Dear Lauren…
‘Where do your ideas come from?’
Jesus.
‘How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?’
Now that question isn’t as simple as it may seem. There are far too many variables to give a single, solid answer. How long is each road? Is it a dirt road? What are the weather conditions? How many legs does the man have? Is he carrying something? What is the weight of the item or items he is carrying? What time of year is it? Is he wearing appropriate walking shoes? What’s his middle name?
‘What’s the deal with you and Mr Potato Head?’
He amuses me, alright? WHY IS THAT SO HARD FOR PEOPLE TO UNDERSTAND? That, and I like his sexy, potato shaped torso and his dark, mysterious eyes.
‘Is that one person from Guatemala still reading your blog?’
Not since the first time I mentioned them, no. Sorry Guatemalan person. If you come back, I promise to never mention you again.
‘Will we be seeing more of the overweight stripper Gassy Struts?’
I’m sure she’ll take it all off if you throw enough money at her. Television has lead me to believe this is what strippers do.
‘Where do you think your unhealthy obsession with bacon came from?’
As a child, did you ever see the movie Charlotte’s Web? That cartoon pig sure looked delicious.
‘Isn’t it your birthday soon?’
Yes. And now that you know, you have no excuse for not getting me a present. I enjoy cash, candy, shiny things and monkeys wearing people clothes (as in ‘miniature versions of clothes people would wear,’ not ‘clothes made out of people’).
‘When is your novel about the angel and the vampire who fall in love at wizard school coming out?’
When I have enough money to deal with the lawsuits. And when I’ve written it. Which I never will. Because it’ll take too long and Home and Away is on at 7:00.
‘Is ‘ejaculate’ really an alternate word for ‘cry’?’
YES! I’ve seen it in other books now! And it’s hilarious every time! eg. ‘He tried to stop her, but she ignored his ejaculations.’ Ahaha. Gold.
‘I’m a Nigerian Prince. Can I have your bank details?’
Yes.
‘Did you learn anything interesting today?’
I learned that people who are short on cash don’t appreciate it when you tell them they should sell one of their kidneys on the black market. ‘Prostitution’ is also not a valid suggestion, apparently.
‘Why are you still doing this?’
Why are you still reading it?
‘Have you ever considered adding more challenging books to your book club?’
You didn’t find The Very Hungry Caterpillar challenging? Expect a new addition to the book club just as soon as I uncover the mystery of Wally’s whereabouts.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Ode to bacon
This is a poem for the tastiest of meats,
one of the world’s most wonderful feats,
whose popularity I learned of last week,
when I blogged about it like a hungry freak.
You’re cut from a pig, then carefully treated.
With a beaming smile you are ecstatically greeted.
Your addictive flavour should be some kind of sin.
When I cook you in a frying pan, your oil spurts out and burns my skin.
I see you sitting there on my plate,
knowing that you’ll taste unbelievably great,
but you’re still too hot, I’ll have to wait.
More than once I’ve eaten you past your ‘use by’ date.
Your fat clogs my arteries, and yes, I know,
that because of you, to an early grave I shall go.
I like you when you’re soft, I like you when you’re crispy.
When you’re gone from my plate my eyes get all misty.
My bloated belly is a small price to pay,
for the constant burping that reminds me of you all day.
As the years go by, my love for you never weans.
Sometimes I eat so much that I suffer chest pains.
And so I have composed this poem,
So when asked how I feel, I can clearly show ‘em.
To eat you right now is one of my greatest wishes,
Because, old friend, you are spectacularly delicious.
Mmm. Bacon.
one of the world’s most wonderful feats,
whose popularity I learned of last week,
when I blogged about it like a hungry freak.
You’re cut from a pig, then carefully treated.
With a beaming smile you are ecstatically greeted.
Your addictive flavour should be some kind of sin.
When I cook you in a frying pan, your oil spurts out and burns my skin.
I see you sitting there on my plate,
knowing that you’ll taste unbelievably great,
but you’re still too hot, I’ll have to wait.
More than once I’ve eaten you past your ‘use by’ date.
Your fat clogs my arteries, and yes, I know,
that because of you, to an early grave I shall go.
I like you when you’re soft, I like you when you’re crispy.
When you’re gone from my plate my eyes get all misty.
My bloated belly is a small price to pay,
for the constant burping that reminds me of you all day.
As the years go by, my love for you never weans.
Sometimes I eat so much that I suffer chest pains.
And so I have composed this poem,
So when asked how I feel, I can clearly show ‘em.
To eat you right now is one of my greatest wishes,
Because, old friend, you are spectacularly delicious.
Mmm. Bacon.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Sleep deprivation – A study into the effects of
Along with putting your pyjamas on at 4:30pm because you’ve lost the will to go on, walking into large items and not realising until you notice the bruise and/or blood, and extending the ‘five second rule’ to the ‘however many seconds it takes me to pick it up because I’ve been getting up for work at 4am and I can’t move that fast this week’ rule, these are some of the other plights of the sleep deprived (and by that I mean me):
Hearing loss
Well rested person: ‘I like Jack and his wife.’
Sleep deprived person: ‘What? Japanese wife?’
Odd trains of thought
Well rested person: ‘The flaps on the coffee cart are held up by gassy struts.’
Sleep deprived person: ‘“Gassy Struts” sounds like an overweight stripper.’
Falling asleep while standing up
At work
At work for a second time
On public transport
Hate
‘Bloody kids.’
‘Bloody wind.’
‘Bloody kids with wind.’
Strange relationships with food
-Eating every item of food in the house not because you’re hungry, but because it’s there and if you’re chewing you won’t fall asleep.
-Eating because you can’t remember whether or not you’ve already eaten.
-Cursing the wind again while waiting for the train because it’s blowing across the smell of deliciousness from the bakery a few streets over and you would genuinely consider punching a stranger in the face for a donut.
-Falling in love with a bag of chips and threatening violence against people you’ve known and loved your entire life when they ask if they can have one.
-Being sickeningly nice to a co-worker all day because they bought you a bacon and egg sandwich and you’ve now reached the conclusion that nothing else matters in life but the magical taste of bacon.
Hearing loss
Well rested person: ‘I like Jack and his wife.’
Sleep deprived person: ‘What? Japanese wife?’
Odd trains of thought
Well rested person: ‘The flaps on the coffee cart are held up by gassy struts.’
Sleep deprived person: ‘“Gassy Struts” sounds like an overweight stripper.’
Falling asleep while standing up
At work
At work for a second time
On public transport
Hate
‘Bloody kids.’
‘Bloody wind.’
‘Bloody kids with wind.’
Strange relationships with food
-Eating every item of food in the house not because you’re hungry, but because it’s there and if you’re chewing you won’t fall asleep.
-Eating because you can’t remember whether or not you’ve already eaten.
-Cursing the wind again while waiting for the train because it’s blowing across the smell of deliciousness from the bakery a few streets over and you would genuinely consider punching a stranger in the face for a donut.
-Falling in love with a bag of chips and threatening violence against people you’ve known and loved your entire life when they ask if they can have one.
-Being sickeningly nice to a co-worker all day because they bought you a bacon and egg sandwich and you’ve now reached the conclusion that nothing else matters in life but the magical taste of bacon.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Mr Potato Head's journey through time and space
It all began when Mr Potato Head made the questionable decision to start a band with Hipster-Tickle-Me-Elmo. 
Not surprisingly, this partnership fell apart thanks to their different musical influences.
Now stuck for a way to spend his afternoon, Mr Potato Head did what any logical thinker would have done: he stole the Tardis that sits next to my telly.
Then he learned that while it's all well and good for something to be bigger on the inside, you need to be able to fit through the door first.
So that logical thinking of his came in handy once more.
First he met the locals.
Then he fled from the locals.
And took part in some (not so)petty theft. 
Then Hipster-Tickle-Me-Elmo showed up in his time travelling calico bag, because 'Tardises and Deloreans have, like, totally been done before, and this is, like, way more environmentally friendly and that. You should totally grow a moustache.'
And sadly, Mr Potato Head gave into peer pressure.
He also put his hand in a somewhat suspect area that the photographer didn't take any notice of until it was too late.
Not surprisingly, this partnership fell apart thanks to their different musical influences.Now stuck for a way to spend his afternoon, Mr Potato Head did what any logical thinker would have done: he stole the Tardis that sits next to my telly.Then he learned that while it's all well and good for something to be bigger on the inside, you need to be able to fit through the door first.So that logical thinking of his came in handy once more.First he met the locals.Then he fled from the locals.And took part in some (not so)petty theft. Then Hipster-Tickle-Me-Elmo showed up in his time travelling calico bag, because 'Tardises and Deloreans have, like, totally been done before, and this is, like, way more environmentally friendly and that. You should totally grow a moustache.'And sadly, Mr Potato Head gave into peer pressure.He also put his hand in a somewhat suspect area that the photographer didn't take any notice of until it was too late.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
I’ve done all the dumb things
I left work at 1:00pm this afternoon, and as I began to cross the street I noticed a man crossing in the opposite direction. I looked up at him briefly, then did a double take. It was Aussie icon Paul Kelly (if the blog title doesn’t make sense now, you are lacking basic musical knowledge and I’m not sure we can be friends anymore [foreigners are excused]). This is the man whose music I was playing just before I left work. The man whose songs about Melbourne make me feel homesick when I’m still in Melbourne. The man whose autobiography I’m pretty sure I’ll never finish because it’s too heavy to carry around and when I’m at home I’m generally too distracted by Facebook and sleep.
For non-Australians and Australians who live under a rock, in a nutshell, he’s like our Bob Dylan. Except he’s talented.
I didn’t have the guts to go talk to him, but what really worried me was that this thought crossed my mind: ‘…should I follow him?’
SHOULD I FOLLOW HIM? What the hell kind of crazy stalker thought was that? No, no I’m not going to speak to him, I’m just going to walk behind him for a while to see where he goes. And you want to know what’s even more worrying than that? I’ve done it before.
The year was 2009. The place was Edinburgh. The person was a reasonably well known comedian. I’m not even a fan, I just saw him walking around and I had some time to kill. It ended when he seemed to realise I was following him and slowed down to a pace that made it impossible for me to maintain the same distance behind him without looking extremely suss. So I walked past him and tried to look as casual as possible. I wasn’t arrested, so I think I got away with it.
The following year at the Melbourne Comedy Festival a similar situation arose with a comedian I am fan of, though I refuse to take responsibility for that one. The reason we were walking in the same direction was because I was on my way to his show. As, not surprisingly, was he. I felt too awkward about standing next to him at the traffic lights as we waited to cross the street, so I sat down on a nearby bench and played with my phone for a while before continuing on my way.
So later tonight I’m going to take Paul Kelly's autobiography down from my bookshelf, place it on my bed so that I don’t forget about it, then proceed to not finish reading it again. Then I’m going to take a good hard look at myself and my thought processes.
For non-Australians and Australians who live under a rock, in a nutshell, he’s like our Bob Dylan. Except he’s talented.
I didn’t have the guts to go talk to him, but what really worried me was that this thought crossed my mind: ‘…should I follow him?’
SHOULD I FOLLOW HIM? What the hell kind of crazy stalker thought was that? No, no I’m not going to speak to him, I’m just going to walk behind him for a while to see where he goes. And you want to know what’s even more worrying than that? I’ve done it before.
The year was 2009. The place was Edinburgh. The person was a reasonably well known comedian. I’m not even a fan, I just saw him walking around and I had some time to kill. It ended when he seemed to realise I was following him and slowed down to a pace that made it impossible for me to maintain the same distance behind him without looking extremely suss. So I walked past him and tried to look as casual as possible. I wasn’t arrested, so I think I got away with it.
The following year at the Melbourne Comedy Festival a similar situation arose with a comedian I am fan of, though I refuse to take responsibility for that one. The reason we were walking in the same direction was because I was on my way to his show. As, not surprisingly, was he. I felt too awkward about standing next to him at the traffic lights as we waited to cross the street, so I sat down on a nearby bench and played with my phone for a while before continuing on my way.
So later tonight I’m going to take Paul Kelly's autobiography down from my bookshelf, place it on my bed so that I don’t forget about it, then proceed to not finish reading it again. Then I’m going to take a good hard look at myself and my thought processes.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
EUROTRIP 2011! Things I learned in London
I learned…
…I’m the kind of person who laughs at this:
…celebrity chef Heston Blumenthal will charge you a butt load of money for this, and you will pay it because it’s meat that looks like fruit and you’re convinced he must be some kind of crazy wizard.
…the people who run the London Eye have something against obsessive compulsive folk. There's one red capsule. One. I took countless photos of this from a ridiculous amount of angles and was convinced for a while that I’d never be able to sleep again knowing it was there. Bastards.
…it’s 11:57. 
…some people will name their business without properly thinking it through.
…you shouldn’t buy a drink just because it has a picture of an old-timey robot on it and you are someone who loves old-timey robots. I drank freakin yogurt.
…sometimes in life, you will be faced with near impossible choices…
…but if you follow your heart, you’ll be happy with the choice you made…
…and I mean really, properly, ecstatically happy.
...and finally: this is, and forever will be, the best money I've ever spent.
…what Fosters tastes like. London pubs have Fosters on tap. Australian pubs don’t have Fosters at all. Sorry if I blew your minds with that, international readers (eg. that one person in Guatemala).
…I’m the kind of person who laughs at this:…celebrity chef Heston Blumenthal will charge you a butt load of money for this, and you will pay it because it’s meat that looks like fruit and you’re convinced he must be some kind of crazy wizard.…the people who run the London Eye have something against obsessive compulsive folk. There's one red capsule. One. I took countless photos of this from a ridiculous amount of angles and was convinced for a while that I’d never be able to sleep again knowing it was there. Bastards.…it’s 11:57. …some people will name their business without properly thinking it through.…you shouldn’t buy a drink just because it has a picture of an old-timey robot on it and you are someone who loves old-timey robots. I drank freakin yogurt.…sometimes in life, you will be faced with near impossible choices……but if you follow your heart, you’ll be happy with the choice you made……and I mean really, properly, ecstatically happy....and finally: this is, and forever will be, the best money I've ever spent.Thursday, May 12, 2011
EUROTRIP 2011! What happens on tour, stays on blogger
I'm back! I spent about 5 weeks travelling around the UK and Europe and it was awesome. There may be more of these posts in weeks to come... or there may not be. But there probably will be.
FRANCE
Frog’s legs taste like fishy chicken. Or chickeny fish. It depends on your perspective. But look how excited I was! (Don’t ask about snails. I couldn’t bring myself to try the snails)
I also got extremely sunburnt here. Yeah. And I live in Australia where the sun is about a metre from your face. I hope this helps you all understand why I don't go outside.
GREECE
MYTH ABOUT GREECE: It’s all about dancing and plate smashing and sOOper happy fun good times.
TRUTH ABOUT GREECE: People on the roads are crazy. You can’t flush toilet paper down the toilet and instead have to put it in the bin because their plumbing is crazy. You shake your head for ‘yes’ and nod your head for ‘no’ because that’s crazy. You can’t drink the water (I’m assuming this is how you catch the crazy).*
(artist's interpretation of toilet paper being thrown into the bin. No photo for obvious reasons)
CZECH REPUBLIC
Ever been to a restaurant where everyone cancelled their reservation for that evening except for you and your friend? Because I bloody well have.
Then the three piece band awkwardly plays for you anyway?
And the girl who was supposed to sing with them puts her comfy clothes back on before she comes out to sing for the two of you? 
And the guy who works there keeps bringing you drinks? And you get to a point where you can’t drink anymore, so you leave a bit of beer in the bottom of your glass, but he takes it away and brings you another one anyway? 
Then you get so drunk that the awkwardness becomes hilarious and you start having the time of your life? 
(the old guy on the left checked out my friend’s ass when she came back from the toilet. Ah, precious memories.)
*Dear Greek people: I understand that you, personally, as individuals, are not crazy. You are victims of circumstance. Apart from the bad driving. That's all you.
FRANCE
Frog’s legs taste like fishy chicken. Or chickeny fish. It depends on your perspective. But look how excited I was! (Don’t ask about snails. I couldn’t bring myself to try the snails)
I also got extremely sunburnt here. Yeah. And I live in Australia where the sun is about a metre from your face. I hope this helps you all understand why I don't go outside.GREECE
MYTH ABOUT GREECE: It’s all about dancing and plate smashing and sOOper happy fun good times.
TRUTH ABOUT GREECE: People on the roads are crazy. You can’t flush toilet paper down the toilet and instead have to put it in the bin because their plumbing is crazy. You shake your head for ‘yes’ and nod your head for ‘no’ because that’s crazy. You can’t drink the water (I’m assuming this is how you catch the crazy).*
(artist's interpretation of toilet paper being thrown into the bin. No photo for obvious reasons)CZECH REPUBLIC
Ever been to a restaurant where everyone cancelled their reservation for that evening except for you and your friend? Because I bloody well have.
Then the three piece band awkwardly plays for you anyway? And the girl who was supposed to sing with them puts her comfy clothes back on before she comes out to sing for the two of you? And the guy who works there keeps bringing you drinks? And you get to a point where you can’t drink anymore, so you leave a bit of beer in the bottom of your glass, but he takes it away and brings you another one anyway? Then you get so drunk that the awkwardness becomes hilarious and you start having the time of your life? (the old guy on the left checked out my friend’s ass when she came back from the toilet. Ah, precious memories.)*Dear Greek people: I understand that you, personally, as individuals, are not crazy. You are victims of circumstance. Apart from the bad driving. That's all you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
