Goldie was my first and only dog (so far).
I knew I loved G Dawg instantly and named him Goldie because it was obscure. The color of his mane was a golden tone. Lol. When we got him he was shivering in the backseat of our car and every night for a week would howl because he didn't like to be alone.
A week later Goldie developed a bought of arrogance: climbing on the dinner table and charging at people. When this happened I'd reward him with a Smacko which was some queer dog chew that was meant to resemble a streak of bacon. Once my Dad lost a 500 pound note and as I went to pick Goldie out from his basket he had a smug look on his face. Either he had sniffed a 'fit' dog's ass or something else was up. As I looked down at his cot I saw a chewed up 500 pound bill and smiled. My dad ignored us that evening.
Goldie was my kindred spirit: afraid of almost everything. When we went for walks his hair pricked up when a cat would make eye contact and he'd shudder when any man would speak.
|Michelangelo's 'THe Kiss' or jus Goldie n Darling ?|
Then Goldie found love which I was jealous about, even though my 'sturdy' physique and piercing blue braces attracted many eligible batchelors (sweaty 9 year olds). He would go for dates at the house opposite with a dog called 'Darling'. Darling's owners were Phillipino and would play karaoke from about 9pm to 5am. We told Goldie to dump Darling a week later. Poor babe.
|s/o to all the ppl who made this career possible x|
To put it nicely I wasn't the most athletic of kids. Volleyball was the only thing I pursued for two reasons 1.) My mom helped organise it and
2.) Free pizza afterwards.
A lot of my time was spent at home, wearing no trousers (because I hated how they clung) watching Kim Possible.
One day, as I was listening to Enrique and eating a burrito, thoughts of panting and being picked last for sports and a palpable awareness of my inability to be active hit me. I knew I had to find a talent.
|Just anuther fan admiring my material x|
Singing whatever, wherever to whomever became the general notion. I was stunned to learn most people actually didn't want to hear me sing. I actually got told "Anna could you please stop singing" midway through Beautiful by Christina Aguilera. Stupid bitch. She wasn't beautiful any way.
The months that followed this event were tough to say the least. I reminded myself that Timbaland probably got told he couldn't sing either and that put me at ease for a while. The nights of swigging J20 in a melancholic fashion wore off and I felt 'myself again'. I tested out some new 'careers' which didn't seem to work:
|As much finesse as I gave off, my K Swiss shoes hurt me too much to keep rocking|
|I ventured to Sri Lanka to try and collect diamonds but got too stressed and|
developed the habit of smoking
|Even though as I keep reminding you I was very striking as a yout,|
I felt the hired photographer was trying to make me look like Rose from Titanic,
or a mermaid that hangs off the front of a ship. #fukthat
|I decided to pack up and reinvent myself where nobody knew me.|
Didn't work either, I just got asked 4 photos :(
IN CONCLUSION, I BECAME AN 'ARTIST'.