polarised

so miss keera and i have now taken our obsession to a new, completely insane level:

we've gone and bought ourselves a big, shiny, brand-spanking new, beautiful pole of our very own.

and what's more, we've named her.

call us crazy mothaf'n bitches but...

okay, you can just call us crazy mothaf'n bitches. we'll cope.

and so, without further ado, i'd like to introduce y'all to juanita polearas the first:



























































juanita: meet the blogosphere.

blogosphere: meet juanita.



ain't she somethin'?

oh cult!

so it seems i have started a cult.

i was having drinks at a bar called 'misty' in melbourne with a charming and devastatingly handsome new friend and somehow i managed to talk jimmie, the delightful barman/owner, into joining "my cult".

well actually, jimmie didn't need all that much convincing.

i informed him that 'THE CULT OF NADSTOWN' involved little more than unbridled worship of me and the occasional virgin sacrifice, and he declared himself a member without hesitation.

furthermore, when i told jimmie that spa parties would be a daily and compulsory event in the cult, he beamed with schoolboy-like enthusiasm.

and then he asked my HOT brainiac of a drinking companion if he himself was a member, no doubt imagining him neck-deep in bubbles, as any person in their right mind would.

and as i am in fact doing right the fuck now.

excuse me for a second...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

okay, i'm done.

for now anyway.

sigh.

so a few days later the hotness and i were back drinking at misty, and jimmie asked me if i had recruited any new members into my cult.

"sadly no," i replied, looking forlorn.

but then a large, pierced SAILOR! at the bar who had apparently overheard our conversation asked me just what my cult involved.

"unfettered worship of me," i replied, sounding in no way full of myself at all.

and apparently this was enough for THE SAILOR!, as he declared himself a member right there and then.

he then proceeded to spend the entire night hitting on me, but that's another story altogether. and one i may or may not choose to convey to you in the future.

the point is that 'THE CULT OF NADSTOWN' has offcially begun, with two members and counting.

and there's no telling how big it will get with time.

i suggest y'all jump on the bandwagon before its too late*.

join now and receive nothing tangible whatsoever.

x




*what it could possibly be too late for, i don't know. but consider yourselves warned nonetheless.

from the mouths of babes

a word from everybody's favourite busty boyfriend nabber, lindsay lohan:

"i may be on the red carpet in my couture dress, but i still have problems".

i think there's something in that for all of us, don't you?

i know i feel better about myself now.

thanks li-lo.

x

grave digger

my mobile started ringing.

a number which i assumed to be my friend miss sam's work number was flashing on the screen.

kanye west's 'gold digger' was playing on the stereo.

i picked up the phone and began serenading miss sam with the dulcet tones of my best "black man voice" (and continued booty dancing the fuck out of my living room).

"you know why
it take too much to touch her
from what I heard she got a baby by busta
my best friend say she use to fuck wit usher

i don't care what none of ya'll say
i still love her..."

i stop "singing" and there is silence on the other end of the phone.

"miss sam?" i say, realising suddenly that it may not actually be miss sam and that i may thus have to kill myself when i get off the phone.

"MISS SAM?!? please tell me that's you..."

i'm panicking now.

"la nadine?" said the unrecognisable (MALE!) voice on the other end.

"OH FUCK!" screamed my brain.

"la nadine, its ******** ********, i made your father's gravestone. you called me last week about making your mother's too."

...

...

...

...

...

worst. phone. call. ever.

*dies*

haikulapalooza

this was possibly the worst idea i've ever had.

but a promise is a promise.

so here goes.

x

- TOBYtoby said...

A haiku about The Penis?
About the surreal fantasm that is RYWHM?

the penis:

a 'ku de cock, huh?
'tis an ugly thing alright.
but still i want it.

the surreal fantasm that is rywhm (for fuck's tobytoby, demanding much?):

of course i love fits,
but take the pressure down some.
i'm not a machine.

x

- MelbourneGirl said...

how about a haiku on why the pebble and sand garden must always be raked. or perhaps how the rain is always wet. or why the master ninja looks particularly dumpy in black this season.

pass.

too fruity, melbournegirl, way too fruity.

x

- Christine Keeler said...

Haiku topic:

Phillips head screwdrivers. Please.

screwdrivers are ace,
'spesh those phillips head ones.
or so i'm told, ay.

x

- Jess said...

A haiku about me - I am not a bad person, after all. Oh shucks. Forget me, do a haiku on how LOVELY you are x

miss jess is 'da bomb',
she slays me with the funnies.
and i am lovely.

x

- treespotter said...

may be about toilets... not really sure why that is. similarly uninspired here. can't help.

toilets are of use
when you need to "expel" stuff
from deep down inside.

x

- Boysenberry said...

Possibly a haiku about lacking ideas?

but then he proceeded to write one of his very own.

and i feel writing my own now would be unoriginal.

cope.

x

- Mex said...

what about one on pole dancing?

what about one on pole dancing indeed!

bruised is my body
yet i long to climb, to spin
the pole owns me now.

x

- mscynic said...

I would like a haiku on the stoush between Gretel and Michael.

gretel and michael,
she sure smacked his bitch up good
how great's the word 'stoush'?

x

- treespotter and melbournegirl then proceeded to have a discussion about whether or not lying is gendered. neither of them asked me to write a haiku about it, but i have decided to do so all the same.

all men are liars
sang toni "whore-face" pearen
in some stupid film

x

- thomasr said...

to a top bird:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

um, thanks thomasr. did you make that up yourself? it sounds awfully familiar.

i am not sure if you want me to write a haiku about it, but i have decided not to, if its all the same to you.

x

- Tuppence said...

I would like to hear a haiku about the salmon benny at Katipo.

i love their sunburnt salmon benny
with its sauce of gleaming gold
fuck i want it now!

x

- arleeshar said...

Why not write an haiku on your feelings about the state of Australian politics

cunts, the lot of 'em
and not just old eyebrows' mob
but beaze's lot too.

x

the end.

x

let's never speak of this again.

x

punishable by death?

what should one do if one finds out that somebody one knows reads 'quadrant' magazine?

and not in a curious, car crash voyeur-like, find-out-what-the-noxious-cunts-are-rambling-about-this-month kinda way.

but for real.

what should one do other than convulse, that is?


suggestions?


this is NOT a rhetorical question, people.

I WANT ANSWERS, STAT!


(i await the all knowing one's answer on the next 'friday q & a' with bated (and minty fresh) breath.)

possibly the lamest excuse for a blog post ever.

sorry for the not posting, kids. mummy is very busy with uni-completing and property-buying and, well, just not loving you all enough to be honest.

cope.

i promise to get to the haiku-ing as soon as i possibly can, but until then please enjoy the following waste of time list.



things i am so far enjoying about living alone, five days on:

- unabashed nudity.

i am generally not "abashed" (is that even a word?) about nudity, but i have lived with my sister and brother-in-law for the past six months, and abashedness was called for by all throughout this time.

- guilt-free slobbery.

i dare anybody to try and make me put that mounting stack of plates over there in the dishwasher.

- long, relaxing baths.

nobody knocking on the door needing to pee, no baby crying in the next room. just me, hot water, candlelight, and the sound of silence.

- booty calls.

'nuff said.



UPDATE: things i am so far NOT enjoying about living alone, five days on:

- slipping in the shower, cutting my arm, banging my ass, and NARROWLY avoiding cracking my skull open.

then spending the rest of the morning freaking myself out by imagining how long i would have lain there until somebody burst in through the door and found my poor, naked, mangled body.




i assume within a week i will be so sick of my own company that i will have invented a myriad of invisible playmates to entertain me while i cook/clean/bathe/couch.

i'll be sure to introduce y'all to them as they arrive.

in fact, i think i hear one tap, tap, tapping at my (brain) door now.

send help.

x

i gots nuthin'

as you may well have noticed from the lack of posting this week.

what can i say? my brain done gone and left the building.

too much uni work makes la nadine not good with the blog words.

i can't even muster up the will to write a haiku.

yeah, you heard me, not even a haiku.

THAT'S HOW UNINSPIRED I FUCKING AM!

so if anybody has a topic on which they would like me to write a haiku, leave your suggestion in the comments section and i shall endeavor to deliver the goods in a timely and (at least vaguely) amusing fashion.

stay tuned.