Turning Lamebos Into Rainbows

Rambling Goat and Nonsense Unicorn present… The Awesome Person's Guide to Life



I’ve always been of the somewhat opinion that contemporary art is a bunch of massive wank.  My appreciation always halted at Lichtenstein, or sometimes Warhol, but after that it’s always rather pissed me off than anything else.  Compared to the actual skill and talent of the classics, I have been all WTF is with painting a canvas black (I can do that), smack a $20,000 price tag on it and call it art because the art resides in what is not on the canvas. Piss off.

Anyway, this is all up until I visited MONA and ermagherd some artworks actually made me feel shit.  Quite a surprise. If you haven’t been, you totally need to go to Tasmania and check this out!  It’s pretty much a museum of art that’s the private collection of this gambling guru, so there’s a mix of old awesome stuff and weird ass contemporary shit (like literally a shit machine. Literally. It eats and poops. Art.)

So after my visit, there’s a few artists that I have been obsessing about since then.  I couldn’t be bothered to provide my review cos that’s not what I’m writing about.  If you like creepy Silent Hillesque shit, check out Patricia Piccinini or Berlinde De Bruyckere.  I’ve always been a bit of a morbid unicorn, there’s just a certain beauty in the seemingly twisted and grotesque artworks. I’m loving it.

One particular artist I’m obsessing about and have had epiphanies (well, not really, but felt something something) about life and all that kinda crap is Andres Serrano.  He’s a famous and hectic controversial photographer, where he’s used a lot of bodily fluids in photos (think Metallica Load and Reload album covers! That’s his blood and spooge!), as well as taken photos of the Klu Klux Klan and homeless people.  “Controversial”, but again there’s just a different perspective and beauty to his art where for the first time I actually appreciate a photographer, where most I’ve met are super duper wankers.

I’m not so much interested in all that work mentioned above, but he did a project called The Morgue Series (Cause of Death).  Pretty much he had access to a morgue and took photos of some dead people.  But seriously, it’s not as crass or horrible as it first sounds.  I’m not going to post any of the pictures here because everyone has difference experiences and thoughts and feelings on death, but I saw one of these photos at Mona and it just made me feel…..not numb. Even for a moment.

Click here if you want to see Blood Transfusion Resulting in AIDS by Andres Serrano, the picture that has made me think and feel and shit.  I’ve never really been scared of death, I’ve always felt a somewhat peaceful release associated with it, and this picture, as well as the others, still manages to capture the soul and life of going to the other side…

SO! Here’s where the lamebo part comes in.  I went to a friend’s party on the weekend and an old mate, who used to be legit cool and nice and down to earth back in school days, but now is a massive wanker photographer (who mainly takes hipster wedding photos and glamour shots of his girlfriend) sits down to have a chat.  He starts the usual mundane “what’s been happening, what you doing etc” conversation, but me being adverse to that boring bullcrap small talk, bring up Andres Serrano.

“OMG ArtWank, you know Andres Serrano right?  He’s super famous, if you haven’t you really need to check his shit out as a photographer.  He takes photos of spooge and dead people, but man there’s a strange magic to what he does.  Look him up!”

He googles the name, sees the picture of Piss Christ, looks at me weird, and then totally does the “uhh… I have to go over here now”.

What. A. Wanker.  Like, okay so you don’t have to like it, but I always feel that, particularly in the art world, you should always be open and perhaps know your art?  Know your competition?  Be aware of other modes of creation, instead of living in your own bubble of what you do?  And moreover, screw you for being a wanker!  You used to be cool with my inherent strange conversations but now you’re just allergic to fun.

I’ve gotten used to weirding people out with my morbid obscurity, but seriously. Open your mind.

ON an unrelated matter, totally re-discovering The Smiths.  Where were they when I was a hopelessly melancholic teenager? (Who am I trying to kid saying was lol only change is I’ve got more wrinkles and saggy tits now…)

Nonsense Unicorn over and out





Take a picture (it lasts longer)

So I was out at dinner for a friend’s birthday this evening. One of her friends was apparently allergic to photos.
Whenever anyone went to take a photo, even a whole group shot, she would make the effort to make it clear that “I don’t do photos” and not be included. 
She is either a vampire or so deeply consumed in her insecurities to act this way.
And so I got thinking.

Get over yourself. The photo is not about you, or your double chin, pimple or whatever else you deem to be so hideous as to not be worthy of pictorial evidence.

Who actually likes their photo taken? Minus the narcissists and selfie taking teens in this world. Many people don’t find it comfortable, but you do it to let your friends capture a moment.
That’s what it is. It’s about catching a moment. Freezing a memory in time. Just another leaf of the book in your life, a moment you are alive and living and existing. A moment that you can look back on when you are questioning reality and remind yourself “I am indeed alive”.

So just take the fucking photo and get over it. Besides, everyone will be looking at their own double chins and not yours anyway.
Nonsense unicorn


Feeling like a sack of potatoes

Swimsuit shopping is a very bad idea after the festive season.

It’s an arduous task at the best of times for someone with curves, but after a month of binge eating and drinking under the guise of “but it’s Christmas”, stuffing your extra rolls into Lycra body condoms definitely takes inches off the self esteem.

So while I eat a pie and wallow in my self pity, I’m gonna have a rant about the plight of swim suit shopping when you got curves and titties.

Plus size is too big, normal size is made for twigs

Why is there not a bigger market for people who aren’t “plus size” or a rake? What about the middle sizes aye? Your ass either turns the bottoms into a g string, or its too big and you look like you’re wearing a potato sack.

Bikini = gotta have no titties

Now I’m not even that big (DD), but every freaking bikini had epic side leakage, under boob, nip exposure or muffin top coming out. So where does that leave me to go?

A one piece – but it’s a sack

So you try on a one piece for something that’s a bit more supportive, but it’s either:

– good for the boobs, but your ass makes you look 70.

– isn’t a sack but your boobs look like pancakes.

Can someone invent a one piece that is actually flattering and supportive for someone in their 20s?

Top and bottom – you can’t have your cake and eat it too

If the top fits, your ass doesn’t, and vice versa.

ERMAGHERD something fits!!!

But it costs a bazillion dollars. Yeah no I’m not paying a small mortgage for just the top, you capitalist scum!

So I’m just going to resort to an actual potato sack when I go away to the beach next week.



I’m an asshole

Reading Jonny’s blog about people assuming he’s a skinhead made me think about the way that people superficially judge others and reminded me of an interaction that happened to me recently.

To preface, I am somewhat a “girly girl” – you know, flowers, dresses and makeup and all that pink stuff.

So with that, I can already imagine the boxes that people would put me in just by looking at me. They think they’ve got you all figured out with one look at your cleavage.

Exhibit A: the other week I was out at a hens party, waiting at the bar for my round of drinks when I am approached by a slightly older dude. It goes like this…

Dude: you look like a lovely young lady. I assume someone like you is happy married…
NU: unfortunately you are sorely mistaken.
Dude: ha no, I think you’re lovely! What’s your name?
NU: nah mate, sorry to fool you but I’m actually a pretty big dick.
Dude: haha what do you mean?!
NU: you know, I’m an asshole. A big one. May this be a lesson in judging book covers my friend.
*walks away with my drinks*

Yep, I am one big asshole. My floral headband, velour lips and a line dress would say otherwise though. And so too many times men are fooled by my attire into thinking I’m some meek dainty thing.


 Let’s bake cookies for the boys!

Nope. Wrong. I. Am. A. Dick. And I ain’t got no time for your games.

Moral of the story: you know what I’m gonna say 😁
Nonsense unicorn 


Show us your box, 2014!

For most of my life I thought Boxing Day was called so due to some big boxing match that was on or something. It wasn’t until a few years ago someone told me it was to do with present boxes.

True story.

And with that take of my innate idiocy, I bid you all adieu! Ah 2014, it was the best of times, it was the BLURST of times.

Nonsense Unicorn



You know the sex is bad when…

Sometimes sex just isn’t’ as glamorous or as easy as the movies make it out to be.  Especially when you are a naturally awkward person like me who can trip over on flat surfaces,  it can get you into some hilariously awkward situations.

In light of this,  I thought I would share some of the sexcapades I have embarked on that I’m not completely proud of (or sure it even happened…)

You know the sex is bad when…..

  • You pretend to cry to get out of it
    One night a younger, drunk and naive version of myself got face raped by an acquaintance-friend of a friend in a club and lured out to his car for “a lift home”.  I wasn’t even attracted to this guy,  but young NU was impressionable when it came to this kinda stuff and didn’t really know how to say no.
    Nek minnit,  he’s fumbling like a blind koala with no thumbs,  deep throating me with his tongue and getting me naked.  Without any foreplay,  he tried to stick his frankfurt in my dry fur burger – uh duh,  no play means no way my friend!
    So,  the only way I thought I could get out of this terrible situation was to start crying and tell him I’m sorry but I’m still in love with my ex (totally wasn’t).  Thank fuck that worked and he drove me home.
  • You suck so bad you get a friend to finish the job
    One night Rambling Goat and I went to some random house party (random cos I didn’t know them),  turning up a bit later and catching up on alcoholic beverages.  We were also sharing a bottle of honey vodka,  which seemed like a legit idea at the time.
    Some how this party turned into a lesbian orgy with whipped cream and naked ham wallets everywhere. I’m not naturally bi,  but I’m pretty easy going,  have made out with chicks before and drunkenly thought “yeah! Let’s do this!”  RG is next to me going down on a chick,  I’m randomly making out with a chick who I can’t even tell what she looks like I’m that off my face – nek minnit I’m having a meal out of her wet lettuce.  But HOLY CRAP I’m fucking drunk and realise I have no freakin idea what to do to cook some meat curtains!
    So I grab RG’s head and shove it in my girl’s lady locker telling her to help me out here (yep,  I’m all class when I’m drinking!)  Then a guy comes in and I tell him to finish her,  which he obliges to while we stand awkwardly at the window smoking fags.
    This was then followed by me *apparently* naked vomiting into a bath and passing out (I say apparently because if I can’t see it it’s not there and I don’t remember so it makes in pure conjecture!).
    That was my first (and probably last because I’m so hilariously scarred) lesbian encounter (and encounter with honey vodka,  you evil poison you).
  • It’s so small you don’t even know if you did it
    I had a friend once where we constantly flirted and joked about doing the deed.  Pretty sure now he actually liked me,  but I was completely oblivious to it.  Anyway.  After a handful of ages of joking about it,  one day we decided to actually do it because…. you know, whatever?
    He was slightly bigger,  we were in the backseat of his car,  I straddled him,  but I guess the position we were in and the size of his peen I don’t even know if it went in….or if we even finished…..it was so fucking awkward.  I didn’t want to do the “is it in yet?” thing because that would be devastating,  but I just didn’t know what to do.
    Now,  I don’t have a problem with peeny size and I think it was just the position,  but after this awkward encounter we didn’t really try again.

And there you have it,  a small snapshot of some of the awkward sexual encounters I have had.

It’s not always sunshines and orgasms my friends,  but at least you can lol about it later.

Nonsense Unicorn


The Grudge of Girls

Guys forgive and forget. Girls hold grudges forever.

I’ve just had an earful of this crap because I don’t want to go to the pub on a Saturday night with the boys brother and bitchface girlfriend. Long story short, these are the dicks that stayed with us and then caused vindictive shit afterwards. So, why would I want to ruin my night by having to play happy families and fight of the urge to smack a bitch up.

I get why the boy is feeling frustrated – he wants to see his brother and feels stuck because of the feud going on. I told him he can go if he likes, but nope he can’t go cos he will be a third wheel and it would be obvious why I’m not there.

Now, I’m not the kind of person who can just pretend to have different feelings and shit. I’m a terrible liar and terrible actor, which is why I never do either. I’m pretty honest (maybe verging on the edge of crass but whatever, I don’t play mind games), and will be honest about how I’m feeling. And how I’m feeling now is I’m not ready to play happy families with that fecal colliform of a bitch.

That’s not to say that I “hold grudges forever”. No, I don’t like to hold on to anger. Saying that though, I need time for the feelings of burn to subside. And time doesn’t constitute a month, like the boy irrationally expects. Emotions and shit are stupid things that just need to go at their own pace. As much as I wish I could expedite the healing process I just can’t. If she apologised then maybe we would get somewhere, but because she’s a child and that will never happen I have to slowly rely on myself to get over it.

Him basically telling me to get over is the same as someone telling you to “just get over” a broken heart. We all know that’s not how the cookie crumbles.

So anyway, now I’m stuck in between a rock and a hard place or some kinda analogy like that. I wish I could be the “bigger person” for the boy’s sake so he feels better about it all, but on the same hand I can’t betray my own feelings.

So I don’t know, maybe I am holding a grudge like he says. But I am trying my hardest to let go of it at the same time. You just can’t rush me – just like you can’t lead a horse to water and make it drink or some shit like that.

Am I being unreasonable?

nonsense unicorn IMG_0941.JPG