hey. I got sick of my old user name (some sort of anogram that I can't remember the meaning of). So, it has finally come to this.....! lemur_pie

I tried to call myself "dangleberry" and "the clap", but apparantly someone else had already thought of it.

Anywho. nothing new. nothing different. add me!!!

-Amy

mood: !!!!

As you can see, Jerry is riding a chariot with his dog Wandi sitting in the back.
Today, I thought I would be irritating Tom by ringing him and hassling him, but instead I got to sound like a bogan on the radio while my fellow TAFE students (made up of mainly ex-cons and sex offenders) were either making animal noises in the background (very clever guys. no really. couldn't have thought of it myself) or were too depressed by the ultimate infinity of the universe in which we live to say anything at all. art students. goddamn.

If I had a hammer, I'd smash Edvard Munch.





that is all.

-Amy

Here are some pictures I drew of myself and Tom HB while I was bored in Cultural Productions earlier in the year..Basically, many of my friends have prefered modes of travel; eg, bus, train, car, velociraptor and so on. So, I thought I would illustrate this, creating one big parade of modern forms of transport...I think it's worth a distinction, don't you?








I should explain, Tom is riding a kurrawong ( a special Chaff-Preventing kurrawong, with a colourful banner reading "FDA"). He's going to Jerry's house, if you can't read my handwriting.
And I am riding a mo' fo' white camel to the art gallery, apparantly.

There are many many more people and animals in this parade...I will add them all later...


...To be continued...






Also, goodbye to Steve Irwin! above photo; Steve Irwin and his sidekick wife, Terri.


-Amy

I have developed a tumor of some sort on one of my eyelids. So, after a visiting the doctor I have been told that I'll have be going into surgery pretty soon, to get it ...disposed of? eh. No idea how they'll do it.

We've had some great times, me and my tumor. The time I thought about lancing it, the time I thought about drawing eyes and a mouth on it, and lets not forget all the numerous spells of paranoia spent in front of the mirror wondering weather or not it was moving around by itself...

Perhaps it's the larvae of one of those African flies.

In further news. I'm shitted off that I seem to have bought a stack of nice paper, simply because it's really nice paper. Never mind that it's pretty much useless unless I develop a taste for watercolours. And I won't.
It's useless to me because it's very thick, heavy and textured. Which is good for watercolours and gouche because it soaks up the water and doesn't buckle. But if I want to draw in any detail with pencils or pastels or something, the thick texture makes it almost impossible to do so.
I'm about to do a series of shitty experiments to see if I can use any of it for drawing anyway. After all, the drawings I'm planning on doing will be a combination of watercolour/gouche and pencil. So I need some sort of middle ground paper. Or something.


.........I chopped my finger a bit while cutting tomatoes on Friday night. owie.

-Amy

mood: hungover

And no, I didn't enjoy it. And NO, I didn't at least feel better for getting some of the work done.
TAFE had an exhibition the other day...last night? That'd be it. Yeah. My paintings got hung right next to the upstairs toilets, which most people would find depressing, or unfair. But I figure that it's better that way, as everyone will see my paintings directly after they have just relieved themselves - The post-toilet high, as they call it.
Also today I caught wind of a new assignment for Drawing General...the old bag wants three full colour still-lifes, on A2 or A1 paper, using "mixed media". For fucks sake. Mixed media? Still Life? A1?!
No.
And she wants us to present it creatively. As in, rather than using paper, it would be novel/creative/intriguing to paint the pictures directly onto my naked body, and present that to the class on the 22nd of September. Or, I could hand in a video of myself methodically eating the completed pictures with my mother's best silverware and a squeeze bottle of brown sauce, with 'The End' by the Doors playing in the background for good measure.
Actually, I'll probably just... Make a paper consetina of people holding hands. I guess.

Other interesting news of today; I found a dead kangaroo on the side of the road (and thought about taking it home, dressing it up in a nice frock and drawing it for my still-life project), and I didn't find Dave at uni. Geeze Dave. Try going to uni sometime. Hippy.

I very much like my new badges which Tom HB made...I can never have enough Tom HB Merchandise.

mood: eeeeeee....!

Oskar pointed out that my course at TAFE, yr 1 diploma fine arts, can be conveniantly abbreiviated to "F'arts".

Just throwing it out there,

-Amy

I can't believe I got a credit at TAFE for writing 'FDA' all over a black and white photo of my face...If anyone had looked at the photo closer, they would have seen that I had also written a small narrative about the adventures of Dave. Far better reading material, I'm sure. The best bit is when he gets salmonella from a kebab 'emporium' in Penrith.

In further matters, I would like to inqure of the world in general why Lucky Oceans has boundless access to CD's from National Geographic, and why he is allowed to play them on Radio National at midnight. This had better be the LAST TIME that I get woken up by the rythmic, trance-like beating of the African Water Drums, accompanied by what could only be the vocal skills of a sexually hungry Yoko Ono.

And another thing! I'm le tired.


-Amy

mood: uh? music: well. Not Lucky Oceans. Bastard.

It's raining and I am very bored.
I'm thinking of putting alot of random monkeys/lemurs/marmosets/tamarins in every picture I paint for TAFE now. Why? eh. who knows. Seems like a bit of a larf.

Listening serenely to the echoing shrieks and swear words of Tom HB and Rosa enjoying a little "Just Friends" spooning in the background of a phone conversation with Jerry last night, it occured to me that everyone in history masturbated. Lenin, Gandhi - EVERYONE. Even Stalin enjoyed the occasional toss in a private room.
Actually, the idea of William Wordsworth wanking in a public toilet is both entertaining and enlightening. I won't even mention the sort of freaky shit that people like Voltaire must have got up to.


...Just throwing it out there.

-Amy (yes, Tom. I made a Tom/Rosa joke. ooohh! Chastise me!)

In the same way that your grandmother always told you never to trust a man with a hat set jauntilly to one side, so too you should never trust a sports car with a number plate reading "4u2nv", also set jauntilly to one side. Wether the driver of this car is very old or very young doesn't matter - the fact is that either way they will most definately have spent thier childhood carefully fashioning thier own terds into the shape of a 1940's locomotive.

Jerry thought it would be funny to send me an amusing sachet of 'lube' in the mail, enclosed with a yet more amusing letter. The product description of the lube is as follows; "A clear, colourless, silky gel with a cool natural feel, for use with a condom or a dam." ..

...

.....A..dam?

Anyway. His hilarious plan backfired when the sachet broke in the mail, ruined the letter, and spilt nasty lube on my letterbox.
My mother can't figure out why her mail is covered in a mysterious clear substance....hahahahahaha...

Jerry has yet to comment.

As I walk into the Tafe "Cafeteria", buy my coffee and then walk outside to a table, all the Kingswood folk stare dumbly at me. For some reason, the usual rules of human interaction don't apply to them. They'll do everything wrong by the book, from staring at you for an uncomfortable amount of time, to standing too close to you in a line, or even insisting to prod the already dead coals of a polite conversation ("Spinning-a-yarn").
After a while I became intimidated and retreated to the library where at least I shouldn't be asked to spare a "Fag". But there's problems in the library as well! James, my apparant arch-nemesis at Tafe, is shooting death-stares at me from behind a copy of something by R.L Stein. There are other books scattered on the desk in front of him, both with numerous pages marked with yellow post-it notes. I can just make out the title of one,.. a mighty leather-bound tombe, "The Saddle Club Collection".
He must be studying hard for his Cultural Productions assignment.

I feel a touch ashamed to be back here in the Library actually, as last time I was here I fell asleep on a bean bag, drooling and spooning a copy of 'Mien Kampf'. To add to my inner embarassment, I happened to be dreaming at the time of a Tom HB Production of "Cats", in which Tom, Jerry, Dave, Fletcher and Oskar all wore leotards and fluffy tails.

Anyway, as Tom HB said to the custard tart, "I'm done..."


-Amy

cheap goon is always a good thing.

"Boganschpeak" is always a bad thing.

Oh! and NOT fully attending class is always a good thing too.

The word 'Slutrag' is a good thing.

Rubbing your face with a dry star fish is a bad thing (HA...!! think about it).

My father is in fact an exact replica of Captain Haddock, which is a good thing.

Relating to my dad being Captain Haddock, I have discovered that you actually physically CAN cuss a blue streak..which is, I guess, a bad thing.

Saying "Doffid" instead of saying "David" is a good thing.



Images of Tom HB dressed as Boy George and saying "Do you really want to hurt me?" creates mixed feelings.

Titled; I ♥ my Gril Feind, who has really big knees..

What with uni and tafe and all that jazz, most likely this is useful advice for some of us. so here you go..

20 foolproof excuses for not doing an essay..

1. What essay?
2. I did it, but I accidentally tore it up.
3. I haven't got any hands.
4. I'm dead.
5. The Times Literary Supplement wanted to see it first.
6. We're too poor to afford toilet paper and my father has dysentery.
7. The police confiscated it.
8. I'm undergoing a personality crisis.
9. I made this bookmark instead.
10. Everyone says you're pregnant so I didn't think you'd be here today.
11. Did you say you wanted me to take my clothes off?

And now, alpha...bet? stolen from Robert.

A is for alphabetti spagetti.
B is for BOOB.
C is for cookie, and that's good enough for me.
D is for dong. ahem.
E is for Exit..those signs are so..luminous.
F is for flippergeant. A type of animal with an aeroplane for a body, made up while bored in common room at school last year.
G is for "Gizz Spot"..an amusing shop in china town.
H is for Helga. If its bread, make sure it doesn't belong to Helga.
I is for Iggy Pop.
J is for Jo.
K is for kanker sore.
L is for lube...mobile.
M is for Mang. Drink Mang.
N is for Napoleon. He's so small and cool.
O is for OMGOMGOMGOMG SLUUUUUUUTTTT.
P is for 'Plushwang'. Yes, in chinatown, they happen to sell many cute soft toys, including a Plush Wang.
Q is for queer officer.
R is for Russian Regae music.
S is for Slapper.
T is for 'Tom HB frequently wears a Sex Fez, which he believes gives him "Sexual Powers"'. (or, alternatively, "Turkeyslap")
U is for Undergarment.
V is not for Vendetta. I find it endlessly hilarious that there is a fictional character out there called "v". Come on, isn't that just too easy to parody? think about it. V is for many things...
W is for Wack Daddy.
X is for Xmoose
Y is for Your Mother.
Z is for Z........ing?

location: Pyrmont music: wow..."Outside", David Bowie

I just passed my driving test, and now I have my P's..!! Only problem is, I was so distraught that when the testing officer told me that I'd passed, I started crying like a whore at the Oscars. So, in my shinny new licence, it's a photo of me crying. haha.


anyway. Thank god that's over - The testing officer's eyes were way too close together.

-Amy

location: Sackville, Ebenezer mood: yeeeah. Mood. music: probably driving music

(!@!#$!)
...Which of course is ridiculous in the extreme.

Well, I'm supposed to be a good little student.


But then, I was doused with an almost lethal dose of some crazy radioactive stuff that glows while on my way to the nearest Kingswood opium den. Now, not only do I have the ability to twirl an ebony cane in ridiculous yet complex ways in order to fend off super-foes, I'm also a no-good lazy art student. Yes, tafe wanted me to go to the art gallery on Friday. But really. At ten in the morning? TEN? Who the hell is together by then? no really, WHO? So, although I was in the city...well. Woke up at twelve, and ended up doing litterally nothing. well, you know. Not nothing exactly. but yeah.



.....I also have the ability to turn into a lemur. You know, for stealth and agility purposes.


( Click for Great Justice! )

I've made a new arch enemy at Tafe already!!! wooo!!! How do I do it so damn fast?
Well, apparantly this time the problem is that I'm some sort of 'sexual predetor'. . .Like a velocipraptor, but with breasts. I have to admit, that's a new one. no one's ever come to that particular conclusion about me before. When he was going around saying I was a moody cow I was all, ok..fair enough - because it's true! But this..?

I give it: eight and a half sticky gold stars out of Ten for creativity and nine for originality... Good score, but not quite MarsBar material. Nor is it the kind of score that'll get you the right to regular toilet breaks. Maybe to earn that right next week you could try pointing out that I am in fact, a Garden Gnome. Which would explain my peculiar penchant for wearing red, cone-shaped hats.


.......Aaaaaaaaaaallriiiiight. Giggidy. Giggidy.