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I’m fully aware of the stigma that will be, from now on, associated with me because of this shamefully posted photo. But god daaaaaaayam, all I want to do is ravish him. If I ever get the chance to see him on the streets of Melbourne during his New Moon promo tour, I’ll just strip naked, get on all fours and crawl backwards towards him so that he’ll get the full view of my awaiting vagina AND BONUS ANUS! :)
Awkward.
There is a notion that Vogue Korea is stylistically superior and more clued in on better fashion photography than Vogue America. After chancing upon photos of Lee Byung-hun and Josh Hartnett, who were both featured on the latest issue of Vogue Korea, I have to say that I agree wholeheartedly, 100%.
In this photoshoot, the both of them look too hot to be humans. They’re like … fairies or … something pretty like that. God, overload of sex-filled masculine visual stimulants. Now I have to go change my panties.
Soundbite: Let Your Love Grow Tall (Passion Pit)
Got a little (JUST A LITTLE) bored after the 9854625788927th viewing of The Office Season 5 Bloopers (which, by the way, is fantastic comedy) so I took photos of my jewellery collection … then thought hey, it might not be such a bad idea to throw in a photo of future husband Mark Ronson to masturbate to and so there he is, that handsome devil monkey lover boy of mine. :) And that was a really long sentence, wtf. All my thoughts are just coming out of my brain in long strings of meshed up words.
And I’m actually considering using my LookBook account now, only because I’m so fucking proud of the different ways I’d worn my AUD5 green oversized knitted jumper over the week. (P.S. Yes, I like looking like a hobo all the time. It’s comfortable, colourful and inappropriate, so I love.)
Back to chilling out up in my vast headspace. Think I’ll make myself some eggs.
Soundbite: Hold Up (Girl Talk)
I’m sorry, but how can you not want to shag this adonis? Granted, his poses are relatively feminine (maybe even gh3y a little) but god, I’m quite aroused. As in clit-enlarged-to-size-of-donkey-penis aroused.
Yes, I still do want to make sweet, steamy love to Tom Felton aka Draco Malfoy. Is it really that obvious?
And I’m starting to see the similarities between him and Daniel Craig, L.O.M.F.E (Love Of My Fucking Existence). Both are blond with eyes as blue as the deep ocean that surrounds us. Hitler would’ve looooooooved them and gotten them to be his poster boys for Nazism under the threat of death by snoo-snoo. Fuck, I’m an Aryan lover.
Fuck, I’m Hitler.
My pretty boy, who is so motherfucking pretty that I find myself grinning like a retard whenever he is nearby, is gay. And even though I know full well that I have absolutely zero chance with him, it still makes me extremely sad because it means that he will never get to dip his PENis in any woman’s quivering pot of ink. (Ehhh ehhhh clever right HAHAHAHA)
However, I still very nearly imploded into a mushroom cloud of happiness and contentment when he sat next to me in class yesterday and complained about his day. Am quite sure that the words ‘I LOVE YOU’ were at the tip of my tongue at several points in our conversations. Am also relatively sure that some time halfway through class, I’d made the decision to go for a sex change operation.
Soundbite: Starts Off With A Bang (Mobius Band)
Been posting up photos on such a regular basis that I now feel uncomfortable blogging without pictures. So here’s the week’s worth of fucking pretentious shitty ones:
Yehh, my two new pairs of sandals from GoJane just came in and bloody butt pirates, I got them in the wrong size. -_- While the white ones (obvious Steve Madden knock offs, but I took those tacky looking plastic crystals on the ankle straps off) can barely fit after I’ve shoved my oversized feet in like a black cock forcing its way into a Chinese woman’s peehole, the black ones are goners. Can’t fit for shit. -_-
… That paragraph was completely full of ass, so I’m going to make up for it by putting up some hot, panty-wetting pornography:
Oh my jism in a condom, I’m actually this close to a fainting spell ala the Victorian era.
Soundbite: Sunrise (Doveman)
Hi John. Hi Jason. I’d like the both of you inside me right now, if I may be so forward.
On a somewhat related note, I’m in the midst of getting my grubby, oil-stained fingers on seasons 1 - 3 of Arrested Development … which means more solitary masturbation time for me as I watch Jason Bateman be his funny, quirky, total DILF-material self. :) Happiness indeed. Michael Cera can suck it.
You know how every single one of us has one absolutely inexplicable immense celebrity crush? It’s the sort of infatuation that grabs you by the balls (or in my case, the nipples) and launches you into a frenzy of pleasurable orgasms whenever you see the celebrity on screen, doing something fucking sexy. (Or not. You know, whatever wets your panties.)
The best part is that you don’t really know WHY. It’s like how some people love Bruce Willis. He’s srsly not hot (fucking ugly, actually) but … the appeal is just there. It’s a mystery, why you find that particular celebrity so goddamn sexy, but you don’t really care whether it is solved or not. Nobody understands the attraction, but you plough on and love him/her anyway.
For me, it’s Daniel Craig. Every time I see him on screen, in pictures, whatever, I feel the urge to wank and cum with the fury of a thousand suns. Every time someone mentions his name, my lacy panties get a little sticky. Every time I think of him, the only thing that seems logical is to move to London, hunt him down and suck his cock in public.
Okay no, I’m not actually serious … … all right, maybe just half serious. 25% serious?
How can anybody resist this man? He is so ridiculously perfect that my mouth is generating more saliva (an automatic response to arousal) just by looking at this picture.
Fuck you, Sienna Miller. Fuck you and your non-existant acting abilities. You were absolutely shitty in Factory Girl (2006).
God created this paragon of manliness to tempt me into giving a million blowies to high-flyers just to climb the social ladder and get the chance to finally suck his cock with my saliva-generating mouth. (Pleasure guaranteed, I’m not Dry Blowie Girl.)
Obviously, the idea of frolicking in bed with him on a rainy Sunday afternoon is entirely unfeasible. So I will have to make do with moving halfway across the world to London and sit outside his townhouse buck naked, just to be thoroughly ready. Or constantly taking flights around the world so that my chances of joining the Mile-High Club with him will exponentially increase by 0.5%.
Or … … masturbating in solitude with a screen shot of his full frontal nude scene in Some Voices (2000). Yeh okay, I’ll settle for that.
I need to stop watching all these pussy-as-fuck films, they’re totally destroying whatever little street cred I have. -_- But omg, to succumb to such guilty pleasures! Shane West was so sweet in the film, wtf wtf wtfzzz I want somebody to love me to the extent that even when I’m half-fucked dead, he’ll still dance with me and sleep next to me and have lobch loving sex with my pallid, limp, rotting sickness-ridden bootylicious body.
Perfection would be marrying a Landon Carter-esque kind of man. I’ll contract bird flu and SARS and mad cow disease if that’s what it’ll take to get me one of those.
Oh, Emile Hirsche you pretty pretty boy. I’ve got a vacant vadge for you right here in Singapore. Come to mama.
