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Black People Love Us
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Sexy Losers
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Friday, August 25, 2006
I've been sitting here for like, two hours attempting to navigate the Hell that is, trying to buy tickets to the Tool show in Melbourne. And before you think I am a lameoid hard-edge rocker, they are for my sister, okay?! She apparently can't access the site at her work (how convenient. I think she just can't be arsed sitting around waiting for the stupid payment to go through), so I'm being a good brother and doing it for her. Not that I know why she would want to go see Tool. Like, ew.

There are really better things I could be doing. Like, I really am going to clean my room today. I woke up this morning, and my room totally smelled like ass. Don't get excited: I haven't been having anal sex or anything, or doing any sort of prostate-pleasuring that may be the cause of such a horrid funk. Like, I have expensive white sheets! Any sort of backdoor shenanigans would have to be done on the floor. Or bent over my desk. It's not used for anything else, really. I don't get how people do anal in bed. Like, somehow the other day I managed to see some fisting porn (don't ask, it was an accident! I certainly do not find that arousing), and ommigod. Some liquid-y shit ran out of his ass. Just... no. No no no. How can people do that sort of thing and not be thoroughly clean? How can people do that sort of thing period? Yuck. So yeah, no butt-fucking on my bed. Accidents happen.

But the point is my room is hideous. Like, y'all know that I finally got a fucking queen size bed. I always thought that when I got a big bed I would stretch out star-fish-style in the centre and be totally refreshed and well-slumbered the next morning. No. Not working out that way. I still lie on my right side, on one side of the bed. And anyway, this heinous smell has forced me to reassess my sleeping situation. I can't open the windows to my room, as the floor is blocked with two boxes of books I'm moving into storage, and two Spacebags full of clothes that I can't quite seem to part with, even though I really doubt I'll be wearing them ever again. And then I pulled back the quilt on the side of the bed I don't sleep in, and do you know what I found?

  • 4 x pillows (sleeping-pillow, dress-pillows, and decorative-pillow)
  • 2 x novels
  • 1 x travel book
  • 3 x books on literary criticism (yes, I'm a nerd)
  • 2 x magazines
  • assorted clean laundry (2 x tshirts, 2 x underwear)
  • assorted dirty laundry (1 x pyjama bottoms, 1 x dirty underwear)
  • 1 x hanger
  • The latest Career section of the newspaper

    Yuck. I never thought my beautiful new bed would be used for storage! When I got it I used to be really OCD about making it look good. I'd even do hospital corners and bought a lovely blanket and co-ordinated the pillows and shit. But now it's just... ugh. I think I'm about to have "I wash myself with a rag on a stick" moment. I suppose I'm just thankful I didn't find my cat's corpse in my bed. We never did find her body... *cue creepy music and lightning flashes, etc.*
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