I Fought The Claws

Here they are! The super awesome claws I grew last night. I feel like I always go back to classic red claws. However I'm not sure that I will be able to work with them? See below: A graph I prepared earlier of the amount of fucks I give about this fact.

Data concludes that zero fucks were given at this particular point in time and probably for all of eternity.

You know what? I really think that poorly drawn graph was too much. 

But seriously, getting your nails done is one of the greatest things ever, it's like therapy. Because A) This salon is bloody marvelous! so unlike the hairdresser (I'll get into that another time) I'm not shooting dagger eyes at their every move which (if we're honest with ourselves) is very exhausting *pouty face.* B) It's a nice feeling when someone else is meticulously working away to make your hands look like sex. 

But seriously, the dynamic is so different compared to those you interact with on a regular basis. Probably because your paying for a job and paid to do the job, for them... There really is no escape :} They also aren't tied to anyone else in your life. You can talk pretty much without a filter about everything. 

Every time without fail, I go to my particular salon is an experience in itself. This time I gave my super good advice on telling someone you don't want to be their friend anymore; obtained the answers to random have you ever? questions and many more that shouldn't really be publicly broadcasted to those two people that read my blog (and to those two people; Thankyou; I'm sorry and leave me a comment, it's nearly my birthday.)

Also last time we watched videos of African circumcision and meditating monks carrying heaving loads tied to their testicles. The best.

Thanks for reading, ladies, gentlemen. Be the best humans you can be and maybe we can start a revolution Xx

Did I mention it's nearly my birthday? As you can see, can never get my natural nails long enough to file into claws. Cheers!

I Fought The Law

For Christmas, I received a bicycle. 

This afternoon I was riding that bicycle home from work.

The unspeakable happened.

I feel like a dumb cookie.

Apparently you're not allowed to ride your bike on the 'wrong' side of the road. 

Apparently riding on the footpath when you are above the age of 14 is 'illegal.'

Apparently it's also considered 'immoral' to masturbate on an airplane.

 This is not the Australia my great grandmother envisioned whilst waving goodbye to her daughter from Scottish shores for the youth of today.

But I seriously feel traumatized from this weak sauce experience. I was riding home on the wrong side of the road, when a police car drives past me. Slows right down and puts its little sirens on. Because they are loud as balls and most people's default reaction to police I feel is instant panic, I panicked. Thoughts racing through my brain, Why me? Why now? I'm too young to be incarcerated! Oh I'm a damn fool and everyone knows it! Festival season is coming up, I can't afford a ticket!

I was told to get in front of the car, then to come to the window. Basically, from what I can remember, I was told that riding on the wrong side of the road was illegal as well as riding on the footpath. Then he sent me on my merry way.

UPDATE: I didn't ride my bike for another 4 days. Still figuring out why I was so damn panicked. It may have something to do with an incident that happened when I was a child. Until next time, Live long and love freedom my stardust kittens! Xx

Sweet Wheels, now with pink tassels and rainbow spinning wheel.

The Eve of New Years Eve

I was sitting, waiting, wishing you believed in superstition... 

Now that I have managed to grab your attention through the powers of John Butler, here's the real shit. 

I was working and somehow as my magical mind somehow wandered off to monetary matters, the root of all evil. During my milkshake making infused daze, I pondered the small things that I felt the need to purchase. Festival tickets, a skateboard, car registration, acrylic nails, hair extensions etc. Then it hit me like a bloody brick right in my goddamn earhole. Like a thought sent from the heavens, I was having a revelation here! 

All I care about in my life is music and vanity.

Before you scoff and your screen and leave the blog post of this shallow idiot, let me explain... 

Of course I do care about more than those two beautiful thangs. I care about the wellbeing of our environment, I care about equality of humans and animals, my own personal spiritual awakening. In fact, I care far too deeply about far too many things.

It's just when my energy and time is converted into dollars, after those dollars are spent on the car, the rent, food & bills etc. I aim to spend my cashmoney or disposable income on those two categories.

I'm glad I've got that off my chest. After years of people telling me all I care is piercings, hair and makeup; I can finally say: Yes I fucking do! and there's nothing wrong with that, jesus fucking christ. 

In conclusion, don't feel shallow or ashamed or whatnot be loud and be proud or quiet and  about what you like. Pursue it. Don't hide in fear. C e l e b r a t e your passions. Because they are apart of what makes you, you. No one else will be you. 

Let's never hide again.

Greetings babies, you look sterling!

There was once a mythical magical sorcerer who birthed a shining moonbeam with approximately 112 separate aspirations. I am that moonbeam. Watch the full frontal live action happen here only up close and personal. You're welcome babystars. Live long and shine bright motherfuckers.

I do things.

I meet people.

I also write.

Although imagining is what I do best.

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I have an instagram:  nitronurse  ~ mostly selfies.