Cardigan: Miss Shop @ Myer
Skirt: $10 from "@Topshop" (I know a girl who knows the owners of @Topshop and @Zara, ha. Apparently they copy the designs of Topshop/Zara (who knew), sends it off to Vietnam, gets it mass produced and ships it back to Australia to satisfy our need for really badly made, cheap knockoff clothing.)
Shoes: Forever 21
I watched Fast Five the other day and the key thing that struck me about it was the extreme level of really, really, really ripped men throughout the movie. Almost every, wait, make that EVERY male character was ripped as hell. It didn't help that they all their t-shirts were nineteen sizes too small. Unless they lost all their clothes in a hurricane and stole some shirts off the back of some children because you can't have a movie where the characters don't wear clothes because I'm pretty sure that's called a porno, or something went wrong and all their t-shirts shrunk in the wash, there is no excuse for consistently wearing t-shirts that small. I was half concerned for their ability to breathe. I actually don't understand how they were able to breathe without ripping those shirts open with every inhale. Not that I would be complaining if that did happen. Because all of them had pectoral muscles that put 80% of the breasts belonging to the girls I know, to shame.
The two sets of pectoral muscles that spoke to me the most, belonged to Vin Diesel and The Rock/Dwayne Johnson. Bear in mind that they have perfectly fine individual chests, but when you put them together on the same screen, shit goes down.
I know that it is a typical male fantasy to see two attractive females and picture them engaging in activities of the lesbionic kind. So it should be okay that I thought the same thing about Vin Diesel and The Rock, right? Everytime they were in a scene together, I imagined them in bed together. And it was awesome. When they started grappling and fighting and being all sweaty and muscly together, my mind was blown. The intensity and power of my fantasy pushed out my ability to think properly and I was left as a drooling, incoherent mess on the cinema floor. But when I told my friend, he asked me to sit a few rows away from him.
Finally, if you aren't already aware, I want to introduce you to Thought Catalog. I read it religiously every single morning on the train. I have read every. Single. Article. For about 3-4 months now. There are better ones but the ones that I've enjoyed the most over the past month or so:
On Fight Club, Dogs, and Love
Why I Will Never Leave you
Lex Luthor and the War on Science
And one of my all-time favourites: You Should Date An Illiterate Girl.
The writers are incredible, and the comments are even better sometimes. The articles range from everyday observations to really deep makes-you-want-to-cry/think about crap sort of things, like the above five. Enjoy.