For some reason this word appeals to me.. I like it's ring

har·lot

 

–noun

a prostitute; whore.

Word History: The word harlot nowadays refers to a particular kind of woman, but interestingly it used to refer to a particular kind of man. The word is first recorded in English in a work written around the beginning of the 13th century, meaning "a man of no fixed occupation, vagabond, beggar," and soon afterwards meant "male lecher." Already in the 14th century it appears as a deprecatory word for a woman, though exactly how this meaning developed from the male sense is not clear. For a time the word could also refer to a juggler or jester of either sex, but by the close of the 17th century its usage referring to males had disappeared.

Ozploitation

Patrick. 1978.

Loaded with beauty.

The Shameover

A hangover that for the most part is based upon how ridiculously drunk you were the night before, I had one last Sunday too, so bad that it even carried over to the Monday, where at work and on my own for the most part of the day was plagued by anxiety and almost guilt. It's the vodka.

However, it's not as though you have done anything that actually warrants this sensation, I was just drunk, blackout drunk, and I sense, not my best self, ( who knows, for all I know I could've been a better self!) nothing really to be ashamed of. I find that I sometimes can't maintain the conversations that I want to be able to hold, I become increasingly awkward, have few images at best of the latter part of the night, whether anyone else actually notices these traits I don't know, this is my social anxiety playing out. Anyway, point being, I am hungover and anxiety ridden, and will not drink vodka again, spoken in true stereotypical 'I'm never drinking again' form..

God, someone help me with this solitude right now. It was a good night though!

Dumbland

Albert introduced this to me.

It's really crazy intense and I think if you watch too much of it at once

you could really do yourself some damage like brain seizures or something.

I've always had a love hate relationship with David Lynch, and this

epitomizes it perfectly.

Fate?

Luck out with Lover.

Luck in with Insight.