Christ, I must be losing my pulling mojo.

So we went out to the Beat tonight (for those not in the know, the Beat is the grossest gay club in Brisbane and apparently has the second highest amount of drink-spiking in Australia). And anyway, while we were there, not one person hit on me, which must be some kind of fucking record. Even the old paedophilic guys who are usually all over me were steering clear. Not that I'd do anything with them, of course, but it would be nice to get a few ego-stroking compliments in, don't you think?

And when we were there, some obese drag queen dragged up "Mr Pretty" who was some random dude in the audience who had, I admit, a pretty fit body. But his face was totally busted. Anyway, they got Mr Pretty to pull down his pants and everyone saw his ass and cock. Little did they know that I had fucked Mr Pretty's boyfriend last year. It didn't make me anymore desirable though, hmph. I mean, he grabbed my ass a bit when we were dancing, but how unfair! Fucking Brisbane, where are all the fucking hot people?

I need to get out of this dump.

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posted by Dawei at 2:13 am

Dear Arrnott from Popstars Live: Everyone knew you were a virgin, so no one had to hear about it. Shut up, you big fat flaming fuck. Hopefully cholesterol will catch up with you before I see you in person. Kisses, Dawei.

Bah.

In other news, I was shopping for clothes with my sister today (she's trying out a new "corporate trash" look which I am totally not buying, as it doesn't really compliment her alcoholism and potty-mouth) and she told me I was looking fat! What a fucking bitch. And as if she can talk, she has the biggest norks on the planet... they are even bigger than Rebecca's tatas from Passions. So now I'm all paranoid and shit. I don't want to get all obese (again). But maybe it was just that fucking mirror, because I don't really see how I can go from being beeyotched at for having jabby, pointy bones that cut into peoples' flesh to having a fucking fat bulge. Add the fucking bouffy-ass blond hair (which, thankfully, looks rather flat scorching today), and a rather frightening image in conjured. I'm disgusting.

I so need to do some situps.

Or, like, start smoking, which seems like a lot less effort. But I can't be arsed going down to the shops, argh. Stupid rain.

Hmm, nah, I think I'd rather actually work out. I need something to do! And then I could totally open up a can of kung-fu whoop-ass on that cunting army fuck who tried to challenge me to a duel at the fucking Beat. Dude, you so do NOT take on Dawei. Imagine me after learning how to like, do some Thai-style streetfighting or some shit. I definitely need a trainer, but my dumb personal funds are lacking at the moment, and my stupid parents are making me "ask" to use a credit card when I need one. What a fucking gyp. What if I'm out and about and I desperately need something? I'll have to like, come home, ask, go back, and by then the thing that I wish to purchase would probably be GONE. The next thing you know is that they'll be making me ride the fucking bus. Eurk.

What I need is some personal trainer-type friends who could train me into Badass!Dawei. Unfortunately, all my friends are totally selfish and are doing "careers". Wankers.

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posted by Dawei at 10:23 pm

You know what I really hate that all the 'mos seem to be wearing these days? I mean, beside cheaply made, non-vintage trucker hats completely deprived of irony (and usually mass-produced by some lame surf company or "hip" label that is stocked at, ugh, General Pants Co. or Universal). I'm also not talking about Tsubi jeans, denim shorts of varying lengths, or Von Dutch products in their seemingly infinite incarnations.

Although, yeah, quit it with all those things too, you stupid faggots.

I'm talking about the more... intimate side of men's apparel. The underwear with which the modern gay guy chooses to adorn his body (see, I earned that 7 in Fashion last semester!) is appalling. All the 'mos out there reading (there must be at least one!), take a look down. If you are wearing 2(x)ist underwear, for shame. Could you be more predictable, unimaginitive, stereotypical, and lame? If said 2(x)ist underwear is white... fucking hell. Just blow some cheesey gutter-cock, contract an extra-virulent form of AIDS, and die already. Why delay the inevitable?

I mean, boring! Do you realise how dull it is to undo someone's pants, pull them down, and be faced with such a dull choice of underwear? Yawn. It's one step above white CKs, which is one step above wearing boxers. Actually, I think wearing boxers is preferable to wearing Calvin Klein or 2(x)ist underwear. At least with boxers when you drop their pants, their cock is already in your face. If you wear that kind of shit, it's not like I'm going to be interested in any other part of you, so I may as well have access to your bits all the quicker: those precious moments of underwear-driven foreplay can be gladly skipped, and they can be out of my life that much sooner. Good riddance, ptuh!

And what makes it worse is that people are obviously told through marketing that this particular brand is sexy, when they are just standard white undies that my fucking grandfather wears! They expect people to be impressed by the brand or whatever, and think they are extra-sexy for wearing such a "cool" garment. Like, am I meant to be, like, filled with awe or something because you read DNA Magazine?

And really, what kind of dumbass brand-name is 2(x)ist anyway? Is the brackets-'n'-x thing meant to be the anus between two cheeks or something? Whatever.

Other than that, what a boring-ass weekend. I was meant to study for an exam I have, but that got dull. On a particularly snoozeworthy moment on Saturday afternoon, I totally baked a cake-in-a-box while The Sound of Music was on Showtime Greats (all I need is some big-ass knitting needles and four more cats). Mum and Dad wanted to take me for a drive in the country and lunch at like, a homestead, but I don't do rural. I suppose it could have been more exciting than fucking cooking my arse off, but Liesl was looking extremely boneable as usual.

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posted by Dawei at 11:30 pm

This morning I lowered myself down about… oh, I’d say a good ten points on the decency scale. And that’s saying something, as I think I tend to border on the “ye with no morals and possessing total lack of interest in societal niceties” side of life. Or, to phrase it more simply, as some of my “closer” friends fondly refer to me: “Stupid Dawei: Odious Beeyotch, Possessor of White-Man ‘Fro”.

Unfortunately it wasn’t a deficit of sexual scruples which has caused my dilemma. Don't worry, it’s not as if I went into a public bathroom and licked the cum off the dank ‘n’ sticky tiles… or the porcelain of the urinal. Or are most urinals made of like, metal these days? I hate urinals. Like, why do I have to stand on a grill thing, which is probably covered in faecal matter, and wave my dick around and piss onto a fucking wall with a whole lot of strangers? Why would someone invent such an infernal practice? This is why I like the toilets at Family: full door, full wall, automatic handwash-y stuff so I don’t have to touch anything. Good times. And the girl’s toilets have, like, a couch! So that’s pretty cool too. Oh, I’m getting sidetracked.

Nah, I suppose it could have been a lot worse (although if it was sex-related, at least I would have gotten an orgasm out of it, which is always a good thing, non?). And it’s not like I was far off with the whole public toilet example. For some reason, when I was driving home from uni, I had the inescapable urge to piss. Normally I could hold it until I got home, by mentally tying a knot in my urethra, but my bladder was suffering from some serious water bulge-age. So anyway, I pull over in a park by the river, almost crying in urine-related pain, quickly check out the people-situation, whip out my urinating device (aka Dawei’s penis, hehehehehe), and promptly fill an empty 600ml bottle of Coke I luckily had rolling around the floor of my shitty car. I urinated in a bottle, in my car, in a park, people!!! How mortifying. Have I let myself go that far? And then, feeling about five thousand times better, I look around the park, and see some little kiddies playing with their mums about twenty metres away. I got my dick out in a public park while children were in close proximity. Ugh. I’m totally, like, Michael Jackson or Gary Glitter! I even have that aforementioned weird-arse white-skin-bouffant-afro combination thing going on.

On the plus side, I was pretty impressed with myself. I mean, the hole of a Coke bottle is pretty small (NOT an opportunity to make “hilarious” comments about my manliness), so I’m pretty stoked with my accuracy. There weren’t even any splashback drops or anything! That is pure pelvic control, people, allowing a smooth and accurate jet of liquid. Envy me.

In a more Brisbane-related piece of news, I am saddened to find that one of my favourite shops in the Valley, UltraSuite, has totally become a chain and opened up a shop in a… *shudder* MALL. The Indooroopilly Shopping Centre to be exact. How COMMON. Where am I to find my ridiculously overpriced denim and t-shirts now? I make it a point never to buy articles of clothing from chain shops, so anything in those big-arse shopping centres are immediately cut from my possible purchase list (underwear and socks are exempt from this rule, as I’m not flying to fucking London to buy Bonds in a boutique).

Although now that I’ve pissed in broad daylight in my own car, am I finally slipping down the short slippery slope into mediocrity? Should I just get it all over with now and buy some jeans from (gulp) JeansWest, or a t-shirt from industrie? I guess it would be a lot easier being part of the hoi polloi. You should have seen me trolling the streets for a suitable place to get my hair cut today. I walked away empty handed. Sigh. The only thing cheering me up is the image of some bum picking up my bottle, thinking it’s water, and gulping down some of my sweet pee. That’s the good thing about being incredibly well-hydrated: practical jokes are made a lot easier.

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posted by Dawei at 7:04 pm

Not to get all Pride on your collective asses (because really, who can be bothered holding up a rainbow flag these days? Hasn't that effort, like feminism, been well and truly drained now?), but seriously: what is up with that Alex Lloyd video? Firstly, it's called Beautiful which is eye-bleedingly painfully ironic seeing as ol' Alex is nastier than all the Popstars Live contestants put together in a bukkake orgy (with Molly sodding the men, natch, and spraying them with his filthy virus-ridden cum). It features a variety of couples making out. And not just making out. Like, full-on grade nine BBC/Chruchie dance pashes. Lots of tongue, face swallowing, teeth mashing, just... ugh. Very distasteful. Is this, like, meant to be a turn on or a celebration of our life existence or something? Whatever, Alex.

Did I have a point?

Oh. ANYway, Alex is obviously trying to be all "look how open minded I am with my selection of couples". He has a few old people (which is an "ew" post on its own), an interracial couple (who display by FAR the worst kissing technique I have witnessed in my life), and assorted straight couples who have varying amounts of aesthetic appeal. Memo to Alex: beauty in the inside is bollocks. Will Delta have a career until her hair has grown back? NO. Although shagging the Poo is work enough, I guess. Gross, Delta. But anyway, he has a few lesbos because everyone likes to watch them wacky fe-fags get their groove on, right? Eyeroll. But then he has two faggots, and they get exactly two point four seconds of accumulated macking time of a 4 minute clip of all these other people kissing. Like, what's the deal? How come we get to witness the dumb lemons rubbing their fannies against each other, but then they only show two men kissing for a split second? And it's not even a GOOD kiss, it's like, a tight, passionless, peck on the lips. BORING.

I mean, it's not like I care about those two homos in particular (the poofters in question are, shockingly, as Aussie TV has yet to put on any hot fag characters on the small screen, fugly to the max, rivaling Alex himself for the Ugliest Mugs in A Music Video award at my imaginary ARIA ceremony). But it does get a little annoying when female homos can be flapped around (no pun intended) willy-nilly, while the man-'mos get shafted (no pun intended) to a few obligatory glimpses. I guess I can understand it if the product is meant to appeal to men or something, but this cunting film clip is played most on fucking MusicMax which is the fucking music channel bored ugly housewives do their ironing too. And hello, does ANY heterosexual male like Alex Lloyd? WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!

The least they can do is have two HOT men make out for those two seconds. Then I might actually sit down and suffer through Alex's nasal, whiney vocal pansying.

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posted by Dawei at 11:33 pm

Hey fellow beeyotchers.

I've only been in the big smoke for less than a month, but bloody hell Australian life is tough. So I've decided to jet off to our Gold Coast (how Jonas of me) holiday house for a while to get in some serious rest and relaxation. Well, I didn't so much decide as my mother bribed me with a case of beer and the promise of a funkified tan, but you get the idea. Hopefully y'all wont miss me too much. I shall be back soon with beach-y exploits and goodies for all!

Ciao/Au revoir (my Italian and French are so good now. I'm totally going to get into ASIO)!

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posted by Dawei at 12:22 pm

My dumb sister got drunk this weekend and told my parents I was a faggot, ARGH! What a dumb cunting sluzza. I guess this is why some of those online journal writer losers confide in their "Live Journals" instead of people, because fucking Live Journals don't get wasted and blab their secrets at every opportunity. Bitch. Anyway, apparently my mum went all quiet and sad-esque, while Dad merely shrugged and continued with his witty anecdote about a patient or doctor-friend or some shit and sipped away at a martini. Hmph. Mum always tries to be this buddy-best-pal-you-can-tell-me-anything type person, but she's clearly not. Poor mum, she's a bit delusional. I mean, she likes, like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, but if she actually thought about it in terms of "Ted likes to lick salty anus" or "Jai takes it hard in the arse by hung leather S&M daddies" she'd totally back away. She's down with the 'mos, but only if she isn't blatantly confronted with it. Which is a shame, as I always wanted to come out the old fashioned way: having your parents walk in on you with some guy bent over a chair in the formal lounge biting into some embroidered cushions causing much "meep!"ing from me, and much pearl-clutching from them.

Hmm, I'm starting to sound like a homo with relationship issues, gag. Meh, they can stow it. But like, none of my friends cared! Maybe I could be that lame, whiney faggot who is all "woe is me, my parents hate me for being a cocksucker wah wah wah how will I ever get close to them all again". How would they know?! Shouldn't they be rushing to my side and supporting me? One just got up and left, saying she felt ill from having two (!!!) cocktails, and don't even get me started on fucking Cheekbones (his fucking boyfriend dragged him off, not even letting Cb stay for five minutes and totally snubbed me as well). Dick. Sorry, but men with blond foils in their hair do NOT get priority over me, you pindicked asshat.

Some people are so rude.

But speaking of moving on with my life, I've decided to finally get a job. I saw two possibilities in the paper: one was for a sex shop. How cool would that be? The other one was working in some fashion studio thing, which sounds like it's right up my alley, and I'd rock it. Of course it would be the gayest job ever, but I wasn't born to fucking work at McDonald's. That's what ugly people are bred to do.

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posted by Dawei at 11:40 pm

Okay, TV producers. Seriously, what is up with all the fucking Australian reality TV shows? Why can't you just LEARN that the concept reeks like Ian's anus after stretching wide open for a thick slice of slick Aussie love-meat, allowing his faecal matter to gush out in the manner of industrial sewage pipes into a stagnant man-made lake. Of course, this is a metaphorical image (let's take his recent ass-whoopage at the trials of last weekend: CHOKE ON IT IAN! YOU CHOKED LIKE IT WAS A BIG WET COCK!) because Ian? Clearly hetero. But anyway, I digress.

Surely any sane network executive would have cut the cord on any Aussie reality TV program after the dismal effort of Australian Survivor, but NO. We still get absolute shite like My Restaurant Rules and The Hot House.

Buah?

Someone explain that last one to me, as I was in Europe when it started. What the fuck is it? Why is it on every night? What is the actual point of the show and why are the rules so confusing? Why is the host chick so hideous (girls, really. Step away from the fringes)? Why are the token homos once again beyond hideous? Actually, all the characters are pretty vile (except for Calvin, who is rather tasty). The worst aspect of this cunting TV show is stupid Pete and Tina. Normally I wouldn't give two looks at this lowest form of human life (they are poor, tattooed, have gappy teeth and facial hair, and have three kids -- YUCK). But for some reason, they are immensely popular. And it pisses me off. Like, why are they heroes to the Australian public? What is this "Aussie battler" shit? Is it because they have no money, they are automatically "more Australian" than someone with money? Seems to me people with no class and no money come on these shows and are rewarded for their ignorance (Regina, you dumb cunt, I'm looking at you) and continue to do exceedingly well. Maybe I could understand it if these people were like, nice and humble and shit. But really, they aren't. Pete and Tina are absolutely repellent in personality, and Regina from Big Brother was a total beeyotch. I hope you got half the money when she dumped your ass, Adrian.

And come on! Has anyone actually met an "Aussie battler"? Or do you have to like, go out to the country to find the Shannon Knolls (who, by the way, is totally 'Strayan. You can tell by the black singlet and dusty jeans, duh!) and the Regina Birds? In that case, they can stick it up their arse. If you can't make a living in the fucking country, move to the city and work at fucking McDonalds. Don't bitch about it to me and expect me to like you. Puh. I spit on your dusty graves.

Also, seriously, what's going down with this Popstars Live shit? I know a few people have commented on it already, but grr. It is so shit. Why hasn't Molly succumbed to "pneumonia" yet? Christ. And what happened to that Bachelor Girl chick? Why did they replace her with that purple-haired lezzo? Stupid show. Anyway, watching it paid off at least once: some faux-English "producer" man told Arrnott (whose crowd support still baffles me) that he was still fat and needed to lose more weight. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Suck on that, you big faggoty fuck! Nice scarf, by the way. I suggest you go all Michael Hutchence with it. Nothing, and certainly not your ego despite what you thought, is going to be stroked while you are still hideously obese.

(Arrnott dude, try my nevah-fail Dawei diet: Marlboro Lights, vodka martinis, and a touch of bulimia. It works a treat! You'll be whoring your svelte Asian ass all over Sydney in no time. Ooh, I feel better. I'm glad I opened up my advice column. I like helping people!)

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posted by Dawei at 12:44 am