El Godzilla

Wednesday, 19 February 2014

Since I basically deleted 99% of my blog posts from prior 2012 (in preparation for the Mayan Apocalypse), I suppose I should reiterate once more again for the sake of cliché blog categories:

I am not just a ‘single white female’.

I am a ‘single white female who happens to be deaf’.

Yeaaaaaah.

While that cripples my dating pool, downsizing it from an Olympic pool to a leaking kiddy tub (at no choice of mine*) it doesn’t bother me too much. I have somewhat eclectic tastes, and my tactics have evolved from ‘subtle seduction’ to ‘steel sledgehammer’.

What does tickle my Victorian nostrils, is competition. Somehow, I am unused to vying against other girls for the attentions of a male. My friends and I have never shared a common crush, since hitting puberty and I was yelling at my school bestie, who had a picture of Arnold Schwarzenegger in her locker. I mean, REALLY? Han Solo was WAY MORE FRICKING HOT.

And there I am, at a soiree, my stoic eye on a guy… when sidles up a girl. She displays all the signals like a peacock on acid**. Just like that, she has laid a claim upon the guy in public. But wait, what’s this? She traipses off, wagging her ass, to get a round of drink. And another girl materialises by the guy, and the spectacle begins again.

At this point, my brain is two hemispheres furiously sissy-slapping each other. One hemisphere is saying, “Like, OMG! Wotta sluts! Let’s just jump in there and snog him! Piss on his leg and claim him!” and the other hemisphere is snorting, ‘Jeez OMG! Look at the damn guy, he’s wallowing like a smug pig! Like, he totally doesn’t deserve us!”

Sadly, I simply do what any sane person in complete awareness of impulses and surroundings would do. Go get another drink and chat with friends.

BORING!

I know! If I had it my way, absolutely my way, then the lights would flicker and change colour, the floor would shudder, and out of nowhere, people in black would trample in and erect a wrestling ring out of no where. A mariachi band would strum their way in, and surround the girls that were buzzing around the nominated guy. With crooning notes, they’d usher them into the ring. A spiffy-looking man with a bow tie that looks like it weights more than him (though, he is pretty skinny), clears his throat into the microphone, and announces the prize: spotlights flash on the guy who splutters into his beer.

The two girls blink, and look at each other cannily. They’re about the same size, with the same ‘straightened’ hair, clown-cake make up and dress hems that just about censors their naughty bits. They waddle a bit in their high heels, finding their balance with their nails armed and ready.

The MC clears his throat once more again. “And now… THE CHALLENGER!!!”

Spotlights spazs over the shellshocked audience, to land on a figure standing on one of the ring’s poles, the body hidden by a shimmering cape.

The mariachi band’s gentle, jolly tune climbs and warps, transforming into something of death metal mated with Flight of the Valkyries. An arm flings out, throwing the cape away, to flutter past the lights into the audience.

EL GODZILLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

The passionate announcement is punctuated by two heavy feet hitting the padded floor, heavy enough to echo in the dark corners.

Sequins, foil fabric, metallic embroidery, lycra lamé, all glitter under the spotlights that have converged upon the figure. Towering at least a head above one of the girls, and though the next girl might reach her height with her heels, her wide shoulders boast a impressive pair that might remind one of bull bars on monster trucks. Her hips match, with such thunderous thighs which even Zeus would swoon over.

Before the girls can recollect themselves and formulate some kind of a “girl power” plan, the MC shrieks in the microphone.

“BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGGGGGGGGGIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNN!”

El-Godzilla

And so begins his commentary:

Oooh! Very bold! Right out of the gate… ouch! Ladies and Gentlemen, you don’t need me to tell you that must have hurt! Ahhh… Yes! That’s the classic Cross! Watch out, that one’s got a bit of spitfire… Well, that was doused quickly. What’s this? Yes! A perfect Russian Suplex! I can’t be biased, so 9.5 points… Ah, the little one’s trying to make a getaway! Too bad, once El Godzilla claims her prey, they’re hers to play with! Ah, another classic move! Our Lady’s on fire tonight, I wonder why? Oh, what’s this? The two guppies are regrouping! But wait! El Godzilla’s on the lines! This is it! Guppies, RUN, RUN! AHHHHH, too late! It’s the clothes lin – no, wait! WAIT! OH MY HOLY JESUS! YES! IT’S THE LEGENDARY MOVE – THE AUSTRALIAN CLOTHES HILLS HOIST! Audience, with me now, ADVANCE AUSTRALIA FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRR!”

And as the anthem dies off, with the black-clad staff clambering across the room like ants, carrying away the wreckage and prone girls, the spotlight splits to shine on the afmentioned guy, who has not moved, his beer nearly dripping all over his jeans. The music switches right back to cheesy cupid tunes.

El Godzilla coughs in an embarrassed, femininish way. Throws a smile at the guy. And in true lizard fashion, slinks out of the dome of light to return to her friends’ circle, to finish off her cider and conversation.

And that would explain why flimsy-looking ladies cake on the makeup, to cover up all the bruises that they suffered as the losing end.

 

*Envision this: At a bustling pub, a guy sidles up to me, clearly having assessed my assets as a satisfactory goal, whispering something pun-cringey in my ear. I turn around, and smile at him. I tell him to pardon me, I’m deaf, could you please repeat that? You then can practically see the “ABORT MISSION” flashing through his wide eyes from inside his skull.

** ONLY ONCE, ONLY ONCE, have I ever acted like this, and I was blind drunk at the time with no memory of it, and my so-called best friend just sat there and enjoyed the show. THANKS A LOT!

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cryptolizard 1:30 pmARTcomments [0]


The Lizard, the Skeletons and the Wardrobe

Friday, 29 November 2013

Wahey.

It’s been a bit of a while since my last post, eh?

Quite a bit has happened since. In the interests of keeping this blog what I always intended it to be; light, peppy and silly, I’m not going to delve too deep into my wardrobe to show off every skeleton I’ve got hung up within. And I haven’t even begun labelling all of them.

Yeah, I’m a girl with issues, which is practically the norm these days.

I actually did try and start writing the blog several times over the span of time that I desisted, but after a hour or so of typing I’d pause, squint at the screen of type. Lips pursed, I would close the window immediately and click ‘Don’t save’.

I’m not writing in my livejournal anymore, gawd.

Without further ado… I’ll just pin this up and write up some past and upcoming events that guarantees some fond memories, instead of trying to refresh my webpages for new content and rewatching films and trying to convince myself that I’m not bored…

Bonjour a tutti!

Skeletons

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Party Favours

Monday, 26 July 2010

I had an awesome weekend, hosting a party with my lil bro Joe Wee – a smashing house party with the theme of Joe & Liz: dress up as us! I know, quite egostical, but it was better than a dozen of other ideas I was stressing out on over – and it was el simpacto, and it turned out AWESOME.

I gave out fake trophies and cheap champers to the winners, and then just ran around, drank, chatted, cooked, drank, ran around some more, drank even more… and it was 3.30am when everybody finally started going home, and I had to physically threaten with weapons before a lagging, arguing guest would leave. I made sure everybody was occupying couches, beds, carpets and all were covered and well, no risk of the humiliating death by vomit. Then I got to pop into my bed, but one of the guests who I had kindly permitted the use of one side of my bed took MY side, and so I was seething, and so was Inky. Inky is only willing to share the double bed with one person – and thats me!

I got inspired to draw the picture above, since it seems to be that I’m always the last one left standing at my parties, (or even Joe wee’s parties), making sure everybody is okay and warm and not too sick before I pass out myself. It’s the ultimate quality of a host, I believe – carrying the Holy Beer Hose and the Sacred Purge Bucket, stepping over sticky puddles and comtase guests, entertaining people till the wee hours of the morning. And it’s totally worth it, with lovely guests enjoying themselves verily muchly and certain guests for future parties.

Now, this picture… I drew this after a rather funny conversation between I and the Young Boys. It was a little risqué, perhaps a too bit for this public blog, best saved for girls-only sleepovers with lots of sweet drinks and icecream. However, the general gist was this – with women falling into varying categories based on their experiences, expertise, fetishes and whatnot. For example:

The Beginner: A sweet girl, the perfect sort for a budding bed explorer – with only a handful of sexual experiences, this girl shouldn’t be too difficult to please and enjoy. The cons are that if you are quite terrible, then the beginner’s course can become a nightmare of awkward and severely de-moralising moments, and one should not be trying any new tricks on this course.

The Intermediate: A cheeky lass, with her daring undies and sexual wits. Tucking in her stockings a good list of sexual experiences, this girl is great for the adventurous – not scared of trying new things and vocal in her feedback, intermediates are sure to improve greatly under her. The cons are that while she is great with feedback, she knows what she wants and if you fail to deliver or try to bluff, she will see right through it and place you firmly not in her black book, but in the trashcan.

The Expert: The ultimate course of the Madame of Women; she has a tally of sexual experiences that probably overtakes yours by far, far, far. She is not open to new ideas – she is the new idea personified; every serve is a night you will never forget, and you will go on a hands-free – or, hands-tied – ride! The cons is that if you’re not prepared or experienced enough, you might never be able to ever seize control of the ride and come away quite traumatised.

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cryptolizard 3:52 pmARTcomments [0]


Set Up Failure

Monday, 24 May 2010

I hate it when I get a burst of creativity, rolling Indian Jones Style, right in the middle of the night – and no, it wasn’t my illict against-doc’s-orders Dr Pepper – and I wind up drawing and colouring and filtering as though it’s due the next day on its last extension. I stayed up till 4am colouring this, ignoring the pins-and-needles that set in around 2.30am and the bandage on my right palm taking on a nasty colour (however, it’s a waterproof bandage, so no blood-and-pus tracking all over my wacom tablet – you can put away your barf bags now).

Mon dieu. I need a Dr Pepper now, Blue Tongued Fairy’s orders.

P.S. Regarding the comic, I love it when that happens, like something out of a bad episode of Seinfeld (actually all of them are bad to me – I prefer Monty Python) that gives me the smirks every now and then as I remember.

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cryptolizard 12:22 pmARTcomments [0]


Crashing Tourist’s Snaps – A Cultural No-No

Thursday, 20 May 2010

Sorry, nice visitors to Australia, for crashing my bike right into your photo.

Thank you for the Cathy Pacific Airways labelled sanitary napkins, and for picking my bike up as I laid on the (bloody fucking hell who invented the “traditional sand and crushed shells, a nod to the original owners of the land” gravel – it’s like a grade 8 sandpaper) ground, trying not to pass out as my palms and knee laid seared open. (Great, just great – my right palm is a horrendous sight, a window right into sinews and fat! It was a literal pain to draw this…)

My fault, really, I wanted to show off a slick drifting-wheels turn through the legs of the statue pictured, to awe the dear tourists with Melbourne’s infamous hipster vintage bike skillz, leaving behind a fashionable blur in their photograph. Instead, I hit a pile of the #*%^#@ soft sand and went sailing clear in front of their camera.

Now I’m  grumpy that my body is throbbing, that I’ve lost a pair of decent black pantyhose, that my bike is in the shop. Oh well. At least it kicked my lazy arse enough to post this.

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cryptolizard 10:23 pmART, RANDOMcomments [1]


Hat: The Ultimate Product for Hair

Friday, 11 September 2009

I should totally patent this idea.

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cryptolizard 5:44 pmARTcomments [0]


True Blood Fan Art

Sunday, 30 August 2009

Like, I totally LOVE True Blood. So trashy and horrific and excellent! A bit like The Bold And The Beautiful if it had vampires…

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cryptolizard 11:12 pmARTcomments [2]


Dubious Morals Of The Lizard…. wait, I have morals???

Friday, 11 January 2008

 

Batty as Hell Lizard

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