Salient

13/05/2009

Oh. My. Blog.

Woke up last night and realised that this city is too small for me. I came, I saw, I was scene. I’m Wellington royalty, and I’m bored of it. Wait, I am Wellington. Don’t get pissy at me for it- I can’t help being Wellington’s hottest socialite. I wouldn’t even spit on you pieces of shit; you ain’t worth my liquid gold saliva. I couldn’t if I tried cos I take so much E that I’ve always got the dries.

Have you heard of Patrick Wolfe? No, I bet you haven’t, you filth. Last night he invited me up into his hotel room to smoke crack. We watched porn all night and ended up fucking, stopping occasionally for a line of Ketamine. Do you even know what K is? Guess not, losers.

I’ve screwed every band in Wellington. They always head straight for me after they play, like moths to a fluoro flame. It’s pathetic, but I understand—they’re human! Girls, guys—who cares? I’m gender irrelevant. I never swallow though, I’m vegan.

Checked out Neon Sleep this morning. Lolz. Look at this sad whore.

Pleather? Never! This Wild Pair punk princess needs to crawl back into Newtown and die. I want to soak her sweaty fringe in kerosene, throw my Lucky Strike at her and watch her plastic clothes melt into her spotty skin. This photo was taken just as I kicked the chair out from under her. She’s laughing because she thinks I’m joking. She stopped laughing when I strangled her fat little neck with the extra arm on my Nom-D sweater.

I’m wearing $3000 worth of clothes today. I’m wearing four Karen walker necklaces, just to make sure people don’t think I’m povvo. Daddy pays for everything anyway, lol. Last week he bought me $19,000 worth of Stolen Girlfriends Club tees. I don’t wear t-shirts, but I needed something to sleep in.

Better go—Karen Walker just got the spotting knives hot enough.

15/05/09

Oh. My. Rave.

Hung out all of yesterday with Lady GaGa. She did the acoustic version of Poker Face for us. She’s pretty cool, but she got a bit clingy towards the end of the night. She kept asking for my number, and when I said no she got angry and decided not to play a renegade show in our laundry room like we’d planned. Then we got reeeeeal fucked up on meth and she did it anyway.

I don’t really get why she’s so famous. I mean, I can’t sing but I sure as hell am hotter than she is. Don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure she was wearing FAKE FUR. Why go fake when you can get the real deal? I’ve got a fabby fur coat which was made out of the last two Siamese minks on earth. Yeah, that’s right, that shit’s extinct because of me.

Got to go—GaGa is gagging for it.

17/05/09
Punk is in. I’m telling you, it’s in. Bought a pair of black Doc Martins today. Listened to God Save the Queen 400 times on my I-flip. Oh wait, is that post-punk? What’s post-punk? What’s punk? I’m punk.

Donny Tourette called last night. He wants to hang out sometime. I said yes, but only because punk is in. I hear he said that he “dicks all over the Sex Pistols”. Fabby.

Some paparazzi got out their pappatrons and papped me in Good as Gold. Reckon I’ll be on Neon Sleep tomorrow. Hope they got a good shot of my new nose ring. Karen Walker designed it especially for me.

19/05/2009
I’m moving to Auckland. I can’t put up with this small-town shit any more. I was sitting outside Plum all day today, and I only saw one guy who looked decent. He was wearing technicolour jeans and had a sweater on with five arm holes! So cool. So now. So good in bed.

Daddy said he’s going to give me some money to start a zine in Auckland. I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first to start a fashion zine in Auckland, so it looks like I’m going to get pretty rich. Well, even richer. I think I’ll just take photos of uggos and rip their outfits to shreds. Wait, there’s something I’ve never thought about—how come uggos never have hot clothes? Guess there’s no point in bothering trying to make yourself look good if you ain’t got it.

This’ll be my last blog. Check out my new zine in November—I think I’ll call it Berlin.

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