One morning I was riding my motorbike (yes, I ride a motorbike now) and I lost my balance, and bam, the motorbike fell really hard on its side on the ground and I noticed there was this oil leak coming from under the motorbike. Shit I thought. Not to mention the left mirror was totally obliterated and the gearbox slightly dented. All this is costing me $3,500 in order to repair it. I unfortunately don’t have insurance to cover that kind of damage, but  I have more than enough in my trustfund. While I am grateful that I’m not pulling my hair out over getting this kind of money, I am really depressed over the fact that I am losing this much money. It’s just insane. With this kind of money, I could’ve bought a brand new drumkit. Or this money could have gone towards buying a new motorbike once I get my full motorbike license.

Not to mention, my work has apparently now changed the amount of times we’re supposed to tell the supervising manager when we can work. It was once every two weeks but now it’s apparently once every week. I asked my sister, who also works there, when this was put into effect and she tells me it’s been going on for a few months now. Which I think is complete bullshit (the reason why I think this is because it’s my sister; I might have to dedicate a whole post on its own about my sister. It’s complicated). I remember filling my availabilities once every two weeks and noticing that I would get work every week. I only found out about “once every week” when I got the roster this week and found that I was not working at all. So on top of this dire financial situation I’m in, now I’m not working this week, which I actually really need to do in order to get some moolah!

It’s stupid (and kind of funny) how there’s so much money in the world. There is a lot of it, and yet at the same time I can’t access it. Just fucking silly.

Also, everyone watch Waltz With Bashir. Awesome film.

I was recently pointed out to this:

Click for bigger version.

Also, if you click this link (http://www.mcnaughtonart.com/artwork/view_zoom/?artpiece_id=353#), you can zoom over the many people in the picture and read descriptions of each person.

There are so many things wrong with this picture:

• Just how many brain-washed Christians there are in America willing to accept this bullshit.
• America was never a nation “under God”.
• How Jesus is so Westernised. Oh yeah, of course he’s white! There’s no other explanation.
• Having said that, look how two black people made it into the picture! Oh, Christianity is so diverse.
• There’s no mention of Thomas Jefferson being a deist. Because of course, the right-wing Christians love to acknowledge the facts they love and disregard the ones they feel point out their hypocrisy.
• Pointing out their hypocrisy once again, the picture points out that the liberal left (the female reporter) and the smug-looking guy (Mr. Hollywood) control the media. WTF?
• It’s insulting to claim that everyone is just Christian by default. Get fucked.
• If you move your mouse over the immigrant (the supposedly Asian guy near the bottom-right), the explanation doesn’t make sense. Okay, so you’re free to follow any religion you like, but at the same time, America’s goodness only comes from Christ? What?

Anyway, those are my thoughts on this ugly piece of art for now.

When we last left our intrepid hero, Lady Gaga, arrived fresh off the prison boat and thrust into the world of Morrowind thanks to some shady pulling-of-strings by the emperor who rules the land. Taking his time in the settlement, Seyda Neen, he finds the death of a taxman… and is hired to investigate!

Being thrust into the free world is a little weird and makes me wonder what kind of law and order system they’re running in Morrowind. You know, the kind of system where certain criminals are let free for no apparent reason, really. So here I am, in this little settlement called Seyda Neen and everyone here’s not friendly at all. Well, I was a convicted criminal so I guess that doesn’t help my case. Walking around the place, people also seem to be a little paranoid. Walk up behind someone and they think I want to have a conversation with them. Not that their comments help either. They’re along the lines of:

• “My time is precious, so make it quick.”
• “Anytime now.” (Mind you, that’s spoken in a condescending tone.)
• “Speak quickly outlander, or go away.”

And my personal favourite: “You like to dance close to the fire, don’t you?” Well, actually , I could really walk onto the fire and not get burnt, amazingly. Such are the amazing wonders of Morrowind. Who knew? I’ve spent so much little time here, yet I know more than the common folk do. Am I a god or what?

Not to mention, some of them like to mumble and grumble… maybe they’re the ones who haven’t had their daily dose of moon sugar yet. But hey, everybody loves moon sugar in Morrowind!

The little village here is a little strange as well. Many of the commoners like to spend their time inside their huts, and there are four too many guards here. For reals, there are about four heavily armed guards in this little village. Maybe this is a result of their fucked up law and order in Morrowind? I was starting to worry – perhaps the other folk of Morrowind are like this too? Good people who seem a little out of their minds thanks to their apparent lobotomies.

The village of Seyda Neen. Lobotomised much?

As much as they dislike outlanders like me, I ask them what the local happenings are in this village. Apparently, a tax collector has been missing for quite some time now. A tax collector missing? Hmm, my Spidey-senses were tingling. I believe this is a case for… LADY GAGA!

A disliked tax collector? Hey, tell me something I don't know.

My hunch being that the tax collector made his way into town when doing his deed, he had to be around the village here. After much searching [oh, who am I kidding, I looked it up on the internet as to where his body was] using my superior detective skills because apparently, all four guards are too busy looking tough.

Won't somebody think of the children?!

So I find the dead tax collector. Dead? Yes. A case of murder? Quite possibly. After stripping him of his dignity AND his clothes, I make my way back to the guy who had the weird name. Remember him? I also consult to townsfolk of the village and I’m told he had a girlfriend who lived in the lighthouse. As usual, she’s devastated by his death and asks me to return his ring to her, for something for her to remember him by.

A ring, you say? Hmm...

And here I am stuck with a moral dilemma. I’ll no doubt get the reward if I find the murderer, but what about the ring? It was the ring of a tax collector after all, so there would be a nice re-sale value… but then again, her girlfriend is emotionally suffering from the death of her boyfriend… Being the nice guy that I am, I give her the ring. Or am I really the nice guy? If anything, I should’ve sold the ring and forced her to move on find someone new to have a relationship with. Hey, I’ve got some friends in the cell who dig chicks with blue skin! So I guess in the end, I end up being the bastard and give her the ring. You know, you’ll never live your life unless you throw that ring into the sea! In return she gives me health potions. At this point, I feel like murdering her as well, just so she can join her boyfriend in Morrowind heaven, because I’m finding this reward absolutely shit. Thanks for that. No, really, thanks for that. Maybe you need a lobotomy on your lobotomy. Frickin’ frack.

You're not that grateful, you know that...?

So now it time to turn myself efforts to the murderer. Who could possibly be the murderer? I look into the scroll entitled “Tax Records” and find that someone by the name of Foryn Gilnith has the highest unpaid amount in taxes. I so righteously burst into his little shack like I own the place – well I do goddammit! – and ask him about the murder. He admits to it. What a fool! Still angry from the last reward regarding the two health potions, he now seems like the perfect target to let out my rage. He gives me the option of hiding his dirty little secret. Or I can kill him and grab my reward for his bounty. I choose the latter.

If you had only paid your taxes, fool!

With my anger now gone, I get a sick feeling. Maybe I shouldn’t have killed this guy just for a bounty-reward. But then again, now that he’s dead, I can claim this shack as my home and look, it’s even got a hammock. Woohoo!

A dead man in my own newly-owned shack. Ugh, here’s that sick feeling again. I can tell this is going to be a grand adventure.

I’m going to do a set of “game diaries”, that is, I play a game and I document my aimless exploits, and I’m doing it through the game The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind. And so we begin!

I wake up at the back of a ship that stinks of moldy wood. There’s some shirtless elf standing there. And apparently I was stuck in prison too. Maybe this elf was my gay lover? I’m not sure. He asks me my name, which I find a bit odd, seeing as we’ve been on this ship for a while together. Being stuck at the back of a ship that stinks of moldy wood, I’m not too keen on answering him, so I give him the smart answer.

You're ugly.

He seemed content enough, even though he kept staring at me. Awkward… maybe I shouldn’t have lead him on that night… Thankfully, the guard comes by and calls me up onto deck, where they thought I was important enough to be greeted by Morgan Freeman.

Hey, nice to see ya Morg.

Hell yeahs, this is what I call travelling in style.

After being asked to be go into another room where I finally tell a strange bald man where he asks me what my skills are, what my profession is and what my star-sign is. Oh jeez, this isn’t speed dating. I tell him my name is… LADY GAGA!

What kind of name is that? You need to get out more.

Once I take my papers to finally get permission to the dangerous world of Morrowind, I get escorted through a door to a small room, where they have a table set out for me and everything. Aw, how sweet! Or… I had other ideas. You just have to love how the law works here. Here I am, a convicted criminal being released into the world, and they put me in a room full of loose valuables, like silver plating, this strange liquid that is worth quite a lot. I even steal the piece of paper on the table. Ah, sweet loot.

Mmm, my precious

So I’ve finally made my way out towards the world, where I am finally free. I sell all my loot at the local trader and make my way out of here. Upon travelling, I stumble across some nekkid guy lying on the floor. I poke him with my short dagger which I stole from the previous room. He’s not moving. Yeah, okay, I lied. This is the true story, as farfetched as it sounds: while walking along, a wizard falls out of the sky. His hat looks intriguing to me, so I steal it from him. And I thought I may as well take his robe and his fancy shoes as well. What? He’s not going to be wearing it any time soon. I put it on, and miraculously, it fits me perfectly!

Nekkid face plant.

The blue in the robe brings out my eyes.

I look happy, don’t I?

Does anyone remember Feist, the singer who wrote the song 1234?

This was done quite a while ago, but I felt like listening to Feist this morning and was instantly reminded of this video, where she sang the song with slightly altered lyrics on Sesame Street. It sounds so good, and counting to four has never been so fun.

As someone who has lived in Sydney her whole life, I only actually found this out today:

Yep, that’s right. Raper Street.

Imagine telling people you have a party at your house and then telling them your address. Oh the lulz.

Can anyone explain to me what wit is? I know its meaning, but what does it look like? For example, if someone gave me a piece of text and asked me to read it, and then decide on whether it was witty or not, I think I’d fail at that.

Does anyone remember that post where I talked about that girl that I like?

You know, the singer that’s super-hot? Remember how I said that I was pretty much over her?

Well, I’m not over her. And I am unhealthily infatuated with her. I haven’t done anything crazy as of yet, unless you define Facebook stalking as crazy. Though I’m pretty sure everyone does it, don’t they?

See, in the blog post I have linked to, I said I was over her, and during the time of writing that blog post, I did realise and know that I could never really pursue her. I mean, I may turn her gay for a month, but we all know how straight girls always go running back to their boys. Gosh, they’re such heartbreakers. I’d say they’re worse than the bi-curious girls. As I was saying though, everything is easier said than done.

Anyway, like I said before, I am crazy about her. I cannot stop thinking about her. Quite literally. Every minute awake is devoted to thinking about her. The only time when I’m not thinking about her is when I’m sleeping, or imagining myself as a super-famous drummer, or when I’m thinking about buying a fucking pair of corduroy pants. I have even thought about going to a therapist, but I’m not working at the moment so I can’t afford it (is a therapist covered by Medicare? I don’t think it is). So I’m kind of stuck in this erratic rut where it’s just driving me crazy. It makes me so unsettled. Words cannot describe just how messed up I am at the moment because of this one girl.

So I figured that I should just tell her how I feel, which I don’t think would be too hard for me because according to everyone know, I am quite direct. Sometimes I get messages/calls from my friends telling me how I seemed a little rude or inappropriate. While my friends understand the way I behave, I’ve actually had to explain myself to my friends’ friends a few times. So that should be no problem. One problem however, is finding the time to talk to her. I don’t know when her schedule, or when she is available. I’ve texted her two weeks in a row about this great place where people actually gather in an apartment (which is “owned” by a squatter, actually) where there is some genuinely good music. This place is illegal, as it’s not a licensed music venue, and people are allowed to bring their own alcohol. It’s also pretty bohemian, as there are people who sometimes show up and sketch the musicians that are playing. As far as I’m concerned, she’s always working on that particular day.

And yes, sorry about going off into that little tangent about being direct and the little illegal music venue. Anyway, it’s hard to find the time to actually talk to her. She’s actually doing a gig next Wednesday and I’m hoping to tell her then. Which means I will have to get a private conversation just between the two of us going. Which will be difficult because she is the headlining act. Which means everyone will most likely be swarming around her; her friends, her family, random people who want to suck-up to her or network with her. Fucking stupid. Two, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to build some kind of repertoire and know her better, but I’ve kind of… missed them?

When I went to the TAFE gig, I talked to her for a bit, and I missed an opportunity there. It was a three-way conversation with someone else and her, and then she walked off because I didn’t fucking include her. So stupid of me. Two, when I went to see her gig outside of TAFE, she was too busy talking with her friends, so I didn’t get a chance to know her better there either. I thought third time would be a charm, but I was wrong. I went go see her gig with a friend and in this swanky queer bar/club, and we bumped into her after she finished playing her set. She asked us to wait for her as she was going to put her guitar somewhere so we waited, but then my friend had to go so I escorted him out of the bar. I didn’t want to wait as I had the flu pretty bad that day, so I went home as soon as my friend left (though luckily, I told her friend I was going and asked her to say good-bye for me). The following day, I was hitting my head against the wall. I totally regret leaving early. It wouldn’t hurt to exchange a few words with her, would it?

So now that you know all my mishaps, how am I supposed to her to tell her, straight from the bottom of my heart, that I am crazy for her, who is pretty much a stranger to me?

What sucks the most is that I am completely happy being friends with her, and would rather not pursue any kind of relationship with her (I think it’s pretty obvious if we did get into some kind of relationship, it would probably end up being pretty messy in the end). But then there’s this other part of my brain that’s telling me I should continue chasing her. Oh, life is so complicated.

And so now, I sit here listening to The Girls by Calvin Harris in order to make me feel better about myself.

I really like corduroy. At the same time, I’m having trouble finding some corduroy pants. Does anyone know where I can get some? I’m getting kind of desperate, it’s actually kind of sad.

Sometimes I like to post small snippets of really silly and bigoted things that people say because that’s how I rant. But that’s all I ever seem to do these days. I can never add anything substantial to the post other than “this makes me so angry!” I am not much of writer, and I don’t like writing five blocky paragraphs of things that happen to me because one, I don’t like dwelling on the details; two, to be honest, I don’t think it’s very interesting, nor could I make it interesting either and three, I’m not a fan of revealing my personal life to anyone. Unless I threw in something about wrestling a crocodile. Maybe then I could tell you.

So I’ll just write about my “love” life, inspired by a post by LuLi because it’s good to get out of your comfort zone every once and a while.

There’s a reason why I put the word “love” in quotations. Because I have NEVER been in a relationship and strangely, at the age of 19, I’m not interested in one at all (all my friends seem to be actively looking for someone to be with). Nor have I actually been in love. Perhaps infatuation or crushing, but that’s it, really. So I shall tell you about my first crush.

First girl I ever had a crush on, I had going for like, two and a half years. She wasn’t my type. She was into experimenting with drugs and got drunk EVERY weekend. I don’t exactly enjoy hanging out with people who do that, because taking drugs is definitely not my idea of having fun, especially after the way I got so drunk on my eighteenth. I had a chance to talk to her, but we were merely acquaintances. My friend was then in the same science class with her and with that happening, I got to know her a little better, because she got talking with my friend and would hang out with us during lunches occassionally. I found out we were both music lovers, but I disliked the fact that her music tastes were so different to mine. I enjoyed indie music, and so did she, but she enjoyed the more obscure stuff, like Bjork, and really artsy bands, like The Red Paintings (they’re the fucking weirdest band I have ever seen. Can’t stand the lead singer either.) But of course, being a fifteen year old teenager with raging hormones, I thought she looked hot, and that’s all that matters to a horny teenager like me.

So the both of us actually become really good friends, despite our differences. I know, it confuses me as well. One day, I told her that I really liked her and she took it fine. She wasn’t freaked out and I was relieved. So we could all be happy-chaps. One day, I was walking home with her (because the both of us take the same route home) and she invited me into my house. Of course, now that I’m older, I understand the real reason why she wanted to invite me inside her house. But I was 15 and had no idea. I thought she was just being friendly. So I went in her house and hung out for a while. She then “makes her move” and we make out for a while. I was so surprised and shocked. It turns out, she reciprocated what I was feeling as well. Awesome, right?! No. The next day at school, I went up to talk to her and she was being so cold and distant. That went on a for a while and I finally asked her face-to-face what the Hell was the matter with her. She tells me that she did like me, but never wanted to take it any further because she just wanted to see what it was like to kiss another girl. So we never spoke after that. Even after that, I was still crushing over her because I still thought she was hot, despite her mean-spiritedness. I got over it around the end of Year 11. Though I’m still as bitter-as-Hell about it. And that’s the end of that chapter.

Now that I’m a little older, I have discovered this new-found confidence in me. I find it so easy to go up and talk to girls. I will talk to them if I’m interested in them, even if they are straight (even though with the straight ones, I won’t actually try anything). So at TAFE, the music department sometimes puts on these little concerts to showcase what the performers have done so far. And this is where my next infatuation starts. So me and some people I hang out with in my class go during lunch time. So the band’s playing the music, and she’s singing Drops of Jupiter by Train. She’s a very good singer, even though it was a little un-prepared. She actually messed up and I thought it was kind of cute that she did, though I realised much later because I was too busy focusing on what the drummer was doing. It was only then a day after the performance, class was finished and she was sitting in the hallway with her friends composing something that I got to actually get a look at her.

My God she was fucking hot.

Anyway, I used her performance as a conversation starter and gave her some constructive criticism. That was our first conversation ever. We seemed to be on good terms so far. So as a part of our course, we have to do a little project where we organise a little concert. My friend (who also has a thing for her) and I make our promotional rounds on the day of the event, telling all the students in the music-related courses about it, and so the both of us finally walk into her class. Awesome. Earlier, my friend and I decided we should have a little competition, as to who could hit on her first and take her out on a date. Can’t remember who proposed it, but we both agreed, and thought that we should invite her to our little shindig and do our competition there. So everyone in the class are doing their own performances and practising. I catch her talking with the teacher and make an effort to personally invite her to our event. I tell her about it, and she tells me she’ll be there. Sweet! My friend just says, “I really liked your Drops of Jupiter performance.” After the both of us walk out of the class, I just realise how pathetic his compliment was. And so I’m totally in the lead.

Jump to the time of the concert, I catch her sitting on the steps and she waves to me, and I wave back. Woohoo, I am definitely in the lead. At the same time, my gaydar is totally shit and I start wondering whether or not she’s gay. I reckon she’s straight, but my friend who has a thing for her thinks she’s gay, and a couple other people in my class think she’s gay too. So I finally go up to her and ask, “My friends were just wondering if you were gay or not?” She replies, “Sorry, I’m straight.” I think maybe for the first time in history, my friends genuinely wanted to know if she was gay or straight, and she took it that I was using “my friends” as a cover for myself, but then again, I actually did want to know if she was gay or straight. So I figure that she knows I am gay myself, and I am interested in her. Though if that’s the case, she seems pretty cool about it because during the last week of TAFE, they hold the final concerts for the performers, which is basically their final exam. I’m finally getting over her, realising that it’s not within my realm to pursue anything further with this woman. But I figured that I have friends in those performance classes that I made in a previous course, so I go for them, and not her.

So I go to this thing, and I’m talking to my friend from a former class, and she comes up to me and says, “Wendyyy!” like we’re old friends. What the Hell? I mean, we didn’t even know each other that well and she comes up to me like we’ve known each other for a while. I think she was happy to see me because she was surprised that I would come to this concert, even though it wouldn’t actually do anything on my part. We have our little conversation, and during the conversation, I just realise she’s wearing this tight short skirt and stockings and in my mind, my jaws drop (I was slow to realise this because of the low lighting in the concert hall). So I’m half-way through a sentence and then just stop. I realise that I’ve just stopped mid-sentence and she looks at me as if I’m a little absent-minded. So anyway, I’m kind of back in square one but not as infatuated because I realise that we can only be friends, and that’s as far as it’ll go. (We are however still on good terms with each other.)

Oh, and that competition? Just before I asked her whether she was gay or not, I actually did hit on her but failed. That’s actually the first time I’ve actually choked while hitting on someone. Once I found out she was straight, my other friend who was into her chickened out and makes an excuse, “Oh, she’s out of my league and she’s a little intimidating.” What a wuss. So that plan failed.