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Hello there demented people of the world. It’s been quite a while since I last actively showed my angry presence in these parts. I take it that you have missed me because let’s face, you are obligated to. Fear not, however, I’m back.

Now, as expected of me, I am an avid browser of reddit. I go there every single day. It’s excellent for procrastination. Drafting legal documents can be quite the bore. I sometimes really ask myself why I chose to do this degree, but truthfully, it’s the only degree I actually could do, but I digress. (Un)fortunately, had to downgrade from 4chan. There can only be so many fucked-up-beyond-redemption writers here at a given time. (Also, my 4chan days were dark, dark times in my life. Second and Third years in law school weren’t kind to me).

One of my favourite subreddits to brows is BBP, or Big Boob Problems. It’s very comforting to know that there are other ladies out there who share the same every day struggles as I do: selling your whole family and mortgaging your parents’ house to buy a bra, having things lost in my boobs, underboob sweat, cringing as you walk down the stairs, every single top you buy having to be adjusted, OMG buttons refusing to close on shits, rants, etc etc. Kwanza wewe Olivia have you ever gone there? You really should. (They also provide great resources and great places to buy bras. If you’ll consider selling your grandma to buy a bra, it better be a goddamn fantastic bra).

Let me even tell you a story so that you can truly see how real this struggle is. Early last year I walked into a shop, which I won’t say to be polite (Woolworths Sarit) to look for a couple of bras. As in I hadn’t even lifted my hand to check out the sizes and the mama that was standing there just takes one look at me and says “I’m sorry, I don’t think we stalk your size”. I’m telling you I was so offended. This bitch didn’t even know what goddamn size I was and she already decided that they didn’t stock my size?! I couldn’t even bring myself to complain. I just walked out and went and ate greasy food. So fucking rude.
So yesterday evening, I came across a sub called BDP, aka Big Dick Problems. I was very amused, because this sub was kinda like BBP, but for men. I clicked on one of the links and it was about a well-endowed gentleman telling a story about how he was hospitalised and hospital gowns are not exactly…discreet. Another link was about a guy who saw bananas that could only have come from Uganda and was saying how big they were and even he felt a bit inadequate (tihihi). I even discovered a test. A test.

At this point I was grinning like a mongoloid because oh my God this test was just…very, very entertaining. It’s called the toilet paper roll test. How it works is, you take the roll and cut it at your insertiable length (I have no idea WTF that is) and I think you use how tight it fits around your cock as a representation of how thick you are. On average, the roll is about 5.5” girth apparently, and this dude (and other blokes on this sub) was (were? What is English?) bigger than that. They were even saying how they now respect women that give/had given them head.

So my mum walks in on me with my mouth agape and covered and I’m giggling like a school girl and she decides for the sake of her sanity its best she doesn’t ask. Ignoring the shade she was throwing, I told her what I’d discovered and she had a look of appalled confusion on her face as I continued gleefully browsing through BDP and kind of relating to the struggles these poor blokes go through. (Mum once told me she’s already feeling sorry for the poor bloke that’ll shackle his soul to me. Clearly she doesn’t know I’m friends with Aggrey). Poor guys have problems finding condoms that fit them, LOL. I think most of our West African brothers should sub to this sub.

To conclude, I strongly recommend this sub. It’s really weirdly educational. And entertaining. Please go look at it. Please. It’s worth it. I promise.


I have a very…interesting story to tell you, children. Gather around and let me amuse you with the shenanigans of this place of mine that I live in.

We had a drug bust at my complex, and it was really amusing. (By it I mean all the shit that happened during said drug bust.)

Now, as you all know but don’t understand, I love this place that we stay at. My man and I are the only people considered sane since we never involve ourselves in the extra-ordinary ratchetness that goes on here a lot more often than it should. (Our new roomie, for instance has decided to share any and all STI he possibly can in any way he possibly can during this most righteous time of lent. Yesterday for example, he was walking around nude from the waist down asking people to help him burst the millions of pockets of puss in and around his nether regions. Think he had some up his bum as well. I’m sure even an andrologist would be apprehensive to check out whatever disease(s) he’s suffering from).  The stupidity that happens here is quite entertaining on most days, as long as nobody bothers to involve us. On the days that they do, I take it upon myself to show them the repercussions of having little to no self-preservation and why it’s a bad thing. Some people have ended up in hospital during my more…violent moments, but that’s a story for another day, no? *smiles sweetly*

Alas, I digress. The drug bust. We had one. It was really awesome, and kinda dramatic, but it will end up pretty anti-climatic. The disadvantages of having a country that banned the death penalty. *sigh* This is where Malaysia stays winning.

So, the chic two flats above us (Colombian, by the way. She looks like something out of a porn movie really: big boobs, big bum, perfect hair and make-up, barely any clothes on, etc etc. She even had that accent thing going on, where she’d give dudes boners by just talking) was selling drugs. All the hard core stuff: crack cocaine, heroin, crystal meth, morphine, the really refined form of LSD, and the likes. She hid them in the cracks on the walls, under the skirting board, in the ceiling, in the herb garden (and no, it’s not weed that’s grown there), in her mattress and other such creative parts. The thing is, nobody knew. She was social as everyone else, never had ridiculous amounts of money from outta nowhere, she never abused any of that shit, just sold it. But she never sold it to anyone in the complex, which was pretty smart.

So anyway, Jupiter and I are misbehaving on the couch when suddenly we have the Queensland Police, AFP (Aussie Fed Police), Immigration and guys from the drug department sprinting around, busting into houses and demanding that everyone gets the fuck out. So this cop nearly breaks down our door and nearly gives me a heart attack then proceeds to (rudely) stare at me in my state of undress instead of saying whatever the fuck he wants to say. I donno who was more irritated, Jupiter or myself, though my irritation was brought about by embarrassment.

Our Colombian is arrested, (along with the guy she was entertaining. As in the cops walked in on them when she was giving him head and he was in the middle of his orgasm, since when they came out she had some of his nether fluids around her mouth and he was…well, spilling them out. XD The cops are asking them questions and the poor boy is so terrified he proceeds to start crying and one of the cops goes like “Are those tears part of your orgasm?! Jesus…have you never had sex before? How the hell do you cry during an orgasm?!” Then they turn to question the chic and she can’t answer anything, when one of the cops realises she still has this dude’s semen in her mouth. So the cop [a lady who probably doesn’t get laid much] snaps “Are you gonna swallow that shit or spit it out, because you are going to answer my questions, brat.” She then proceeds to like gulp it down and in my head I’m wondering kwani she was storing it in her mouth for a later time or something?  XD) and the cops get into her apartment to check it out. (She was living alone. I donno how many sessions of disturbing, yucky sex she had with the cunt that’s my landlord. This is a guy who has the potential to traumatise even Aggrey. He really needs to be locked up in an asylum. He’s very disturbed) and man, they are coming out with like 30 250g bags of EACH of these drugs. As in 30 250g bags of crack cocaine, 30 250g bags of crystal meth, 30 250g bags of the LSD, and those drip bags of the hospital, like 6 of them full of morphine. And when I took a peek into the apartment, it had been systematically pulled apart. The ceiling was cut at the corners on one corner, there was no skirting board anymore, the walls had been chipped apart…heh, it took them like 12 or so hours to get everything, since they began their operation at about 10pm and when I woke up the next day at about 9 they were still there, questioning everyone. Kwanza one of them tried to question me and I pulled the racism card out so fast he promptly apologised and proceeded to go look for someone else to bully. Ain’t nobody gat no tahm for that.

I remember how guys freaked out though, and it was hilarious. Someone actually jumped out of the balcony into the pool because of how the cops were bursting in. There was also an orgy going on in another room, I understand (to which the landlord was peeking at through the window and probably fapping to. See? I told you this guy has serious mental problems). As in people were being chucked from the house in the middle of their showers. Hilarious shit.

So, to summarise, this chic will be charged, very probably found guilty and receive life imprisonment. Moral of the story, don’t give people head in the place you’re stashed your stash. You may get caught and people like me will blog about it.

Peace, from Down Under.


What the hell is this shit? (Pun intended).

DISCLAIMER: Any trauma brought about by this post should be addressed to Aunty Olivia, our in-house agony bitch. As you are well aware, she is very much qualified for your petty, self-induced, downright stupid issues in your miserable life, and she will advise you accordingly.

Now as you are all very much aware, as an esteemed writer of this blog it is, in fact, a prerequisite to be completely lacking in mentality and have a rather high tolerance of anything that’s revolting and disgusting and despicable by normal standards. Normal is used rather loosely here, but who gives a fuck. (Please refer to the following post to confirm: https://donotfeedthebloggers.com/2012/01/29/the-day-the-earth-stood-still-2/).

Now, I was supposed to write a post about something else altogether, but there were some very interesting shenanigans going on with my roommate this morning (they begun last night, apparently) that had me grinning like the maniacal bitch normal person you all delude yourselves to believe that I am.

Now, since I landed in the land down under, I was just cursed with the most retarded people for roomies. Semi-druggies, people so filthy even Aggrey would cringe in pure disgust, girls with both daddy and mummy issues etc etc. The current sad existence of a human being I’m currently shackled with in a lease for the next few months just has a serious case of attention whoring issues that even the combined efforts of Maury, Oprah, Dr. Phil and Jerry Springer cannot attempt to solve. Whatever her relatives inserted in her vagina when she was younger caused a great deal of psychological effects that are doing a fantastic job of causing her currently continuing mental deterioration every ticking second. She’s still entertaining, to say the least.

She has a penchant for bringing dodgy male species home after nights of drinking or whatever she consumes. I’m still quite not sure whether or not she sleeps exclusively with men, because some of the…living entities she’s brought have caused many a sleepless night for my herpes-infected cunt of a landlord (Story for another day). I think as long as aforementioned living entity has something that resembles a penis is enough for her to hop into bed with.

I was awoken at the ungodly hour of 7 am with a scream that would awaken the kraken. Against my better judgement, I agreed to accompany Jup into my roomie’s room to see what was going on this time and what I saw would scar most of you horribly for the rest of your lives. I’m still quite not sure whether I should have puked the food I’d eaten for the past month or just laughed until I’d peed on myself. I settled for morbid amusement, because I’m friends with Aggrey. (I love you Pervy Perv. Very much so. :*)

The sheets (white cotton) were a tangled mess of lime green puke with what looked like McDonalds chips, diarrhoea and human bodies. The first thing the landlord muttered after the tears refused to fall was “What the hell is this shit?” I very nearly died at the pun given the situation, hence the name of this post. Calm down and let me explain.

Last night, attention whore extraordinaire decided she wanted to go out. She put on a scarf to cover what she calls breasts, a belt to support said scarf, bikini bottoms and stilettos sharper than a hospital needle. Why she didn’t just go naked, I donno. She brought back a dude who dropped out of law school two weeks into the course (because I started said course with him) who was far more inebriated than she was, though I don’t think any legal substances had caused their intoxication. They proceeded to have sex, and by sex I think he probably inserted his dick into all her natural orifices. At some point of their intoxicated funtimes, she proceeded to diarrhoea all over his dick and her bed sheets. (I think they were doing anal at the time. I wasn’t paying much attention because I was too busy trying not to outright laugh.) Someone ended up puking the lime green mess on one or both of them, which is why I strongly suspect they were consuming some very illegal and/or inedible things that caused their intoxication. They proceeded to slide and coat themselves in the wonderful mixture of her runny shit and the puke until they got tired and went to sleep afterwards. She woke the next morning with a smell that should be classified as a biological hazard to human health, a mixture of semi-digested things and human waste matter and a random guy on top of her. Cue scream.

The sheets she was sleeping on aren’t hers. Neither is the bed. They are both the landlords, hence why he was too traumatised to cry when he realised absolutely no one would wanna rent that cesspit the day he decided to kick her out.

I don’t know what happened next, because I had class and Jup had work, but upon arrival, the room is smelling fresher than a bed of daisies. There’s a new bed a clean, crisp sheets I’d very much love to behave inappropriately with Jupiter on. All her stuff is gone. I think there’s a new tenant incoming, and I cannot wait.

Do have a morbidly hilarious week.

Pro gamers have it hard…

I once blogged about a certain yummy pro gamer here by the name of Crumbzz. Today we’re gonna talk about another equally yummy pro-gamer called xPeke. Please don’t leave yet. It’s gonna get morbidly interesting. I promise.

Now, Peke is hot. He’s just hot. There’s no other way to say it. He plays for a team called Fnatic. He’s Spanish, but their gaming house is based in Cologne, Germany. He’s like the ambassador of his team, a poster boy of sorts. Not in bad taste, coz he’s quite sexy. He’s also 21, so he’s internationally legal. Yeah ;). He’s also a pretty solid player. His mechanics, plays and in-game reactions are pretty beast, so he’s not just a pretty face. (Go to youtube and  search for xPeke Kassadin backdoor to see his most legendary play). 2 Chainz said he wants a big, booty hoe for his birthday, I just want a naked xPeke in a bubbly bathtub for some fun times for mine. (The thirst is real. I know).


Anyway, moving on, he obviously has a crazy huge fanbase, and the video below shows why some dudes have been questioning their sexual orientation in regards to him. He also gives no fucks at all, because giving fucks is overrated.


Sorry, I donno how to do the links thing. Excuse my shadiness.

Back to what I was saying, after all this rather important background info, you need to understand that being hot and good at what you do has it’s rather…negative side effects. A couple of weeks ago, dearest xPeke received a parcel from a fan. A female fan. From Spain. How the hell she managed to stalk their house in Cologne, I donno, but nonetheless she got the address and sent him some fan mail the ol’ skul way. What did she send him, you wonder, that she couldn’t do it the digital, 21st century way?

A pad.

And tampon.

With blood.

Period blood.

Her period blood.


I’ll let you stew on that for a long while.

Now at this point in time, I find it hard to blame the chic that did this. She obvious has some very serious mental problems  that ran very, very deep that her parents have refused to address, so we’re gonna blame the German and Spanish postal services. I don’t understand how they couldn’t realise there was something exceptionally wrong with that parcel. Granted she must have wrapped it hella well and so the sheer smell of period blood couldn’t filter out, but they surely have those x-ray scanning thingys that could have blatantly shown SOMEONE IS SENDING A FREAKING PAD AND TAMPON DRENCHED IN PERIOD BLOOD.

Needless to say, it’s understandable that he never took his…gift with much grace, and burnt it with all the fire, larva and brimstone right from the deepest pits of hell itself. (Okay I donno what he  really did, but I assume he did this).

I’m still disgusted though, though I must admit, it was morbidly funny. Is this how cavemen women displayed their primal feminine possession over their prospective mates? Sent them a few millilitres of blood and other dead cells from their vaginas? If so, then evolution is really not doing things right. Either that, or natural selection continues to fail us.

Have a disgusting free week. On that bombshell, Peace.


Thus, it begins.

Ladies and gentlemen,

It begins. The Mayans were right. The world is ending in about a month or so. The fact that I may or may not (definitely am) (be) attracted  to a 19 year old and my beloved really isn’t bothering to give any fucks despite how many of them he has goes on to prove this.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

I happen to play LoL (League of Legends.) I play lots of it, because it’s a ridiculously addictive game. League of Legends, by the way is MOBA, (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena), kind of DoTA and DoTA 2 (Defence of The Ancients). It’s really awesome, and after playing it for a while, I happened to garner enough interest in it to find out about the majourr tounaments and pro players and pro teams etc etc.

Now, one of these pro players is a dude called Crumbzz, and he plays for a NA (North American server) team called Dignitas. Google him. He’s sexy as hell and is a fanatastic player. He laso happens to be from Vancouver and goes to the University of British Columbia, which fortunately my cousin, who also plays LoL, goes to and she stalks the hell out him on my behalf; but that’s a storo for another day.

Anyway, so I suddenly develop a crush-obsession on the probably the hottest Canadian ever, and in my impulsive stalkerness decide to google him and what I found out forever destroyed my soul (or what’s left of it after selling it to get ACIII. I’ll blog about that later). He is 19 years old.


Naturally, I was not amused in the least. How?! BLOODY HOW?!?!?! Why is Mother Nature so cruel?! Why does such a sexy, sexy guy have to be four goddamn years younger than me?! What did I ever do to deserve this?!

I one told myself that I’d never allow myself to get attracted to a guy that’s younger than me. Even agements is pushing it. Lust however, has other ideas. Issorait, though. Issorait.

Jup, my boyfriend, was not amused at first, then he saw his age. The smug smirk on his face said it all. I was very tempted to take his rig and smash his face in with it, then I remembered I play games on stupid thing, and it’s also one of the best rigs I’ve ever seen in my life, and there’s nothing else in my immediate vicinity that is light enough to inflict the same amount of pain and damage.

Also, his mother would very probably skin me alive with a butter knife if anything happened to her baby.

So, it begins and it continues. Despite his flaws (he goes on 4chan in the middle of stream, and he’s not above having rather blunt, explicit conversations, which only serves to make his stream that much more entertaining) I cannot deny that Crumbzz is very attractive, and the lusting shall continue till the apocalypse.

It begins. Be prepared.

I’m not anti-social, just selectively social.

I was called an anti-social geek by a fourteen year old high school kid on friday.

My case wasn’t helped by the fact that when I was introd to their class my greeting response was a slight inclination of my head in form of a nod. Also, I was blasting 90s music from my (BRAND NEW) Sennheisers.

At this point, some of you may or may may not be wondering what I was doing in a high school on Monday. Well, I’m a mentor, and for some reason, the university wanted us to go to a couple high schools in the area (which just translated to all public high schools in Cairns region) and talk to them about university life and my experience in Oz so far as a foreigner. The things I do for this university…*smh* No, Pervy Perv, I have no paedo tendencies.

Now, I must say that I’m rather well acquainted with most, if not all, of the highly trained co-writers of this blog, and due to our combined mentality, or lack thereof, I decided to give that statement some thought. Am I really anti-social?

Geek, I am, no question there. Nerd…probably, though I really don’t think I read thaaaaaaaat much. Anti-social? Hell no. If I’d be anti-social, I’d end up being like Lisbeth.

Granted, socialising, like patience really isn’t my strongest suit, so I needed to come up with a compromise: selectively social.

I’m very picky with the kind of people I choose to associate with. They have to be geeks and/or nerds, be amusing and greatly lack in the sanity department. The fact that I’m esteemed enough to be a writer of this blog proves as much. I don’t like socialites; those people that know everyone and everyone knows them? I also don’t like people who are really, really good at socialising with everyone, because it makes me look anti-social, which I’m not.

My friends, in both spheres of the world, are an acquired taste. They are just the best bunch of people I’ve had the misfortune of meeting, and because we’re all socially selective geeks with a taste for the revoltingly disgusting (Pervy Perv in Kenya and Francis in Australia), we meet new people through each other. Going out and looking for new friends means socialising in the orthodox way, and I suck at that.

Even when we go out we dress in jeans and chucks. Our topics of conversation consist of who has the best rigs, how much they cost and which graphics cards are better,NVIDIA, Intel or Asus. Also, there’s the recent most disgustingly revolting thing Pervy Perv or Francis, depending on which part of the world I am in at the moment, has discovered on the interwebs.

All this considered, I promptly informed aforementioned brat that I’m not anti-social, I’m just selectively social. The deadpan tone in my voice, which she probably didn’t notice, heavily implied that there was no way in the deepest darkest, recesses of hell that I was ever going to apply my seriously lacking socialising skills on her. If, by some freaky chance, we would be compatible in terms of friendship, she’d never have uttered that statement.

Also, being selectively social is cool, bcause it deviates from the norm and embraces insanity. After all, sanity is overrated.

Android, Apple and Alcohol. (perhaps Weed can be thrown in too, just for good measure)

Truth be told, I’m not the most technologically savvy person in the world. In fact, I think I’m pretty much hopeless at it, but hanging around geeks and nerds all the time has given me enough vague knowledge to know when it’s a very minor issue, things could be worse, I should start panicking, or if I’m totally fucked.

Hormonal issues, coupled with exam stress, brokeness, hopelessness of knowing there’s a very high probability we’re all gonna fail aforementioned exams and one (or ten) too many lost, broken and/or scratched game CDs somehow managed to twist itself into an Android v Apple debate. Matters were not helped that all of us were drunk and some were stoned as well as drunk. The concluding slurred line of ” Jobzzzzzzz gonna raizzzz from his graaaaa- and, and, and kick you in the bawwwwlls with your SamSony capsule, aaaahowl” by Minerva to Francis did not help matters in the least.

I really love my friends, more so when they are intoxicated.

Nonetheless, I did my research, and though I have my own petty reasons for hating apple (they are a capitalist, cult-like group of wannabes who think they are socially acceptable and technologically savvy) I must admit that their products are damn good. They know their market and they exploit and milk them like the fat-ass cows we see in the European Alps.

Many of the idiots I chose to associate myself with (they prefer the term “friends”) are Apple fan(atic)s. They have apple everything, from the PC, laptop, phone, tablet, tv, mini, any other thing Jobs’ memory demands the poor overworked, underpaid, slave-driven Asians to create, my boyfriend being one of them. Honestly speaking, I don’t see the big deal. Apple, like weed, sex and boobs is overrated. *waiting for the cult-members to start screaming*

Apple is not open sourced, very rigid, expensive, overrated, and almost not customizable. It’s their way of the highway, mother*bleep*er. If you don’t like the way the app(s) work, you can soak your opinion in vinegar and  shove it up your ass. their software is very likely to almost totally destroy your poor, unsuspecting PC. I should know, considering the number of times I’ve had to format my laptop coz of bloody iTunes.

Android, on the other hand, is what Apple will never be and more. The freedom they give us, the versatility and the all out epicness is what, me thinks, makes it better than Apple.

Anyway, I’m hangied, so lemme go back to gaming, and maybe, just maybe catch up with those crim notes.