A Recipe for Disaster

If you’re searching for a shortcut to satisfaction, then look no further! Sample our state­-approved recipe for success. 

This is something for the whole family to enjoy; a simple recipe that will stick to the social order and suit everyone’s tastes.

You will need:

●  3 cups self­ raising insecurities
●  2 cups sugar to coat the uncomfortable truths
●  1 tsp of confidence, sifted
●  A 5”­10” inch cake tin,  depending on small ­man syndrome, if applicable
and you can never go wrong with a sprinkle of maniac dream pixie girl fairy dust!

Step 1: Add a pinch of handholding and a peck on the cheek. This should create a sticky syrup layer to catch any unfortunate sexual deviances which could spoil the consistency of the cake.

Step 2: Dissolve in a cup of unrealistic expectations, skim but full­-bodied, injected with sharp sweet lollipop. (Now now, not in front of the children)

Step 3: BANG NAIL AND SCREW the batter into submission, making sure the consistency is thin and smooth, we’ll have no lumps or bumps thank you.

Step 4: Cook until mixture becomes unrecognisable. A gentle rising of male ego and erection to be expected but not explicitly viewed. Keep in mind that opening the oven at this point will result in a loss of self respect and crumbling of social standing.

Step 5: Add pressure lightly to surface of cake to check progress, noting that too much force could cause irreparable damage. When you have collapsed the exterior, you must think of the cake as ruined because insides are irrelevant, presentation and purity are to be prioritised. When the cake has reached appropriate height and maturity, prepare to remove from oven.

Step 6: Allow time to set and cool. The social mould will hold conforming thoughts together until you do.

tick tock, tick tock, ding!

Happy Birthday! If you followed our recipe correctly, today is the day you get to enjoy artificial acceptance presented on a silver platter as if it was worth something. 

Go on, make a wish.

I want to be pretty.

That’s easy!
You are what you eat
so stuff yourself with what they want you to be
swallow your pride
swallow before you taste despair
swallow until even your body hates you
then regurgitate the lessons you have been spoon fed
since you were a little girl
and smear it over your face like salvation
cake over every piece of you that made you unique
because the world likes vanilla
trust me, they don’t care what’s inside
hand them the knife
let them have a bite
(and don’t forget to smile)

Congratulations, you have completed your first individuality-­repressing recipe. Check next week’s issue for how to lose your love handles and great new ways to pleasure your man.

Written by: Emma, Maggy & Natalie

(Left to Right) Natalie, Maggy & Emma - performing our slam poetry piece
(Left to Right) Natalie, Maggy & Emma – performing our slam poetry piece 03/10/15
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The Girl Who Spoke 5 Languages

How many languages can you speak?

I can only speak two, a rather common feat in such a globalised world. I have never consciously learnt another language, I’ve just grown up in a bilingual environment. I remember meeting a girl last year who was fluent five different languages: German, English, French, Japanese and Latin.

She told me that she wants to be a translator in the future and she’s on an exchange to improve her English. I was so happy for her because it seemed like she was on the right track to achieving her dreams. At the same time, I couldn’t help being a little envious. This envy was not just for her fluency in multiple languages, but more for the absolute certainty she held to her dream and the effort she put in to make it happen.

The story she told me about finding her niche went something like this:

“You know those Lets Play videos on youtube? Yeah. Those ones where gamers play all sorts of different games for entertainment. One of those guys was playing what was originally a Japanese game translated into English. The gamer was complaining about how bad the translations were and I agreed, they were absolutely terrible! It was then and there that I thought, you know what, I can do better.Continue reading “The Girl Who Spoke 5 Languages”

Dear Body

Dear Body,

How are you?

I’m not too great myself, thanks for asking.

Ever since we were forced to be together (forever) about 17 years ago we’ve never quite come to terms with that, have we?

As much as I hate you sometimes, if I ever fully abandoned you, it will simply result in our time coming to an end sooner than I am ready for.

I have dreams to reach, places to go and by god if you’re the reason we can’t then-

just-fat1

In my childhood we didn’t fight much.

That is, up until I was 8 years old and my family took a vacation to Australia.

For some reason, my appetite just grew and initially my mother fed me accordingly, expecting me to shoot up vertically. Instead, you expanded like a beach ball, like the ones the other kids would throw around on Bondi Beach as we begged mum to let us eat that third ice-cream.

She said no, because we’re fat. Continue reading “Dear Body”