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Thursday, November 27, 2003
Argh. My hair looks like shit. It's sort of gone back to dark blonde, and my stupid hair artiste decided to give me a faggoty Astroboy/anime style cut. I look like one of those obscenely pretty but totally delicate elfin homos. Bitch, I don't pay you 80 bucks a visit to make me look as if I've just had a load of cum deposited in my arse. I think the shorter hair highlights my absolute lack of muscle growth. That's it, when I get back from overseas I'm definitely joining a gym. Driving back from the Gold Coast once, I saw a sign advertising Thai Streetfighting classes. That sounds pretty badass. I can totally see me rocking up, binding my hands in strips of cloth, and then opening up can of whoopass. I'd totally be Sagat! Only without like, that gross chestal scar and baldness. But the classes were in fucking Shailer Park (for all you non-BrisVegans, Shailer Park is a total hole, and is fucking scary), so maybe I'll just start doing yoga again and take up macramé.

Oh, I'll totally get my first job too!

Plans always make me feel better. Also, the fact that soon I'm heading out for evening rooftop mojitos at McWhirter's doesn't hurt. Alcohol: where would I be without you?