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Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Dawei Writes a Trio of University-ish Letters

Dear Assignments,

Yes, I am aware that I have been neglecting you. Okay, "neglecting" is being a bit kind, but chilling in that big stack of papers on my desk isn't so bad, is it? I mean, you are snuggled up between two gay-ass (but stylish) magazines. I would like to think that, like most of us, you'd rather enjoy being in a sandwich with Solange Wilvert and... that guy who is currently on the cover of Vogue Uomo. Mmmmforeignblondes.

I promise I'll get to you soon! Like, you're all due next week. But I've been so busy lately! Okay, I haven't, I just HATE YOU AND WANT TO FEED YOU TO MY SHREDDER YOU FUCKING CUNTS!!! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!!!!!



Dear Faggot at University,

Hi, you don't know me, but I saw you wandering around campus and I just had to drop you a little note. I mean, are you trying to get someone to go all Matthew Shepard on your ass? Well, judging by the way you were mincing around, you'd probably enjoy being tied up and fisted until the sandwich you were consuming had been digested and pulled out. But let's talk about your sunglasses for a moment: just because you are a scrawny-ass, cheap hair-highlighted, Industrie polo shirt-wearing fag, doesn't mean you have to demean yourself further and wear girls' glasses. Those Dior ones with the bigass green writing? Look hideous. Are you trying to make a statement? Are you trying to imply you are affluent? Because let me educate you:

a. people of a certain wealth and standing don't flash logos. Especially not last season's wares. Especially not if said wares are designed for people with a cunt, while they possess what is certainly a micro-penis. Excessive logo-flashing is for teenagers with parental credit cards (and hey, who hasn't been there?), and poor ghetto Americans who are trying to buy membership into bourgeois-ness.

b. brown glasses? Mais non.

c. Designer sunglasses + Industrie polo shirt + Country Road duffel bag over shoulder = cheap, lame faggot. The hierachy of one's wealth and personal standing is judged thusly: firstly shoes, then wallet, haircut, belt, trousers, shirt, cologne, with sunglasses bringing up the rear. Sunglasses cost like, three hundred dollars. No one is impressed. (NB: Underwear is slotted in between belt and trousers if nudity is involved.)

Oh, dear boy, you need more work than that, but unfortunately I don't have the time or energy to get more Henry Higgins-y on you. At least try to follow my guidelines, mmmkay?

Best wishes for the future,


Dear Girl in My Tutorial,

If you are going to (embarrassingly) broadcast your desire to work for a fashion magazine, can you please not be twelve kilograms overweight? Furthermore, if you would stop bringing your clearly fake Chanel Cambon bag to class, it would surely help your dreams of dictating style and fashion trends seem ever so slightly more feasible.

Your friend,


PS -- you are also too short, but I'll cut you some slack for the cruel hand nature has dealt you. Some non-plastic shoes with a good stiletto heel might be a wise investment. Hope that helps!