SWEET ONE NINE

Nineteen is the number for Potassium. Fuck my birthday. Celebrate Potassium.

Good goodness

I think my Human Resource teacher has a fear of contracting Legionella. She keeps the A/C on and tells us that we either freeze or it's a Legionella party. Air has to circulate and blah blah, you know. I totally understand, I mean if it were a different situation involving spiders and or mould I'd sacrifice everyones comfort so that I wouldnt have to face those two god damn things. Monday mornings are going to be cold, but at least we wont have severe fevers, bum kidneys, delerium and find ourselves pissing out of our assholes 349857 times in the day.

She let's us eat in class and if she ever changed her mind about that then I'd be fucking pissed.



[UPDATE] THE CA$HBACK FUCKING WORKED! HUZZAH!

The Richardsons

Kinokuniya is a bookstore with almost every book you could ever think of.

Terry Richardsons books cannot be found at Basement Books at rock bottom prices. But it's totally worth it. Terryworld was right in front of me and all I wanted to do was grab the book and do a runner. If you know me in real life you'll know that Terry Richardson happens to be my favourite point + shoot photographer. I was won over by the Sisley campaigns. They were raw as fuck. Back to the the book, it was all wrapped up in a thin film of plastic to stop filthy paws, like mine, flipping through it and probably so some curious and quizzical child flips through the adventures of Terrys manhood.

It won't take long to have my hands on this book. I hope I didn't just jinx myself then.

Now onto the late Bob Richardson. So my friend and I realise that we have more time to kill and since Kinokuniya is the place of endless books, why don't we look for Bob Richardsons book. Success. Huge book with amazing photographs of Mr. Richardsons work throughout the 60's and 70's (appearances by Angelica Huston) and towards the end, some family photos. Fashion photography at it's best.

Oh and this book gave me a papercut, so I'm definitely getting it now.

Good things come to those who drivel.

A night in the city with good people is a great way to wrap up three weeks of no-TAFE.
There is a day between my sleep-in days and my get-up-at-5am days. I'm going to spend it well and I don't even know how. I should probably clean more of my shoes.

Wow, my Father just drunk dialed me.

Anyway, I like to think that these past three weeks have been productive. Except of course that part where I fuck up $100 cashback claim. NEVERTHELESS, it's been eventful. Just in case I'm asked "Oh Kristine, let's smalltalk, how was your break?" I can confidently compile and deliver several tangible moments.

Oh and that USB I lost? http://hurrahhuzzah.blogspot.com/2008/05/string-of-unfortunates.html

Found. Too fucking late.

Let the wild rumpus start

I cannot wait til this beauty comes out in 2009.


I remember reading the book in primary school and so badly wanting to be Max and have this fucking wolf suit. I still want it. I want to nap in it, head down to the shops for lunch in it, roll in fields- all that shit and more.

Alrighty, let us move on. Today I have errands. I figure listing them must be boring and posting pictures is even more pointless and a little lame. But oh what the fuck eh?


Wash this

Wash that

Hang this

Remove that. The fuck is it doing in a tree anyway?

Hide this

Organise that

and that

Try this

Eat that

Vanessa Hudgens should have used a better camera. Like The Cybershot DSC-T2 digital camera.

Hey Sony! That was a shameless product endorsment. Send the merchandise my way.

Anyway, overcoming my irrational fear of spiders is a tough as shit task. Googling "Big Spiders" and enduring page after page of pictures, well I thought, would be the start of a cure. I think i've moved backwards. I think spiders are misunderstood creatures. I'd like to look at one and stare in awe and admire it's beauty rather than swear at it and look crazy to the neighbours. They're scarier than Disneys cavalier response to Vanessa Hudgens leaked photos. She's still in High School Musical 3. I guess shes in it for the long run. You know, when it's like the 4th sequel and they're still singing and dancing about how they don't want to sing and dance. Never. Gets. Old. Wait..where am I going with this?

Fuck it.

Anyway, onto other news, the Pope and his posse of celebates are in town. It's kind of cute how excited they are. What's not cute, are those fucking flags that they carry around. That shit is bound to skewer a couple of civillians.


I digress.



Bye.

To all of you, one of you..none of you?

Today was just surreal. I've heard about how bad CityRail trains are, believe me I understand. Today..today was just my day, my ticket to witness the height of human failure.

So we start off with my dinky little self on the way to the station, to catch my train home. I'm tired, grumpy, in need of a good shower. 5 minutes til my next train. Seeing that 5 minutes turn into 60 minutes really grinds my womanhood. Some idiot decides to take a walk on the platforma sandwich and a diet coke later, I am now back to 5 minutes. I'm just tired, I and throws the train schedule into this whirlwind of fuckshit. So a couple of cigarettes, did not want to deal with World Youth Day youths scurrying around me breathing their excitement all over my big bowl of fuckoff.

That 5 minutes turns into 10 minutes.

I honestly thought that my rage and frustration would result in a nose bleed or early period. Either way, I expected something to start bleeding.

Train comes and I fall asleep. Waking up here or there just to make sure that some thief hasnt nicked my handbag or a random mongatard feeling me up. My stop comes and I feel like i've "recharged" and I make my way up to the door and realise that there is this fucking untolerable smell. Trains get smelly, this was different. I found the source, shit. Fecal matter in a coffee cup with the lid just carefully placed next to it. The train is air-conditioned, so you can't crack a window open and give your olfactory senses a chance to recuperate, just sit through the next station with the re-circulating air.


So before you complain about rail officers, delayed trains, packed trains, broken seats, trains littered with MX papers etc. just remember this entry. Unless you have sat through a closed-off carriage, with a coffee cup ticked latte, only the latte is finished and the consumer decided to leave his/her own stool sample, then you've had an amazing journey home.

Dumbfuckery

I may have lost the chance to claim $100 from Acers cashback crap. God. It does not feel good. Nauseating.

Moving on from my pathetic actions, I stop by Basement Books when i'm trying to kill time, when i'm in the city. I came across some Journal for cheap and thought i'd grab it then and there before I decide to come back another day, only to books with unrealistic families picnic-ing with puppies. 120+ blank pages waiting for me and my felt tip to scribble magic. Adrian Tomine's illustrations on the corner or at the top of every page. It's kind of perfect.

The cover caught my eye, I happend to be passing by the stationary section and found this gem wedged between flowery, glittery notepads and A-Z telephone books decorated with nauseating swirls of pastel colours.

So i'm going to leave it here. Head off to this amazing little book and pen down some of my disturbing and dark feelings towards my $100 loss.

Rabble Rabble Rabble

Bless these Swedes. They're making my time before day time soap operas magnificent.

Divinity

Goodbye IBM ThinkPad, Hello Acer. Me and this old piece of shit called my laptop have quite a history. Comical even. I'm not going to lie, i'll half miss this archaic distaster.

By the way, this bitch is in for the Diploma. Five more months of solid studying and tanning on level 2. Reminds me to go swing by the info office and get me a concession pass. My non-existent income and ShittyRail prices just don't mesh, you know?

I'm going to celebrate my moving on with a platter of these babies

Shit is so divine.