Do we really know where we stand?

Since everyones getting their P's, it reminded me of this musical that we tried to do in yr 9 drama classes where everyones names started with P. It was an appropriation of west side story about rival food industry businesses; the piklets and the pancakes. Both "gangs" were trying to obtain controll of the "holy grail" of the food industry: the crape factory, by getting the daughter of the dying crape boss to marry into their gang.

I just found myself singing the lyrics whilst procrastinating over my physics assignment and felt the need to procrastinate a bit more by sharing them with you.

Big word out to Elle and Steph who are the next Tim Rice and Andrew Loyd Webber.

"All the crape makers have something to learn,
from Mr Perstophalies crape making yern.

And they all say,
Oh well I never was their,
ever a crape-man so cleaver as,
Magical Mr Perstophalies." Repeat 6 times.

(Perstophalies in a wheelchair with an I.V. drip is wheeled forward and sings to his daughter).

"Dont you fret,
P-P-Pertunia dear, (for some reason everyone stuttered)
I dont feel any pain.
A little drop of batter,
can hardly hurt me now.
Your here,
thats all I need to know.
And the crapes shall keep me safe.
And the crapes shall keep me warm.
And crapes shall make the pretty profits grow".

Whith these witty yet moving lyrics and Elle's professional choreography, this show was destined to hit the big lights of Broadway. But, alack, Daniel killed it off before it was even an foetus.

But what I really updated for was to ask everyone, including you, to go to www.youthweek.com, click on the "view & vote now open" link, then click on to the "RockIT 12 to 17 years", find the little box that says "Sunday Supershine" and vote for it perpetually for an hour. The more you vote, the more you will be showered with gifts of piklets, pancakes and crap...i mean crapes.

We breed em big here in Redhead. Big waves, big derro's and gigantic, car-eating moths.
It was just half naked me (wielding my Star Struck "99" shirt above my head like a medieval battle mace) against the army of powdery-winged beasts.
They had breached the fortress of my bedroom walls, well disguised, amoungst my clean washing from about 4 months ago.
Their ambush was precisely planned. The orders were: 'when damien goes for his warm fluffy winter socks, fly into his eyes'.
At first I guessed only 4, hovering around my room, terrorizing my plush toys with thier beady death eyes. But as i slay one beast, another would rise up to replace it. A steady stream of the bastards flowed from the washing baskit, finding the many dark crevices of my room in which to dwell.
It was kinda like the battle scenes in lord of the rings, only much worse.
They were wearing me down. My Star Stuck shirt looked more like the hideous choral festival shirts from the amount of red moth-powder dripping from it. But finally the last invader had been whiped and slashed out of my kindom into the domain of my brothers.
Now i turn my firery gaze to the eight legged freaks.

I reckon if everyone wore thai fisherman pants, the world would be a much nicer place to live.

If you ever find yourself twiddling your thumbs and staring at the clock, start throwing things at the ceiling fan. I guarantee the most heartiest laugh youve had in a long time.
recommended objects to be thrown:
-thin planks of wood
-water bottles with water in them and the lid loosened a little
-books
-food of any discription
-shoes
-small plastic bins
-Clare Parker
things you should refrain from throwing:
-chairs
-drama blocks
-yogurt
-Damiens shoes
-Damien

But always make sure you clean up the room before your drama teacher gets back.

GLASS HOUSE TONIGHT AT 10:30 ON ABC!! We can all breath again.

Sorry i dont update, i feel kind a bad that all you hopefuls come a knocking at my live journal door to see whos home and you find the same stupid entry from back in the time of the holidays......ahhhh holidays. Its not that i dont have anything to say, its just that schools a bitch and year 11 is like hitting a massive, reinforced, acedemic brick wall. just thought id come on now to express the hatred i am feeling at australian idol, sorry if you like it but it shits me to tears that words can not explain.
might update in a couple months, lots of love and sex
Damien.

WHERE DID MY HOLIDAYS GO?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?????????????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I found 20 cents on the beach today which ment i had $1.20, just enough for an ice cream.

I bet youve wondered why the pope is so cool and hip...........it's because hes actually Elvis in disguise.

I am a man of few words.

So now that Im a NIDA graduate in directing, I will be roaming the streets with a loudspeaker casting people and asking them their motivation. So WATCH OUT!!

To NIDA in the morn, to NIDA in the morn, hey ho the derio to NIDA in the morn. (Sing to that really annoying tune).

Its true. The ever so resilient Damien has given in to baleful temptation and got a live journal. Whether it be to live up to modern social etiquette, or is it the sheer boredom of school holidays? Only god knows (and mabye the devil, who I sold my sole to for elastic fingers). But this I do know: I am a lazy fuck and will probably update this thing once a decade. And when I do (that is when or if I figure it out) I will probably exacerbate you with my views on extra terestrials, politics and the fact that the pope is actually Elvis. Anyway I hope i bring an extra bit of spice to the journal family. And if not....You know where I live and i hear some African countries have weapons grade plutonium.