This is an extremely drunk post (how 2002), but I totally met Andrew G tonight! My döppelganger! G! Andrew! Me! Hurrah!

Of course he was a bit of a cunt, and doesn't look anything like me (hello he totally has a pointer chin and worse teeth), but I met him all the same. And really, G, seeing as I have the power to unearth a couple of secrets which you clearly, CLEARLY do not want aired, you'd think you'd be a little nicer to me, and not bitch about the fact that I am unemployed the moment you are introduced to me. Also: lose the stupid-ass yellow plastic band thing. Lance Armstrong thinks they are tacky, and he had fucking testicular cancer and designed them.

Hmmph.

I'll probably talk about this later, but I thought I'd get it out now while I can still remember. Also, I'll be away until Monday. And it's like, 11.15, but I'm off my arse already. Stupid wine and stupid martinis. Sigh. I'm losing my reputation with every word typed.

But another thing I learned (other than Andrew G drink cheap pinot noire and wears ugly charcoal hoodies): apparently poofs are more likely to have unprotected anal sex than I thought. I always thought no one did bareback anal anymore, but apparently *I'M* the freak as I don't do it with Cap Guy and we have been seeing each other for seven or so months. Uhm, whatever. I don't care if we've been going out ten years. I don't want a corn kernel under my foreskin, and I definitely don't want HIV running through my veins. Poofs are so gross.

Fun night though! I'll catch you all later.

Kiss kiss.

PS -- as my poof readership grows, perhaps you can tell me if you all do unprotected anal? Much obliged!

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posted by Dawei at 10:58 pm

My past couple of weeks have been more tightly packed than a 14 year old fag's anus in a public toilet after school. Well, sort of. More than usual. Well, maybe. I think it's just because I did some work for a change, which always makes me feel all studious and productive and shit. But with all the lunching, drinking, par-taying, fighting, making up, getting my arse kicked by uni and stupid applications, and splitting my time between two cities, I'm positively exhausted!

The fighting and making up sounds very exciting and dramatic, but it's not really. I wouldn't even bother going into much detail, but my fan base has grown so considerably I know you are all just dying for every juicy morsel I throw you about my stupid affairs. Basically stupid Cap Guy got a "bad haircut", so it pissed him off for three days and took it out on me because my hair is shiny and magnificent at the moment. The most annoying thing was that his haircut wasn't even bad. He's just an idiot. Like, you know how people have body dysmorphia where they think they have like, no arms, or a gigantic arse, or a fucked up nose or something, when they really have quite nice features? I think he has that about his hair. Hence the caps (which he looks assy in, by the way), and the permanent bitchings about how shit his hair is, and how he wants to cut it all off again and go back to having it super short. Which, ugh. Short hair? How 1998. ANYWAY, he got all shitty with me for some reason and basically accused me of being a lazy-ass gold digger who doesn't actually want to work and he can't provide the lifestyle I am expecting from him and blah blah blah. Like, rude much? Okay, sure, I don't want to work, but I have been looking! It's not my fault no one wants to hire me! I'm actually trying really hard! Well, I'm not going around door knocking, clutching a folder full of photocopied resumés because, well, how embarrassing, but I'm doing everything else! And as for being a gold digger... ha! I wish! Like, I pay for coffee and stuff. Hmmph. I hate it when people don't notice my good intentions. It makes me not want to try at all.

But yeah, his shitty, shitty mood didn't last long, and then he was back to normal by the weekend. Which is good, because on Friday I met up with some of my old semi-ex friends who I haven't seen since our falling out in Sydney, and I was a bit worried that he might be a bit pissed because they were pretty cunty to him. But he pushed me to make amends, and the whole thing was pretty nerve-wracking really, but it was a mostly cool night. Well, one of my friend's brothers was there, and he is like, a totally first-rate tool. He's done like, two years of law school, so of course he thinks he's Michael Kirby. Basically we were having an argument about stupid Schapelle Corby and her case. Anyway, he was getting all in my face in that tired law-student way, and his brother was supporting HIM because all of a sudden two years of law school makes a fully trained lawyer. And really, what would Dawei know, he doesn't know anything about anything haw haw! Tool. Ugh, I hate those over-confident, self-involved people. But yeah, I totally felt Left-wing that night. Not only were we having a semi-political discussion (not only about stupid Schapelle Corby, but I was dissing Bosnia and how I'd never visit there, and his brother got all up me AGAIN), but we drank beer on a verandah with all the empties scattered around and smoked Chinese cigarettes. Classy. All I needed was one of those faux-Communist hats and a "McShit" t-shirt and I'd totally look like a Labor voter!

But don't worry, Cap Guy and I spent the next night in this funky boutique-y hotel (probably trying to make up for calling me a gold-digger), and spent Saturday night drinking a few bottles of a very tidy pinot noire so that was a bit more Dawei-ish. For some reason we were escorted to the VIP section and were plied with cocktails and Cristal. But hey, not complaining. Although people have started to compare me with Andrew G again which is a bit annoying. And the people from Friday night said I looked like that guy from The OC with my new long-ass hair (even though, as far as I can tell, he has short hair and is HIDEOUS)!! Argh. Why can't people ever compare me to someone hot, instead of all these bland-ass vanilla blonds? Le sigh.

But yeah, that's about my life at the moment. Doing some uni, writing a butt-load of applications to prove my non gold-digger-ness which are painfully embarrassing. How important are the "Experience" and "References" part of resumés anyway? Hmmph. And I had to find a non-dead-eyed-crack-whore photo for one which was even MORE embarrassing. And even if I do get pulled into an interview for that one, they are clearly going to realise that the photo I chose was taken about ten years ago. God. All this fucking work better be worth it. Maybe I should become a gold-digger and just trade-up?

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posted by Dawei at 2:01 pm

Thorpie Says:



*riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing riiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

Thorpie: Thorpie's HelpLine, this is Thorpie how can I help you?
Dawei: Hey Thorpie, it's Dawei.
Thorpie: Hey Dawei, 'sup?
Dawei: Not much. I just saw the Logie's last night, and I wanted to congratulate you for finally coming out on national television! I mean everyone already knew that you...
Thorpie: Uhm, I didn't come out.
Dawei: *laughter*
Thorpie: I didn't, you cunt! I didn't come out! Who said I was gay because I definitely did not say I was gay because I'm like, totally not.
Dawei: But wasn't your hair a round-about "fuck you" to the media, so instead of being scared of public vilification for your sexual persuasion you decided to come out pink trumpets blaring being all proud and shit about your fondness for hard cock?
Thorpie: Uh, no. Don't you listen? It was getting back at my mum for not letting me have ugly ugly hair as a child. See, that makes perfect sense.
Dawei: I... see. Your excuse is mother issues. How 1950s of you. And PS -- maybe you should consider firing your publicist.
Thorpie: Shut up. My publicist is awesome! Surely you've heard that I have a new l'eau de parfum coming out?
Dawei: Your new cologne is called Coming Out? But you just said you weren't gay? And stop speaking in French phrases, you poseur.
Thorpie: Dick. I meant I have a new fragrance arriving in stores soon.
Dawei: Oh yeah, I think I saw that somewhere. It looks a bit like a Ben Wa ball filled with urine right?
Thorpie: Yeah. I really should fire the people who design my Thorpie range. I mean, even I knew that my underwear line wouldn't sell.
Dawei: Because fags know what's hot in underwear, right?
Thorpie: Exactly!
Dawei: Aha! Snap!
Thorpie: Oh, shut it, bitch.
Dawei: My my, someone's a bit testy today. Did you have a bit too much to drink at the after party?
Thorpie: Ugh, don't remind me. I drank way too many Malibu Chills with Lee Furlong at the bar.
Dawei: Ugh, what are you doing with that skank? Worst beard EVER.
Thorpie: Try eating next to her! Everything smells like fish! It took me fifteen minutes to realise that my salmon cake was actually lemon soufflé.
Dawei: Gross.
Thorpie: Totally. Oh yeah, I was at the after party, and Stephanie Macintosh came up to me. She was soooo totally fucked up. She wanted to know if I had a Marlboro Light she could bum. Anyway, she leaned in and slurred that Lee looked like a hooker, and the way her purse didn't match her dress made her look tacky.
Dawei: Coming from Stephanie... ouch.
Thorpie: Tell me about it. Why couldn't the Neighbours cast dress more like the cast from Home and Away? Bec looked totally awesome!
Dawei: Yeah, but aren't you a bit biased? I mean, didn't you appear on Home and Away?
Thorpie: Oh yeah, but now I'm with Fox8, so from now on my television appearances will obviously be a bit more highbrow.
Dawei: *eyeroll* Although, I always thought Undercover Angels was very underrated and should have... wait a minute! You thought Bec Cartwright looked good?!?
Thorpie: Uhm... maybe. Why?
Dawei: Oh please. Bitch is plain. And no one is fooled with that nice-girl act. Everyone knows she's just getting hitched because of that big arse ring. And as for being "best dressed"... come on. She only won that because no one knew the names of the other nominees. A dress of multicoloured vaginas does not a beauty make.
Thorpie: She told me when we were getting our Fantasy Tans before the Logies that they were peacock feathers. And I don't care what you say! I think she's super nice! She said my new hair looked sexy!
Dawei: Yeah, but did you check her fiancé's hair?
Thorpie: Oh. Fuck. I didn't think of that.
Dawei: See you've got to trust me on these things. I'll fax you the name of my stylist. He'll fix you up, and then we can have cocktails.
Thorpie: Cool!
Dawei: Okay Thorpie, it's been good catching up. Give me a buzz when you're all sorted.
Thorpie: See you, Dawei!
Dawei: Oh, and PS -- remind me to have a little talk with you regarding your suit and scarf. Bye!
Thorpie: Wait! What's wrong with...

*click*

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posted by Dawei at 12:38 pm