Baaaaaaaaahummmmbugggg!
Who was the retard that sent the fricken memo out that the C-word is to be crammed in our faces barely half-way into ROCKtober?
It's just arse I tell you. Now I'm not strictly the cliche 'grinch' but I am over the hype have been since November 2000-and-something.
Now I don't want lashings of criticism over this but I have to admit... last year I didn't even put up a C-word-tree. Nope. Didn't have time. Re-freakin-fused I did. Instead I plugged in a neon Surfin' Santa which kept me mildly amused for a couple of weeks and didn't require burn out on the vacuum cleaner. Ha-ha! Sadly tho he had to be returned to the place I pinched him from. Too bloody honest I am.
Oh holy crap... what to do THIS year to avoid the trappings of tinsel trash and blinking bulbs? I don't even NEED decorations... the flashing blindness of the neighbours' 3 gajillion wattage of C-word bling can be seen from space. So! I shall celebrate vicariously off their exorbitant power bill. However, all I want for C-word is a sleeping mask... it's like fricken Antartica in reverse... 24 hours of daylight. Drinking helps.
So you guys saw the good news huh? Yep... mono-ab, shrinking, rapidly. Bloody orsum. Frigging HARD YAKKA tho! Mind you I do chalk it up to all the exercise I have been doing, and the lack of Angus burgers - nope not a one since my last bitch about them haunting my dreams... speaking of dreams... its amazing how you can burn off calories by just repeating a thought over and over and over in your brain. No, not "think thin, think thin" or "you eat, you explode" or "the fridge is full of maggots" or "chocolate tastes like poo" no, no... not that. One word my friends... obsession.
You wanna lose those friendly rolls that have prevented you from cutting your toenails since you were 19 then GET OBSESSED. Not stalker obsessed... just... loser obsessed. The sad lonely obsession that sits in your brain clogging your ability to do the simplest of tasks with any form of decorum or clarity. Even ablutions take twice as long. You realise, only because you're bum is freezing, that you've been sitting there daydreaming for half an hour. You wonder why there's no hot water... you've been in the shower since Tuesday but you still climb out, all zombie-like, your hair encrusted with the shampoo you forgot to wash out...LAST Tuesday. And quite remarkably... YOU... FORGET... HUNGER.
Gone. Disappeared. That growling empty hole is now a different void and no amount of anything can fill it. Plus of course if you do weaken and decide that maybe a 'Double Lust' might just take the edge off you immediately squash that pathetic epiphany and replace it with mildly psychotic threats of self harm if you break and allow that poison access to your vessel you've worked so hard on... of course 'Double Lust' can also be referred to as a completely different need which is handy - not so with 'Kiwi As Chips' or 'Burger'.
So all in all I see my new found version of weight loss as working pretty bloody well just quietly. Piss on the experts. Obsession is good for the mono-ab. Which is now I am proud to report... more of a 'mini-mono-ab'. I tell you guys... my brain is more interesting since I developed this obsession than freakin SKY and Freeview put together. I've got chick flicks, perfect endings, soft porn, comedy, drama and reality TV playing 24/7. Plus I know the producer, director, writer AND actors quite intimately. Of course the only difference is on MY TV channel I am farking gorgeous. Slight over-exaggeration but hey, what the hell, its my head, my show, my obsession.
So with all this exciting brain activity I am literally shrinking. I reckon I'll write a best-selling diet book... and I think I'll call it ...umm...
"Free from fat through fantasy: A chubber's guide to obsessing your way to styly collarbones"
Chapter One
"Mono-ab Anonymous is for Anorexics"
Chapter Two
"Say no to camel-toe"
Chapter Three
"Defining your obsessive boundaries around your mono-ab"
Chapter Four
"Beware the fake obsession - Mono-ab Sabotage"
Chapter Five
"When mono-abs go bad"
Chapter Six
"The do's and don't's of DIY Obsession"
Chapter Seven
"Falling off the wagon..."
Chapter Eight
"Losing the wagon in your mono-ab"
Chapter Nine
"An obsessor's top ten"
And finally...
Chapter Ten
"Fantasy, reality... the blurred line of the obsessor"
Epilogue
"Thin, but slightly bonkers... who cares, I'm thin"
Fark yeah... I think I'm on to a winner hear folks... hmm... anyone want to finance me?
Peace out my friends
Oh and don't worry... er, no offense but I'm not obsessing about any of you... well maybe just for test obsess purposes but I promise... no inappropriate touching.
Bye!
Skatty but skinny Stylz
xxxxxx
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Short. Sweet. Slim.
6.7kgs in just over a month.
Pretty farking styly.
Monoab fighting its last fight - losing.
Nearly half way there... baby steps, baby steps...
Yay me!
xxx
Pretty farking styly.
Monoab fighting its last fight - losing.
Nearly half way there... baby steps, baby steps...
Yay me!
xxx
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
0 Comments
Well that just rips my undies.
The ONE time I pour out my soul, cry for help louder than a huckery old whore with a broken stilleto... you guys decide to dissolve into the ethos. Hello? Am I resigned to the pathetic echos of a 'Nigella-no-friends' cyber life again? Are my literary splurges now SOO predictable that you have lost your interest? Or...God forbid... you have all (all 5 of you) found a life beyond fibre optic pleasure? You bastards... I'm so jealous.
Anyhoo... the delight of chemicals is still running rampant through my inner void but I fear, like a drunk diagnostic worker, I have missed the vein and come out the other side with a sad-sack sounding 'woops'. I have realised that age and too many bar-leaner romances have thwarted my inner romantic. I suck at chemicals. I did EXACTLY what I didn't want to do... ran faster than a coyote on crack. I drifted back into the blur of the wallflower... and stayed there kicking myself. What a loser.
The doubt and paranoia and unknown consumed me and I spent the last few encounters keeping my distance. Thus the electricity has subsided ever so slightly... until... tonight. Great. So... that means... another 3.30 wake-up... with a croaky "aww farrrrrk!". Then a bathroom excursion, which, as I am housesitting at present and have yet to master the 'sleepy walk in the dark to the crappa' journey without injury, does present even more challenge. And then there's the excruciatingly long wait till the alarm goes off just playing ridiculous 'shoulda, woulda, coulda' lamo fantasy situations in my head. Nooo... not THOSE kind of fantasies!!! For some reason my avid readers... sleeping in someone else's bed has this anesthetic effect on a woman's libido.
So... in short, I am this pathetic mess of a day-dreaming, sleep-deprived-fridgid-nana who's only current excited associated with bush and any alternative meaning connected with the term is watching the wood pigeons get drunk on berries and fly beak-on into tree branches, amusing... yes - fricken hilarious actually. Other more 'sensually-insensed' people might find the hum of the natural native Waitakere wildlife invigorating and... strangely arousing. But me... although it is peaceful and relaxing and beautiful it is so highly inconvenient. I've been novocained by nature and its... quite frankly... pissing me off.
Other than that... life's just freakin peachy actually. I AM staying in a Titirangi hideaway that is just bloody marvellous and is really doing my scarred and skanky soul quite a bit of good actually... even though I've only been here a few days. I still feel a little out of sorts... it's a pain in the arse that its so... temporary. Story of my life really... always a temporary thrill - limited real-life fantasy. No wonder I can't farking make my move on Mr Chemicals. I'm always believing everything is temporary and I shouldn't get too attached because its (oh wait for it... I feel a song coming on) OOOOOON-LY... MAYYYYKE...BEEEEE-LEEEEIVE.
Yeah you can put the tiny violins away. So I'm feeling a little sorry for myself...SO I'm smackin' myself up a bit for being chicken shit. So I'm completely insane but hey... that's how I roll. It's so funny... I am on my upmost BEST form around Mr Chemicals... I hit every one-liner with precision... I have 'em all hooting with laughter and I'm having fun... but the downside of the up is the down, and the downer is everyone is up and I'm... shit... I lost my point. So the downside of being up is everyone else is up and I'm thinking... I feel so down when I'm up... and when I'm up is when I shine so the come down from up is a reeeeal downer. But I shouldn't BE down because I REALLY TRULY am UP at the time. So I'm up and down more often than a gynocologist which is started to trip me out. But its an ORSUM up and the down isn't like a REAL down... its just a little.........
Lonely.
It's very quiet out here.
Even the fridge has stopped creaking. The owner PROMISED IT WOULD CREAK.
There's not even any spooky 'past-life' vibe or anything here. Nothing goes bump in the night. Except the cat. Now after many years of living alone (apart from my darling son) a purring cat climbing all over your head in the wee smalls kinda freakin' sucks. "Fluffy" is old. Constantly hungry. Is a 'mute' meower... (I've never been able to lip read, or speak 'pussy' so communication between us is, understandably, suffering). He has the loudest purr in the world. I thought cats only purred when they were content, happy, settled. OOHHH NOOO... Fluffy purrs just to piss me off. "PURRRRRRRRRRR... yes I'm climbing on your face...PURRRRRRR... smell my ass..... PURRRRRRR... here comes THE CLAW BABY...PURRRRRR... you like that don't you?....PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR... hmmmm... if only my balls were still there this would feel AWESOME.....PURRRRRRRR... ooooh I'm so hot right now I'm dribbling... all over the side of your head.... yeaaaahhhh...PURRRRRRR..."
Fluffy is old. He dribbles... a lot. He purrs.... a lot. He eats... a lot. And he's now just discovered that he can not only fly but still land on four paws - who said I can't teach and old pussy new tricks? Case and point. When he's good... he gets an egg in the morning with his bickies... when I am wretching while cleaning cat-drool out of my ear at 2am... yeah-nah... it's not looking too good for the old fuzz ball.
Well this post went nowhere fast... and I'm not even drunk. Dammit. Perhaps I should be? Perhaps I should be drunk with Mr Chemicals coz then NOTHING would faze me... except the following morning when I have to explain why he has a cat stuck to his face... yeah... not the same thing. Sounds similar but rooooollly different.
And on that strangely disgusting note... I shall retire. In hopes I make it past 3am - drool-free, and without the dizzy scent of chemicals sending my last three functioning braincells into frenzied turmoil.
Goodnight.
Wish me luck with my pussy. Metaphorically speaking.
Stoopified Stylz.
It ain't easy being green.
xxx
The ONE time I pour out my soul, cry for help louder than a huckery old whore with a broken stilleto... you guys decide to dissolve into the ethos. Hello? Am I resigned to the pathetic echos of a 'Nigella-no-friends' cyber life again? Are my literary splurges now SOO predictable that you have lost your interest? Or...God forbid... you have all (all 5 of you) found a life beyond fibre optic pleasure? You bastards... I'm so jealous.
Anyhoo... the delight of chemicals is still running rampant through my inner void but I fear, like a drunk diagnostic worker, I have missed the vein and come out the other side with a sad-sack sounding 'woops'. I have realised that age and too many bar-leaner romances have thwarted my inner romantic. I suck at chemicals. I did EXACTLY what I didn't want to do... ran faster than a coyote on crack. I drifted back into the blur of the wallflower... and stayed there kicking myself. What a loser.
The doubt and paranoia and unknown consumed me and I spent the last few encounters keeping my distance. Thus the electricity has subsided ever so slightly... until... tonight. Great. So... that means... another 3.30 wake-up... with a croaky "aww farrrrrk!". Then a bathroom excursion, which, as I am housesitting at present and have yet to master the 'sleepy walk in the dark to the crappa' journey without injury, does present even more challenge. And then there's the excruciatingly long wait till the alarm goes off just playing ridiculous 'shoulda, woulda, coulda' lamo fantasy situations in my head. Nooo... not THOSE kind of fantasies!!! For some reason my avid readers... sleeping in someone else's bed has this anesthetic effect on a woman's libido.
So... in short, I am this pathetic mess of a day-dreaming, sleep-deprived-fridgid-nana who's only current excited associated with bush and any alternative meaning connected with the term is watching the wood pigeons get drunk on berries and fly beak-on into tree branches, amusing... yes - fricken hilarious actually. Other more 'sensually-insensed' people might find the hum of the natural native Waitakere wildlife invigorating and... strangely arousing. But me... although it is peaceful and relaxing and beautiful it is so highly inconvenient. I've been novocained by nature and its... quite frankly... pissing me off.
Other than that... life's just freakin peachy actually. I AM staying in a Titirangi hideaway that is just bloody marvellous and is really doing my scarred and skanky soul quite a bit of good actually... even though I've only been here a few days. I still feel a little out of sorts... it's a pain in the arse that its so... temporary. Story of my life really... always a temporary thrill - limited real-life fantasy. No wonder I can't farking make my move on Mr Chemicals. I'm always believing everything is temporary and I shouldn't get too attached because its (oh wait for it... I feel a song coming on) OOOOOON-LY... MAYYYYKE...BEEEEE-LEEEEIVE.
Yeah you can put the tiny violins away. So I'm feeling a little sorry for myself...SO I'm smackin' myself up a bit for being chicken shit. So I'm completely insane but hey... that's how I roll. It's so funny... I am on my upmost BEST form around Mr Chemicals... I hit every one-liner with precision... I have 'em all hooting with laughter and I'm having fun... but the downside of the up is the down, and the downer is everyone is up and I'm... shit... I lost my point. So the downside of being up is everyone else is up and I'm thinking... I feel so down when I'm up... and when I'm up is when I shine so the come down from up is a reeeeal downer. But I shouldn't BE down because I REALLY TRULY am UP at the time. So I'm up and down more often than a gynocologist which is started to trip me out. But its an ORSUM up and the down isn't like a REAL down... its just a little.........
Lonely.
It's very quiet out here.
Even the fridge has stopped creaking. The owner PROMISED IT WOULD CREAK.
There's not even any spooky 'past-life' vibe or anything here. Nothing goes bump in the night. Except the cat. Now after many years of living alone (apart from my darling son) a purring cat climbing all over your head in the wee smalls kinda freakin' sucks. "Fluffy" is old. Constantly hungry. Is a 'mute' meower... (I've never been able to lip read, or speak 'pussy' so communication between us is, understandably, suffering). He has the loudest purr in the world. I thought cats only purred when they were content, happy, settled. OOHHH NOOO... Fluffy purrs just to piss me off. "PURRRRRRRRRRR... yes I'm climbing on your face...PURRRRRRR... smell my ass..... PURRRRRRR... here comes THE CLAW BABY...PURRRRRR... you like that don't you?....PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR... hmmmm... if only my balls were still there this would feel AWESOME.....PURRRRRRRR... ooooh I'm so hot right now I'm dribbling... all over the side of your head.... yeaaaahhhh...PURRRRRRR..."
Fluffy is old. He dribbles... a lot. He purrs.... a lot. He eats... a lot. And he's now just discovered that he can not only fly but still land on four paws - who said I can't teach and old pussy new tricks? Case and point. When he's good... he gets an egg in the morning with his bickies... when I am wretching while cleaning cat-drool out of my ear at 2am... yeah-nah... it's not looking too good for the old fuzz ball.
Well this post went nowhere fast... and I'm not even drunk. Dammit. Perhaps I should be? Perhaps I should be drunk with Mr Chemicals coz then NOTHING would faze me... except the following morning when I have to explain why he has a cat stuck to his face... yeah... not the same thing. Sounds similar but rooooollly different.
And on that strangely disgusting note... I shall retire. In hopes I make it past 3am - drool-free, and without the dizzy scent of chemicals sending my last three functioning braincells into frenzied turmoil.
Goodnight.
Wish me luck with my pussy. Metaphorically speaking.
Stoopified Stylz.
It ain't easy being green.
xxx
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
It's totally full-on chemicals...
No I'm not on drugs. What... are you retarded?
No... you won't find a recipe for mind-altering substances encrypted into this blog post. That's not how I roll. And roll I would if in fact I DID. Roll right into the gutter dribbling on my own kneecaps. No folks I'm talking the natural high of human chemical reaction. That's my buzz today. And buzz I did :-) Like a humming bird on E.
I really do understand what people go on about with the myth that is instant electricity. It's quite freakin intense actually. What's so hard about it is in this day and age of political correctness, coupled with the sad female to male ratio in my age group - I really don't know what the fark to do with it when it hits me anymore.
The self-doubt is incredible. The obsession quite disturbing. But the feeling is totally surreal and overpowering. And the second-guessing is driving me nuts. My other self, the bitchy narcissist kill-joy keeps piping up and pissing on my cheap thrill... here's some examples from the obnoxious cow...
"Did I just feel what I think I thought I felt?"
"Mayyyte... ya dreamin'"
"But I feel so sick and jiggly and nervous and... flushed"
"Ya haven't had a drink in 24 hours whaddaya expect ya westie booze hag"
"But surely... I mean... there IS a connection... you can almost smell the chemical reaction from here, see it like bolts of lightening flashing between us."
"Geesus even Mills and Boon fanatics would puke at that."
Okay so I'm calling out to the experts... yes... yoohoo! YOU LOVELY LOT. For god's sake help me here before this stuff fries my brain and I completely miss an opportunity... or not.
I guess what I'm very inarticulately trying to spit out here is..."how do you talk to boys?" Boys that you... ya know... LIKE 'n stuff. Coz right now I'm going down the road of "must remain further than 10 feet away at all times for fear of the ferimoans (?jesus how DO you spell that word?)knocking the poor guy out - not to mention everyone else within a 1km radius". "Whatever you do... DON'T LOOK HIM IN THE EYE... DAMMIT! I said DON'T look him in the eye. Christ you never listen...". "Okay, polite conversation, I can do this... [insert foot in mouth disease pandemic here] DAMMIT!"
I suck at this. I really really do. And I don't WANT to suck...er... I mean I would really like to feel comfortable because it makes me... tingle. Yeah, I said that... tingle. I don't think I've 'tingled' in a looooong time. So okay blogees, love guru's, Aunt Agony's... give it your best shot... dating advice for the chemically challenged. THAT my friends is your mission. Well I guess not so much 'dating' as yet... but more 'communicating with style' because seriously... I'm not Miss Stylz when the butterflies are performing Riverdance in my mono-ab. I'm more Miss Smilez... looks away... Smilez... scratches her bum...Smilez... runs hand through hair for thousanth time...Smilez... trips over... Smilez... runs off...Smilez... lil bit of wee comes out. Plus with all the sucking in of my mono-ab... I haven't breathed properly in like a week which makes any conversation useless because it comes out in this horrible squeak like a ballon deflating or fingernails on a chalkboard - soooo not attractive people!!!
I need help. I know the chemistry is there... and perhaps it might be a deadend after all but... no harm in trying to find out is there? I just wish I could do it without feeling like I'm gonna puke all over his gorgeous thighs... DAMMIT. Now I'll never get those legs outta my head!
Over to you guys. Come on, I can take it... okay so it's true I'll most likely do the exact opposite because I'm a klutz and forget all my lines... but there is a glimmer of hope and at the rate I'm going... I'm gonna pee all over it till its just a smouldering pile of wet "coulda, woulda, shoulda" ash.
I'm doomed but baby it feeeels soooo goooooood.
[insert big heavy sigh here]
The thighs have it. I'm so not going to be able to sleep tonight. Ratshit.
Sleep sweet...
Smitten Stylz
xxxx
No... you won't find a recipe for mind-altering substances encrypted into this blog post. That's not how I roll. And roll I would if in fact I DID. Roll right into the gutter dribbling on my own kneecaps. No folks I'm talking the natural high of human chemical reaction. That's my buzz today. And buzz I did :-) Like a humming bird on E.
I really do understand what people go on about with the myth that is instant electricity. It's quite freakin intense actually. What's so hard about it is in this day and age of political correctness, coupled with the sad female to male ratio in my age group - I really don't know what the fark to do with it when it hits me anymore.
The self-doubt is incredible. The obsession quite disturbing. But the feeling is totally surreal and overpowering. And the second-guessing is driving me nuts. My other self, the bitchy narcissist kill-joy keeps piping up and pissing on my cheap thrill... here's some examples from the obnoxious cow...
"Did I just feel what I think I thought I felt?"
"Mayyyte... ya dreamin'"
"But I feel so sick and jiggly and nervous and... flushed"
"Ya haven't had a drink in 24 hours whaddaya expect ya westie booze hag"
"But surely... I mean... there IS a connection... you can almost smell the chemical reaction from here, see it like bolts of lightening flashing between us."
"Geesus even Mills and Boon fanatics would puke at that."
Okay so I'm calling out to the experts... yes... yoohoo! YOU LOVELY LOT. For god's sake help me here before this stuff fries my brain and I completely miss an opportunity... or not.
I guess what I'm very inarticulately trying to spit out here is..."how do you talk to boys?" Boys that you... ya know... LIKE 'n stuff. Coz right now I'm going down the road of "must remain further than 10 feet away at all times for fear of the ferimoans (?jesus how DO you spell that word?)knocking the poor guy out - not to mention everyone else within a 1km radius". "Whatever you do... DON'T LOOK HIM IN THE EYE... DAMMIT! I said DON'T look him in the eye. Christ you never listen...". "Okay, polite conversation, I can do this... [insert foot in mouth disease pandemic here] DAMMIT!"
I suck at this. I really really do. And I don't WANT to suck...er... I mean I would really like to feel comfortable because it makes me... tingle. Yeah, I said that... tingle. I don't think I've 'tingled' in a looooong time. So okay blogees, love guru's, Aunt Agony's... give it your best shot... dating advice for the chemically challenged. THAT my friends is your mission. Well I guess not so much 'dating' as yet... but more 'communicating with style' because seriously... I'm not Miss Stylz when the butterflies are performing Riverdance in my mono-ab. I'm more Miss Smilez... looks away... Smilez... scratches her bum...Smilez... runs hand through hair for thousanth time...Smilez... trips over... Smilez... runs off...Smilez... lil bit of wee comes out. Plus with all the sucking in of my mono-ab... I haven't breathed properly in like a week which makes any conversation useless because it comes out in this horrible squeak like a ballon deflating or fingernails on a chalkboard - soooo not attractive people!!!
I need help. I know the chemistry is there... and perhaps it might be a deadend after all but... no harm in trying to find out is there? I just wish I could do it without feeling like I'm gonna puke all over his gorgeous thighs... DAMMIT. Now I'll never get those legs outta my head!
Over to you guys. Come on, I can take it... okay so it's true I'll most likely do the exact opposite because I'm a klutz and forget all my lines... but there is a glimmer of hope and at the rate I'm going... I'm gonna pee all over it till its just a smouldering pile of wet "coulda, woulda, shoulda" ash.
I'm doomed but baby it feeeels soooo goooooood.
[insert big heavy sigh here]
The thighs have it. I'm so not going to be able to sleep tonight. Ratshit.
Sleep sweet...
Smitten Stylz
xxxx
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