mr-onion's Diaryland Diary

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Luau of Horrors

aaaugh...my hair smells like camp fire and my mouth tastes like tramps were weeing in it all night.

After 12 hours of sleep, crawling out of my bunker of quilts, I can declare the hangover has left and gone off home - with a sad glance backwards to remind me that he could come back and visit again, if only I would take a few more sips of wine.

Bedside news:

All the stars are gathering in Miami for the Mtv Video Music Awards. Paris Hilton opted to arrive there one week in advance, leaving just enough time for her full Brazilian wax.

Carmen Electra emotes regret about getting those breast implants, "implant removal is a possibility, but I wouldn't do it unless my husband Dave (Navarro) agreed". She's still waiting for her Andrea Dworkin award for Feminist of the Year.

"Being thought of as a beautiful woman has spared me nothing in life. No heartache, no trouble. Beauty is essentially meaningless and it is always transitory" -Halle Berry. Right, she should just return all that meaningless & transitory money to Revlon then.

The only reason I spent $4.49 on this piece of fluff: to learn exactly how much Demi Moore has spent on plastic surgery to date, that's BEFORE her planned knee-lift to sort out those sagging knees that plague her with doubt about her attractiveness and ability to hang onto her son/boyfriend, Ashton Kutcher. She's dropped a cool $150,000 so far to be able to look better than her hatchet-faced daughters, who are always scowling in tabloid pictures when caught buying large granny knickers with their oh-so-skinny mum. I say: "Cheer up, Rumer because Mummy will probably pay for your surgery as soon as you're 18!"

A company by the name of C.P. Direct has been ordered by the Supreme Court of Arizona to refund money to any consumers who bought: "Longitude" penile enhancer or "Stature" erection enhancer. While the U.S. is apparently rife with gun totin' drug dealers / terrorists / Mormons, the state Supreme Courts are devoting an inordinate amount of time chasing false penis enhancing drugs. Hmmmm wonder which disappointed governor/congressman was behind this lawsuit?

In the local news, my boyz in da hood are all planning to go see Ministry & Thrill Kill Kult at Smith Hall next month. After inspecting the fine print in the ad I find that it's *gasp* an All-Ages gig. Horrors: stuck in a room with 300kg of black eyeliner, plastered onto hundreds of spotty faces.

The last time we suffered this much for music was an all ages Hot Hot Heat gig last year, right before they went home to Victoria to their recording barn/studio. Smith Hall is on the uni campus so it's perfectly acceptable for them to charge squillions for parking, mandatory coat check in order to extort that extra dollar out of the punters, and discrete areas for every activity going on in the hall.

Example: there are 3 roped off, bouncer-guarded areas. In order to drink, you must show ID and push your way to the bar (back of the room), in order to see the band you must enter the all ages area (front of the stage) where your beer may not accompany you, and if you wish to smoke, you must leave the building through a side door, jealously guarded by another bouncer who wishes he could have a quick smoke. They're taking the piss with this arrangement and I hope the monkeys who run Smith Hall die painfully after consuming their own lager (in plastic cups *bah!*)

Anyway, I can't wait for the boys to return from the gig so they can brag like Mattress does about their patronage of such cultural events.

Mattress is a member of my group of friends, though not what I would call a good friend. She was bragging last week about how she tried desperately to pull the lead singer of Cake at their festival gig. I would bet the farm she spent the entire time lollygagging at his face and not paying attention to the music - that kind of behaviour irks me for some reason - perhaps because her skankitude has precedence over the music.

Getting back to the beginning, Friday night's luau at Alex's was the cause of my suffering. She promised us quality guests this time but I can recall a handful of moments where I was left wondering "where does she find these people?"

Exhibit A: Mike: a Californian speed skater training in Canadia for the Winter Olympics. Thinks Canadians are woosies because we don't devote the majority of our budget to the military. Thinks we whine too much about our lack of medals in the Athens Olympics, because we contested some judging error in the men's vault.

Exhibit B: Spike: a fussy-catlike paramedic who is scared of women. Says I talk too much. He stood alone in the kitchen for 20 min, watching a group of us girls talking, hoping that we'd notice him - way to not look creepy, congratulations.

Exhibit C: Ike: fat married guy who calls me Drunky McDrunk when I am sober and is eager to impress the laydeez with tales about himself and his 18 inch penis, while his wife looks off into the distance, shame burning in her eyes.

Hence my apocalyptic hangover, drinking quickly to try to make other people look blurry.

9:52 a.m. - 2004-08-29

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