1 way to live

1. There was a pool of alcohol at the bottom of his belly. He’d been sitting drinking for nearly six hours and he didn’t feel any better, or worse. He leaned back into the folding chair, pushed his heels into the brick pavers, and watched the towels on the line as they occasionally swung to the left, and to the right. In one hand he held a stubby cooler made of that nasty white stuff that will kill you if you swallow it. The paint from the logo was rubbing off on his skin. In the other hand he held a remote control for the plastic convertible parked by the shed. The batteries were dead, but he was waiting for something magical to happen.

9 items for sale at the best bits bakery

1. Muffin tops.

2. Inner coils of savoury twists and pull-aparts.

3. Pie crusts.

4. Vanilla slice custard filling.

5. Apricot Danish apricot filling.

6. Finger bun icing.

7. Gingerbread man heads.

8. Mini Hawaiian pizzas’ pineapple pieces.

9. Croissants.

3 things you should know

1. I broke up with this blog. But we’re going to try again. Take it slow, see how it goes.

2. My dad has a blog.

3. My dog will probably have a blog soon, too.

now the carnival is over

Sore eyes, puffy and dark underneath.
My feet are off the ground, knees not tucked
under my chin,
but marching fast up a wall.
I've got to follow. Get my legs back.
After that I'll catch my breath.

I don't know how I feel about this.
Disappointed? Ashamed?

Don't worry. I'll come back one day.
It's not you. It's me.

5 real circumstances except for the names which i changed so i don't go to jail

1. His name is Branton Oxford.

2. His thumbnail shows a middle-aged man.

3. Her name is Alice Pavlova.

4. Her thumbnail shows a young woman, no older than twenty.

5. Branton writes on Alice’s wall: “I am off to see the Pussycats and Lady Ga Ga concert tonight at Boondall. Hope you are well. Regards, Branton.”

1 instance of difference

1. They wear heels and shimmering clothes. They wear silver bangles and flaunt their slinky necklines that move as they do, fall as they do. And these girls are always falling forward, giggling, pouting, searching in their handbags, looking for gloss. Always leaning forward, one hand on their thigh or knee, shoulders pushed back, perhaps asking for another drink.

Cocktails. That’s what they love. Tall, curvaceous glasses, adorned with sugar rims and wedges of lime, small umbrellas that can be removed and twirled entertainingly above a pretty, painted head. They purse their lips and sip from the straws. A camera is drawn from a sequinned clutch and held at a high angle above their faces. There they go again. They all lean forward, in. They smile.

Flash. The photo highlights their foreheads, their sweeping fringes. Their faces appear triangular, pointed at the chin, and their cheeks are bulbous and bronzed.

Sexy, they say. Bitchin.