between a man and a woman.
It should be between two people who love each other. Regardless of gender.
Love knows no bounds.
Same-sex couples should have the same right to fall in love, get married, fight about everything and end up wanted a divorce a.s.a.p just as much as any man-woman couple.

Ewww. It's wrong. Sex is between a man and woman to create a baby because that's what nature intended.
Not every couple is in it for children. Sex is no longer for baby making, sex is between two people for their own desires. No one should say what's right or wrong to do with our bodies. They are our bodies. If you want sex with your same-sex partner, by all means, do! If sex was only allowed for making a baby, then no forms of contraceptive would be legal. Not many people will have only ever had sex for the baby it may create. 90% of sex is merely for the pleasure of both parties. No couple has only had sex each time they want a child and not for pleasure.


Love is a beautiful thing. It's just as beautiful between a homosexual couple as it is between a heterosexual couple.
I just wish society would share this view with me.
It's scary the way we're all becoming raging homophones.
Most of the time I feel like the only person who feels this way.
Just imagine if you were frowned upon for who you are.

Thanks (: I could write for ever on this subject but I'll leave it at this for the moment.