Decreasing Global Negatron

Unless you’re working a show with your best mates - this is what it’s really like.

Keepin’ it real.

A 5 day killer stomach virus.     Free with Souvlaki.

2 bottles of Harpic Toilet Cleaner.    $9.48

Money saved going out with friends because you can’t be more than 20m from plumbing at any time.    $280.00

Stomach of a 19 year old triathlete.  Priceless.

What’s the difference between an orange and a yeast infection?

I don’t have an orange.

*takesabow*

As you were. Word to your mothers.

Tim Burton at his most green, and questionably, most awesome. 

Vincent is devastatingly brilliant… if you don’t like it, I hate your jerk-faces. 

Word to your mothers.

(via billacidear)

Yesterday I received a gift. And what a gloriously, unintentionally funny one it was. 

Albeit from a sincerely good place from a wonderful person who had no idea what they were giving me, but with a great backstory nonetheless.

It was  a motivational book written by a female model, turned slashie, turned blah, turned spiritual healer. Autographed and signed to me specifically with the message proclaiming “Dear Nat, Go For It!’.

Now, for anyone who knows me, a Self Help book isn’t really my cup of tea. 

But this one was special. 

You see this one was written by a ‘woman’ who many years ago I discovered, 2 years into a relationship (with a very average dude) was screwing the guy was seeing. 

You see the humour in it yet??!!

It’s pretty bloody funny. The book is full of sanctimonious advice about how to be a good mother, how to find yourself through self affirmation, daily meditations, being true to yourself, beating the odds and becoming a spiritual person.

I still can’t find the chapter about how to fuck someone else’s boyfriend while your kids are asleep in another room, but when I do, I’m sure it’ll be a page-turner.

Merry almost Christmas peeps and remember, Go For It!!!

Word to your mothers. (and your boyfriends *winkwink*)

• 17 y/o male: Have you seen Boardwalk Empire?
• Me: Yeah, it's fantastic!
• 17: I know, but what is wrong with all the women in it?
• Me: ....Nothing. Hang on, why? What do you mean?
• 17: Something's wrong with all their tits in it. It's like they're sick.
• Me: Umm. They're all fine. That's what real boobs look like.
• 17: *laughs hysterically* NO IT'S NOT! I've seen, like, a kazillion sets of tits and they're not like that. Those tits look like roadkill tits... Who'd wanna play with those.
• Me: Your dad.

Oh, looky here!

Where did you come from? I didn’t expect to see you. You’re looking simply delectable! Your avatar has been photoshopped very competently indeed. I hardly even notice your double chins and crushing loneliness. And your rash has almost completely cleared!! Huzzah!

Well, while you’re here let me just clear something up quickly. I don’t want to start this blog being negatron and going against everything this space is about. But I also feel it is important to make somewhat of a campaign promise for those stumbling by this page by accident and thinking “What’s all this about? Will I see boobs?”.  

My pledge is this. 

I will never post photos of my meals.

Never. 

I will never assume you are that unfathomably bored enough that you wish to fill your swiftly passing life with what i’m consuming as my tri-daily shit-fuel. 

That is of course unless I find it particularly funny.

Funny meaning, infantile.

Nuff said.

Word to your mothers.