A vast erray of buzz killers

Today was day one of exams.
Obviuosly not a joyous day, for obvious reasons that are obviously obvious.
But before the exam even starts, the office lady tells me I will automatically fail my english exam because I am wearing nail polish.
She tell me to take it off, I say no.
Instead, I furiously scratch it off in the 15 minutes of study time before the exam.
Just to be stubborn.

Finished my essay.
Win!
Did not even get a chance to start the critical reading.
Worry, anger.. and then who cares?
So, straight after the exam we get the peer support results.
Win! I'm im! Lets swim!
And then we get to go straight home.
Win!
Yeah, so I end up getting picked up from Danielles, which is cool.
Get home, study for a mere 4 and 1/2 hours and decide to take a break.
How?
I take my biggest blackest dog to the beach.
Win!, Right?
This is how it went down:

Make it all of 6 steps up my street and the dog decides to take a dump.
Realise I don't have a bag on me.
Continue walking.
Posh neighbour watering lawn yells out "You better pick that up"
I stare in amazement, embarrasment, shock, confusion, anger and hate.
How dare she ruin my one chance at peace and sanity?
Start to respond, stop myself and continue walking.
Again, the nosey naighbour yells, "You better find something to put it in"
Not in a nice way either.
Very mean.
I continue walking, furious and horrified.
Okay, so I forgot the bag one time.
I take Lucky to the beach, like, 5 times a year, max.
What is she, the friggen poo police?
Ugh!
I go to the beach, TRY to enjoy myself and head back.
I walk back down the street, poo bag in hand, prepared to pick up Lucky's poo.
What do I see?
NOTHING.
The poo police already picked it up!
Ugh!
Buzz kill.
Buzz kill.
Buzz kill.

When I got home, I told Brett we hate her.
He agreed.
:)
Whats for tea?
Yiros.
:)
Whats recorded and waiting for me on foxtell?
Packed to the rafters.
:)
Suhweeeeeeeeet!
Why am I still sitting here then?
I don't know.
:)

Introduction

Well, hello there, nice to see you.
My name's Sharmonie; pronounced harmony with an s in front of it.
At the old old age of 16, I know the business I aspire to make a dent in:
The Fashion industry.
Dun dun duuuunnnnn. Yep, It's calling my name... and consistantly misprouncing it.
Yesterday I read some stuff and surfed some internet. It resulted in me promising myself something; to be fashionably creative, to step out of the Port Adelaide Bogan Bubble and wear outfits that raise the eye brows (and some bitchy gossip and quiet jealousy) of my fellow teenage peers, who all too willingly buy the same mass produced fashions over and over.
I will break out of the idiocy.

Myth #679.
You can't wear high heels on Semaphore Rd without looking like an idiot.
Busted!
Sunday the 22nd of Novermber 2009, I wore high heeled, back cowboy boots down Semaphore Rd to print off photos at the chemist- and looked fabulous! Teamed with my staple grab jeans, a loose black top and cardi, the road was my runway!

Had a bit of a photo shoot today.
Discovered some stuff. Some good stuff. Some stuff I'll want to remember.
Big hair makes your face look thin. Glittery white eye shadow makes you look like a gorgeous fairy. Huge lashes equals amazing (duh). And posing with something else makes you more relaxed and less posed.
Check, check and check.

P.s Lady Gaga's albums out tomorrow!!!!

Preface

Being the very important, yet very fabulous fashion stylist that I am (which is much more media worthy and slightly more insulated than Rachel Zoe), David Galliano himself asked me to take over Christian Dior while he is holidaying in Switzerland with his husband. My answer? Of course I said yes! But I will have a busy schedule for a while, what with Chanel and Peter Alexander on my hands aswell...

A girl can dream.