Greetings from the denim goddess

This, my friends, is where I get to be all informative and shit and gallivant across the wondrous Internet in my sparkly pixelated knickers, bound breasts like a modern Joan d’Arc and favourite jeans. I am a coy thing and as world weary people know coy things like to dress respectfully and as every respectable ms knows civilians don’t need to see the knickers, they just need to know they’re beneath the clothes.

I am, in fact, a tomboy who wishes she was a goddess or a goddess who is a tomboy. A regular Diana in Levi jeans. I have a ring finger that’s longer than my index finger which apparently means I am a ruthless testosterone fueled female headed beyond the glass ceiling in big business. It does not, however, explain why I’m not actually a CEO or in big business and why I’m the least likely person to be so and the most likely person to end up on a beach in China sipping chamomile tea from a coconut while listening to Sarah Blasko.

It’s only taken me two years to actually start this blog because I like to be prepared and right now really is not the time to not drink caffeine. Since I’m trying to teetotal with the whole caffeine thing, writing’s like straining a brick through a plastic sieve. Caffeine, unfortunately for my mother, is my mother’s nipple and like the addict I am, I just keep crawling back and sucking on it. This means after years of giving up teetolling my mother’s nipple is chapped like a desert canyon. And if you’ve ever sucked on a desert canyon you’ll know how dissatisfying that can be.

So, as I try to scale the walls of the canyon, my friends, I ask you to join me in cheering the birth of new blog of enlightening thoughts, commentary, wondering and other bits of invaluable shit.


2 thoughts on “Greetings from the denim goddess

  1. I’ve always wondered why my longer ring finger (and attendant extra testosterone) hasn’t made me a financial risk-taker bent on achieving business success by beating down all competitors… the only benefit I’ve found is better spacial awareness than the average wo-man (i.e. being good at reading maps). Ruthless? Me? I’m too busy daydreaming to have a career.

  2. Here’s to the the birth (sounds like a long labour) of your new blog of invaluable shit.

    And here’s to chomping on the bit that is a mother’s caffeine nipple. Nice work Ms. Novocaine.

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