Last night I spent well over an hour talking to the most wonderful woman in the world. She is beautiful in mind, body and soul, and she speaks with the voice of an angel. Help me, for I am completely enraptured and fear my life is no longer my own...

By Wateva on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 01:11 pm:

Well, 1) she sounds great, like perfect, although I'm not sure anyone is.
2) that shows that you have a lot of spare time.
3) i feel happy for you that you have found someone who you see in such good light
4) you don't need help, because you'll get through this unity, and I'll back you up on that.
I don't know what that meant. Never mind.

Last night I talked to many people. They were all very unique in their own way.

By Wateva on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 01:14 pm:

Anyway, I hope that one day I'll be able to talk to someone like that.
Voice of an angel....that reminds me of Charlotte Church.. was that what they called her? Correct me if I'm mistaken.

By Wateva on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 01:20 pm:

Last night I had a mosquito bite and I stuck a pice of sticky tape on it. I forgot about it until half an hour later, and when i tore it, I tore a piece of skin off. Strangely enough, it doesn't hurt; it was just a thin layer of skin. maybe they can use that to make people's skin nicer. Anyway, my mosquito bite doesn't bother me anymore, even though it is still there.
I'm not very good at Biology, but probably I have ripped off the infected layer of cells, which is now in the rubbish bin.
Biologists, correct me if that is wrong.

By R~S~P on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 01:24 pm:

Perfect. Yes, that's the word. Last night I came as close to perfection as I ever have.

By Wateva on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 01:29 pm:

Oh, good you've found the word R~S~P, let's rejoice over your new found perfection.
I hope that this perfection may last as long as you wish it to.

By The Occifer on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 01:52 pm:

Three girls in one night. Oh yeah, two boys as well. Shouldnt forget the boys... I've now had a grand total of 12 people say they want to move in with me, and I've rejected each and every one of them. I almost took the drug pusher, seeing as I quite liked him, but when he boasted about how "fuckin' monstrous" his skull bong was, I drew the line and politely told him not to call me, because I'D call HIM back tomorrow, like yeah...

And as much as I don't want to turn into one of these Old Coping Brigadeer-Luddites, I still have to say this: didn't Eloquent Eddy create a rather successful topic of the same name & purpose not so long ago? Yeah, yeah? Like, yeah?

By Wateva on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 01:54 pm:

So who would be your ideal room mate? Are all those people who came up to you so bad?

By The Occifer on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 02:05 pm:

Are you looking for somewhere to live, Wateva? Tell me about yourself...

By Wateva on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 02:11 pm:

Me? Looking for somewhere to live? Well, no, but I wouldn't mind, lol.
Tell you about myself? Well, I guess at the moment I'm trying to find something at the moment, I don't know what it is. I'm feeling pretty sad at the moment although i brighten up every now and then. But I am definetly better than that drug user you were on about. I can be pretty considerate, but I guess you are too right?

By The Occifer on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 02:21 pm:

Yeah. But are you sure you are better than that drug PUSHER (not just a user, wateva, a PUSHER!!!!!1) I was talking about? I mean, he was offering me 3 months rent front up, plus a liberal smattering of occasional free drugs. I could sure use an extra few thousand dollars in my account right now.

A question: if a dandy has an empty bank account, can he continue being a dandy, or are his dandy days dead? I'm just curious...

By Wateva on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 02:27 pm:

He can continue being a dandy, in his mind.
Oh, before I go into anything, my name uses the shift key. Well the drug Pusher- why would you want the drugs anyway? I rather have someone offering to give me free milk chocolate, than the occasional liberal smattering of free drugs.
I'm also curious if you can do without the occasional liberal smattering of free drugs.

By ZACH+---------------- on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 08:08 pm:

Dont fall into that trap!!!! once you fall in it hurts really really bad... see MY HEART HURTS and MY HEART HURTS AGAIN for details

By ZACH+-- on Wednesday, April 4, 2001 - 08:14 pm:

im sad too... i hate my situation and that dosent help either... it's not just alex its the WHOLE situation... cheer me up! or ignore me whatever i dont care.

By The Lad {Micky} on Thursday, April 5, 2001 - 02:19 am:

Hi this is about alex. Wah wah, it's so sad. Help me.

You're really something of a repetitious c*nt (sorry ladies), yeah? For fucksakes I'm in mourning for Man United. They lost a very important match last night yeah, so I log on for a diversion yeah, and all I see are more of your shite postings.

Cut the bollox and grow some balls.

By Wateva on Thursday, April 5, 2001 - 04:12 am:

Perhaps Zach should go to the Lol page.
Now I'm off to have breakfast.
And erm, there are no traps, just that you are looking between the lines.

By Wateva on Thursday, April 5, 2001 - 04:13 am:

Cheer up Zach.
Cheer up Zach.
Cheer up Zach.
lol, hope that helped.

By R~S~P on Thursday, April 5, 2001 - 11:02 am:

Shut up Zach
Shut up Zach
Shut up Zach
L-o-fucking-l.
Now shut up.

By Wateva on Thursday, April 5, 2001 - 12:16 pm:

which one did more help then?

By ZACH+-------- on Thursday, April 5, 2001 - 04:39 pm:

I actualy think R~S~P did... i really do need to shut up right now... I stoped makeing sense a long time ago

By Jo on Thursday, April 5, 2001 - 05:57 pm:

Hey, mister. About time we did have that catch-up. I'm missing all your gossip! :o)

By Wateva on Friday, April 6, 2001 - 02:56 am:

yeah, maybe I should be less encouraging in the future. lol

By R~S~P on Saturday, April 14, 2001 - 12:27 am:

Well, I spoke to her again tonight.. Ah, her words wash over me like a cooling balm... Oh Anastasia, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul, my dove, my love. Ah, how can I describe the perilous magic of such nymphets? Once again my mind is lost...

By rob on Saturday, April 14, 2001 - 06:47 am:

...

ick

...

ick

...

HURRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!

By R~S~P on Saturday, April 14, 2001 - 11:04 am:

Not much of a big reader, are you 'Rob'? Can *anyone* spot the reference?

By TobyZ on Saturday, April 14, 2001 - 02:08 pm:

On the wall of an Amaco bathroom stall?

By rob on Saturday, April 14, 2001 - 02:14 pm:

I think I recognise it from "Hannibal" or "silence of the lambs" but that could have been from Hannibal quoting someone else...

By R~S~P on Saturday, April 14, 2001 - 06:42 pm:

Wrong. Idiot.

By Rob on Monday, April 16, 2001 - 12:36 am:

Oh, Lolita, that's it.

By Butter~Mobile on Friday, March 1, 2002 - 12:35 am:

This didn't really happen last night, but last week, two friends of mine coerced me into coming along to one of their Resistance gatherings ~ a supposed forum for "energetic debate by the sea" for angry (but hip) young people. It sounded like something out of the sixties, and I had exciting visions of meeting people (male ones, preferably) smoking dope and dancing around in a zany way, the crotches of their trousers practically bursting open with OUTRAGE against The Man, etc... What I actually got was a lot of dirty looks from dogma~shackled, pretentious BORES who used something called a 'talking stick' with absolutely no sense of irony.

The dirty looks stemmed from my painted fingernails. "Poor people don't paint their nails." Well, not according to a most unattractive, overweight man who was at least in his mid~thirties. His claim to fame was for having once been arrested for (in his words) "shitting on a picture of the Queen" at a strike of some sort about 20 years ago.

Things had looked promising upon arrival. My two friends and I arrived at Floreat Park Beach at the appointed time. The night was warm, balmy, the sky looked heavenly ~ we could see groups of shady figures gathered around small bonfires. My friend Tania commented wittily that she was invisibly impressed.

Those shady figures didn't greet us with much enthusiasm up close. During a break in some mutually exclusive banter about asylum seekers, I smiled (I attempted a 'comradely' smile, as if to say "Me too!") at a lad in his late twenties wearing a tea cosy on his head. He also had on a tee~shirt inexplicably bearing the legend "CLOTHES MAKETH THE WOMAN".
"So, how are things going tonight?"
He looked at me in bewilderment. "How do you mean?" he said after a very long pause. A female sidled up to us and gave me a Look.
"Rafe can't talk to you at the moment," she sniffed.
Now, of course everyone deserves their vocal space, as Tania caustically pointed out. "Maybe they think it's a subversive approach to the tyrannies of language?" she whispered cleverly.
Or were 'Resistance' just a group of big, fucking yawns?
(And don't label them. They might have been clad in identical crappy cheesecloth wear, sporting identical body~piercings and hairstyles, but they HATE labels and are constantly amazed that people might be tempted to see them as slavish caricatures of Left culture...anyway...)

An eternity later, something called the 'criticism/self criticism' meeting began. Everyone was invited to either criticise someone else or criticise themselves. Being a newcomer, I didn't expect to be a target. But a rather obnoxious girl named 'Pia' began to challenge my use of the English language. It was nothing personal, she insisted, but she declared that I spoke like a 'rich bitch'. Every time I'd spoken within her earshot, if I'd used a word like 'recalcitrant' for example, she would stop me and say, "What does that mean?" At first I'd define the word, but after a time it became totally obvious she knew perfectly well what the word meant. Her point was that she did not think that "poor people and Aborigines" would understand. It all seemed shockingly condescending to me, but I wearily made an effort to watch my speech in her presence. It was only one night, after all.

Half an hour of turgid reflection later, I mentioned to Tania that some water might be nice. "I'm dying of thirst," I muttered plaintively.
"Oh, dig on this," said the chick next to me, a well scrubbed young thang equipped with the inevitable nose~and~eyebrow rings. "She's DYING. We better get her to a HOSPITAL."
This uncalled for bitchy display from (probably) Miss Methodist Ladies Head Girl 2001 had me a little put out, but Tania beat me to it. "Blow it out your ASS, sister."
Praise the Forrest Gods that I have a rude American friend.
"Wow, did you notice how the energy has suddenly gone really negative?" proffered one of the generic flower boys.
But it wasn't all negativity and "bummers".
Lori was a thoughtful and articulate woman in her mid forties, who seemed to have a more critical take on this wank~culture.
"Be careful of extremism, man!" she said in response to the flower boy. "This yin~and~yang, positive~and~negative stuff, it's not that simple. You CAN'T leave the negative behind. That's almost Fascist."
Lori told us she used to live in urban Adelaide but always felt rather desperate and depressed (well, you would, wouldn't you?). After her older children left home she bit the bullet and sold everything. Lori and her daughter now travelled all over Australia with no commodoties save a car and a teepee.
"Come to the women's circle!" she suggested, trying to imbibe me with some enthusiasm. "Bring a block of wood for the fire."
While noone was looking, I spitefully threw the 'talking stick' behind a bush.

The gags just kept on coming as, walking off, sullen and annoyed, I tripped over a log and fell flat on my ASS in front of about 20 onlookers. Roars of mirth were all round. (Evidently, revolutionaries don't need any high~falutin' humour ~ a bit of slapstick can keep them going for hours.)

Tania, who knew a bit about these things, tried to explain to me that the REVOLOOSHINARY crowd can be very cliquey and often newcomers need an unconscious 'mandate' from the Revolutionary Collective before anyone will acknowledge their presence. So much for freedom. The few group situations we encountered were competitive and desperate. It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't insist on shopping themselves around as THE radical alternative to urban drudgery and conformism. Maybe I didn't try hard enough to get into it ~ but I reckon I'd have felt 'looser' at a church picnic.

In other words, if you're going to hang out with left~wing radicals or alcoholic rednecks, opt for the rednecks. The rednecks are probably a lot more progressive and they're bound to not use talking~sticks.

By chut on Friday, March 1, 2002 - 07:30 pm:

I think there should be a self-censorhip rule of no more than two paragraphs a message. No offence like, and your story started off interestingly enough, but I just couldn't be arsed getting to the bottom. As it were.

Actually, given my work diary, this could be a case of the pot calling the kettle black. Apologies.

By Butter~Mobile on Friday, March 1, 2002 - 09:22 pm:

Sorry Chut. It was a bit of a parody on that whole idea. Hehe.

By Karla on Saturday, March 2, 2002 - 05:13 am:

@ butter's story