I spent $20 and all I got was this lousy blog entry

I was changing buses in Sydney’s CBD walking to where I would catch my bus home and listening to my Mp3 player and marvelling at the intricacies of “The Avalanches”  I was a ‘strolling and looking forward to getting home and ploughing into the red wine and takeaway and watching the cable t.v as I was walking a man passing by looked at me strolled past and then backtracked and tapped me on the shoulder, he gestured for me to take my earphones out which I did and then declared “You are a very happy lady! You have two men in love with you and so you are very happy because you will always have two men in love with you!”

I nodded politely (as I only know of one man in love with me and often the number one can be mixed up with the number two) and said thankyou and tried to walk past him, he then tapped me on the shoulder again and declared “I will tell you your fortune, I will tell you everything about your mother and your brother and I will tell you your name and your birth date if I guess these you will stay and if I guess these You will give me some money, and so I thought fuck it why not? If this man can guess my name and my birthday he can get some money so he asked me to write down how much I would give him and I thought I'll be generous because I like street magicians and would write down $20 and then he gave me another piece of paper and a pen and asked me to write down my name and date of birth on a piece of paper and he walked ten metres up the street and wrote what he thought my date of birth was on another piece of paper thinking now that I was about to be mugged or havee my handbag rummaged through I decided at this point to wedge it firmly between my thighs (nobody would ever get tit there) and then he returned to me and made me crush my piece of paper into a ball and chant something to the universe, then he says my name he goes "your name is Kimberly (he mispronounced it as though he has never heard of a Kimberly before) and you were born on the three of the three nineteen eighty-nine" I looked at him and said "aww so close" and then he decided to argue and kept on saying "1989" and saying that was the answer then he opens up his piece of paper he is holding and says '1989" and grabs at my hand and make me show my piece of paper and goes "no wonder! you are messy girl you write messy! you think messy why two men in love with you is mystery!"

I'm standing here it's starting to to get windy it would be 8pm at night and I am straddling my bloody handbag going "what the fuck is going on?" I'm not much of a believer in anything but It was a good show so I went into my handbag to give him the money and leave and then he goes "stop I havent' told you your fortune yet, you'll pay after I tell you everything" so umm ok, and so I stood there freezing on the side of castlereagh st (it's one of the main streets in Sydney's CBD ) whilst a bunch of bemused bystanders waiting for the bus I should've  been waiting for are watching this man read some fat chick with an afro's palms, then he makes me tear up a piece of paper hold it in my hand chant some more and then I open my hand and it's one bloody piece! the bus stop people are now gawking at a free show courtesy of me and I'm trying to catch snippets of what he's saying about money and my mother.

Things apparently in my future;

• I will live to be in my eighties (thanks modern medicine!)

• I will have two children (pretty generic answer there but I suppose if I'm stupid enough to get pregnant once (and decide not to sell it) Ill be stupid enough to get pregnant twice
  
• The two guys in love with me thing; interesting as I barely have one guy in love with me at the moment and that is really dependant entirely on what I cook for dinner. He reveals little else except that my current beau is one of them and the other one doesn't know it (hmm yes I know)
  
• I will become rich successful in my chosen field; apparently I will make people feel better about themselves (I'm thinking I will make my fortune from hiring myself out as the loud, fat, ugly friend who makes the hirer look better by comparison)
• He actually went into detail about my financial woes and actually mentioned several times the main culprit which was a little freaky.
  
• I am apparently obsessed with sex (ok this one isn't much of a secret but he whispered it to me and said "you... you like the sex alot, it's not a bad thing but be careful not alot can keep up with you)

After telling me all of this and then doing some more hand tricks and showing me some laminated cards of his psychic teacher and bits and pieces from his porta-psychic kit he told me I should read the bible every day, I asked him if he meant the 'Christian' bible and he confirmed I should read the 'Christian' Bible I asked him then if he was a Christian, he babbled on and didn't answer my question he then asked if he wanted him to pray for me, and I said something like "If you feel like it go ahead" and then he pulls out another piece of paper and starts writing

"Rich people pay" and he writes $500 on a piece of paper
"normal People pay" and he writes  $300 on the paper
"and poor people pay this" and he writes $200

I start laughing at him, I explain to him that I am beyond poor, I remind him that for the last ten minutes he has mentioned to me how poor I am and that I would not come into money in a very long time, I then tell him that because he is going to take money off me I will be even poorer, he then goes "ok so I can't pray for you then"  and then I said guess not and gave him his money well most of it as I thought I had a $20 note but I only had a $10 and I dumped a wallet full of shrapnel in his portable psychic kitthen he said "but if I pray for you it will come true and you will be forever lucky" I told him sorry and said goodbye

On the way home

• I had to wait 20 inutes in the cold for a bus that is usually every five minutes.
• The bus was held up for another ten minutes halfway through the route as the bus driver had to change buses with another bus driver who was late
• I went to the local supermarket to get some dinner groceries and at the checkout the register had broken mid transaction so they made me wait there for ten minutes... just so they could give me a printed reciept 
• one of the bottles of wine I got on the way home I dropped on the road and no it didn't break, it rolled into the gutter instead
  

sick

I have been off sick for the whole week I have not had a cold this bad in such a very very very long time, it's quite weird waiting for a cold to go away, I'm not smoking i'm not drinkinga and I'm not eating crap but my head still is full of goo and I have no voice.

I'm also super bored, and in my immense boredom of not having anything to do (and being dosed up on cold a flu tablets and massive amounts of vitamin c) have concocted in my head that someone has died, no body specific, but I have been trawling obituraries for the last few hours and checking facebook to make sure all my friends (or at least all my friends with facebook ) are alive.

I have had unlimited access to internet over the last six days it's the only thing I have the slightest amount of energy to do but I look at it look at the same five sites I always look at and then go straight to bed, I could be making Latvian pen pals or learning Spanish or attempt to read all of Wikipedia I could be attempting to improve myself in some way and all I do is look at clothes, girls in clothes and blogs written about girls in clothes...

Please I hope I'm not becoming dumber,

Please I hope nobody is dead, thinking someone is dead is a horrible feeling

a tad distracted

I'm supposed to be in class right now. I woke up nice and early battled peak hour commuters, and slow trains and got here with seven minutes to spare.

I Rule!

Except when I double check my timetable to find out that my lecture today doesn't start for five more weeks, another day wasted.

I must admit I have been a little distracted of late, I am giving far too much thought to certain people right now, and it's affecting my day to day life.

The worst thing about my distractedness today is I could of watched all of Kochie and Mel .

what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

Saturday I went after work to a going away party, as it was technically my last day of the booze-a-palooza known as my holidays I thought I would go hard, and hard I did.

I apparently made out with someone at Vegas, someone with a girlfriend, but all I can remember is playing with somebodies ear (confession: I have a thing for boys ears) oh well if I can't remember it, it does not exist... right?

It's very funny for the sheer fact that I never get drunk and pash random guys in bars, I'm the sort of person who gets drunk and then makes fun of those people who make out in bars (I am often heard yelling at couples dry humping on pub couches "Get a fucking room or at least go into a toilet cubicle") it's pretty bloody tacky in my opinion (I'm not a public display of tongue related affection kind of girl), but now I'm one of those losers.

I'm not saying I haven't made out with people in public, but I was on pills at the time (so was he) and I would of made out with a telegraph pole (so would he) if given the chance that night.


Lets hope this was a one off show... How do you pub sluts do it?

I'm assuming that this blog is popular with the 'Pub Slut' Community.

I thought I was

I thought I was hungover.

I'm actually still drunk! at midday

details when I get home... I'm in a net cafe right now

stu-pid-i-ty

�noun, plural -ties for 2.
1.
the state, quality, or fact of being stupid.
2.
a stupid act, notion, speech, etc.
3.
Kimberly.


So on Friday night, after work I go to another friends birthday party and drag along my dear friend Boo, because she needs to party too, and I'm having a great time dancing to the cheesiest music, anyways the night tapers off and I check my phone and am shocked to find a lewd sms by the ex we know on here as "Rocky" so anyways, I respond with a nice "how are you" and the text messages taper off as the night winds down, I taxi it home then I pass out in bed.

The next morning I get woken by my phone ringing, it's "Rocky" wanting to chat, which leads to an invitation for drinks, which makes me all curious as to why he is contacting me now a year since we were together and also I want my copy of "1984" back so I agree and head to Newtown for a couple of hours...

I started on diet coke, which turned into beer, my leaving time went from seven pm to one am, we just talked but I know he wants me (mainly because he said it to me). But I don't know if I'm tempted enough. I'm hoping my slight level of temptation was alcohol related.

I'm stupid aren't I?

The play ends tonight which is a shame, as it was so much fun, which means tonight I party, and to make sure I keep away from the beer I bought a whole bottle of lime flavoured vodka, mainly because I can handle vodka in large amounts and b I don't really like vodka so will most likely mix my drinks with as little as possible, I was going to go with wine, but it's too cheap and too easy to get plastered on.

If only I had drugs, this whole partying thing would be a whole lot easier.

Bloody Cycles

I hate being a girl, I hate being controlled by the surging hormones that come from my front bottom area, it's not the blood that irks me, the blood is nothing (we just over dramatise it to get out of things we want to avoid) it's the fact that last week I wanted to sleep all day, this week I want to fuck anything that moves and next week I'll want to bake cakes and talk about my feelings then forget immediately what I did and then bake more cakes and talk more about my feelings.

Just rereading that statement you could easily say, well dear it sounds more like Manic Depression... wait did I say that? that's not very polite of me of course I meant to say Bipolar Disorder, but alas I cannot blame it on my mind because once 'The Reds vacation in the summer house' I am a normal person again for a week or two.

OkStupid Message for the Day

Ok so I have mentioned that my profile is on a 'networking' site it's really not much of a deal as the only men who contact me are usually good christian men from nigeria who are looking for a bride, So I got excited when I saw a message in my inbox that wasn't a marriage proposal until I read it properly


"hi i see you are freinds (sic) with Boo i think see i very very sexy in her pics any chance you could ask her to check her messages please thankyou"

Now I'll agree readily that Boo is one of the sexiest people I know but, but she is also an absolute grammar bitch, sometimes I wonder how we get along as my typing is atrocious and my usage of words is usually 90% inappropriate (granted most of my knowledge of the English language has come from word of the day toilet paper) but anyway, when I got that message and looked at his profile and decided that he wasn't quite suitable.

should I sue?

I was in a book store today and some graphic designer has obviously been heavily inspired by my rear end, (minus the stretch marks and cellulite)

What if I'm not the only one with my tattoo, what if someone else has the exact same thing on their lower back, I'm all worried now.

Ok my tattoo isn't exactly the same, it looks completely different, but it does have the word tattoo in it.


I'm really pathetic aren't I?

Sometimes I swear my life is being filmed and it's being turned into some indie-comedy with an annoying female lead.

I have no time to write right now, I have no idea when it happened but I'm all of a sudden very busy.

No sex and no wheat makes Kimberly Something, Something.

A stupid decision I made a few days ago has me now working and incredibly suspect restaurant amongst a bevvy of illegal immigrants, I have no idea why I even applied, I don't need the job, I have market research...
The restaurant was just very close to my flat and they only waitresses for three or four hours shifts and the owner is hilariously vile, I imagine I'm going to blow up at him and storm off within the week.

I guessing the irrational job application is a side effect of not being able to have pasta, or bread or different kinds of bread, But surprisingly I am coping very well without sex it's only been one week, five days and twenty-two hours since I last got laid... and I'm not obsessing about it at all.