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Monday, July 18, 2016

11:11PM - I don't want to die

I... I really Think that I won't live much longer.
Life is now just persevering until the next day. Rinse, repeat.

Friday, May 27, 2016


I've become the person I never wanted to be. Paralysed in a dead end job. No passion to pursue something worthwhile. Older. Uglier. Not the person who used to post here, nor who she could have become. Old. Ugly. Ambitionless. Worthless. Hopeless.


I lost live journal as an outlet a long time ago. The things that are tearing me apart too much involve someone I care too much about.

Not sure when I posted the above.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008


When did i become insecure?
That look will haunt me forever.
"It's ok, it's ok."

Wednesday, June 20, 2007


Watching old vidoes on youtube, I have a strong suspicion that Harvey Danger and Jack Osbourne are the same person.

Thursday, April 5, 2007


Holy fucking shit, I passed experimental pysch. One more question right and I would have gotten a credit!
Yes, I'm aware that I still got a piss-poor mark. But I had serenely accepted that I was going to fuck the exam, so I'm over the fucking moon. Wheeeee!

Monday, April 2, 2007


Fiona warned me of the impending full moon tonight. I blame it for
A) the two exams tomorrow that I am in no way prepared for
B) the pimple right between my eyes
C) My skin becoming a festival of red and oil
D) any fights I may have today

Sunday, March 25, 2007


But then who needs a head?

Saturday, March 24, 2007


Fuck you, experimental psych. Fuck you, experimental psych. Fuck you, experimental psych. And to a lesser extent, fuck you Spanish.

Monday, March 19, 2007


I haven't bothered posting ads which annoy me recently, but Fiona pointed out this beauty -
"Ive got the hots for whats in the box with the dots!" sounds alot more like "I wanna shag that chick with genital herpes" than "Gee, I could go some pizza." And as well as the general slogan, the ad itself pisses me off. For those outside my postcode, it consists of a young couple talking suggestively over video phone. "Blah blah blah menu how great is dominos yay" "...*coy silence* ...and then?"
Oh yeah, cause pizza gets me sooo hot baby.

Coke ads have always shitted me. But more so during their last campaign.Indy/(scenester/whatever the fuck the collective word is for a loosely defined group of people with black hair, fringes and a mildly pathological dislike for pop music is called) rockin out and rebelling and just livin maaan who either enjoy coke or are the product of how good coke is (the ad is a little unclear on this point). I just hate it. "REBEL! WITH COKE!!" I mean,for fucks sake. it can't even be parodied its so fucking ridiculous.

just jeans have gone on a similar tack, urging you to find your individuality in their chain stores.

10:14AM - Canberra - Full of Cunts. Volume 1.

One boozy night after leaving Academy (I wasn't there by choice, young Lachlan inexplicably wanted his 21st there)I had to somehow find my way back to the wilds of Tuggeranong. Via taxi, this generally costs somewhere in the realm of $50, a sum I generally will not readily part with, unless it's I'm pursueing more alcohol.
Vanessa, who had decided to come with me to keep me out of trouble, helped me edge my way up the taxi line, "are you going to Tuggeranong? Are you going to..." until one particularly ugly customer snarled "NO! GETTHEBACKA D"LION!" I briefly tried explaining that the only effects of me sharing a taxi with someone was that me and the other passengers would have a lower fare, and would not, in fact, get him there any slower, or indeed affect him at all. Unfortunatley, being even drunker than he was, the speech I actually managed to produce was something along the lines of "IYASTUPIDCUNTFUCKERHOWFUCKINGRETARDEDAREYOU!". "Nuhuh, no fights this time Claire" said Vanessa, gently but firmly steering me away. "This time?" I wondered briefly, but couldnt think of anything so let it go. Some other taxi goers overheard our plight and sympathetically started a chat with us. Whilst Vanessa was engaged in conversation, The feeling I'd been wronged increased. I hate being yelled at, and for gods sake, I was right. If someone shares a taxi, you get home no slower. If it annoys you to see them hop in while youve had to wait for longer, thats just fucking stupid. for christs sake dont be such a fucking whiny retard. If you dont want to share (which, fair enough, most people dont) lie and say youre going the opposite direction. But anyway.
"Y'know, I reckon I could hit him from here." I mused, indicating a 20cent coin. "No, Claire. Claire? No." said Vanessa firmly and turned back to her conversation. "Nah, I can totally take him." I asserted confidentally , aimed, and PING! smack-bang on the back of the skull. Beautiful shot. I saw a brief vision of outrage, arms waving around wildly and a yell akin to that of a foul-mouthed wookie before i turned around to hide my smirk, and did a little jig of unholy glee.
After my antagonist was safely in his hard earned taxi, I got a tap on the shoulder. "I believe this is yours?" politely questioned a young man. My eyes widened, unprepared for a potentially ugly change in atmosphere. He laughed, said "Don't worry, the guy was a dick. And it was a good shot." He returned my coin and resumed his place in line.
God damn right it was a good shot.

Saturday, March 3, 2007


You'll die in a Bar Fight.

You are the angry type when drunk, and you can't help but be violent towards perfect strangers. Unfortunatly for you one of those strangers is a kung fu master.

'How will you die?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Ive heard this before, oddly enough.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007


I'm feeling dejected, ill-used and ragingly angry for a number of fairly poor reasons (the main one being that I'm back in Canberra)so if anyone is bored send me a meme or comic I havent seen
thanks kids, mommy cant find her valium

Thursday, January 4, 2007


Being a technological retard is getting to me - I managed to transfer a photo from my camera to the computer but cant upload the fucker onto myspace cause it isnt a jpeg or gif. any helpers?

Wednesday, December 20, 2006


Once tagged by this entry, the assignment is to write a blog entry of some kind with six random facts about you.

Then, pick six of your friends and tag them; no tag backs. This explanation should be included.

Fuck you Alex, I can't think of six things either.

Monday, December 18, 2006


On the twelfth day of Christmas, fairy_pistol sent to me...
Twelve scars drumming
Eleven skeletons writing
Ten fairies a-dancing
Nine berets biting
Eight squeegies a-procrastinating
Seven cats a-swearing
Six noodles a-gorging
Five fi-i-i-inding leprechauns
Four stripey socks
Three making lists
Two peoples hands
...and a tang in a beauty.
Get your own Twelve Days:

Sunday, November 26, 2006


So I actually managed to pass psych research! also, two Ds and a HD. Fuck yeah!

Wednesday, September 20, 2006


I woke up, prepared for a horrible day. I only had one class, than work. Three hours travel for a 50 minute class. "Three hours which will probably be spent more productivley at home. " Whispered a demonic voice on my shoulder. I was already feeling particularly bad about failing an essay (well i passed but it felt just as bad)so I said sleepily "well, fuck that" and jumped on the internet to discover that the BUSES ARE ON STRIKE! God bless them. So to kill some time, I figured I'd vent a little spleen about uni, in particular the toilets in building ten. I understand that public toilets are not particularly hygienic. I understand that to some that the mere mention of sitting on the seat will bring high pitched screeches of disgust. But for fucks sake, stop squatting over the bloody seats! You will not, repeat not pick up any STD/I unless you shed your underwear, sling one foot into the toilet bowl and hump your way around the edge of the seat. And even then only if someone infected has done the same thing fairly recently. If you still cant bring yourself to have your bare legs touch where someone elses bare legs have rested for a few minutes, here's an idea... line the seat with fucking toilet paper. If your squeamishness comes in the manner of thinking that all kinds of germs probably survived that last flush, and if you sit they just may be floating around waiting for your warm welcoming arse, you may be right. But you know what squatting does? means that your bladder does not get properly emptied, so the urine sits and festers inside you til your next toilet break, when it finally comes out and increases your risk thousand fold of a nice urinary tract infection.

Why do I give a shit (no pun intended) about peoples toilet habits? Because the squatters like to leave the seats encrusted with stale, golden drops of urine, and call me squeamish but I am not prepared to scrape it off.

Monday, September 4, 2006


I seem to have developed a habit of telling elaborate lies when the truth would have been perfectly acceptable. A telemarketer called today, at first confused when I answered with "hello, wrong number?" but recovering quickly, eager to tell me all about their fabulous mortgage deals. "Um, I'm 17 so it wouldnt be much use to me. My parents won't be home til about nine. "Oh, if I call at 8:30 maybe they..or other days?" "Uh...they leave at six and dont get home until nine. Theyre doctors and nurses..." "What about weekends?" At this point my imagination deserted me and I hung up.
Why did I bother, when surely "sorry, not interested" would have sufficed?

Tuesday, July 11, 2006



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