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Tuesday, December 14, 2004
The other night I finally braced myself and did it in a public toilet. I feel so dirty.

Before you start highfiving me and hollaring "way to rock the slutty exhibitionistic sex, Dawei!" I must say that my anus wasn't probed by cock (or my penis didn't probe anus, etc.) in a flurescent-lit toilet while people milled about outside doing lines of coke. And really, I already did that last year anyway. Stupid slutty Frenchmen.


I'm talking about taking a big fuckoff shit in a public toilet, which I've never done before. Even in primary school when an afternoon of sharts forced me to throw away my favourite pair of undies. I believe they were fluro yellow briefs. But hey, we had a paedophile allegedly stalking our toilets! Hmm, maybe I should have gone down there for a shit, think how good my mad sex skillz would be if I'd been doing it from when I was like, nine. I doubt he would have fucked me though, I was like, all fat!Dawei back then, and my turd (as I was to verify that afternoon after ripping down my undies and promptly gagging) was totally turtle-heading.

Anyhoo, back to the present. Don't worry, I have never had skidmarks on my undies since. I am meticulous about my anal hygeine! In fact, apparently I clean too well, because I, like, penetrate my anus with the Cottonelle. I didn't know most people just do a cursory wipe. Gross. You people make me sick.

ANYHOO, the other night I was thinking of holding it in, but this was an extreme emergency. It struck me just as I was having a pre-dinner martini with Cap Guy's family, so it was a bit unfortunate. Luckily the bathroom was deserted. Although I guess it wouldn't have been that bad, because it sounded like I was urinating anyway. You know, if the flow of urine from my penis was aimed to the water to create that charming cascading sound. Men, you understand, non? Actually, girls pee like that all the time, I guess. Vaginas, ugh. But yeah, such violent diarrhoea. It would have been sort of amusing if I wasn't whimpering with pain and olfactory overload.

In a weekend of firsts, it was also the first time I brought someone home to meet the parents, which was highly embarrassing. It was for my mother's birthday lunch, so thankfully it was rather casual. I think Mum and Dad liked him, so that's good I guess. Dad and Cap Guy bonded over ripping the owner of the restaurent to shreds, as she was totally rude. She like, was talking down to us like we had never been to a restaurant before. She had the gall to teach us how to eat the bread. "Rip it into bite-size pieces, then dip in the olive oil." Oh! bite-size pieces. I've been doing it wrong all these years! And she asked us if we had heard of Gourmet Traveller! Whatever. I really don't understand how all these hospitality jobs demand so much experience from applicants. Every waiter I have encountered has been giving such poor service. One chick even sat herself down while she was talking to us. My God, I have never before experienced such insubordination. I think that's the trouble with the world: people don't know their place anymore. Everyone wants to have the hot haircut, and their Mercedes, and their Louis Vuitton. I yearn for the days when society had clear definitions. You either had class or you didn't, and you couldn't bluff your way into it with a L'Oréal home colour kit and a trip to Thailand for designer goods.

Although I guess you still can't. You people look just... ugh. Honey, nobody is fooled.

Lastly, it's time for the 2005 Australian Blog Awards, woot. Seeing as I got completely shut out last year, I demand that I be formally recognised. So nominate and vote away! Especially with you international sluts, you are the untapped resource.