ARG!!!
Ok, hi... but arg! I have tried to write the same blog three times now... and it always dissapears before I post it.. miraculously, annoyingly, ect... its just gone...
So today I'm just going to write about today, skipping over my birthday, Meg and my St. Paddy's celebrations, Walk the Line, Aeon Flux and a bunch of other stuff.... and just talk about today...
Today I lost every shred of manliness I ever had... I have no right to ever act macho again.
Ok... Remember Jay? Creepy little guy I hung around with last year, locked me in his house and made me sleep in his bed and fool around with him? Right... well John was an aquaintance of Jay's... John's in my journalism class. John has always fancied me... And I know this because he stares at me all the time and tells me he fancies me... Eeek. He's a personal space invader, stands right up close to me. And, well, he's just plain creepy. But today he followed me home... and insinuated his way into my room... and stayed for a half hour. I did everything within the bounds of politeness to get him to go... But he wouldn't... And he just kept talking about how easy it is to hog tie a girl(against her will), and what's my favourite sexual position, how many guys have I slept with, can he touch my ass, would I have sex with him, would I teach him how to give a hickey... and a whole lot of other gross crap...
And the whole time, all that's going through my head is scary scary phone call replays, and I paniced and texted Armyguy... "If you have time could you maybe come over and save me from a creepy guy in my room?" PATHETIC!!!!!!!!!!! He's only a weedy guy! I could have taken him! But I just paniced.... He's on college grounds so what would happen if I clocked him one? He hunches too... I've never seen him size up... it'd be big risk to take him on blind... Plus, although I have my lovely survival knife Katie in my room... HE WAS SITTING ON HER!!!! And I continued to panic about being alone with the scary, VERY sexually deprived creep. So I was a big girl and asked my boyfriend to come save me. And I am so very greatful he came and did just that.:p:b I love my Armyguy, he's my white knight, he came straight away, probably broke some road rules doing so (I feel bad), came through my door, obviously ran there, obviously a 'little' upset... and John literally ran away from me... And then Armyguy just held me, and we were both scared and relived together, and of course I wouldn't tell him, but I was shit scared. I know I am over-reacting, but I trust men in these situations about as much as I'd trust Wile E. Coyote in a KFC... He really did scare me. The big girl's blouse that I am...
Later, after Armyguy had gone to work, and when my internet buddy Chayne had gone to work, when my mum and dad had talked to me(heavy with their use of hindsight...) I sort of felt deflated and shakey for a while... clutching Katie and feeling flaccid and stoooopid and scared. My tutorial today is with him and I just do not want to go... So I am doing the in-tutorial assignment at home, and damn the consequinces. If I saw him now I'd probably smack him for making me feel scared and vulnerable(actually, I'd hit him at least five times in the should, harder than not, to try and disuade him from being lude or touchy or close... it made no impact whatsoever... I actually think he liked it... ew...). Maybe that would help bring back some of my ego... or maybe not...
Blah. Thanks for your ear...
Love and swordfishes!!!!!!!!
*Burn

I've been keeping a secret.
Not terribly well.... but I've been doing it none the less.
I am with Armyguy. I love this him. He is the first person I have ever loved. We are happy together. I'm happier than I've been in a long while.
And I hid it from Elvis. Not because I didn't believe he should know. But because he's in a very tenious position right now. He really didn't need to have me tell him Armyguy and I are together. My relationship with Armyguy screwed the relationship between Elvis and Armyguy. I ended our relationahip at least four different times... For all intents and purpose we were all just friends again. The field of ice between Armyguy and Elvis wasn't getting better by a lot, but it was still getting there. I really didn't want to ruin that, but most of all I wanted Elvis to not get hurt again. Especially right now. I know that if I'd been not so visably guilty and sheepish and hidden it better, then it would only have gone on longer until the finding out would just have been hugely worse for him. As it is it was confirmed for him by Meg. I want to be angry at her for telling on me... but I know its for the best. I just hate to know how much I've hurt Elvis, not just by lying, and lying a lot, but by dating his friend again after it caused so much hurt the first time. I have done so many things very very wrong. I know that. Doing the wrong thing for the right reason doesn't mean it actually works.
I'm sure that I have hurt Elvis a lot with this. And I know its too late for the truth. But I want to explain myself. Not for the point of being forgiven. I don't expect that. Ever. What I want is just for Elvis to understand.
I wish I could make it all better. But I can't. I know it hurts ELvis, me being with Armyguy, but I love him. I have never felt this way about anyone ever in my life. I feel at peace when I'm with him. I feel like I am totally me around him. We are our very own brand of crazy. I love that he is violent and different on a whole new scale. We are soulmates. I can't change that. I don't know how long it will last, but I am so happy right now its scary. I am dying of an annoying cold and a belly piercing infection and I still smile and laugh and feel at peace when I'm with him.... This will not help Elvis, but its about time I had a spine and was honest, instead of being a dreadfully pitiful coward who hides and sneaks about.
I cannot express how sorry I am that he had to learn about it like this. I'm sorry for hiding it, I'm sorry for doing it, I'm sorry I am a coward.

Hee-lo! I trust you are grand this fine and... somewhat cold and bitterly early morning???
By rights I am not supposed to be here. At home. I am supposed to be in Armyguy's home town, meeting his beloved sister and preparing for drunkardness with him at a wine festival. I got scared and I bailed. Not just because I was to meet his sister for the first time, and she is very important to him and I wanted to make a good impression, which I am not capable of doing after a 32 hour awake period... but because wine+armyguy+me=danger. And I'm just not sure I'm up for that kind of danger(once and for all, I love him, I just don't want to for a lot of complicated and pathetic reasons which I will not bore you with at 5am... but it has a lot to do with my betrayal complex, my slut phobia, my terror of commitment, mildly about not wanting to hurt Elvis anymore, and there's this whole thing about the asassination of JFK as well...) So I bailed last minute, or last hour more precisly, and Megz and I went to see Casanova instead. It had its good bits, and I wasn't bored. Megz got crazy cause I am a little too loud sometimes... and a bit too... um...lewd? At points? Well it was Casanova, and there were a lot of very bad innuendos so I think my witty verbosity was understandable. My boys would have understood...
I have come to the realization that soemtimes I really hate Meg. But other times I love her to death. Commonly called a 'love/hate' relationship and is usally started when someone hits the other on the forehead with a Sizzler's mint... and then sulks because you called her pretty... but then you have a great time at the movies and daggy dance in the car to 'All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You' and you realize that maybe you aren't so easy to deal with either and that she is like your complete clone(same birth date, near same person, very creepy), so you probably get annoyed by things that she does which are firmly in your own repetoir so you should stop being angry(and jealous because she is HOT) and relish the one person you can be a complete girl with.
Oh, yes, and I am being bribed. I ran across Jay (not in a tank, mores the pity lol) while waiting at uni for Elvis, and half way through a decent, civil conversation(I am trying very hard to get over the whole prisoner-in-his-house-feeling-me-up-a-lot-even-after-I-cried thing. Life is short and nowdays I'd just smack him one.) he produced Serenity:Those Left Behind.... the comic that fills in between the TV series Firefly and the movie Serenity (don't worry if you don't understand; it just means your normal). We are both huge Firefly/Serenity fans, and he eventually, after about 15 minutes of arguing, talked me into borrowing it... and returning it to him, one day...you know, meet up maybe for lunch? SHIT. I was bribed. I am a Serenity whore and will now have to endure that sad little man for the dirty pleasure of reading a cult comic filler. Sigh. No fair.
Ok, as much as I want to talk about stuff... any stuff really, I am dying of exhaustion and need sleep before I pass out in my desk chair. And I think I am going to, seriously. So until I talk to you again, remember:
Love is never wondering 'why?', it is just being gald that it did...

Big hugs and a fuzzy rabbit,
ooh-rah!!!D
*Burn

Hello! I hope everyone is doing well and is happy!
Departing from sense today, I did something crazy and rebellious. Well, at least crazy and rebellious for me. You see, Megz and Elvis and I went to town for a touch of shopping. Poor Elvis... he never stood a chance. But suddenly, startlingly, and before I could really think about it, we were out of the op-shop and into an upstairs PIERCING PALOR!!!!!! Why? Well, I had dumbly suggested before school started that I wanted to get my navel pierced... and Megz firmly insisted that we had to at least look at it... So we got up there and she made me tell the really hot piercing artists that I wanted to get a belly ring. But I followed it by stateing equally firmly (ok, kind of shakily and shyly) that it was a bad idea. When asked 'why?' by the hot piercing artists(henceforth known as Mitch and Liam), I replied that I was one of those fat people who shouldn't get navel piercings because they look dumb. This incured a little cajouling by the piecing boys: they called me athletic looking (which I bet was just a ploy to get me to let them puncture my stomach for $50) and swore blind that women nearly unable to fit through their door got them done. So, wooed by the hot duo, and by Megz and Elvis(who assured me it would look hot), I agreed to get it done(I really wanted to do it, but I am the biggest wuss ever... you would understand if you had my mum, and she'd explained what she'd do to you should you get a piercing). I paced for what seemed like an eternity in their waiting room(actual time: maybe a minute and 30 seconds) and freaked out max about, funnily enough, not the immense pain I was expecting, but the exact size of my mother's heart attack when the navel ring is announced. Then Mitch came and got me and we got down to stupid, nervous small talk while he showed me how sterile his tools were... Sorry, the double entandra was so tempting. But he laughed at my dumb jokes and he made me laugh, and in a few humourous and tense moments(and slightly embarrased because some stranger was playing with my stomach and I found him sexy) that included me saying 'I am ruggard and manly... you can't cry when your wearing army pants', and a lot less pain than I've gone through getting a blood test, I had a brand spanking(oh, that reminds me... hi Chayne!) new navel ring! It really wasn't that bad... surprising as hell as it was!!! But I apparently, after all my suedo-bravado for the hot guy, went a few shades of green and was eventually forced to sit down and sway a litte by Liam while ELVIS GOT AN EARRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And it looks really really cool!!!! I love it... and he took it like a man and never went green or woozy or anything! I am very proud of him. Less proud of myself because although I didn't cry or swear or anything, I did feel faint, and bitched all afternoon about how it hurt. But he was very manly about it and he never bitched once. Congrats man! So, now we are pierced and in pain, but probably at least 30% cooler and thats worth it. Until my mother comes to find me and spills my intestines all over my front steps for having a hole in my skin... heaven help me, because not even the USMC can save me from the wrath of a woman who's little girl just got a hole punched in her body.
But, on a less holey note, guess what?!?! ITS MY 100th BLOG!!!!!! I feel like I should do something to celebrate!!! But since I have drunk alcohol, gotten something pireced, bough myself some clothes and had cake this week, there really isn't anything left to use as a celebration... I do have some most spectacular offers from men across the board(Chayne by far being the most interesting and imaginative... wow, its hot in here...you have no idea). But perhaps the most suitable idea is to write a poem to express the general gist of my last 100 blogs... (I can hear that, now stop screaming and put down the ear muffs...):

I started out, as luck would find,
Slowing going out my mind.
Innocent and sane no more
With a lot of crap laying on my floor
From gothic boys to Erin's smile,
To lists that suck so much, their vial.
Poetry that's worse than this is,
One time, drunken, stupid kisses.
Love for people who deserve castration,
Then conveying usless information.
Writing drunk, which makes for fun,
Until, when sober, you crave a gun.
Britney Spears is Satan's tool,
Desperatly trying to be cool.
Ninteen friends of whom I'm fond,
And then often sounding like a bolnde.
Its been a while since I began,
And my problems remain named 'man'.
Bitching about my mom like Freud,
Getting happy, sad, annoyed.
But every day I am glad to say,
That I belong to blog.co.uk.

I know... it was so dodgey that your eyes are bleeding... I'm sorry, truly I am. But its 4:30am and I'm already crazy as it is!
Urg... class has only just begun and I'm already bored... But then, thats me...
I am facinated and obsessed with the USMC... always have been... but thanks to Jarhead I am now re-hooked, digging my old Marine shirt from the closet. And surfing e-bay for more... its fun and addictive...*insert evil, junkie laugh here*.
Well, I'm gonna go now... but until next time remember: A stitch in time saves nine, but nothing can save you from my poetry!!!!

Bug hugs and some balloons and streamers for celetrating,
from
*Burn

This is not my place... I know that already. But what is it with the rash of anti-social bloggers lately? "Do this, do that, do the hokey pokey, or I'll drop you from my blog friend list". I can understand people getting irrate... its human nature. But I firmly believe that your blog space is yours... its there to relieve stress from the real world. What you do with it, what you say about yourself, all that jazz, is about you. Not whether someone eles likes who you are or not. Or how often you blog.Blog frequency cannot be helped: life interrupts writing about life sometimes. Can't this be the one place in our lives where acceptance is granted without rules and deadlines, or silly personal preferences?
This place offers us freedom of thought and word; but what would be great would be if it was also a completely accepting forum to do so in... So what if they don't blog every day? So what if they want to have two blogs, or even three, under completely different names? Last time I checked, we were a blog community. And it takes more than one type of person to make up a community. Some nice, some less nice, some crazy, some boring, some young and some old. Whoever you are, you help to offer a diverse range of ideas and thoughts and experiences to others. Instead of dropping people for things that bug us, why can't we be more like Moondancer in her lovely effort to provide comfort to a fellow blogger? It takes the same amount of time and effort to be exclusive and annoyed as it does to be accepting and at peace... And the latter is much nicer...
I hope no-one takes offence to this, it was not meant to be accusitory; simply a small plea from a small blogger who wishes that acceptance and love could at least exist in one place on this earth.
Sincerely
Sugarburn

Yes, I am up. At 7 in the morning. I was up till 5am talking to Chayne(hehe... someone cooler than me likes me... it like Christmas. No. I'm serious.). And then I did dumb quizzes and wrote this till now(7am). And yes, I've heard of sleep, but its not as much fun...
So here's a list of things that don't make sense

1.
Why people pay money for rap music. Why can't I just take my cash, cover it with barbecue sauce and throw it to the pigs? I'd get the same amount of satisfaction and an exceedingly better sound...

2.
Swiss cheese. If God wanted cheese to have holes in it he'd have made it that way... Oh, wait...

3.
Women. Am one and I still don't get it... how do men do this day in, day out? More to the point... why do they? Oh, yeah.. sex. I forgot...

4.
Sushi... I don't really have a reason... its just illogical. 'Hey, lets wrap raw fish in an aquatic weed and put really hot paste on it. It'll be great!'

5.
Why the two weirdo, psuedo-intellectuals in the cinema tonight never laughed during Jarhead... It was awesomely funny. And they never said a thing. He had Von Dutch sewn across his ass and she spent the whole time texting people... If you wanna talk to your firends, then go home, sit on your couch with one of them and fucking use human speech. This will NOT cost you $10.30 and it will not bug me while I'm trying watch people get yelled at by Jamie Foxx.

6.
'Are you my perfect woman' quizzes. No, I'm not. I am a nut case with an ass that's so big it has its own national anthem, who likes Firefly, who has tomato sauce and salt on pizza, finds your car boring, is violent and moody, and thinks sport is something that is best served cold.:P In fact, your perfect woman does not exist. There is no double D girl out there who plays old Nintendo, likes anal sex, who listens to indie rock while polishing your ute. In a leopard print thong. Get real. I have long ago realized that warrior poets with artists hands, who are members of SWAT, who like guns and kissing in the rain, who drive a car my dad considered old, who listen to country music while doing carpentary, who wear jeans and talk like Mal Reynolds, who owns a German Shephard and a huge illicit DVD collection, writes poetry and gets up early, does not bloody well exist. But I have a very good imagination, so if this is you, please send me a message... before I get too old to notice half the stuff I just dropped. lol that was a good rant.

7.
Choc tops at the cinema with smarties in them. Yes, great... lets freeze crunchy candy rock-hard so we can break people's fillings, and also stain their white shirts multi colours... groovy.

8.
The five second rule. Why do you enforce a rule upon me? Its mine, its there, I'll get it when I'm good and ready. Bitch.

9.
Why Bull is being nice to me. Today he asked me for some sugar(your mind, out of the gutter)... I didn't have any. Usually, this scenario results in me getting abused. Today he just said, 'Ah, ok, thanks, I'll work it out.' I even made a crack about what he was going to put it on: the cast of Man Power. He played along. Usually I get abused. Why is that familiar? Hmmm... It's beginning to creep me out... Not like it isn't nice that he has found the human being within... but with me? He hates me! There are only three possabilites:
a) Aliens took his brain and replaced it with a small alien life form called a Znorge which loves everyone and has a deep desire to make friends and sleep normal hours.
b) Aliens gave him his brain back. All this time he was being used as a host for a parasitic alien being which feeds off human annoyance. Now that Big Brother is coming back for another pitiful season, they no longer need Bull and have reinstated his brain in its normal position.
c) He genuinely likes me and feels bad about calling me names and concussing me:D. He forgives me for punching him. And slapping him. And throwing a knife at him. And trying to set his ass on fire. And wishes to be a kind and productive member of society who realizes that I talk too much and am too happy because its nice that way...

Altogether, I'm gonna choose option d). Ha HA! You didn't see that coming, did you? Option d): I'm imagining it out of love and lust, and exhaustion.

10.
Why Telstra(phone company) gives out lip balm as a sales technique...? But more than that, why do they give out lollipops? Is it a subtle way of saying 'We suck, don't even bother...'? And if so, it ain't a good marketing ploy...

11.
Chess. Not becuase I'm dumb, but because a nine year old taught me... 'And the horsey can go this way and this way...'

12.
Coke Zero. It tastes like Coke got a blood transfusion from re-hydrated water. It is hollow, if any beverage has the ability to be so inclined. Why take a perfectly good caffinated, highly sugared liquid and literally drain all the taste out via a hose... Blah.

13.
Cannibleism. Not becuase its icky, or because someone has to die. But because I'd find it hard to find someone who I'd like enough to eat. That person is going to be with you in your cellulite for the rest of all time... So you better like them a lot. And if you like them a lot, why are you eating them in the first place? Hmmm...

14.
Why I stayed up til 7am? Again? I think my ass has committed suicide from the sheer torture of it all. And my spine is seriously considering it... But, hell, I'm funnier at night/early-early morning... so who cares? Life was meant to be lived... and if I do it at night, no one is there to bug me about doing so with no shoes.

and

15.
People who didn't find Fight Club funny. It was a dark comedy! Why in the hell else would Edward Norton be beating on his own ass in an underground parking lot?!?!? Duh.

Ok, I am going to bed now, before I pass out... Until the next time, please remember:
Nothing makes me sadder than the agent lost his bladder in the airplane.(Its from Con Air... stop looking at me like that...!)

Big sleepy hugs and kazoo,
*Burn

Hiya!
Whilst suffering from a blazing concussion caused by a dear and similary mentally cuckoo friend(Megz) with a pillow, well, it may not be the best time to blog... but I thought of a silly analogy before I went for a run and I must use it in the context it was spawned from, or I'll have forgotten it by morning...
The punk dude with the 'D' name is thankfully twenty years old, therefor am not repeatedly thumping myself with the word 'jailbait'. But, as irony would have it, he turns out to have a personality akin to boiled, mouldy cabbage left on a park bench in Berlin for a week during summer by a hobo named Stu, which then got stoned and listened to the Dandies for a few hours... Oh lord, is that boy dull... even I am more fun to talk with than him(that's not really a difficult thing, there's a tree in my backyard at home with a fungus on it which could have bested him in a fair and succinct manner). For the first time when NOT talking to a Plastic bimbette after her fifth Midori, I actually felt superior in a conversation... which deserves a wow in my book because that never happens... I am suffering no illusions as to my lack of conversational prowess. But this boy believes he is god's gift to the word intellectualism(should it be a word) and it is quite a disasterous misconception.
On the other hand, and well on the other side of the border, I have met a guy on-line called Chayne. He is the picture perfect pin-up boy for wit. So, although my brain should have dribbled out my ears listening to D guy twoddle on about porn made from jelly babies, it thought fondly of Chayne and smiled, knowing that adult, nerdy, ridiculous and splendid conversation was only 3MB away...
I just got called 100% Barbie free! I have never been so flattered. Ever. It is my dearest and fuzziest nightmare to believe that I am a girly, ditzy, 'Do you think Rick will like my new Peach On The Sand nail polish?', shallow, skanky, pink-loving girl. I do believe this stems from my childhood, during which my father did everything nessecary to ensure that although I ruined his last chance for a son, I would at least be a manly girl who can shoot stuff and then beat it to death, and then possibly ride a motor bike over it... Anyway, I like being thought of in that manner and I will smile about it all day...
Oh, yeah, I am currently having a major discussion about what I found on my run outside the education faculty on a Firefly chat site. It was this weird ass list:
Cigarette lighter
Small axe
Pistol
Clothes
Nespaper
Canvas
Steel wool
Whiskey
Sectional map
Compass
Chocolate

So I naturally thinks it be a shopping list for a dastardly murder...!!!!! and we all talk about it on the chat site for like, a half hour, until flywithmecaptn found this web page... in which all above things were listed... under a scenario game about survival! Therefor methinks it was a training thing... So, if I had not known this, and taken advice from some chatters on the site and handed it in to the police... then the dean of education and half the teaching faculty would have been arrested... Hehe... Which could have been fun.
I also lost a two dollar coin on my run which was intened for use in aquiring a caffinated beverage... So I re-ran the entire route, around a very largish uni, and actually found it! I know it may not interest you, but it was a bloody miricle as far as I'm concerned at 2am in the morning...
It has come to my attention that some people who I know and love have been left in the dark about certain things... namely my deep and abiding obsession for Bull. So here comes my first and last memo on the subject:
I love him. He is intolerably hot and funny, and he smells just great. I want to jump him in a very hot and sluttish manner in a summer warmed wheat field, or against the sink in my common room at 3am... He is mean and nasty, he has caused me physical harm, and he calls me an annoying bitch frequently. Yet, when he helps me with my keys to avoid ruining my nail polish at the formal, or when he comes out to help me fix the DVD, or when he walked me to the uni club becuase he didn't want me to go there alone at night, my silly girl brain goes ga ga and thinks about bunnies and cake... I know he hates me, but part of me(the really dumb part that I landed on when I fell off my monkey bars aged seven...) still loves him like I did a year ago watching him play Seven Nation Army for me on his guitar till he got a blister... I think this is mainly because he'll never want me back... He is safe. I never expect him to come to my door with a bunch of roses and ask me to love him and no other till the end of time... Coming to my door at all would be a faint worthy occurance... So there it is: I love, long for and lust after Bull, in a way that is unhealthy and probably illegal in five states... We all have one 'What if?', one unattainable person, and he is mine... But my imagination is very good...

Well, that should cause some kind of hullabaloo with armyguy and elvis ::, but I just wanted to be honest for once... and my feelings for them are not diminished by my sick obsession with the Oxford English Dictionary's choice of pin up boy for the word 'asshole' and 'dreamboat' simaltainously. I have tried to never talk about this stuff with the boys, but it's time to be a grown up, and realize that hiding things doesn't save people in the long run... it just screws more stuff up, until it snowballs and you get burried under a big lump of snow to freeze to death or suffocate... whichever comes first. Ok, moving on, now that I have commited literary hara kirri...::
I bought the Walk The Line soundtrack off Ebay! I have most of the originals by the Man In Black himself... bit I loved the movie soundtrack so much that I just couldn't resist! And Elvis didn't help, either! He told me to do it! Sigh... But now I get mail! Woo Hoo!
Oh crap, its 5am... I seriously need sleep! So I'll leave you now with one final thought:
If an otter named Billy Bob lived next-door to you in a hooker Barbie pink trailer with orange hub caps and lime green racing stripes with a dech chair on the roof... would you pop round to borrow a cup of sugar? Or a cup of fish?

Biggest hugs and a very long hit list,
*Burn