Don't ask questions, just keep strumming and he'll go away...

Now this is a blast from the past.

Near the end of my year 12, I decided I would go through my punk phase, because I had forgotten to go through that phase during all my years of highschool. I would fit it in before I graduated. If teen movies have taught me anything at all, it's that I have to punk it up atleast for a week.

This picture taken in my studio arts class on our dress up day. I actually painted those empire spikes with acrylic paint, which was a gigantic bitch to wash out at the end of the day. The picture is cropped so you can't see the plaid skirt (couldn't find a kilt) I was wearing (with sexy shorts underneath, ofcourse). Unfortunately I did not win the best dressed prize (forgot who did), but I did end up winning the overall "best hair of the year" award. That's right ladies! I am the reason for the fire in your loins.

I think the girl's name was Kylie Muesli (last name maybe spelt different). In that picture I think she's wearing some crazy uber jeans, that is made up of a patchwork of lesser jeans. Denim that's been used and left to die. Denim dreams crushed, as the fickle empire of fashion oppress their pitiful existence of being the reason the question "Does my bum look big in this" plagues men's "leave me alone I'm watching sports" time all over the world. Either that or it's camo jeans, which we all know even the most flamboyant of gay men wouldn't touch with a disinfected pink whip.