Big Girl Panties

On the way back from the bank

Today is the day of disappointments and sad discoveries.

I found out that pretty much everyone I came in contact with in the past couple of weeks thought I must be no more than 15 years old. Awesome revelation. It was especially humiliating when the bank lady who was opening an account for me--holding my passport in her own bloody hands--thought it safer to ask (just in case the passport people were drunk setting the birth date) if I am actually 20 years old. Like, if I didn't by any chance took the passport of an older sis to play with or something. Apparently, I'm an average looking pimply teenager. Great. Who would've guessed? I might be one of those Chihuahau people though. No matter how old you are, they still think of you as a puppy.

Canary Islands
My apartment, bathroom

I met another cockroach tonight, about 3 mins ago. Couldn't kill this one (a case of puppy-dog eyes), so I'm just gonna call him Bobsky and start feeding him my cat's food. Like any other normal girl kind to animals would do.

I've just discovered the beauty of reading men's magazines. Shoes, fashion, makeup, clothes... They're not there!

I know, I know... Many women actually enjoy reading about these things, but for the rest of us it's a good way to kill both the could-be-a-quality time and the weak, wishing on a falling star brain cells.

God bless the millions (billions?) of you who are actually capable of enjoying a good chick read, I still get bored to tears on the 3rd paragraph of a "Should I Cut My Hair Short?" quiz. No, I should not. End of the story.

You know what recently excited my young, info-starving mind? GQ! I don't know what did it for me, the amount of non-girl orientated articles or a manly "Grr" photo on every second page, but nonetheless, it got me hooked in no time. Yep. Read it for the first time yesterday; never wanna see Cosmo again.

Ok, that last one just made me feel like a traitor to all womankind, but hey, they say even Brutus had his reasons.

These were posted on an Australian Tourism Website and the answers are the actual responses by the website officials, who obviously have a sense of humour.
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Q: Does it ever get windy in Australia? I have never seen it rain on TV, how do the plants grow? (UK).

A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.

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Q: Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? (USA)

A: Depends how much you've been drinking.

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Q: I want to walk from Perth to Sydney - can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)

A: Sure, it's only three thousand miles, take lots of water.

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Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in Australia? Can you send me a list of them in Brisbane, Cairns,Townsville and Hervey Bay? (UK)

A: What did your last slave die of?

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Q: Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Australia? (USA)

A: A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe. Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the Pacific which does not .... oh forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Kings Cross. Come naked.

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Q: Which direction is North in Australia? ( USA)

A: Face south and then turn 180 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.

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Q: Can I bring cutlery into Australia? ( UK)

A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.

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Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)

A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is ... oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Kings Cross, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.

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Q: Can I wear high heels in Australia? ( UK)

A: You are a British politician, right?

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Q: Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round? (Germany)

A: No, we are a peaceful civilization of vegan hunter/gatherers. Milk is illegal.

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Q: Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can Dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)

A: Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca which is where YOU come from. All Australian snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.

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Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Australia, but I forget its name. It's a kind of bear and lives in trees. (USA)

A: It's called a Drop Bear. They are so called because they drop out of Gum trees and eat the brains of anyone walking underneath them. You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.

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Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in Australia? (USA)

A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.

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Q: Can you tell me the regions in Tasmania where the female population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)

A: Yes, gay night clubs.

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Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia? ( France)

A: Only at Christmas.

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Q: I was in Australia in 1969 on R+R, and I want to contact the Girl I dated while I was staying in Kings Cross*. Can you help? (USA)

A: Yes, and you will still have to pay her by the hour.

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Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? (USA)

A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first.

God, I want to PWN someone so badly!

My PWNvice blog is pretty visitless and unpromoted these days, and I just long to give someone a good pwnage. I know, it might seem a little childish to some of you, but trust me when I say it: giving someone a good pwnage is like a second birth to a simple girl like me.

Hey, we all have needs. Actually, I'm starting to think I'm trying to replace my need for sex (hormones bitch at me these days) with trying to "own" someone in a convo. Huh... That can't be good.

I am in a real need of a laptop. Seriously, that crap of a desktop is going to kill my lookers. And I love my lookers. When I asked my friend if I should get myself a cheap Apple laptop or does it suck too much, what I got as a response was:

@Apple

Well, guys, at least you make 'em pretty.

I've decided that from now on, if I help someone, I'm gonna count it as a + Karmic Point added to me. Which is fun, too. I've decided that if I have, say, five karmic points, I can make a wish. Like, I could wish for... for a moment of enlightenment! Or a really strong inspiration. Or bigger boobs!

Yes, I'd be damned if by Christmas I don't have a true honest-to-God enlightenment! Or magical breasts.

Amen.


P.S. "I'd be damned" thing was an exaggeration.

Then.

I got up at 8 PM. No, I didn't't mistype anything. I went to bed at about 10 AM, and hence got up at 8 PM. Freakshow, huh?

I dragged myself into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, etc., and then it occurred to me that it's time to have "breakfast". Jolly as I was, I thought I can manage just fine on my own with such a simple task.


Now.

My potato's burned and my food sucks. My head hurts, thanks to my new head bump. The food pieces are lying on the floor and the floor itself is dirty.


The lessons of the day as it begun:

1. Don't EVER try to light a stove with a toilet paper piece in an attempt to avoid getting your nails burned (it'll happen anyway) with a flicker. As it turns out, toilet paper burns down faster than a stove can catch the fire.

2. Kitchen is a dangerous place to be in in a half-awake state. Always look around for the objects you could bump your head on while on that territory.

3. Don't ever leave the object of your cooking alone for more than 2 minutes!

4. While cooking, using oil or butter on your food is welcomed. Not using it might result in an awful burnt taste.

5. Cold, just-outta-fridge cans of cat food could come in handy for treating your head bumps. Cats, on the other hand, seeing before mentioned cans could get too excited and, in a friendly attempt to "earn" the goodies, start rubbing on your feet until the point where you get too distracted to notice that you've been dropping food bits from your plate onto the goddamn floor.

6. Picking up the food you've dropped instead of leaving it lie there is also welcomed, for the slipping on it would be an unpleasant experience.

7. The final and the most important lesson of the day is that... *sigh*
I will never be normal.

Dear Ms. Fairy Godmother!

Since I’ve never met you, but know by the law of justice and plots of all the cheesy chick flicks that you exist, I have a few things I want to question you about.

Here’s the list:

1. Where the hell are you and have been all my life? Don’t you have a contract or something stating that you were supposed to show up at my, I don’t know, 17^th birthday, and make my life magnificent?

2. Are you a woman or a guy, and if the latter, are you gay and hence would still be able to assist with the whole clothes issue and dig up a single dress for me? ‘Cause all I have now is jeans.

3. Can you, with your magick wand, make a posh car out of something else besides the quickly spoiling food products?

4. Do you hang out with other mystical creatures like yourself, especially with that Tooth Fairy bitch? (Was a quarter really so much to ask? Seriously, what a bitch…)

5. I appreciate big beautiful horses albeit for transporting uses only, but that old wives tale that they should be made of rats that you so graciously let into my apartment (to live, as it turned out later), still doesn’t sit well with me. Next time, try bunnies.

Maybe nobody knew this, but I am one of those weirdos who go to sleep at down and wake up at almost sunset. Creepy? Yah. Unnatural? Hmm... Well, maybe a little. It's not like I'm doing it on purpose, though.

It's just whenever I'm at home, I lose interest in so many things that it's hard for me to keep my daytime entertaining enough to actually spend a lot of energy. And when I don't, I just can't sleep.



"Fly, my pretty! Fly! You will bring to me the Innocents for the blood sacrifice and make me immortal forever. Bwa-ha-ha-ha!"

Pause.

"Oh, and while you're at it, check the local pharmacies and buy - no, wait - steal, yes, steal the tampons! Ste-al the tam-pons. Yeah, okay, go. Now where was I?.. Oh. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

So kids, the good news of the day is that I:


Lost 1 kg with my super yogurt diet;


See a shimmering possibility of moving out of the country again;


Could swear that my boobs, for some mysterious reason, got bigger overnight. A miracle or a cosmic prank?

If I were a type believing in things like Tooth Fairies, Elves, and other mystical creatures living somewhere on the astral plane, I’d say the fact that I can’t think of a single thing to write about these days is a strong indication that someone knocked my Muse over the head and stuffed her in the closet.

It’s been too long since I had any good ideas, and I spend most of my creativity and wit on posting in the forums and chatting. The desire to create something always was strong within me, but to spring to life it needs a sort of a nudge.

If I had resources I might have tried making websites or something, but since I already have some experience in managing a site on my own, I’d rather eat a handful of rocks than go through that again. I don’t even know why I want to put my creativity into the Geekdom that is internet anyways.

Normal girls go into dancing, drawing, sculpting, photography, etc. But me? Nooo… I’ve gotta sit home and stare at the shiny eye-torturer that is my computer screen all day.

No wonder the Muse has probably kicked the can by now...


Lyss.

Due to the fact that my image makes me look a little soft (which is a misunderstanding I’d love to clear), I seriously considered changing it.

Well, there’s no time like the present, I thought.

Right now I’m trying to decide if a slutty Goth is really “me”, or if I might be on the wrong track.

After putting on “some” dark eyeliner and smudgy beige-and-pink lipstick, I stood in front of a mirror, trying to make out through the haze of my eyelashes (yeah, there was also some mascara, as I recall) if I looked more like a Goth or a sad clown, which, as it turned out, totally depends on the facial expression.

Unfortunately, now that I took a better look at myself (maybe the mascara fog finally cleared up, or something), I realized that I do look more like a sad clown than a slutty Goth after all. Although, it might be a slutty clown, which sort of takes from the Gothiness and adds to the sadness.

Yeeaah… That might not be working exactly in my favor, as I just realized.

I’ll keep you posted.


Lyss.

1998

In my early teen years, there was that guy I had a crush on, and in the summer we hung out together a lot. Well, once, on a summer day of that very summer, we were joking and fooling around in my room. It was like, pillow fighting, toys throwing, ridiculous sort of thing. Anyways, suddenly, he decided to grab me and turn me upside down by holding me by my legs. (For some reason, he did it often at the time.)

Anyways, it was rather inconvenient, so to help myself up a little I decided to grab his arm. Well, I mean, I thought it was an arm. I swear to God, by the feel of its width it truly felt like a real honest-to-god arm. Then I looked up and saw what I was actually holding at the moment. It really. Really. Was. Not. An arm.

You want some advice boys? If you don't want your "junior" to be available to others, including the information about its state of peacefulness (or restlessness, for that matter), don't wear thin sports pants around people who might accidentally test the power of the boundaries of these very pants.

Anyways, I think I gave my crush one of the first hottest moments of his newly pubartized (hmm… it's like baptized) life. He'd quickly put me down and ran out of the room though.

I still wonder where he went?..

Happy Valentine’s Day folks! I hope you guys spent it better than I did, as in, not in the cold car on the wet chilly street.

There’s no better day to be making Schengen Visa pictures than Valentines Day! Chill, traffic, snow – what’s not to like? The depressing lack of sex and, oh, a date, also added to the doom and gloom of the day, I guess. But hey, what’s it to us, optimists? I believe that I can make another Valentine’s Day even worse than today’s!

Wish me luck, snuggle bunnies!


Lyss.