supercalifragilistic expialidocious, breathe

technicolour

psychedelic

bubblegum

lollipop

bitter sweet

universally applicable
unwholesome
yet desirable
goodness
machines

Allow Me To Introduce The Penises Of Value In My Life...
a girl's gotta have a man in her life - or 6ish

while wading through a paddle pool of fleeting romances, passionate interludes, filthy escapades, trying to remember all the sources of testosterone in my lucky dip of an existence to date, 6 (or so) permanent fixtures have taken up residence on my boy'dar over the last amalgamated few years

BRYAN
if i had been born a black woman he would have been my brother

RYAN
schoolies fling turned favourite melbournite

NIK
my first and forever beloverism'd roomie

MAXI
my future toyboy seeing as i'm only ever gonna end up a rich old cougar lady

ANTHONY
i was the first girl he ever kissed, then he decided that he liked boys better

JOSH
he is and forever will be the yin to my yang (enough said, i think)

ALLY
she may as well have been birthed a boy for all the bodily fluids we've exchanged
(i realise that sounds a lot worse than it is)


confession: i have a little bit of a crush on you jubblies,
but in a totally non-lesbian "i like it when you do it like that" way of course

so REPHRASE....... a girl's gotta have a man in her life, or 7, if not 6 + a girl version of the boy she wishes existed and would probably be her soulmate, you know 'the one' etc, if he ever did

Impromptu Declaration Of Defeat

no regrets
won't look back
i've lived for you, i'd die for you, do what you want me to

i've cried for you, my tears will show, that i can let you go
end of an era
it's not over yet
you're still with me
don't let me down
don't let it slip away
don't throw it all away


and all that jazz....... i publicly acknowledge, all my foolery, blindness, the glitter, the hollow, and i'm sorry... apology unaccepted, incorrect, whatever, then adieu.....
i heart
i hold
i hurt
i have (had)
i lost
and now i say no more
no more but nothing other than a love eternal, perpetual, transcendent and unconditional


absolute fear of the unknown beyond you as all i can remember for so many sleepless nights and comfortingly silent days before this shadowy abyss that is game over and out x x x x

scenes of a sexual nature

meet elvis...

elvis turns this...

into this...

also, introducing 'it'
a.k.a. emily/morgan/georgia

happy 'lady friend' snaps courtesy of monsieur gauthier x x

lesson learned: french fries have a knack for catching nipple flashes

A Travel Diary Of Sorts

my bestest bud in this whole wide (yet ever so slightly imploding on itself) social scene'ish world named anthony has decided he wants to chronicle the next 6 months of my movements for the sake of a play/novel (medium tbc)

i intend to be overseas traveling, exploring and self-destructing at various periods throughout 2009, culminating in a birthday celebration of epic proportions in july, european summer, most likely london and a little strip of sand in croatia with emily/morgan/georgia (they're an entity in their own right, meet 'it' and you'll understand the force that is to be reckoned with)

so i don't find my life particularly interesting, hence why i indulge in substance abuse, sometimes, otherwise it's re: boredom and just funny to watch people get f*cktarded and injure themselves... however, this generally appears to amuse people, especially when i'm the one getting f*cktarded and subsequently attempting bathroom gymnastics - backflips off couches and such whilst trying to smolder for elvis

note: elvis is not a musician, he can dance like michael jackson though and likes to take photos of my bum

p.s. you will meet a few interesting characters throughout the course of my musings


i've never been partial to journal writing, i wasn't the kind of little girl who ever kept a diary

i tend to ramble....... for instance, right now, the nurse keeps trying to steal my macbook and hospital beds are lonely places, just for the record (for those of you who get it WELL "i'm a tough cookie, i'll be fine" on repeat)


and so the adventure log begins with Welcome to the Wonderful World of sexyfunplaytime and cuddle-puddles..... this duo of social phenomena i and others have had the joy of founding

sexyfunplaytime (noun): jacs ally mumby lolly rossi circa mid-late 2007

cuddle-puddle (noun, sing.): born on sun. 21/12/2008 too early in the morning on a plane to perth with pavo and kitty kat, term coined by a chemically-charged boy named kimberley


plainly put, i can't be bothered to email everyone and keep you all up to date on my whereabouts and shenanigans... myspace hurts my laptop, people take it the wrong way when you don't reply on facebook, and i don't understand twitter (let alone have the patience to teach myself b/c i'm stubborn)... so this will have to suffice as my attempt to conquer the tyranny of distance and
impeded upon communication blah blah blah


retrospectioning (ryan's word), i guess it all started late last year when i abandoned all sense of self-discipline and allowed myself to be kidnapped (in someways) by a guitarist, actually a foreigner is better said....... you'll come to realise i'm a sucker for an accent, like really punish myself with these ones


so upon my return home i was interogated:

if being a doctor doesn't work out for you now that your role model is penny lane, what will you do? be a lawyer (my brain hasn't ceased to function just b/c i said 'yes' - dragonette rings a bell here ladies and gents)

when you've been disbarred etc for malpractice, what will you do? join a band, be a rockstar (not a poet/philosopher/musical genius prodigy... a rolling stone magazine circa the late 60s/early 70s brand of rockstar)

but jacquie you don't play any musical instruments particularly well and are most likely tone deaf, hence why you listen to the music you do... what will you do then? liquidate all my assets and either buy a music group/record label, or start up my own one from scratch (my current flight of fancy entrepreneurial endeavour/mission to shit the parentals just a little bit more)

so finally we arrive at our destination, ending with an explanation of the title 'Poor Little Rich Girl' as chosen by anthony for me (i believe he intends this to be the title of his biography i suppose)

i have youth, i have money, money buys opportunity, opportunity makes relative unhappiness a little less unbearable, and the rest of the time is spent in a colourful psychedelic blur of love in its many forms, oh and laughter, lots of it with very unusual and unexpected individuals... typically involving shots and deviant behaviour

as i said before: Welcome to My World

peace, bedtime and the beatles kids x x x x


p.p.s. lesson learned overall: don't trust anthony to keep a secret, he's like perez hilton just not as gay