awful fashion

bad taste
& some other terrible lifestyle choices & ideas
i can
Bay At.
When all your brothers and sisters are working dogs, and you're humping the pillow dressed in a designer's hoodie. (Design by Baklazanas Studio)
Secret Sixteen was a wi-fi password of my then-friend. I thought it was a good catch-phrase and made a poster. Tho we ain't friends anymore, I bet the password hasn't been changed, some significant things change, some insignificant don't.
How to
& what's
too much
too little
On a hot day in a town situated on the top of the mountains I ordered a freshly squeezed orange juice. It was squeezed with a manual squeezer, something I hadn't seen in years. Served in a tall glass with ices, delicious and seducing. Ofc I'm from that gen who can't have a meal without taking its photo first. So I was taking pictures of the juice when I stood up abruptly, hit the plastic garden table with my knee, and the photo on the right is the result.
The juice costed me around five bucks, so I decided just to sit on the terrace and enjoy the view and suck on the ice (which was served in a separate cup). However the woman, who was running this tiny street kiosk (can't even say it was a cafe), noticed that I spilled the juice, and fixed me another glass of freshly squeezed juice. Her kindness was really touching
The ice cream on the right photo wasn't mine, found it on the street, I'm overprotective about my ice cream.
Plastic straws have been replaced with paper straws. And now each time I order an iced latte and stick a paper straw into the cup, instead of vanilla flavoured latte I drink paper flavoured latte.
The first sketch. My sketches are always better than finished artworks.
I will kiss ya on the mouth stained with lipstick & blisters, & we'll take acyclovir together
Thanks to the warning message, now I have a permission to blame my father for smoking myself. It's not that I needed the permission to blame him before, basically I blame him for everything. Yet, it's nice to have this permission.
The KFC wet wipe has a package design of a condom
Is this grass smokable?
I thought I had been smoking too much lately. Then I realised I was just opening a new pack of each time I forgot where I had put the already opened pack. Apparently, I’ve been smoking too much, coz I don’t remember shit.
se;;;lf-harm is
diclofenac for
emotional pain
A Clockwork Orange fan art or so. Each month I promise myself to design a series of alternative covers so my clients could understand better my style and stuff, each month I get distracted with other projects.
Sharp edges of the broken glass cutting my lips. A few drops of blood appearing. And it goes on and on and on and on and on.
This is a line from the novel I've been writing for fucking two years already.
if nothing
IS aching
then you're probably
all the time
I've had numerous IV injections recently, & at some point I decided not to take off my cheap & cool shades, coz they reminded me of sir Elton John. & I thought that sir E.J. wouldn't remove his glasses in a similar situation.
I believe that most nurses and doctors I see from time to time are aware of the reason all my arms are covered in scars. Actually, this way feels even safer. People used to ask me about the scars and I had no idea what to answer, because enlightening them about self harm seemed to be too much. So I know that nurses and doctors notice, and I’m glad they never mention the scars.
But recently, when I was getting a drip, there was a new nurse whom I hadn’t met before. She inserted a cannula and, pointing at my pink scars, asked.
‘Are those fresh?’
‘Relatively, yes,’ I answered.
‘You have to love yourself more,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter what they tell you, love yourself.’
And she sounded so kind that I think a stranger has never been so kind to me before. I really needed to hear these words on that day. Now, a few months after, I can’t recollect how this nurse looked, but her words have stuck with me.
no shit,
When I was cat sitting with my then-friend's cat, I noticed a beautiful black bra hanging on the back of the chair, couldn't resists trying it. Love crossdressing. (I was sure my then-friend wouldn't mind, she didn't.)
I was cat sitting for the first time in my life (and, hopefully, for the last time, too) with my then-friend’s cat. There was only one cat litter in the flat, I visited only once a day and cleaned the shit box only once a day, too. So probably, it wasn’t enough. When I arrived on the second day, the litter looked clean, which was suspicious, but I cleaned it anyway, just in case. The next day the situation repeated, the clean litter. Yet, I could hear an awful stench in the flat. The cat looked neat and happy, hm, okay. On the fourth day I entered the flat, the cat greeted me, I went straight to the window to let some air in, the stench was horrendous, the litter was clean. The cat followed me to the enclosed balcony. On the balcony there were flower pots standing on the floor. Without flowers, though. But full of soil. The cat climbed inside the largest pot and shitted in the pot. Eww. The mystery solved, no shit, Sherlock. Pardon my pun.
Now comes the interesting part. I was doing my then-friend a favour, cat sitting for free for almost a week. So I didn’t want to clean the pot. Neither did I want to spend my time and money on buying a second litter box. And I had left the shit pot just like that. But it seems that not only am I a lazy ass, but also a coward. I didn’t tell my then-friend about the flower pot.
We broke up later for an unrelated reason. Happy crap-end!
flower pots
Ooooh, I had too much, I'm seeing double