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.

All work and no wheat makes Kimberly go something
All work and no wheat makes Kimberly go something
All work and no wheat makes Kimberly go something
All work and no wheat makes Kimberly go something
All work and no wheat makes Kimberly go something

I just realised after typing it out five time I could of just copied and pasted it four more times.

See what happens when I don't get any toast.

Doctor made me give up wheat again because it made me think I was pregnant.

She said that wheat was a bad influence on me and we couldn't be friends anymore, which is a shame because I loved wheat I really did, wheat completed me filled me with it's starchy love, visited me in so many forms as pasta, as freshly baked bread rolls, as biscuits and in beer but no more I have to be yet again one of those gluten free wankers.

It could be worse I suppose, I could be short.

P.S. wheat free stuff is really expensive

Things I have learnt this week.

1) My brother is hopeless without me as much as he tries to deny it
2) There is a limit to how much jam one can consume in one day and it's less than a jar
3) I am apparently a very cruel person when I'm not getting laid
4) It's really fun kicking pigeons/ stray dogs/ homeless people
5) If I don't pay my mobile phone bill on time, I don't receive any of my text messages.
6) Stumbleupon is the single most destructive thing I have ever encountered online

'The Americano' leaves tommorrow, which makes me sad.

Not in a melodramatic 'Anna Karenina throw myself on the train tracks' kind of way, but in a 'aww geeze that's the way life goes' kind of way, I mean the last few months have been lots of fun.

Plus regular high quality sex, I have found out that when I'm getting laid I'm much more tolerable to be around.

So yeah I want some sympathy, and a battery operated bedroom aid, or something to help strengthen my wrists.

I'm really tired, onto second mug of coffee and I still want to curl up under the doona/duvet/quilt and sleep.

really really really sleep.

It's ten am and I think after I write this I'm taking a nap...

My eyes are watering now, and my head keeps on dropping so every few moments my nose is touching my boobs and I don't remember getting there,

Ok now I nap.

wake me up in an hour please?

I haven't posted recently, uni has resumed, work is at full swing and I have had some semblance of a life... and I have been trying to think of a way to describe my birthday without a) incriminating myself, b) incriminating others and most importantly c) humiliating myself but I can't do anything that doesn't in some way humilate myself so here it is, yet another patented Kimberly tale of public humiliation.

OK my birthday rocked, I had a blast, I had Teppanyaki and Cocktails with my beloved friends (and former d-landers) Tit-ho and Boo the day before, and woke up on my birthday sluggish dehydrated and well after midday... all good signs in my opinion.

Surfing the net on my birthday I saw the first sign that my birthday would rock "the rocky horror picture show" was screening that night...

OK I have intentionally not mentioned a certain person of late primarily because I know he reads this thing... well you see I have been 'seeing' him but I won't be using the term 'seeing' as it apparently indicates something long term (his words not mine) and however blast one does describe the situation I am in (I refuse to use the term fuckbuddy as it makes me seem like a gullible slut with no self esteem... but it is an almost suitable term except I am not 'that' gullible or pathetic) but he is a foreigner and he leaves the country soon, Boo has nicknamed him 'The Americano' and as I cannot think of a suitable nickname without revealing his identity so I too will be calling him 'The Americano' and also it makes him sound rather exotic.

Anyways back to my Birthday, On my way to meet 'The Americano' I realise that I have forgotten my house keys therefore am locked out, that should of been the first sign of a night destined for ruin. I met with 'The Americano' and we saw 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show'... yes please bear with me it's not a very amusing anecdote yet. Anyway the movie rocked partly because it's a great movie and partly because we may of smoked something beforehand... yes I know drugs are bad, but it's my birthday... so shut up.

Anyway the night was still young and my birthday coincided with 'The Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras' so we had to go out and party some more, we may of ingested a little round thing each, but details are hazy in regards to that part. And we crawled down oxford st, and danced and danced and danced and danced and danced and danced, I danced so much that I had forgotten that I had consumed nothing all day except a toasted cheese sandwich and an ice cream and a few.. a few alcoholic beverages.

As the night drew to a close came the most memorable part of the night, exhausted beyond belief, 'The Americano' and I catch the bus home, I'm a little dizzy a little tired and a little gassy and I let out a little cough.

Except what I thought was a cough wasn't... and after I finished my cough I realise that 'The Americano' and the two girls sitting on the other side of me and myself are all covered in vomit, my vomit.

I have heard lots of stories from lots of people about drunken vomiting in public, I however in my many years of being a lush have avoided the trend itself, and would always point and laugh at all those pathetic people who did it as it's so sad. Well on the first day of the 23rd year of my life I slipped down a notch and joined the tragic drunks of the world.


What made it worse was not the two innocent strangers who I covered with my bile but the fact that I had covered the Americano and myself in my stomach contents and that now we would have to go back to his house as I couldn't run to my house and hide as I was locked out covered in my vomit.

What I should mention that due to things ingested earlier that evening the whole experience at the time was hilarious and in hindsight still is, with all the bad things said about drugs, it makes vomiting on people (and apparently being vomited on also) a much more pleasant experience.

What I have learnt from my experience.

• That it is very difficult to wash vomit out of clothing in a bathtub while naked and trying not to wake-up the flatmates.
  
• It is very difficult to strike a conversation with someone that you have vomited over.

Kimberly:
So sorry about that

Americano:
It's OK it Happens

Kimberly:
yeah I know but it's so... Oh wait hold on there some partially digested orange segment in your hair

Americano:
Oh yeah thanks

Kimberly:
So...

Americano:
So...

• When you have money you should place it in your wallet and not crumple it into a ball and hope it falls into your handbag
• Stories about public vomiting are great ice breakers when talking to strangers.

In a couple of days I will turn 23.

Do you know what that means?

It means in two days I will officially be in my mid-twenties.

OK it really means I'll be unofficially in my mid-twenties, I'll actually be officially in the early to mid twenties age bracket.

This of course means nothing to you, because you are a sane individual, but to me it means that I am ageing and closer to death, it means I have not gotten any closer to any of my goals, it means that I am rapidly progressing to my inevitable demise of dying alone in my flat tangled in the wool of countless unfinished knitting projects and having my remains eaten by my forty cats.

It also means that I get to gorge on six dollar cocktails and teppanyaki soon.

What really turns me on!

People who know me, know that I am not much of a prude and enjoy talking about sex in any way shape or form, and I probably haven't mentioned too much about me sexually in this blog because I'm not anonymous on here. And I'll admit that I do have some unique tastes when it comes to my own personal arousal which may not be your cup of tea.

Until today I thought I was the only one, with my particular quirk

But I found a website that had my ultimate erotic fantasy, complete with pictures.

Here

I need a cigarette.

So I have a confession,

I have been working on a stand-up routine for the last couple of weeks and I will be performing it on Friday,

I have also had a problem these last couple of weeks that whenever I think about the before mentioned stand-up routine I seem to lose control of all bodily function.

I think there may be a correlation.

An Excursion

, originally uploaded by poster_of_a_girl.

I went to the Aquarium and a Zoo with my galpal Boo yesterday, fun was had by all and many a cute photo was taken. I was however very dissapointed that I didn't see anything die at all during my trip except on the bus trip home but you expect at least a couple of people to die on the bus ride home.

Life is good when work finishes early and you go straight home, make yourself a huge bowl of penne, open up a bottle of beer and watch '9 to 5'

What is less good is trying to paint an eighth of a toenail during said movie.

With the invention of my bills for next month exceeding my income, today turned out to be crap.

Then the tripping on my feet and tearing off half a toenail made the day slightly more crappier

With the addition of a Boy standing me up on date, the day turned out to be crappier still

(ok boy didn't stand me up he called me well in advance and told me he was ill and promptly rescheduled our date, but it's the principle damn it!)

Went to the Big Day Out the other day and I had a blast.

I stayed in on Australia Day and I had a blast.

I pretended I lost my voice today so I could sleep in and have poached eggs instead of going to work and doing nothing, and guess what? I had a blast.

I have to go to market research work tomorrow but only for three hours so tommorrow I'll have a blast.

This week has been really good.

It's toothpaste that helps get rid of hickeys? right?

or is it hickies?

2007 is going swimmingly,

or swimmingly...ish

I have however made resolutions.

I will submit everything I have due on time.

I will keep my flat somewhat organised.

I will go to the gym more often, and not only when I know "pimp my ride" is on

I will do my best not to chemically alter my hair and grow it out this year

I will finish the rug I have been working on for the last to years.

I will blog more.

I will try not squeak so much in conversation

I will go out and have cocktails with Boo, much more often

I will not buy unecessary books/clothing/dvd's/ off ebay

I will not stay up late watching late night quiz shows


There is too much wrong with me

Freedom, delicious freedom, no essays, no examinations, no stalking lecturers for explanations to things I don't understand because I was distracted by thoughts of sex with exes during lectures.

I forgot how wonderful holidays are.

Except of course I have to work my arse off these holidays to survive.

So I won't have much freedom so to speak but I will have time to watch crappy summer television

I may attract losers but...

Ok I don't think in my life I have ever met a 'potential partner' in a normal way, I never get introduced to guys that are friends of friends, I don't flirt with boys in my lectures, I don't get drunk and get felt up in the ladies room.
Instead I have met men when waiting on them, I have met men while on the bus, I have met men after putting make-up on them. Granted none of these realtionships have ever amounted to anything great but I was writing this entry for a reason... wait it was the boy on the bus.
About two years ago I started flirting with a boy on my bus route it wasn't verbal it was all those stolen glances, and smiles that cheesy movies have . No notice taken we were always kept apart by the hundreds of people crammed into a peak hour bus to the city.
Anyway one day while waiting for a movie this is now a year ago, I decide to pop into the nearest pub and have a beer and read my novel (my most favourite thing in the world is reading a good book in a pub with a gorgeous beer) anyway I'm sitting at the the bar reading and I turn around and I see the boy fom the bus he introduces himself, I say hello introduce myself, he tells me how he has seen me on the bus, I respond with a very similar comment about him, then leans forward and mumbles something... ok I heard him loud and clear, he repeats his statement.
"From the first time I saw you I wanted to go down on you."
He said it and I stupidly giggle.
After a couple more bump into each other moments and comments of a similar vein i stupidly give him my number.
It ended up being very embarassing for him and we never spoke again, he'd sms me when he spotted me with a new haircut.
Anyway you are probably wondering why I am writing this all out what does this have to do with the price of eggs?
I bumped into this fellow on the bus the other day, we chatted and went to a pub and had a couple of beers, talked about our lives and I realised (how do I phrase this politely?) that this guy was a bit of a hmm how does 'not compatible with Kimberly' type sound? ok Loser would be much more apt, I left the meeting feeling really happy that I never got involved in anything more than a flirtation.
I have been thinking about it a fair bit these last couple of days, but all in all life is pretty damn sweet, now all I need is to be thinner, richer, smarter and smell like cinnamona dn my life wouuld be perfect.
I may attract losers, but I don't go out with them... GO ME!

Lucy and Ethel an Adventure

I have two breasts... yes I know gasp!Anyway my two breasts I have named Lucy and Ethel (yes after sitcom characters) anyways. Lucy is starting to give me the absolute shits this week and I'm seriously conidering going amazon on her arse or better still her tit.When I get bored I do this thing called the pencil test you may of heard about it it's a test to officially decide the perkiness of your breasts by seeing their ability to hold up a pencil, if you cannot hold a pencil under them that means "yay you girl have some perky boobies!" Now Ethel (she's on my left) is great at this game she cannot for the life of her hold onto a pencil she flies high and mighty and looks like the breast of a 22 year old.But Lucy... Lucy has been the bane of my existence for the last few months, she failed the pencil test a few months ago, it wasn't major the pencil just stayed there for a few seconds then fell to the floor, So I decided to when I'm at the Gym to focus on chest pulls and boobie lifting exercises, but alas this morning Lucy failed me again and further more I think she has drooped even lower.I don't mind droop it's a part of getting older but a) I'm 22 and b) they should both droop at the same time!I wonder if testicle drop and breast drop have something in common?Now you are probably wondering why on earth would anyone talk in depth about her boobs on myspace?Well my brother reads this blog and I just wanted to make him feel uncomfortable.

All I want for Christmas

God are you there? It's me Kimberly

I think because this has been such a hectic year I deserve a slightly more extravagant Christmas gift than my usual bath salts and cheap christmas themed boxes of chocolates.

So therefore I suggest this


Now if that didn't seem appropriate and a little tacky for Christmas, you could always spend an extra couple grand' on this

I did after all get really good marks and I think you spending copious amounts of money on me is really the only way to ensure that I keep on doing well in my studies, you don't want my grades to suffer do you?

This is what normal people do I hear

Ok I'm assuming that normal people buy affection, I didn't come from a normal family, I came from a family that considered time spent together as a gift, how cheap can you get?

It's time to rectify the trauma of my upbringing... with money, so I can be normal.

C'mon you know you wanna!

Kimberly

P.S. you don't have to buy the gift yourself you can just give the money to this guy and tell him what to do, I know how modest you are.

P.P.S it doesn't need to be gift wrapped

P.P.P.S don't forget to include the charger.

I may attract losers but..

Ok I don't think in my life I have ever met a 'potential partner' in a normal way, I never get introduced to guys that are friends of friends, I don't flirt with boys in my lectures, I don't get drunk and get felt up in the ladies room.
Instead I have met men when waiting on them, I have met men while on the bus, I have met men after putting make-up on them. Granted none of these realtionships have ever amounted to anything great but I was writing this entry for a reason... wait it was the boy on the bus.
About two years ago I started flirting with a boy on my bus route it wasn't verbal it was all those stolen glances, and smiles that cheesy movies have . No notice taken we were always kept apart by the hundreds of people crammed into a peak hour bus to the city.
Anyway one day while waiting for a movie this is now a year ago, I decide to pop into the nearest pub and have a beer and read my novel (my most favourite thing in the world is reading a good book in a pub with a gorgeous beer) anyway I'm sitting at the the bar reading and I turn around and I see the boy fom the bus he introduces himself, I say hello introduce myself, he tells me how he has seen me on the bus, I respond with a very similar comment about him, then leans forward and mumbles something... ok I heard him loud and clear, he repeats his statement.
"From the first time I saw you I wanted to go down on you."
He said it and I stupidly giggle.
After a couple more bump into each other moments and comments of a similar vein i stupidly give him my number.
It ended up being very embarassing for him and we never spoke again, he'd sms me when he spotted me with a new haircut.
Anyway you are probably wondering why I am writing this all out what does this have to do with the price of eggs?
I bumped into this fellow on the bus the other day, we chatted and went to a pub and had a couple of beers, talked about our lives and I realised (how do I phrase this politely?) that this guy was a bit of a hmm how does 'not compatible with Kimberly' type sound? ok Loser would be much more apt, I left the meeting feeling really happy that I never got involved in anything more than a flirtation.
I have been thinking about it a fair bit these last couple of days, but all in all life is pretty damn sweet, now all I need is to be thinner, richer, smarter and smell like cinnamona dn my life wouuld be perfect.
I may attract losers, but I don't go out with them... GO ME!

Life: it's not so bad... really

I am good, I just got my transcript for school and it was all distinctions.

My new Market Research Job is fun and I enjoy going to work.

I got a new haircut, my hair is black with red streaks. I like it... Well I think I like it.

It's all good, I feel pretty damn good...

Well except for the hayfever, half of my head is congested and the other half is completely clear... yes really! one nostril is blocked, one ear is painful, on eye is teary, it's freaky! I can't even get sick properly, I have to get half-arsed hayfever.

I have to write more, but I have nothing to complain aboute except the usual I'm too fat, too poor, too tired, too dumb, you know the typical annoying complaints that nobody likes to hear.

Now I just need a husband, a three bedroom house in the Lower North Shore (with harbour views of course) A silver Range Rover (with leather seats) and a pug dog I can carry in my oversized Louis Vuitton bag.

Is that too much to ask