The Office - Rant Edition

Guys. I had a run in with my manager at work today. A legit fist clenching run in that had me all worked up and annoyed. I know right, whaaat? I'm not usually one to argue or fight in the office. I'm not going to lie, but it's mainly because I'm not the biggest fan of confrontation. So I can usually sweep any sort of disagreement under the rug; pretend it never happened; bite my tongue; or even admit I'm wrong (even when I'm not), just to get the bad energy out of the air and avoid any sort of conflict. But today, dear God, I was on the verge of smacking a bitch up the head sideways. When I raised my voice and hands - yes, I raised my hands in anger (shit just got real) - I surprised even myself, and realised there was no turning back. "All or nothing homegirl, get serious or look like an absolute idiot," I thought. The argument ended in the embarrassing and somewhat yielding reply of something along the lines of, "Look *insert name here* (in fear of losing my job purposes [because she will find this blog through stalking her employees online]), I DON'T CARE!" Good one Pele. Goooooooood one. Why don't you just tell her you're a foolish 21-year-old sucker who can't argue her point.

It ruined my day. And it happened within the last half an hour on the job. Everything was going just swimmingly until old Boss Lady got all high and mighty. Way to kill a close to perfect Thursday! I boosted out of there as soon as 3.30pm hit, (angry speedy driving and all), had a tea, cig and rant to Sam when I got home (I haven't even mentioned that I live with my cousin Sam in our own house now - fancy), and after all that, I was still a taddle on the fuming side. What theeeee? This doesn't happen to me! Tea, cigarettes and ranting usually does the trick in these situations! (As previously mentioned here.)

As I was off raving about the silly woman who doesn't have the social skills to manage staff, I noticed I was rattling off things like, "you know people who are like that?", and, "you know the kinds of people that just do that sort of thing?" etc. I was pointing out characteristics in people that drive me up the wall. Now, I like to think I'm a nice person, or at least try to be. I admit I can be a bitch sometimes but it's usually in that 'taking the piss' manner, or at worst, it's not so much that 'angry at certain people' manner, but more the 'aggravated by the traits these fuckwits possess' manner. What has happened to me?! I myself don't even know an angry version of me!

So in an attempt to hopefully banish this angry version of myself that I saw today (à la Smeagol vs Gollum? Disturbing but lol), I ask that the following types of people steer clear of me. Help me out. Don't talk to me and the world will be a better place, without any bad energy and mustard coloured auras. (Had to Google that one, and wow sidenote, I want to read up on auras and teach myself to recognise them in people, what a talent! Cue gypsy dream of mine.)

1. Assholes who are apparently NEVER wrong.
I sometimes think I'm more often correct than incorrect, but at least I can admit when I'm wrong. Dickheads who are adamant that they're on the money 100% of the time can kindly fuck off. Especially when they're proven wrong and continue to stand by their argument; rephrase the correct answer as you've been telling them for the past thirty minutes (you've gottttt to be kidding me); or worse, those who make excuses for why they were wrong (usually piss poor ones e.g., "Oh ok, well I haven't actually gone through learning that whole process" - Whaaat? Really? Cos you were just talking like you had a PhD in it). Big ups to you if you are always right, and you know everything. I want to be like you so I don't find myself in these situations.

2. Proportion Blowers
No one likes the token guy in the office who loses his marbles when a tiny problem incurs. Holy shit, there's no more paper! Someone call 20/20, right after the police! We all know the entire office block is going to burst into flames and auto-lock every fire exit so that everyone will perish... Because there's no paper! It's fucking paper dude. Send someone around the corner to get a few realms until a stationery order is done for tomorrow for goodness sake. Don't pull an AK47 on the poor receptionist who should have ordered it last week, the poor girl just forgot. Note: No, this wasn't me, but the new receptionist nearly cried when she was guilt tripped about the fiasco - because OMG, we can't print for thirty minutes while you go and get some more.

3. V.I.E's (Very Important Employees)
You know the kind. Those who think that the whole place will crumble if they're not there for a day. I know of one manager who called nearly every customer the day after they were sick, to let them know she was away sick on Monday, so that's probably why a certain task wasn't done. "Oh, it was done?" ...Well she was away so she didn't know, and if she were there, it still would have been done. Really? No. REALLY? They're also the one who runs around the office ten minutes after the system has gone down, to tell everyone the system has gone down. Uhh we gathered that homegirl, we're all just basking in the fact that we don't have to do any work for ten minutes. But don't worry team! She's on it, and the technician she called in NSW told her she should reboot the system from the motherboard and it should be fine. Oh, thank God you're here V.I.E! Because none of us commoners could have done that even though the exact same thing happened when you were away sick on Monday! SERIOUSLY!?

4. Contradictory Head-Doers
Simple. Don't tell me to do one thing, then change your mind two days later, and make out that I was doing it all wrong from the start at my own hand. I'm not a child, you can't think I wouldn't remember what you said, or pretend like you didn't tell me what to do in the first place. I'm going to remember. And I'll probably bang my head against a brick wall when you change your mind a third time because I'll bite my tongue as I do, just to avoid the argument. I wonder if you could get work cover for any sort of injury caused by brick wall head banging?

5. Ticking Time Bombs
There's some sort of unwritten rule that clearly says something along the lines of 'don't bring your personal problems to work' - honest. Sure, I totally understand that sometimes this is easier said than done. But at least try to! I'm talking about the Ticking Time Bombs who had a fight with the missus last night then bring the bullshit to work today, badly disguised as a frown and grumble. They're a Ticking Time Bomb because we're all waiting for them to lose their shit over a minuscule problem. All they need is a nudge that will push them over the edge into absolute rage. Goodness gracious, do not ask any favours of the Ticking Time Bomb - you are pretty much acting as the guy who snips the blue wire instead of the red. Ticking Time Bomb - not sure if you're aware buddy, but everyone is walking on eggshells around you because no one wants to catch your bad mood. Leave your shit at home pal!

6. Does-No-Work Douchebags
I don't even know what to call these people. I just want to call them douchebags, but it doesn't describe why, so I'm going with Does-No-Work Douchebags. I'm not sure of how common these people are in the workplace but I've come across one in my current job and wow. Just wow. I swear, she doesn't do any work all day because she palms it off onto other people to do because she's - QUOTE - "...really busy at the moment. Just absolutely snowed under... I haven't even checked my... *looks at computer screen* ...fourteen emails this morning yet." - CLOSE QUOTE - Woah! Fourteen?! So popular! Yeeeeeettttt, she still finds time to make up a bum ass flyer that a 13-year-old could have done, to inform everyone of the staff luncheon on Friday? Reeeeeally busy she is. The worst part is that she then walks around the office showing everyone, to let them know before posting it up somewhere - *Knock knock on office door* "Ok, I've just done up a flyer to let everyone know about the luncheon on Friday... Here it is *shoves shit flyer in face* So I'm just going to post it up by the photocopier so everyone can see it. Look, I put the KFC logo on there... *proud grin spreads across face* ...Great isn't it?!" - Yeah great? YOU HAVE SERIOUSLY GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.

Which leads me to...

7. Walking Email Confirmations
*Knock knock on office door... Realises you're on the phone... Waits or stares at you until you're off...*
W.E.C: "Hey uhh, I don't know if you've checked your emails yet, but I sent you one regarding that account"
Me: "Oh ok, I haven't got it yet, I'll check them now, thanks"
W.E.C: "Yeah well I just sent it so you should get it any second now"
Me:  "Oh... Ok *refreshes browser* ...Oh yup there it is" (sent one minute ago)
W.E.C: "Ok good. *W.E.C. lingers in doorway* ...are you uh... are you going to read it?"
Me: "Oh, yeah, I'm just in the middle of something right now. Will do right after this though"
W.E.C: "Ok... Well it basically says that it's a new account and it has the account number there and their limit and just a brief description on the company. They specialise in *insert so-called description here (aka noise)*"

WHAT THE SHIT?! Is that even a thing?! If you send me an email: a) you don't need to walk over to make sure I got it! If I don't reply, then yeah, it's kosher to do so, b) if you've just sent the damn thing, then chances are that no, I haven't read it yet, and c) get the fuck outta here. Really? You're going to come through, ask if I got the email you sent two seconds ago, then force me to read it while you're watching over my shoulder but then tell me what's in the email before I get the chance to actually read it? Really? Cheers, thanks, you're a real Class A act.

I'm not even kidding right now, but this whole post makes me a little bit on edge just thinking about the aforementioned douchebags. Clearly, I'm talking about office/typical workplace douchebags, not the general population. But if you inhabit any of the above traits, please do me a favour and realise that you are difficult to work with. At least tone it down? I'd like to believe I do a pretty good job of doing my part to make my workplace a happy, enjoyable one - I'm sure most people do. Apparently as the token Kiwi, I'm supposed to scab lunch, swear heaps, "sunk heaps of puss" (traduzione: "sink heaps of piss"), and do dumb things like throw balls of Blu-Tack at passers by, in order to keep the people around me happy. And I do it. To keep my workplace happy... Aaaand also because there's nothing like striking an innocent warehouse boy square between the eyes as they stand outside my office talking to a customer (muahaha). But the above described colleagues I have come across in the workforce have this weird ability to ruin all my hard work of 'ready, aim, and fire Blu-Tack' - all with something as simple as tone of voice, of course, followed by the rest, *exasperated sigh*.

I just did some extra Googling and mustard coloured auras are actually disgusting and I don't want one. As much as I love my mustard coloured woolly jumper, mustard coloured auras - not so much!

ABSTAIN FROM MUSTARD AURAS!
and to you pricks who are the reason for mustard auras in the workplace? hi.

Rizzle Kicks

Introducing Rizzle Kicks. These two cool kids from Brighton, UK, have been around for a while, circa 2008, making music that's both cutesy and witty. Upbeat music that makes the listener feel similar - lively and a little immature at times.

I stumbled across these guys through a Facebook upload of their smooth relaxing tune 'Miss Cigarette'. This was a good first encounter with the duo - it's classic Rizzle Kicks. Harley sings a sweet hook over a 60s reminiscent sample, while Rizzle raps in his casual tone that makes you feel like he's talking straight to you sometimes. The catchy song isn't just one that gets your head bopping but it also makes you giggle when you realise they're singing/rapping about cigarettes, likening the habit of smoking to being in love with a girl who is 'bad for you'.

Babe honestly/

It appears you're bad for my health and a quick way to poverty/

They've definitely done a good job with this one. A smart and catchy song with an old skool sample of sorts caught in the middle there somewhere - just what I like to hear. The video was also done pretty well, the guys are easy to watch and the editing/directing is done perfectly. The whole combination of the song itself, the boys and the video left a very positive impression on me.

I went on the watch a bit more of Rizzle Kicks, a few more amazingly put together videos - 'Down With The Trumpets' and 'When I Was a Youngster'. Going on, I can't say I was disappointed, but I don't think I got any more impressed with the duo as I was initially. The songs are all sweet beated with a memorable hook sung by Harley over a piano/big band sample, with Rizzle doing a prrrrrretty good job of spitting verses that alternate in flow and are full of clever ideas.

There's no denying these two young dudes have targetted a specific genre and they've done a good job in delivering an album full of thumbs up worthy songs ('Stereo Typical', 2011). The album and small releases they've done on a few mixtapes show that the pair are a talented one. Harley's voice is comparable to Pharell Williams at times - smooth in delivery and mysterious nearly. He gives off a cool relaxed vibe in the videos I've seen, almost like he's chilling out and woops, there's his cue to pop in with a la de da. Rizzle's rapping is actually pretty legit. It took me a while to realise but he's got some dope flow; it's never the same and he delivers seamlessly. I definitely get the vibe that he 'runs the show' to an extent - I saw a few interviews and he does all the talking - but in a way, it suits him to be the frontman whereas Harley's casual vibe suits his laidback attitude in both interviews and the videos.

I have only two concerns. One is that you get a feel for their age as musicians in their videos. Big ups for doing so well at such a young age, but you get a feeling they're still adapting to it all. Rizzle is very outgoing and forward, but it's almost too much at times. Maybe a little too much over acting in the vids? This isn't too much of a bad thing, they're music is so impressive that I can almost guarantee they'll be around for a bit longer, and no doubt, they'll learn how to get better at presenting themselves. More concerning for me is that there isn't much variety between all the songs and it gets a bit too similar and super familiar after listening to more than a few songs in a row. Not dissing the dudes at all, I love it, but they definitely need some variance to keep their audience on edge. I was excited to come across 'You Need Me, I Don't Need You', featuring the lovable and talented ginga Ed Sheehan. It was definitely different to the rest of their stuff because it wasn't as preppy.

All up, I definitely suggest you take the plunge and get some Rizzle Kicks in ya playlist. It's that kind of music that puts a wee jump in your step, and it's fantastic chill out music. It's best scrambled into a massive playlist, so you don't get too much of it one after the other, because it does get a tiiiiny bit repetitive. But otherwise - go for gold! It's that feel good stuff that's worth a whirl.



Miss Cigarette - Rizzle Kicks

So many people say why are you with her/
And I’m like; she’s a damn good kisser/
She feeds my addiction/
She leaks something different/

Happy Birthday C.Bear!

You would have noticed that Claire Hansell (aka C.Bear) has been mentioned more than a couply times throughout the blog. She's one of my close mates who celebrates her 22nd birthday today (girrrrl, you old as fuck!).

I met her in the weird crossroads that is friends of friends, a few years back, and somehow she's become a permanent piece of furniture in my life. A very nice piece of furniture. We've had some hiiiilarious times and some awkward times, but none the less, I love this woman with a whole chunk of my heart.

She moved into my life when Jessii and I were living at the 579C-Unit in Kingsland. I don't know how our friendship grew to the stage where I would txt her on the way home from work to see what she was up to, and she would reply, "Sitting outside your house smoking, waiting for you to get home", but it became some sort of ritual that I thoroughly enjoyed. Gossip, debriefing, venting and goofing around over a tea and ciggy is all part of the ritual that I miss immensely.

Nights out in AK City have been way too many to count but C.Bear has often volunteered to sober drive my drunk ass - not always being the best of sober drivers because a) it's a struggle for the woman to turn down a drink, b) she's not always hard enough on my ass when it's home time or when I'm skeezing on the grossest guy in the club, and c) BAN117 - her g'ride - isn't always the most reliable of vehicles! But all the same, the giggles we've had are some of the best. Quotes like "We stay out til 6am because we weren't allowed out until we were 18 unlike you pakehas ok!", "I win *hair flick*", and, "Heyyyy... Do you thinkkkk... You guys are getting pretty serious?" are all quotes that we still use in every day conversation close to two years on today.

One of the things that I love about the woman is that she's genuinely a good bitch. She's picked me up from the most out of it places at all hours, has shouted me food when I'm poor - even if it's noodles from Dorma's pantry, and she's always willing to lend an ear. She's too nice for her own good sometimes I would say! Not only to me, but to everyone she's mates with. I would confidently put my last fifty bucks on a bet that Claire has picked every one of our crew up at some ridiculous hour from somewhere. Respect!

So bubbaganoosh! Happy mother fucking birthday! Miss you heaps and wish I could be there to celebrate with you, but ahhhh well, you're not that exciting anyway :)

This one's dedicated to you xxx

If We Ever Meet Again - Timbaland & Katy Perry

Did you come alone/

Or did you bring all your friends/

(Claire, you came alone didn't you?)

x

Feel Good Kids - It's Summer!

What the fuck!? It’s December peeps! December means Christmas, December means my birthday, December means New Years, but most of all, December means SUMMER. I love summer more than my mother (not really Mama Gut, it’s all for effect). There’s just something about the season that triggers so many happy feelings and positive emotions for me, and those happy and positive vibes lead to a happy and positive Pele.

The epitome of summer was best described this time last year, when Jessii, Dove and I were soaking up a few rays and a few beers on the deck at Royal Terrace – “All I need is my two best mates, a few brews, Six60 and the sun.” Never a truer word spoken I would say! Of course, Six60 isn’t any sort of compulsory choice of phat beat, but on that beaut day last year, it was the best choice. I’ve been flicking through my iPod this week and I’m utterly embarrassed at how shit I’ve been at keeping up to date with new music this year. I’m still listening to last year’s summer jams – oh the shame! But in saying that, these jams are absolute classics. They aren’t only last summer’s jams, but most of them are true traditional summer beats since at least 2009. So in tribute to the classics, I suggest you make sure the following tracks make an appearance in your summer playlist. They make such a difference – the kind that triggers the happy feelings and positive outlook on life that oozes the summer buzz.

You Get Me - The Black Seeds

Dutchies - Shapeshifter

Collie Herb Man - Katchafire

Desperado - Six60

Skankenstein - Kora

The Seed 2.0 - The Roots

Little Secrets - Passion Pit

Indulge Me - David Dallas

Trick Me - Kelis*

Me, Myself and I - De La Soul

One - Shapeshifter

Pop Your Bottle - Kora
Life Gets Better - Ed Solo & Skool of Thought

Good God, just listened to a few of these goodies in anticipation and excitement and I’m going to sleep a happy lil lass. Don't be fooled, there are so many more phat beats that get the old endorphins pumping, but these are definitely Class A feel good drugs that I'm addicted to December through February.

*Note: resurrected from the iTunes basement and yes, it’s still AMAZING and the video is still AMAZINGER.

Trick me - Kelis

I used to be down with the late night hit

Happy summer to you, and you, and especially you xxx

"It is usually more important how a man meets his fate, than what it is" - Karl Wilhelm van Humboldt.

Fate is a trippy concept. I don't really know what I believe, in regards to fate, destiny and everything happening for a reason. Whether everything is written before it ever happens, whether that chance meeting was actually by chance, or whether every single life experience is all apart of a huge plan that some greater being has put in place.

To some extent, I do believe that everything happens for a reason. It's a pretty good cop-out philosophy to hold, when I think about it, because it forces us to believe that there's always good in every shit situation we may find ourselves in. We need to believe that there is, otherwise we'd all be down and out, depressed beings, listening to Evanesence on repeat, never waiting for the next best thing (nothing against a bit of Evanescence). But whether it was meant to happen, as part of some bigger picture, I'm not totally sure of. The ups and downs of life are supposed to be inevitable, that's what life is. Is it all just a learning curve? Why do we need them? We're all going to die one day.

Chance meetings buzz me DA fuck out. Is this small world I find myself in, the same as everyone else's? To a point, I would say it's Auckland and New Zealand that's 'too' small, but how is it that in another country, I can meet a total stranger who turns out to be mates with an old flatmate of mine? This chance meeting was through a mutual Auckland friend, so as much as that blew my mind, I could still put it down to Auckland's small population and level of connections. How is it possible though, that a guy I had no one in common with, who just happened to turn up at a party I was at, at least five years my senior, turn out to be ex-neighbours of a guy I pretty much grew up with, living just up the road from my family home? Is it all by chance?

Fate, destiny, chance - it's all been on the brain for the past few weeks and I can't get over the words alone. It's easy to believe that everything happens for a reason, but it's much harder to believe that we're all playing parts in this game and that there's a greater meaning behind these chance meetings and the positions we find ourselves in. Fate is one trippy concept for sure. Maybe I'm still utterly hungover and took a few too many drugs over the weekend because it's burning a hole in my small brain to understand whether there is actually a difference between fate and chance. I'm still going to lose sleep over the idea of it all the next time I find myself questioning a chance meeting.

Crooklyn Dodgers 95 - 'Return of the Crooklyn Dodgers'

Subliminal hypnotism and colonialism/

Leaves most niggas dead or in prison/

Cheeeeeeers for bringing back the real hip hop Harry. Can't get enough.

The Controversial Cigarette

I had my first real puff of a cigarette when I was about 13 with Sarah Taylor, down the back of a primary school before a rehearsal for a play we were in. When I say ‘first real puff’, I’m omitting the two weeks of hustling poor little Hayley O’Conner at school in the year below us for the cigarettes she used to steal from her Mum to sell to the older girls. Because it wasn’t until I had my first real puff that I realised I had been bum puffing those hustled ciggys for the whole two weeks behind the bush in intermediate with my little shit crew. We got caught and put on level two detention for two weeks, which I now think of as hilarious because I wasn’t even smoking was I? I was inhaling and pushing the smoke out before it even hit the back of my throat. All those after school DT’s durasealing library books just for the rush of being a badass, not even smoking. I knew it was a ‘real’ puff with Sarah Taylor because I had to suppress the cough that was tearing through my chest, and I nearly passed out walking back to rehearsal – the head rush got me good.

I haven’t always been a smoker. After the stint in form 2, I ‘quit’ (if you could even call it that). Throughout the remaining school years, I’d scab a few drags from some of the girls if I could, after school by Britomart (one smoke between 6), but besides that, I was never one of the hardcore smokers who got their older siblings to buy them a pack of B&H. And I definitely don’t think I was addicted to smoking throughout school. It wasn’t until I went flatting when I was 18 that I picked up the dirty habit to a full-time extent and became addicted. Maybe it was the fact that I could even buy cigarettes at all that made me take it up. Maybe it was the fact that Teu and I had some of the best chats on the back deck, tea and ciggy in hand. Maybe it was a sweet pick up line – for mates, not guys. It seems to bring people together I think. Or maybe it was because I was bored. Either way, I was spending $10.80 a week on Dunhill blues to whip out when I had a spare moment or two. I stopped for a while, partly because I became too poor to buy my own pack, and partly because I moved into a place with a non-smoker and didn’t have a buddy to jam with. But I never strayed completely from the lazy ciggy here and there. I only took it back up over the past year.

My parents hate it. I still don’t have the balls to smoke in front of them and I’m nearly twenty-two for goodness’ sake! They know I do, but I think they’d prefer to pretend I don’t. My Mum often asks me casually if I’ve started smoking again, and I tell her I only have one or two if I’m going out. Funny that she accepts that answer when I was going out Wednesday through Saturday without fail in Auckland, and she was the one washing my smoke drenched clothes. My Dad is absolutely sickened by it. His parents were both smokers and died from lung failure. I think the 21^st speech he gave me was aimed at anti-smoking. I think. Anyone who was there is probably just as unclear as me, because he was pissed off his nut and thought it would be a good idea to give the speech in gibberish for all the gibberish folk in the house.

One of my best friends hates it. She thinks it’s a sickly, gay past time and doesn’t know why I do it. I’ve never seen her even touch a cigarette and we lived together for nearly four years. She never aggressively encouraged me to give up. She merely took the piss out of me when I was sitting out in the cold and rain, breathing in all that toxic air while she sat inside enjoying Big Bang Theory. We’d joke about the possibility of me catching a cold on top of my emphysema. Most of my other friends are smokers, or at least socially smoke, so I hardly hear anything about giving up from them, unless we’re hungover – “Bro, smoked so much last night and bought another pack while we were out. Worst headache ever and now broke. We should probably give up.”

My boyfriend* hates it. We broke up once and when we got back together, he asked me to quit. I said yes. I lasted less than a day. I’m going to say I lied.

Smoking is such a controversial habit, and I genuinely don’t know why. Sure, it’s kind of not good for the environment, but so is driving your Nissan Pulsar to uni everyday. Sure, it’s unhealthy, but so is all the coke you drink. Sure, it’s ‘unattractive’, but I’m not trying to impress you. If you’re worried about the second hand smoke, piss off and leave me to die alone in peace, I’m not asking you to inhale my sloppy seconds with me. There are so many more reasons why smoking is controversial, and I can see why it is, but please don’t judge me because I like a late night cigarette with my tea.

It’s not our future.

*Boyfriend: my significant other who I’m not really sure knows whether I still call him my boyfriend. Lol.

Wu-Tang Killahhh & Douchebaggyish Behaviour

Homegirl Jessii came over to spend a weekend with me and Wu-Tang. So good to see my soul sistah, and even better with Wu-Tang on the cards - our number one fave.

Of course, with me involved, there were some douchebaggyish calls that were made. A couple that I'm pretty embarassed about. Who would have thought I could have fucked up so much in one weekend?

Douchebaggyish Call Uno Numero:
I didn't eat anything substantial all day Friday - the day Jessii arrived. What was I thinking? To be fair, I was literally sick with excitment all day. I drank about 3L of tea to accompany the one and a half packs of Marlboroughs I smoked (which by the way, are considered fancy here - upper class PGut!). Nana Napped after work because I was wriggling with impatience by then. And only managed to squeeze in a McChicken and fries on the way to the hotel from the airport because they happened to be on offer. Uhhh yeah, big boo boo PGut - by vodka number 2 I'm going to say I was pissed. Only because I'm extremely groggy on what happened after vodka number 2. Cheers Duty Free and J-Rei for fucking me up so early in the adventure.

Douchebaggyish Call Dos:
Fast forward five hours and I have some recollection of using my Mastercard to top up at 4am over the phone. It took me half an hour. Thirty minutes to use the simple phone top up system using Mastercard. THIRTY MINUTES. Lying in bed. No movement or commotion... Just chilling there in bed, gasbagging with Jessii, trying to top up my phone. I'd like to see some transactional history of how many times I entered my card number etc. The amount of time it took me to do this is only part of the douchebaggyish behaviour. The real douchebaggyish call was doing it at all. Jessii and I then proceeded to go through both of our contacts lists and call half of the Auckland population, I'm guessing, at 6.30am (NZT). Sorry to the victims that we woke up so early, but we clearly thought you ought to know we had been reunited, were drunk, and missed you. I woke up Saturday morning with $4.76 credit left. I had $150.00 when I finally managed to top up at 4.30am. Douchebag.

Douchebaggyish Call Tres:
Subway. Someone told me that Subway here is not a good idea. I was suprisingly up and about doing shit Saturday morning by 10am - strolling down the road to buy toothpaste and coffee and cigarettes and shit. Clearly still drunk maybs? Anyway, despite the warnings of a friend who I had spoken to minutes prior to walking past the local Subway, I thought I'd give it a chance. I shouldn't have. Subway is supposed to be like McDonald's right? Universal. It's supposed to be the same everywhere. Boy was I disappointed. Melbourne Subway, you suck mate. There was a lovely bloke behind the counter who greeted me just the way a still drunk PGut likes to be greeted at Subway - "Hello Ma'am, I'm Ken, I'll be your sandwich maker today" - how bloody lovely I thought! Melb - 1, Akl - Nil. All downhill from here. Bread - shit. Chicken - shit. Salads - suuuper shit. Like I said to Jessii though (when I got home and packed a sook about how horrible it was), it wasn't like I just happened to get a bad sandwich that day. Through the counter window, I could see that all of the salads looked shit. The cucumber and pickles were dry, the lettuce was struggling, the tomatoes were the gross powdery kind - it wasn't like Ken made a bad choice. Subway here just obviously isn't fresh. Hungover giggles meant Subway in Melbourne is now called Bumway - the only upside to this douchebaggyish call.

Douchebaggyish Call Cuatro:
Yes, it still gets worse. Much worse. Finally time to get up and at 'em and get crankin' for Wu-Tang Killahhh! Kicked the hangover and sorted ourselves out, excitement levels through the roof, get down in da Gravel Pit was all I wanted to do. Then I got an inkling to ask to see J-Rei's ticket. Wuh-oh. You guessed it homeslice, I bought the wrong fucking ticket. Who buys an upper-circle seated ticket to Wu-Tang? Duh, I do! I would just LOVE to chill up in the top circle, sitting down, grooving to a bit of Shimmy Shimmy Yo! Don't ask me how I did it, but I did, and there wasn't really anything I could do about it. Besides cry. Thank God, Allah and the Notorious B.I.G, there was a douchebag at the pre-drinks we went to who was just as douchebaggyish as me and bought the same damn ticket. Got a few drinks in me and I was good to jam with my new mate Rob in the seated upper circle (totes nickname basis). Sidenote: BEST. PRE-DRINKS. EVER. Too many lols, too little time. Just know that by the time we got on the road to Wu, I did not give a fuck, was in the highest spirits and ready to rage, despite my stupidity.

Douchebaggyish Call Cinco:
Two words. Mushy caps. One more word. Unknowingly. Old PGut decided she'd play the bigtime with the big boys and downed a mushy cap did she? Yes she did... And only found out that she did so after four hours of tripping balls,clueless as to why she was. Speaking giberish and talking a whole lot of shit, PGut has learnt her lesson - just because everyone else is doing it, doesn't mean you have to babe. I genuinely did not know there were mushy caps anywhere, until the bully mother fucker who gave it to me mentioned it at 5am. Cheeeeeers to you and ya family Aston.

Douchebaggyish Call Seis:
Passing out in a hotel room that isn't yours, with a comedian in the mix of people there, is not advised. I woke up with chairs stacked on top me, caging me in. I don't think I was in the chair cage for long, but I'm going to say it was payback for talking non-stop jibber jabber for three hours while Mr. Sorrell was trying to sleep. Blaming the mushy caps.

Douchebaggyish Call Siete:
An hour and a half of public transport hungover and coming down with a few hours sleep is not ideal and is definitely classed as douchebaggyish behaviour. Enough said.


So! My first real rager in Melbourne and I'm no where near as cool as I thought I'd feel. Had the best time with J-Rei and the others I raged with over the weekend. And Wu-Tang was pretty fucking cool, now that I've had decent flashbacks of Rob and I going loco over a few songs. I seemed to think they weren't AH-MAY-ZING, right after the concert... But the seated upper circle will do that to ya I guess! Douchebaggyish behaviour!

This is dedication right here.
I'm gonna say the token black guy, back right corner, told them 'Wu Tang' translates to 'The Best' in his language. Well played son.

Fiji Baby

The crew has decided on a Fiji New Years. We've confirmed our accomodation and are booking our flights in the next few weeks. Cannot even explain how excited I am for it!!!!! It's basically our legit little crew, the realists - about 16 of us. A few of us were a little concerned that it will be the first New Years we'll be having without raging rails and badass benders - someone (no names mentioned) considered bum smuggling (fits of laughter), but come on girl, we can do this - I'm actually looking forward to spending some quality time (in full states of mind) with my friends that I miss so super bad. Will be a good chance to get plain old fucking drunk too. Hurrah for pool bars because we all know I'm a salt water pussy.

Goodshirt - Fiji Baby

Yep I'll just pretend it's Fiji baby

No pretending here Goodshirt! Fucking Bula!

R.I.P Amy Winehouse - My Favourite Crackhead

Shed a tear and mourned the loss of Amy Winehouse yesterday in bed, hungover. Can understand why people can take the piss about her being a drug fucked drop kick who was bound to die sooner or later, but come on guys, she's human too! And let's be honest, only the best artists have dabbled in narcotics in their lifetime! Seriously upset that another amazing artist has bitten the dust far too early in their life, but I guess death is unevitable for everyone. Amy Winehouse features on every playlist I've ever created I'm pretty sure. I've sung along to Just Friends in a depressed state and danced around to Fuck Me Pumps getting ready to go out. Below is one of my all time favourite songs EVER - Mister Magic. No one can argue that she was a talent times one hundred.

Amy Winehouse - Mister Magic

And you so fresh/

You even make the stanards bloom/

I Wish I Was Alive In The 70's

The Skateboard came about in the 1950's by a number of totally rad surfer dudes who thought they'd use a board on wheels to practice their surfing technique when the waves were too small. It became a shit hot trend, and reached peak popularity in the early to mid-60's. Sadly, the board bummed out shortly after this peak - numbnuts of the world dropped the Skateboard and picked up a Hula-Hoop instead. Not even kidding. Enter Californian beach bums, 1972ish, who picked up the thought-to-be-long-gone fad again and got fancy with making Skateboards. The rest is history.

I'm in love with the 70's Skateboarding Era. Look at how serious but chilled these dudes are!
I wish I was alive for this...

Shit Talkers and The Like

I've been involved in one of my first real social settings in Melbourne recently. I'm not an insociable hermit of any kind, I've just been focussed on my job hunt and have been too poor to venture out and about, jumping into social scenes. This social setting has been an experience. It's been like heading back to school. 9am - 3pm everyday, classroom setting, learning, homework. But it made me realise how long it's been since I've found myself in a setting where I have to introduce myself to a whole group of people, make friends (as such), and socialise with complete strangers.

It was weird.

A week on, most of the awkward conversation has passed. But a week on, you have learnt the nature of most peoples' characters. You get a feel for who these people are. And goodness gracious the paper! This week has been close to torture at times. I have recognised and, to be honest, labelled the characters I've come across.

Exhibit A: The Know-it-All
A pain in my ass. Generally people who are confident yet arrogant. Exhibit A's idea of conversation, is shit. It consists of bragging and elitist bullshit with a sprinkle of speaking over everyone. Their tone is pompous and they like to be-little everyone else at any chance they get.

Exhibit B: The Rambler
Be aware of The Rambler at all times. Exhibit B springs up out of nowhere in coversations. How their idea relates to the topic of conversation, can range anywhere between slightly and extremely on point. Be warned, The Rambler can hold you hostage! Have a number of conversation stoppers handy to exit the conversation when you don't want to hear anymore merry-go-round stories about their childhood horse's stable.

Exhibit C: The 'I Love My Own Voice' Asshole
My pet peeve. These Assholes literally love the sound of their own voice. Any chance given to them to speak, is snatched up quick, like a 2-for-1 at Showgirls. Exhibit Cs tend to have a bit of The Rambler in them, and they can raise their opinions on dog biscuits when the group is discussing market research. This Asshole doesn't care if their answer is right or wrong, they simply want a bit of attention.

Exhibit D: The Repeat Questioner
Pretty self explanatory, Exhibit D is a prisoner to their self-doubt. The instructions or answer have been given, and The Repeat Questioner feels the need to ask and clarify this two seconds later. Exhibit asks questions that they definitely have the answer to, over and over again. There's nothing wrong with clarification, but quadruple clarification, thirty seconds apart is beyond ridiculous.

Exhibit E: The Story Teller
Similar to the Rambler at times, the Story Teller has a story for every example given in class. Whether they were fourteen when it happened, or forty, they feel the need to let the whole group know of the time they bought a bagless vacuum cleaner and had a part of it replaced under warranty. Interesting. Yawn.


I'm not a bitch, I'm not (excessively) judgemental, but sometimes I want to get things done without the above making things difficult. It's always good to have a smidgen of them in your environments, but anything over a smidgen and I'm driven to the rolling of eyes - and that's just rude. Do us a both a favour, my dear Exhibits A through E, and help yourselves.

Vampire Weekend - Oxford Comma

First the window, then it's to the wall/

Lil' Jon, he always tells the truth/

Did not know those were the words! Vampire Weekend for the lols.

'A House Needs A Grandma In It' - Louisa May Alcott

I've made the jump over to 'Tea, Cardigans & My Foul Mouth' from my old blog because every normal functioning human being craves change once in a while. That's my only legit reason to be honest.

My writing alter-ego has now seized the opportunity to display another part of myself as a person. I am still a half-caste kid, yes, but I'm also a bonafide Nana trapped inside that half-caste kid. Particularly since I moved to Melbourne.

Like I've mentioned before, I'm a tea enthusiast. Me loves the tea leaves! Since I've moved to Melbourne I can safely say I have increased my tea drinking to about twenty cups a day. No shit. Nothing like a strong cuppa in the morn accompanied by a cigarette. Throughout the day I have a few cups while I'm reading the paper, online job hunting, watching Oprah, Dr. Phil and my favourite, Welcome Back Kotter (John Travolta you make me giddy). I have a few more while I supervise Jeremiah's homework. Night falls and I have twice as many cuppas after dinner right up until bed. The amount of times I have to pee come 4am is ridic, I will tell you this. I've accumulated a variety of flavours, from Peppermint to Rosehip, and I even have my own section in the pantry. I'm spoilt for choice! I definitely think my tea-drinking has increased here because it's a time-filler. I find myself twiddling my thumbs if I don't have a cup of tea between my frostbitten fingers. Even so, words cannot describe my love for tea.

My sense of style can apparently be Nana to a T at times - according to my sister and the whanau here. Cardigans, cuffed brown pants, big woolly jumpers, red lippy and mocassins are apparently Granny in a nutshell. I certainly didn't think they were, until I saw a 70-year-old man in a close to matching get-up to mine at Coles. Not going to lie, homeboy was lookin' gooooood. A week later I found myself buying an above the ankle pleated white skirt at the Salvo's and realised the 70-year-old woman next to me was eyeing it up. Of course I gave the old bag on a mobility scooter a low, Jacob Black wolf growl - it clearly gave her the creeps because she backed off ASAP. But that's when it hit home - my God, I'm a 70-year-old woman. I'm definitely not going to change my steez, because it's partly who I am and I'm definitely no fashionista, but I guess there are hundreds of other girls like me trying to 're-create the look'.

And then comes the Nana Nap. I cannot go a day without dozing off late afternoon for at least fifteen minutes. Is this normal? I can be in the car, off to do some shopping and suddenly feel drowsy. Super awkward pulling up to Coles, dragging myself out of a coma, wiping the dribble off my chin - "Oh are we here," she says, half-dazed.

Jeremiah's mother has taken to encouraging the kids to call me Aunty Nana. I have no problems with this, in fact it makes me lol. I exhibit my Granny-like traits like a true Grandmother exhibits her grandchildren and bad arthritis. I guess the only thing that sets me apart from the average Granny Lou, is my foul mouth.

I like tea. I like cardigans. And I have a foul mouth.

Cameo Lover

Kimbra - Cameo Lover

You've got two arms baby/

They're all tangled in ladies of black skies posing blue/

Cannot get enough of this song at the moment. If Ed Solo’s 'Life Gets Better' made me feel good, this one makes me feel tumeke. Definitely my feel good jam over the past two weeks. It reminds me of a 60’s girl group kind of song with a 21^st century twist. Favourite line is about fake asses. You said it Kimbra.

Kimbra’s heavily influenced by artists like Nina Simone, who shaped the jazz scene, and much of the music industry in my opinion, and it really shows through her music. The tone of her voice is amazing – she plays on her jazzy voice, soft smokey voice and can belt a couply notes out too. She writes most of her own music, and again, her blues and jazz influences are recognisable in the choice of instruments she uses - groovy basslines (please be a double bass), brass fanfare moments, and a predominant jazzy hi-hat drum beat on top. But then all twisted into a nearly pop-reminiscent song - her writing technique is ridiculously unique. She performs live with a band, and although I’m sure there are some electronic sounds used in the recordings of her songs, a lot of it is simply her and the band. Kimbra’s dedication to performing live whenever she can is something she’s pin-pointed and mastered as an artist. She says her main focus and goal is to perform live as much as possible, and although much of this is to promote the album, I think she personally wants to target that particular area of the music industry – because she is so good at it. Watching Kimbra’s live or unplugged videos on YouTube is unbelievable, she can sing way beyond the recording studio, and what a performer she is. There aren’t many artists who have fine tuned the art of performing live, and for a 21-year-old, she is well beyond her years. There’s nothing better than seeing one of your favourite artists perform just as well, live. For me, it confirms your love for them. Knowing that they can take their music beyond the security of a recording studio, bring it to an audience, however big or small, and nail it, shows that they’re legit. I’ll always remember seeing Rihanna perform at her first MTV Music Awards, on TV of course, and thinking how horrible she sounded. She did. Don’t get me wrong, she’s improved immensely since then, but it just made me think how many of her recorded songs were legitimately her, stripped, I guess you'd say.

Loving this video clip! It’s bright and quirky, and after finding out the story behind the song, they connect perfectly. The song is about a man who has become detached, as such, from the world, and Kimbra tries to draw him back to her. She sells her music well, connecting her songs to the video clips – as a package almost. 'Settle Down' does the same thing with it’s video clip. For some reason, not all songs do that with their videos, seems odd really. But Kimbra does it flawlessly!

I have a big thing about sell-outs. Don’t get me started on Jessie J. My debating skills on this front are average to poor, because both ends of the argument make sense to some point, but there is just something about an artist catering to the scene or industry, when it’s not in them. I have heard the opinion that maybe artists want to sell out as quickly as possible to get dirty rich and famous, then set out to make the music they wanted to in the beginning, after they’ve made a mark with the crap the industry wanted at the time. It makes sense somehow, but a real artist who is truly passionate about what they do, would surely want to use the music they’re so passionate about in the first place, to pull an audience and of course, the money – wouldn’t they? I don’t know, I’m not an aspiring artist, but that’s how I see it. Kimbra is an ideal example of an artist who is far from a sell out. I’ve followed her limply, from when I was 17 at school, and she has seldom changed, apart from grown up. She set out from the beginning, with her own style of music, with her own personality and quirk, and has pretty much cracked it, or at least is well on her way to doing so (in my uneducated opinion of course).

I’m unashamedly all over the nut.



I Won't Grow Up

6-year-old Jeremiah asked me something other than, "Do you wanna watch Rio with me?" tonight at the dinner table. It caught me off guard. I couldn't give him a straight answer. I joked with him, his mother, my sister and new brother-in-law. I asked him the same question in return, and he genuinely thought about it for a sec, then his face lit up as he replied, "A zoo-keeper."

"What do you want to be when you're old and have heaps of money Aunty?" he asked. I didn't really have an answer for him. After I mumbled out some um's and ah's, I said, "A mum! I want to be a mum." Miah laughed and told me I couldn't get paid to be a mum - silly me. Uncle Gary told him that he wanted to do something with music one day, Aunty Gina wanted to own a business, his mother wanted to be a chef. And there I sat, kind of embarassed because I didn't really know what I wanted to be. What the hell was I doing with my life? I never thought of myself as old, or anything like that, but there comes a time when you should probably at least know what you want to do with you life right? Is 21 that age where you should know?

I know that when I was Jeremiah's age, I was all about singing, dancing, acting and modelling. There are hundreds of photos and videos of me pulling my best Sporty Spice pose, singing back up to 'Oh Happy Day' from Sister Act 2 for my brother, dancing the Macarena like no other 6-year-old could. I was in dozens of big stage shows, support leads even! I learnt the piano, picked up jazz and tap through the shows, sang solos in front of full houses at Aotea Centre, I was a confident wee thespian I was! This phase lasted forever, I didn't grow out of it til I was out of intermediate. That dream of making it big and starring in Shortland St obviously died. But it was the first thing I knew I wanted to pursue in life.

By the time I hit 13, I was an avid sports fan. I'd played netball, rugby league, basketball, backyard cricket, competed in athletics. But touch was my life. My whole family was into it, we were all Auckland reps and if we weren't down at the park competing against other teams, we were competing against eachother in the backyard on our home-made 5-metre line field. I was a fit young thing, loved all the sports I was playing at school socially and competitively, and I loved the theory and physicality of P.E. as a subject. I don't know why, but from about 13 through to 16, I wanted to be a physiotherapist. I guess I thought it made good money and had something to do with sport. Then in my 7th form year, I was inspired by my P.E. teacher to become one (a P.E. teacher that is). Because I was a lot older, I can definitely say I was passionate about this goal. I enjoyed and understood the subject at school, I enjoyed the inter-activeness with my teacher at the time, and I could see myself doing it. I didn't get into the uni course to be a P.E. teacher.

Heading into my first year of uni, I opted to do a BA, purely because english was the next subject I was successful in, and also one which I enjoyed. I found a whole new realm of english that year - journalism. I loved it. Writing seemed to come easily to me throughout school, and now at uni, I could almost write what I wanted, however I wanted to. No essay outline, no answers to text and all that jazz. I wanted to be a writer. A magazine or newspaper columnist or something along those lines.

Uni didn't work out for me at all. I wasn't focussed enough on it, and I don't think I had enough drive in me to get a degree done. I took time off, went back and changed my major to public health, mainly because my Mum suggested it after I worked with her for half a year doing something similar. Yeah, I enjoyed some of it, it seemed like a legitimate career path, but I wasn't passionate about it, the way I was about writing.

So here I am, two years later, with the same goal of being a writer, no where closer to it. I've had another thought of owning my own bar one day, after Big Tom P tossed the idea around with me one night, because I loved my jobs as bartenders previously. I'm good at it and it's something else I'm passionate about. I don't think simply being a bartender for the rest of my life would make Mama Gut too happy.

I guess there's always been a stigma around admitting what I wanted to do throughout my life. I'm not sure if everybody feels the same way, but I've found I've needed approval of my goals. Constant reassurance that I'm good at what I'm doing. If I failed at something, I simply packed it in and changed my mind because I saw it as a sign that maybe I wasn't good at it. I guess that's what this blog is about really. Seeing as I exhausted my resources, going about achieving my goal the traditional way, I have to go about satisfying my writing hunger in other ways. Seeing all my friends about to graduate really got me thinking, is it my turn? Am I ready to grow up? Facing failure is a big part of growing up, I believe, and it's inevitable. You have to call on self-motivation and determination to get through the ever-looming fact that sometimes, you are going to fail. My friends all have that drive. They're growing up and becoming event managers, designers, teachers, entrepreneurs (I really do admire you guys! *tears*).

As much as I don't want to, it's time to grow up. Here's hoping this blog will keep me motivated to go about becoming a certified bad ass columnist, the alcohol will keep me motivated to open my own bar one day and Jeremiah will become a lion tamer in his lifetime, at least.

Serious thoughts over. Enjoy a song on me, Parallel Dance Ensemble - Conditions, on repeat at the mo.

Frech kiss, fries, ketchup for two/

What? Your past catch up wit' you?/

JFKool

Just spent two hours voluntarily researching John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States of America. It's not often I get these urges to educate myself, but I saw X-Men: First Class yesterday (which for the record, sucked), and it's loosely based around the 'Soviet missiles in Cuba' incident that happened way back in the 60's, near the end of the film. If you want to see the suck-ass movie, skip the next few sentences. The movie tells us that the super powered up gangster X-Men all play a part in managing to stop the U.S. from firing at the Soviets, and the Soviets from firing at the U.S., woohoo no World War III thanks to Magneto and Co! Cutting to the chase, I wanted to know if the X-Men really did play a part in the historical event (seeing as I'm positive I was a 60's child in a previous life, remember, I figure it's important to know my roots). Turns out they're not even real - downbuzz.

Also recently read a book about three generations of Chinese women who went through hell in their combined lifetimes, from Chinese empires being overthrown in the 1900's, to Japanese invasions of China, all the way up to Pearl Harbour. 'Wild Swans' by Jung Chang - fully seck book if you're into crazy drrrama intertwined with a bit of history for yo ass.

So! After educating my small brain a bit more, everything is so much clearer! One of JFK's earliest most defining moments as President surrounded the crazy ass Russians planting missiles on Cuba, which is super close to the U.S. It was weird and confusing - were the missiles planted in defence or were they planning some super saiyan nuclear attack on America? Although JFK was being pressured by others in his cabinet to attack their asses, his smart, collected and ultimately correct decision making lead to the retrieval of the missiles. He referred leading with an attack as "Pearl Harbour in reverse". Hence, my connection to ze book!

Both rather weird connections, but they pressed me enough to look into the Kennedy family and the history behind what I thought would be their political hungry lives. Sure, they're not all perfect. JFK was rumoured to be a bit of a dog, his parents tried to send his sister to a Convent - whatever. I'm pretty much in love with the guy. JFKool in my eyes.

 

Epiphany

Today the heavens up opened up above me. I was blinded by a bright light that I have never in my 21 years experienced, a choir of angels echoed the Hallejuah Chorus (could have been small children, not totally sure on that front), and the microwave beeped that annoying bloody beep to let me know my tea was hot again. It was almost as if God had intended it. Intended that I was bored, intended that I was listening to the exact artists I had been in the past hour, intended that the microwave went off at that exact moment. I think I had my first ever epiphany today. I can finally put my finger on my taste in music (or at least a part of it).

For years I've huddled under the umbrella of eclectics when it comes to music. Possibly the day after I watched Sister Act 2 and learned what it meant to be an eclectic, I became one (big ups Sister Mary Clarence). It's true, I actually am. But today, I found a common thread in part of my eclectic taste.

I stand firmly by my belief that I was either born in the wrong era, or was a 60's or 70's child in a previous life. I love ANYTHING from that time period. The Temptations, Carl Carlton, Jackson 5, The Beatles, Otis Reading, Al Green, Earth Wind & Fire, Average White Band, Marvin Gaye, Diana Ross (with The Supremes), Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, heck I even found awesomeness in AC/DC and Fleetwood Mac - not the first genre I'd head to in a music store. So grouping that lot together, Old Skool has always had a place in my heart. Cheers Ma & Pa for raising me on the good shit.

Growing up with older siblings also meant I was bred to love early 90s rap and hiphop. It wasn't until I started heading towards the end of my adolescent years that I actually really appreciated the O.G. shiet though. Yeahhh, I was a teeny bopping, Lil' Bow Wow fan up until then. Biggie, Run DMC, Nas, Slick Rick, Lauryn Hill, 2Pac, Nate Dogg, Warren G! Even a few years ago I was still discovering the legit De La Soul, Wu-Tang, A Tribe Called Quest, and Beastie Boys' originals. All those rides with my big sister and her mates are encrypted in my memory bank.

So today, my epiphany fused these two genres together while listening to the Forthwrite Mixtape from 360 & Pez. They do exactly what I love in music and a bit more. A bad ass beat (not all bass, not all synthesizer, sometimes something similar to an old skool groove), smart and witty lyrics, and an old skool sample (or something similar to one) with a hook mashed in. *SIGH* - magic. Something I can sing along to and nod my head to in a gee'd up way - haha. They aren't the only ones doing it; crews like Homebrew are onto the same recipe, Jay-Z and Lupe Fiasco have used it too. I must admit, the Aussie accents get a bit much with these guys, but that was a deciding factor that only confirmed my epiphany. I could still listen to it all despite their inability to pronounce their words in an understandable manner. I'm not saying this is all I listen to because there is no way in hell I'm giving up my love for the likes of Jason Derulo and The Black Kids (*cough* or Jesse McCartney), but it's definitely a big part of what I'm into.

And that's all I have to say about that.

'She Didn't Want To Disappoint'



"I want to see the Pope wearing my t-shirt" - Madonna

"Just because I have my standards, they think I'm a bitch" - Diana Ross

"You have to put up with the risk of being misunderstood if you're going to try and communicate"

- Edie Sedgwick

"When the sun comes up, I have morals again" - Elizabeth Taylor

"Your booty might be bigger /

But I can still pull your nigga"

- Erykah Badu (Booty, 1997)

"I don't care if my skull ends up on a shelf, as long as my name's on it" - Debbie Harry of Blondie

"Don't be a hard rock, when you really are a gem/

Baby girl, respect is just a minimum"

- Lauryn Hill (Doo Wop [That Thing], 1998)

Not getting all feminist on yo' asses.

Just some bad ass bitches, for da bitches.