Tag Archives: I am a seahorse. I live in a tree.

If this post were any more hip, it would be wearing a skirt.

Hello.

It’s been so long since I’ve last posted, my blog is practically underground. Why, Mainstream (that’s you, by the way), because I’ve been too busy bathing in golden afternoon light, drinking at that coffee shop with a particular air of pretentiousness and filtering my amateur (albeit ridiculously artistic) pictures of arb objects to worry about such carnal frivolities.

Blogging = Self loving = Carnal Frivolity.

In fact, I do not partake in any carnal frivolities. My dress sense does not hint at the slightest bit of sensuality, just try finding my boobs under this vintage waterfall t shirt, I dare you.

Expensive brands? NO WAY HOMIE. I fashion my own wares. I call this one “Whimsical”:

 Notice how I avoid eye contact? I’m portraying “ethereal” which is just a lank fancy term for “too good for you”. Please, don’t ask me why I’m wearing pointless knee pads, if you have to ask, it means that you have no hope of being as awesome as I am.

See this? This is what awesome looks like.

Sometimes I dabble in music. By dabbling, I mean collecting names of pointless bands that sound a lot like another famous band but are too busy rolling in grass and drinking conflict free green tea to bother with pointless things like making money.

Money? Who needs money? Who needs a career? I am an adventurer of life. I write my poetry on coffee stained napkins and throw them to the wind!

I’d recite a poem here but I threw all my napkins away and frankly, I don’t think you’d get it.

Have you lived, Mainstream? I mean, really lived? Have you ever looked at the clouds with the soundtrack of Simon & Garfunkel playing in the background? They made some good shit, those Simon and Garfunkel fellows. So unlike this poppy, flashy trash that you hear on the radio. I don’t even own a radio, I just make mixed tapes. Don’t ask me for a copy, I’ll cut you with the splinters from my wooden iPad case. But listen, cut down on the voilence please, this is not an xBox game. The only game I play is the game of life, and I’m so winning. Not that I care about winning…

Gravity doesn’t even phase me. Just look at this lovely photo. Does it look like I’m concerned about that pendant hitting my face? HELL NO! All I care about is the feel of the wind through my recently washed (organic avocado shampoo only please) hair.

You know who really had it going on? Those people from the 70’s. They’re like, totally my idols, or something… If I allowed myself to have idols.

I don’t even watch that crappy Idols show on MNet, that’s how anti-idol I am. Your life just sickens me, Mainstream. I can’t even stand to blog at you right now.

Hey… your dad is from the 70’s…

Is he single?

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How do I write a blog post without sounding like a total bitch?

So I haven’t written on here for a while because I suck. No really, I’m not even going to come up with excuses, I’m not going to tell you that my job is like running up a hill, being chased by Justin Bieber while a subsequent crowd of rabid Bieber fans run after him AND IN THE BACKGROUND, REBECCA BLACK SINGS ABOUT FRIDAY OVER AND OVER UNTIL YOU MEMORISE ALL THE DAYS OF THE WEEK. That’s possibly the worst scenario ever.

Anyway, to the point – Out of nowhere, this happens:

Firstly, Ew.

Secondly, there’s not enough breast-milk to feed this much of douchebag.

I’m sure this happens on a daily basis. At any given time, girls breasts are at risk of being dry-humped by dudes with lactose deficiency. But enough is enough, I’ve had it with these guys, the ones that hoot when I’m walking to the hairdresser, minding my own business. The ones that think that calling me ‘sweetness’ or ‘baby’ or ‘sexy’ is somehow going to get me to do 100 naked push-ups on their livingroom carpet. If you, reader, know of or are one of these guys (or girls, depending), this post is for you.

1: Sexy without subtlety is cheap

I know we women like our guys to be ‘in control’ and ‘affirmative’, but what we don’t say is that you have to beat around the bush for EONS until you get any actual bush (or branches, as is the style these days). The instant strong-armed approach only works 2% of the time, so making your instantaneous boning intentions known is probably going to backfire on you. Flatter, placate, be coy, walk away. Suspense mode: ON

2: Be present for the actual flirtation

Scenario: Attractive female walks along street, oozing Sophia Loren attitude, you see her, and in your mind, you go like this…

So naturally, you do what any guy in your situation would do.. Rev your engine, turn up the music, hoot and proceed to drive away in the most show-offy manner you possibly can. I don’t know how you expect Sophia Loren to be impressed by this if you’re driving off while she’s being enveloped in a cloud of your testosterone-flavoured dust.

Seriously, why do guys do this?

3: We really don’t care about if your card sparkles more than Edward in the sunlight.

Sometimes, you’ll meet a really nice girl who is more interested in you than your bank account. This may not apply to every girl, each to her own and whatnot, but flashing your wealth without being coerced to is a free passport to Tackyville in which you’re the sole applicant for mayorship. Sure, money is important, so is a personality. Close your wallet and grow one.

4: I like that! What? YOU DON’T? Mmm. I don’t think I like it anymore…

Don’t do this. Someone that does not stand by their convictions just to impress or to avoid conflict goes does not a good impression make.

5: Read the situation

Pay attention! Words betray body movements. If she maintains eye contact along with boundless smiles: #winning. If she’s agreeing with one word answers and looking at the shoes on the girl in the dress that totally does not go with said shoes, you lost her. See what I did there? Exactly.

6: The object of your affections is NOT YOUR PREY.

Do not back them into a corner, do not act as if they’re the kill you’ve just dragged from the unhinged-jaws of a zombie (unless you’re the hero in this situation, then by all means). Tease, don’t crowd. This is not an orgy.

7: If you want to talk to me about your gym sessions, expect to be hearing about my pathetic love of cats and shoes.

Flirty conversation should be light and general. If you’re picking me up at a gym or I indicate that it interests me, this would be the sole time that a gym related conversation would be applicable. Similarly, if you strike up a conversation about shoes, we would… wait, then you’re probably gay.

8:Flatter flatter. Lie lie. THIS TIME I’M SERIOUS DAMNIT!

“No” or “I’m not interested” does not mean “try until you make me say yes”.

9: If you want to pick up chicks, do not read The Game

South African woman are born with a bullshit detector, I know this because I’ve seen one of the classic ‘seduction’ moves in action multiple times, failed. If you’re approaching flirtation as science instead of art, you might have to work on your interpersonal skills. Natural charm trumps rehearsed gimmics/tricks every time.

 

So… yeah.

I probably bitch level-upped after this post.

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I don’t love you, dear reader.

I would like to say that I don’t blog because I’m too busy. I could even settle for ‘I have no drama to blog about’, but; with 2 break-up/make-ups, pending parental divorce, the wallowing pit of depression that is unemployment, a quarter life crisis AND absolute elation in finding my way out – my life is anything but drama-less. The fact is, my mind is a plethora of highs and lows just waiting to splatter itself on a screen and wiggle their way into the innocent mind of my reader.

Readers: THAT is the problem. I used to enjoy writing when nobody read my blog, offering sexual favours to my bf if he promised to. Social media erupted and when I decided to leak my blog on twitter, I was taking a leap of faith. A faith that people would see my work for what it was, ramblings from a nonsensical girl on their screen. We shared good times, uplifting ones even. Now that I have regular visitors, I find myself re-thinking the amount of crap I want to share. Unfortunately, this is entirely my fault. I started writing in a clever/sarcastic tone and assumed the reader would pick up on my breadcrumb trail. I have raised the monkey bar for myself and I’m afraid I can’t reach it.

My blog writing process:

I think I have blog writing performance anxiety.

If I was a dude, I’d totally suck at it.

Heh.
Nevermind.

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Schwoar Harold! That zombie almost looks real!

Date: 31/12/2011

The world celebrates the dawn of a new year. Jocks, hotties and other semi-cool people are celebrating with copious amounts of alcohol, karaoke, dancing and picture taking. Almost everyone is doing it, even that Joey guy from Friends. Whatever happened to him anyway? Oh, no-one cares about Joey, his hair doesn’t glisten half as much as Rachel’s. Damn that Rachel.

Somewhere, in the basements/attics/3rd bedrooms of parent’s houses around the world, sits lonely late-20-somethings,  frenzied with scouring the internet for hentai porn, playing World of Warcraft or homing in on their Guitar Hero skills. These people are the scourge of society, your boss or that guy you’ve been flirting with for over a month – ladykiller765.

In the midst of their revelry, something tragic happens to all the socialites of the world. Dr X, an evil mastermind tripping on peyote, accidentally transmits an ultra high frequency sound-wave that triggers a part of people’s brains that turns them into FLESH EATING ZOMBIES. Unawares to the mayhem occurring around them, the nerds, geeks and miscellaneous misfits remain unaffected, safe within the protective layer of their noise canceling headphones. I know what you’re thinking. What about the deaf people Miss blog writer person? You doubt the genius of Mr X. Don’t get all stroppy with me!

The fate of humanity lies in the hands of ladykiller765 and the like. Who will save our species? Who will boldly go where none have gone before? Who will turn off the LHC? Who will blog about the event?

GEEKS or NERDS? WHO WILL SURVIVE A ZOMBIE ATTACK?

One whose IQ exceeds his weight. Places much value on learning the technicalities on almost every subject without feeling the need to put this knowledge into practice. Ignored by society, the nerd becomes a hermit, sharing his thoughts with a select group of individuals, usually using the internet as a medium of communication. Nerds have little to no social skills, possibly eliminating the likelihood of procreation through ‘traditional’ means. The nerd is ill-equipped to defend himself, though is not a novice in terms of knowing what it’s like to be a victim. This may or may not be considered as an advantage. Easily identifiable by his attire, demeanor and reliance on medical apparatuses which often leads to him being the butt-end of the joke. Unless the zombies have a wicked sense of humour and an acute case of  jock-syndrome, it is unlikely that the nerd will be the victor, though he will be able to explain his demise in clinical detail.


Not necessarily as smart as a nerd. One that puts on the façade of superior intelligence through  fixating on a certain type of genre that does not fall within social norms. Not as inept as his nerdy counterparts, the geek’s social prowess ranges from zero-Pete Cashmore. The geek is able to use his technical skills to his advantage, depending on his chosen genre. Therefore, a fitness geek might be more capable to defend himself than a portable geek, a special-effects geek might get too distracted by the realism of the zombies, missing the opportunity to flee or a die-hard video game geek might know all the tricks of the trade.  Most geeks possess a certain amount of sex appeal. Disguised as ‘the dark silent type’, they are able to find a mate in many social settings and even online, either using their natural talents or through acquired knowledge, example: The Game by Neil Strauss.

I don’t know about you, but my money is definitely on the geek. A geek is most likely to survive, find a mate, procreate and continue the species, one well thought out role playing adventure at a time. Although the future generations might be very elitist, it does look bright enough for us to forgive Dr X’s slip-up with the sparkly cactus. In fact, if such a situation were to occur, the future would most likely be run by an operating system, have a soundtrack featuring at least one synthesizer and we’d be able to hyper-jump through the space-time continuum with one click on our i-Pods attached to our jet packs.

Many thanks to the lovely twitter people for all your help in my, at the time, absolutely pointless research. Especially to @LeeAnneOlfsen and @NickJackson for your meticulous proof-reading 🙂

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New Years Resolutions

1: Blog more.

2: Procrastinate less

3: Be fearless 🙂

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