Similarities between a handbag and a vagina
The owner is usually very protective of it.
You don’t want some random dude grabbing it on the street.
It can seem like a vast, cavernous wasteland.
Guys want to put their stuff in there.
It’s always nice to match it to your shoes.
Some have a weird smell.
Middle aged women tend to have one that’s old and worn out.
It’s always surprising how much will fit in there.
Best not to leave it open and unattended.
You should always keep a close eye on it on public transport.
Paris Hilton keeps a small dog in hers.
Despite poking around in there for ages, men can never find what they’re looking for.
It’s poor form to touch someone else’s without their permission.
Men generally don’t have one. Generally.
Mine is black with a leathery appearance and a series of metal studs on it.
Similarities between a car and a penis
Size doesn’t matter, just as long as it gets you where you want to go.
It will occasionally smash into things.
The journey it takes you on can be long or short.
I don’t want to listen to someone go on and on and on about theirs.
The owner often thinks it’s a good idea to go really fast. It’s not.
There’s no point in trading in for a newer model if the old one still works.
It’s nice to give it a name.
The ride won't always be enjoyable.
For a touch of class, you can add a set of fuzzy dice.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Like... get a fish
This past weekend, my mum questioned me as to why I don’t blog very often these days.
‘I haven’t got any ideas,’ I told her.
Her response was ‘Hmm… you’re too content at the moment.’
This struck me as strange for two reasons:
1) My mother should be happy about the thought of me being content
2) I’m really not content at all.
So, for mama, I present:
REASONS WHY I’M REALLY NOT CONTENT AT ALL
THE ROYAL BABY
I predicted a Princess Charlotte. You’ve made me look like a fool, Prince X. Though we’ve only had a brief glimpse of the baby, it seems he has sadly inherited his father’s premature baldness. He also appears to be about 90% blanket.
THE ROYAL BABY NAMES
The suggestions are all too classy. If the royals want to keep Australia as part of the Commonwealth and one day have the little bugger’s face on our money, I suggest Prince Bazza. Or his Royal Highness Prince Dave-o. Or simply Prince Maaaaaaaate.
THE NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION ON FOOD AND DRINKS
Ignorance is bliss.
RAIN
You always let me know when I have holes in my shoes.
KIDS THESE DAYS
I was in a shop earlier this year when I saw a child, about six or seven years old, pick up a Furby. He turned the box over in his hands a few times with a look of confusion on his face. ‘These things are sad,’ he said to his mother. ‘They’re supposed to be a pet or something. Why would a kid want this? Like… get a fish.’ YOU get a fish, small boy. I’m not gonna take that from someone who wasn’t even born when Furbys were invented. You have to feed a fish. You have to clean its bowl. You can’t take the batteries out of it when it won’t shut up. But on the flip side, you can’t flush a Furby down the toilet. Don’t ask how I know.
PEOPLE WHO DON’T LIKE MY FACEBOOK STATUSES
How dare you. I’m hilarious.
I DROOLED IN MY SOUP TODAY
Doesn’t require much more of an explanation.
MY INABILITY TO COME UP WITH DECENT COMEBACKS
Coworker: ‘That bin smells.’
Me: ‘Your FACE smells.’
Friend: ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
Me: ‘Your FACE doesn’t make any sense.’
Customer: ‘My coffee isn’t hot enough.’
Me: ‘Your FACE isn’t hot enough.’
And so on.
THAT CHEAP PAIR OF PANTS I BOUGHT
I looked so good in you, and loved you dearly. Right up until I saw that small hole in the seam of the crotch. The small hole that by the end of the day was a big hole. It is not ok to do this to me when I’m at work.
REGULAR CUSTOMERS WHO THINK I’M AN ALCOHOLIC
I had my birthday drinks on a Sunday afternoon this year, thinking it would be nice to have a few quiet ones with friends. They weren’t quiet. And there weren’t just a few. And I couldn’t go to work that Monday because of the vomiting. And my co-workers gladly told people about that. And now, every Monday morning, I get grilled by multiple customers about how many drinks I had over weekend.
FINDING DARK UNDERTONES IN CARTOONS
I only just figured out that Adventure Time is set in post apocalyptic Earth. This makes me sad. Not because of the apocalypse, but because it took me this long to figure it out.
SELECTIVE HEARING
Everyone seems to be talking about bacon and penis.
‘I haven’t got any ideas,’ I told her.
Her response was ‘Hmm… you’re too content at the moment.’
This struck me as strange for two reasons:
1) My mother should be happy about the thought of me being content
2) I’m really not content at all.
So, for mama, I present:
REASONS WHY I’M REALLY NOT CONTENT AT ALL
THE ROYAL BABY
I predicted a Princess Charlotte. You’ve made me look like a fool, Prince X. Though we’ve only had a brief glimpse of the baby, it seems he has sadly inherited his father’s premature baldness. He also appears to be about 90% blanket.
THE ROYAL BABY NAMES
The suggestions are all too classy. If the royals want to keep Australia as part of the Commonwealth and one day have the little bugger’s face on our money, I suggest Prince Bazza. Or his Royal Highness Prince Dave-o. Or simply Prince Maaaaaaaate.
THE NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION ON FOOD AND DRINKS
Ignorance is bliss.
RAIN
You always let me know when I have holes in my shoes.
KIDS THESE DAYS
I was in a shop earlier this year when I saw a child, about six or seven years old, pick up a Furby. He turned the box over in his hands a few times with a look of confusion on his face. ‘These things are sad,’ he said to his mother. ‘They’re supposed to be a pet or something. Why would a kid want this? Like… get a fish.’ YOU get a fish, small boy. I’m not gonna take that from someone who wasn’t even born when Furbys were invented. You have to feed a fish. You have to clean its bowl. You can’t take the batteries out of it when it won’t shut up. But on the flip side, you can’t flush a Furby down the toilet. Don’t ask how I know.
PEOPLE WHO DON’T LIKE MY FACEBOOK STATUSES
How dare you. I’m hilarious.
I DROOLED IN MY SOUP TODAY
Doesn’t require much more of an explanation.
MY INABILITY TO COME UP WITH DECENT COMEBACKS
Coworker: ‘That bin smells.’
Me: ‘Your FACE smells.’
Friend: ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
Me: ‘Your FACE doesn’t make any sense.’
Customer: ‘My coffee isn’t hot enough.’
Me: ‘Your FACE isn’t hot enough.’
And so on.
THAT CHEAP PAIR OF PANTS I BOUGHT
I looked so good in you, and loved you dearly. Right up until I saw that small hole in the seam of the crotch. The small hole that by the end of the day was a big hole. It is not ok to do this to me when I’m at work.
REGULAR CUSTOMERS WHO THINK I’M AN ALCOHOLIC
I had my birthday drinks on a Sunday afternoon this year, thinking it would be nice to have a few quiet ones with friends. They weren’t quiet. And there weren’t just a few. And I couldn’t go to work that Monday because of the vomiting. And my co-workers gladly told people about that. And now, every Monday morning, I get grilled by multiple customers about how many drinks I had over weekend.
FINDING DARK UNDERTONES IN CARTOONS
I only just figured out that Adventure Time is set in post apocalyptic Earth. This makes me sad. Not because of the apocalypse, but because it took me this long to figure it out.
SELECTIVE HEARING
Everyone seems to be talking about bacon and penis.
Friday, May 24, 2013
All by myself (again)
Last year I spent some time living on my own (which you can reminisce about here). On Wednesday I started a four week stint of solo living with the best intentions, and it’s already gone downhill. Though this time, I did have the good sense to get someone to remove the hair monster from the shower drain BEFORE I almost drowned. And before it gained a life of its own and rose up from the drain to destroy us all.
I planned to eat healthy(ish) and properly cook dinner each night.
People with obsessive compulsive tendencies should never be left with the task of ironing.
And I tend to leave the washing lying around for too long.
I planned to eat healthy(ish) and properly cook dinner each night.
People with obsessive compulsive tendencies should never be left with the task of ironing.
And I tend to leave the washing lying around for too long.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
How to: Find and apply for a job
Make sure you’re looking in the right places for jobs that suit your skills and interests.
When applying for a job, write your cover letter in blood to prove how serious you are.
If you lack the necessary qualifications, try to talk up your chutzpah and willingness to learn.
Modern day employers will do some research on you before making contact, so ensure you have a professional, dignified Facebook photo that paints you as a trustworthy and reliable person.
…and make sure your personal information is set to private.
Now just sit back and wait for them to call!
When applying for a job, write your cover letter in blood to prove how serious you are.
If you lack the necessary qualifications, try to talk up your chutzpah and willingness to learn.
Modern day employers will do some research on you before making contact, so ensure you have a professional, dignified Facebook photo that paints you as a trustworthy and reliable person.
…and make sure your personal information is set to private.
Now just sit back and wait for them to call!
Friday, March 29, 2013
The Lonely Planet guide to why you shouldn’t trust the Lonely Planet guide
Save your money, ladies and gentlemen. Them there Lonely Planet books don’t know nothin’ ‘bout anything. So I have taken it upon myself to deliver some truth balls and offer up a more accurate representation of New York, COMPLETELY FREE OF CHARGE!
Bargain.
American Museum of Natural History
Falsely represented in Night at the Museum. The T-rex isn’t at the entrance, there’s no Robin Williams on a horse and at no point did I see a capuchin monkey or a tiny roman fighting a tiny cowboy. Though, admittedly, I didn’t go into every room.
The weird tea café place near Central Park that I can’t remember the name of
I was thirsty and cold. I wanted a hot chocolate. I ordered a choc mint. It had tea in it. All their drinks had tea in them. Whose idea was this? And why isn’t it more clearly advertised before you order that your otherwise delicious beverage IS GOING TO HAVE TEA IN IT????????
Museum of Modern Art
Spent almost an hour in the queue to check my coat. In hindsight, it would’ve been a lot faster and easier to just carry it, but once you commit to a giant line DAMMIT you stick to it.
Initially I was concerned that all the ‘art’ here was going to look like I could’ve done it myself. I was a lazy art student once, I know how it’s done. Abstract is what you do when your abilities are less on the side of actual artistic talent, and more on the side of bullshitting with conviction . I once painted a wooden box in bright colours, drew some eyes and mouths on it, cut out some pictures of noses from magazines and stuck them on, then made a couple of ceramic ears and attached them with glue. I said it was a representation of how society is obsessed with image. A+, baby.
Disappointment gave way to pure wonderment when I found level 5, because yes, I’m one of those girls who swoons over Van Gough. They also had The Scream on loan from wherever it is that The Scream usually lives. Turns out it looks like it’s done in crayon.
The food court in Grand Central Station
I bought a slice of rather tasty pizza from a rather tasty man. Scruffy, flirty skater type with more charm than a person should be allowed to have. The other guy who worked there came over to take my order, pointed at the good looking dude and said ‘Oh, sorry, is he taking care of you?’ and all I could think was ‘…not as much as he could be.’ He was attractive and had pizza. A lot of pizza. And I’m only human. Time to put a new meaning to the term customer service, methinks.
Still to come… Food, shopping, why I cried on the Brooklyn Bridge and how I made the Empire State Building my girlfriend.
Bargain.
American Museum of Natural History
Falsely represented in Night at the Museum. The T-rex isn’t at the entrance, there’s no Robin Williams on a horse and at no point did I see a capuchin monkey or a tiny roman fighting a tiny cowboy. Though, admittedly, I didn’t go into every room.
The weird tea café place near Central Park that I can’t remember the name of
I was thirsty and cold. I wanted a hot chocolate. I ordered a choc mint. It had tea in it. All their drinks had tea in them. Whose idea was this? And why isn’t it more clearly advertised before you order that your otherwise delicious beverage IS GOING TO HAVE TEA IN IT????????
Museum of Modern Art
Spent almost an hour in the queue to check my coat. In hindsight, it would’ve been a lot faster and easier to just carry it, but once you commit to a giant line DAMMIT you stick to it.
Initially I was concerned that all the ‘art’ here was going to look like I could’ve done it myself. I was a lazy art student once, I know how it’s done. Abstract is what you do when your abilities are less on the side of actual artistic talent, and more on the side of bullshitting with conviction . I once painted a wooden box in bright colours, drew some eyes and mouths on it, cut out some pictures of noses from magazines and stuck them on, then made a couple of ceramic ears and attached them with glue. I said it was a representation of how society is obsessed with image. A+, baby.
Disappointment gave way to pure wonderment when I found level 5, because yes, I’m one of those girls who swoons over Van Gough. They also had The Scream on loan from wherever it is that The Scream usually lives. Turns out it looks like it’s done in crayon.
The food court in Grand Central Station
I bought a slice of rather tasty pizza from a rather tasty man. Scruffy, flirty skater type with more charm than a person should be allowed to have. The other guy who worked there came over to take my order, pointed at the good looking dude and said ‘Oh, sorry, is he taking care of you?’ and all I could think was ‘…not as much as he could be.’ He was attractive and had pizza. A lot of pizza. And I’m only human. Time to put a new meaning to the term customer service, methinks.
Still to come… Food, shopping, why I cried on the Brooklyn Bridge and how I made the Empire State Building my girlfriend.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
New Years Eve
December 31 2012. New York City. Roughly 9:30am. Was totally outside the window of the Today Show for a few seconds. I’ve now been on American telly. Who wants to touch me?
The reason I was hanging around the NBC building was because I was on my way to a 10am tour of their studios, mainly just to see if 30 Rock looks like how it does on 30 Rock. And yes, yes it does.
Two NBC Pages take you on the tour. One was José, a cute nerdy guy with dark hair and glasses and who I instantly decided I wanted to run away with, and in a demonstration of just how shallow I am, I honest to god don’t have the slightest idea what the other guy’s name was. He had curly hair. We shall call him Curly.
José and Curly took us through a few different studios, talking about the glory days and what filth they’re used for now (I’m paraphrasing. No offence, Dr Oz). It was interesting, but I didn’t get excited until we got to the studio they’ve used for the last 38 years to film Saturday Night Live. José pointed out the stage they use for the ‘more intricate’ sets, for example, ‘that’s where they filmed the Wayne’s World sketches.’ Good thing the seats in that studio are yellow, because a little bit of wee came out. Then he told us that there’s a lottery to get tickets to a SNL recording, and that for a CHANCE at getting standby tickets you have to sleep on the street for two nights prior, ‘so next time you’re in New York we can all do that together.’ So… I went to New York and an attractive man who works in television invited me to sleep with him. That’s how I’m telling it from now on.
After the tour my plan was to get back on the sightseeing bus and head to the American Museum of Natural History (I only wanted to go because it’s the one in the first Night at the Museum and I really like movies with monkeys in them. Also considered going to the Guggenheim just so I had an excuse to say Guggenheim. Goo-gen-highmmm). But, alas, it was New Years Eve in New York and all the roads were about to be closed off. There were only going to be two more buses and that’s not enough time to do some museum laps. It was my last chance to use the bus, so I decided to freeze my ass off one last time and do the entire two hour tour. And I’m glad I did, because for the second time that day, I fell in love.
Her name was Denise. She was an enthusiastic tour guide from Harlem with dreadlocks down to her hiney and a passion for starting open-top bus sing-a-longs. Even when you’ve lost all feeling in your face, you can still muster the energy to belt out New York, New York.
Anyway, when I got off the bus you couldn’t get anywhere near Times Square, so I went to a park and bought some donuts. They were amazing. One was coffee flavoured, and I couldn’t get over how weird it was that the Americans can make a donut taste like coffee, but can’t make a cup of coffee taste like coffee.
Then I went back to my hotel, put my pjs on, turned the heat waaaay up and watched the ball drop on TV.
Happy New Year.
The reason I was hanging around the NBC building was because I was on my way to a 10am tour of their studios, mainly just to see if 30 Rock looks like how it does on 30 Rock. And yes, yes it does.
Two NBC Pages take you on the tour. One was José, a cute nerdy guy with dark hair and glasses and who I instantly decided I wanted to run away with, and in a demonstration of just how shallow I am, I honest to god don’t have the slightest idea what the other guy’s name was. He had curly hair. We shall call him Curly.
José and Curly took us through a few different studios, talking about the glory days and what filth they’re used for now (I’m paraphrasing. No offence, Dr Oz). It was interesting, but I didn’t get excited until we got to the studio they’ve used for the last 38 years to film Saturday Night Live. José pointed out the stage they use for the ‘more intricate’ sets, for example, ‘that’s where they filmed the Wayne’s World sketches.’ Good thing the seats in that studio are yellow, because a little bit of wee came out. Then he told us that there’s a lottery to get tickets to a SNL recording, and that for a CHANCE at getting standby tickets you have to sleep on the street for two nights prior, ‘so next time you’re in New York we can all do that together.’ So… I went to New York and an attractive man who works in television invited me to sleep with him. That’s how I’m telling it from now on.
After the tour my plan was to get back on the sightseeing bus and head to the American Museum of Natural History (I only wanted to go because it’s the one in the first Night at the Museum and I really like movies with monkeys in them. Also considered going to the Guggenheim just so I had an excuse to say Guggenheim. Goo-gen-highmmm). But, alas, it was New Years Eve in New York and all the roads were about to be closed off. There were only going to be two more buses and that’s not enough time to do some museum laps. It was my last chance to use the bus, so I decided to freeze my ass off one last time and do the entire two hour tour. And I’m glad I did, because for the second time that day, I fell in love.
Her name was Denise. She was an enthusiastic tour guide from Harlem with dreadlocks down to her hiney and a passion for starting open-top bus sing-a-longs. Even when you’ve lost all feeling in your face, you can still muster the energy to belt out New York, New York.
Anyway, when I got off the bus you couldn’t get anywhere near Times Square, so I went to a park and bought some donuts. They were amazing. One was coffee flavoured, and I couldn’t get over how weird it was that the Americans can make a donut taste like coffee, but can’t make a cup of coffee taste like coffee.
Then I went back to my hotel, put my pjs on, turned the heat waaaay up and watched the ball drop on TV.
Happy New Year.
Friday, February 8, 2013
New York, New York – The first few days
It wouldn’t be my life if a few little things didn’t go horribly, horribly wrong in ways that seem to amuse people who aren’t me. So welcome back to my travel diary, and the days leading up to New Years Eve.
The Statue of Liberty cruise
I wasn’t about to waste my first day in New York, so I started the day off by heading to Battery Park where you catch the Staue of Liberty river cruise. Couldn’t go to the Statue though, they were still having some minor issues with the pier in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy.
It started snowing while I was on the boat. To a girl from Melbourne who has only ever seen snow once before in her whole life and couldn’t get over the fact that ICE WAS FALLING FROM THE SKYYYY, this was a magical and beautiful thing. Until I got off the boat. Then it was just balls. See, snow hits you in its pretty little icy pieces, then slowly melts to saturate you. It’s like delayed rain. And speaking of delayed rain, it then started to rain.
The open top bus tour
When booking one of those open top bus sightseeing tours, I recommend looking into the following area before you book your tickets: that the bus isn’t open top ONLY. Because mine bloody well was. It was 31 degrees Fahrenheit that first day. That’s just below zero in Celsius.
0 degrees + open top bus + wind-chill factor + the glorious combination of snow and rain falling from the sky at the same effing time = THIS WAS NOT FUN FOR ME.
Hailing a cab
I’m invisible, apparently. And I was wearing too many layers to flash some boob.
The reason for my suffering
So people think the reason I wanted to go to New York in winter was New Years. I let them think that because I didn’t want to admit that the real reason was a big ass Christmas tree. Yes. A Christmas tree. I genuinely enjoy sparkly lights and pine trees that much.
Standing in Rockefeller Centre watching people ice skate under that tree while snow falls and Christmas music plays is enough to warm your heart. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to warm anything else. If I had any feeling left in my face, I would’ve smiled. And if I had any feeling left in my hands, my photos would’ve been better.
Class and culture and all that
One of the stops on the bus tour is the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. It’s a huge European style gothic looking church. As much as I can appreciate architecture and history and fancy things, I didn’t get off the tour bus for the cathedral. I got off the tour bus because the cathedral is one block over from the diner they used on Seinfeld. No one was around at the time, so it only took about two minutes to get a few decent photos, followed by another two minutes or so to walk back to the bus stop. Then came the waiting. The cold, the wind, the suspected onset of frostbite, and the waiting. Turns out the bus schedule ain’t so friendly. My suffering was short-lived however, when a knight rode in on a white horse and saved me (by ‘knight’ I mean bus driver, by ‘white horse’ I mean bus and by ‘on’ I mean in). He was from a rival tour bus company, but told me he couldn’t leave me standing out in the cold and to get on anyway, and ‘just don’t say nothin.’ So I didn’t say nothin. His bus had a bottom level. With walls. And windows. And heating. And he was the first New Yorker I fell in love with.
Next blog: New Years Eve, New Years day, and more New Yorkers I fell in love with (the men are very friendly…).
The Statue of Liberty cruise
I wasn’t about to waste my first day in New York, so I started the day off by heading to Battery Park where you catch the Staue of Liberty river cruise. Couldn’t go to the Statue though, they were still having some minor issues with the pier in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy.
The open top bus tour
When booking one of those open top bus sightseeing tours, I recommend looking into the following area before you book your tickets: that the bus isn’t open top ONLY. Because mine bloody well was. It was 31 degrees Fahrenheit that first day. That’s just below zero in Celsius.
0 degrees + open top bus + wind-chill factor + the glorious combination of snow and rain falling from the sky at the same effing time = THIS WAS NOT FUN FOR ME.
Hailing a cab
I’m invisible, apparently. And I was wearing too many layers to flash some boob.
The reason for my suffering
So people think the reason I wanted to go to New York in winter was New Years. I let them think that because I didn’t want to admit that the real reason was a big ass Christmas tree. Yes. A Christmas tree. I genuinely enjoy sparkly lights and pine trees that much.
Standing in Rockefeller Centre watching people ice skate under that tree while snow falls and Christmas music plays is enough to warm your heart. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to warm anything else. If I had any feeling left in my face, I would’ve smiled. And if I had any feeling left in my hands, my photos would’ve been better.
Class and culture and all that
One of the stops on the bus tour is the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. It’s a huge European style gothic looking church. As much as I can appreciate architecture and history and fancy things, I didn’t get off the tour bus for the cathedral. I got off the tour bus because the cathedral is one block over from the diner they used on Seinfeld. No one was around at the time, so it only took about two minutes to get a few decent photos, followed by another two minutes or so to walk back to the bus stop. Then came the waiting. The cold, the wind, the suspected onset of frostbite, and the waiting. Turns out the bus schedule ain’t so friendly. My suffering was short-lived however, when a knight rode in on a white horse and saved me (by ‘knight’ I mean bus driver, by ‘white horse’ I mean bus and by ‘on’ I mean in). He was from a rival tour bus company, but told me he couldn’t leave me standing out in the cold and to get on anyway, and ‘just don’t say nothin.’ So I didn’t say nothin. His bus had a bottom level. With walls. And windows. And heating. And he was the first New Yorker I fell in love with.
Next blog: New Years Eve, New Years day, and more New Yorkers I fell in love with (the men are very friendly…).
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