I am an obsessive tumblr user.
When breakfast is fucked, my day is fucked.
I find it hard to garner the motivation to spend much time on Chapel Street. As Melbourne's self appointed mecca for tourists wanting that "oh sah Melbourne" shopping injection - I've always been a little turned off for spending more time there than I have to. And the street is really long. It for like four suburbs long. Imagine trawling along that street with your shopping bag lagging behind ol' mate Kakiwa Goeisowka whose donning a fanny pack that can fit his Yan Yan's, his tourist guide to Melbourne, and his ticket stub from the Moomba festival inside. You're trying to doge him, walk two paces faster to get ahead, but there's Voula, Toula and Gianni wanking on about the lack of sequins in the SS13 collection from Ed Hardy. You dodge, you weave, you perspire from the reflection on the concrete and shiny shiny shopping windows, but you're doomed behind tacky conversations and bucket hats for eternity.