Needless to say, I'm following this blog. "Don't follow me if you're fat blog" is so balls out genius I'm freaking my nuts off! I have no idea what this "15 year old Claire" (who I'm hoping is actually a 20 something Korean-American) even blogs about yet. But I'll keep you posted.

(Keep you posted. That's a blog joke. Get it?)

There are two (and only two) things I look for in a woman: fabulous handwriting and killer tits.

Did I ever tell you about my guardian angel?
It was late 2008, and I was buying a digital camera. I spotted him from a far in a Dick Smith Electronics. I was with a friend, and the only other person in the store was this "Rasta" looking guy with beautiful, shimmering, angelic dreads, wearing a beanie in the traditional Rastafarian colours.

I like to think he was there to ensure I bought a quality camera at a reasonable price.

Later that day at a COMPLETELY different shopping centre, with HUGH, EXPANSIVE parking lots, I was trying (and failing) to park. It was all about weird angles, and there was also a shopping trolley kinda in the space and it was cramped and I was pretty much performing a home abortion in the parking/metaphorical sense.

My friend couldn't even open the door (without hitting another car) to get out and direct me out of my predicament WHEN low and behold, the same Rastafarian guardian angel who was at the same store at the same time as I was buying my camera turned up, stood at the back of my car and through a series of hand movements and thumbs up, directed me safely out the parking space of death, without hitting any stationary objects.

True fucking fact.

Since then that friend and I have always referred to him as my guardian angel. I mean, we actually refer to him as my Rastafarian guardian angel, but, it's not like I have any other guardian angel. Just him.

I also saw him on a bus... get this... in the fucking suburb I live in... 2 years later.

Mind = blown.

So, this picture is (I guess) what that eventful day at the Garden City parking lot would look like if there were to be a movie based on my life.

A little bit of artistic license obviously taken into account, given the fact that I, my friend, and my guardian angel look nothing like those people (bar the fact that we are white, and he is black with dreads.)

Also, we didn't get out of the car and and all stare solemnly, side by side, letting the repercussions of our narrow escape from a botched park really sink in. But, once again, artistic license. (Because attractive people and solemn, dramatic moments don't really play a role in my life... and no one wants to watch a movie without those things.)

Remember the carefree days of our youth when you'd be so happy just to discover a gargantuan vag with a fire and a family of squirrels inside? Things were so much simpler then.

Everyone I know is going overseas. Is there some kind of sex convention going on over there that I'm not aware of? This time next month 8 people I know and 5 people I care about will be expats. 4 of which I hope at least come back.

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World is a movie I should have seen this year (or so I was led to believe).

I have indeed heard how great it was. And I've been told how great it is.

I had every intention of seeing it, but my friends were all busy and when they were no longer busy, Scott Pilgrim was no longer in cinemas. So basically, I blame my friends for not cancelling their plans and seeing it with me.

Anyway, I just watched the trailer, and my first impression? A dog balls American version of Volcano High. And considering the tag line "An epic of epic epicness" ... I'm glad I didn't pay to see this steaming pile of cow semen rendered on film.

The only way I will ever watch this is if I find some bootleg copy with Cambodian subtitles. Or best offer.

A comprehensive list of my favourite robots