Things Matt Can’t Have
Posted on Friday, 30th June 2006 at 8:17pm18 Comments Ensuing
Matt and I have been together for six months today – I will now pause for you all to let out a “dawwww” – and since I have known him not a week has pasted without him asking if he can have random silly things, as most are animal based I always reply with a stern “no”. It’s not that I’m being mean, sure, if he had a farm with a salt lake he could have a Dolphin and a Zebra, but since he rents a townhouse I doubt his landlord or his housemates would be very happy about a Dolphin being in the bath or a Zebra in the kitchen. I now present you with a list I have kept of things he can’t have…
Things Matt can’t have
- Helper monkey
- Baby panda
- Pod racer
- Pet Jar Jar Binks
- Penguin
- Beaver
- Baby polar bear
- Baby lion
- Lion
- Dolphin
- Baby seal
- Cheetah
- Zebra
- Eagle
- Hawk
- Raven
- Pet midget
- Squirrel
- Chipmunk
- Turtle
- Fox
- Lemur
- Mongoose
- Tortoise
- Quokka
- Giraffe
- Musk ox
- A flux capacitor
- $3000 LCD TV (apparently one needs a $3000 TV for an Xbox 360’s graphics to look any good)
- Matching scooters and scooter jackets
- A robot ATM (like the one on the ANZ bank TVC)
“Why don’t you ever want something normal, like a puppy or a hooker” I asked him one day, to which he replied “would you let me have a puppy or a hooker?”
Note to self: Never take Matt to the zoo.
FUST’s
Posted on Monday, 26th June 2006 at 11:07pm14 Comments Ensuing
Over the past four years of blogging I have had some interesting search phrases show up in my stats. Now and again I play a game with Sergio called ‘who has the most fucked up search term’, the rules are simple, whoever has the most disgusting search term wins and claims the glory of having the most fucked up website viewers. It’s a highly regarded award that I have won many times. I mostly receive disgusting searches about granny porn, monkey porn, granny and monkey porn orgies, and searches about myself naked (not happening people). I thought I would document some of my fucked up search term’s (FUST’s) from the past month…
June FUST’s
- China syndrome porn
- Soviet diamond fund
- Cute nurses giving injections
- Helena Bonham-carter lesbian
- Monkey eating cheese
- Sims 2 how to alien impregnation
- Put the ooo in shampoo
- My shoelace will take over the world
- Big brother Australia fucking housemates while they sleep rumours
- Life is like a bucket of wood shavings
- Monkey vagina pictures
- Make a monkey talk like Simon Cowell
- How would you say Happy Easter in Australia (it’s said as ‘Happy Easter’)
- Tupgirl and lemon party orgy
- Aliens blowing up puppies
- I have a piece of metal like a hair growing from my knee
- Free fucking website of old grannies
- Sublimable messages through disney movies (that is how they spelt subliminal)
- How to write like a kool haxor
And my favourite…
- Advice on how to leave my mistress
You want my advice on how to leave your mistress? Ok. Here’s what you do… Don’t. Because she will contact your wife who will throw you out of home, your beloved mistress will then not take your sorry ass in, and you’ll be sleeping on your friend Larry’s couch while he sings in the shower to Shania Twain and begs you to come join him because he’s lost his soap. Unless you want to look for soap while moaning to ‘You’re Still The One’ I would think twice before even obtaining a mistress.
Cucumber Guy
Posted on Friday, 16th June 2006 at 1:20am15 Comments Ensuing
It was a cold morning in early July 2000. I hadn’t intended on getting up at 5am that morning, but a friend called me the previous night and asked, pleaded, and bribed me, to fill in for her at a runway show the next day. I accepted and dragged myself out of bed.
It was only a small consisting of four shows between 10am and 4pm. I had been told to show up early because there was some concern that the clothes wouldn’t fit me, but lucky my body was a carbon copy of my friends and everything fit perfectly. After trying on the clothes I chatted with the other girls, someone gave me a sample of Lolita Lempicka, a perfume that has been my signature scent ever since I first inhaled its intoxicating scent that day. I knew most of the other models from previous shows – four girls in all – so there were no introductions, just catching up and small talk. It’s a strange job being a model. You find yourself becoming close to strangers in a matter of hours because you’re running around franticly wearing only tan coloured g-string backstage.
Best team building exercise ever.
We ate breakfast (yes, models eating and such, how terribly odd) and chatted some more before touching up our makeup and getting into our first outfit. As I went down the runway during the first show I noticed a guy on my left sitting with his friends, out of the corner of my eye I saw that he was eating a cucumber, now, I don’t mean he had a salad and it was cut into small bits, I mean he had a full cucumber and was biting it with glee, licking it like a lollypop and treating it like his lover. I wanted to laugh, but I managed not to, I knew he was just doing it to make me laugh and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
When I was back in the change room I asked the other girls if they had noticed him, one girl smirked, and another ignored me. I started rambling, calling him a wanker, saying he was married to the cucumber and a carrot was his mistress. I waited for a response. Nothing. I gathered that they hadn’t noticed cucumber guy or were too busy to care. It’s not unusual for someone to act like a complete dildo during public shows. I changed into my next outfit just as the girl who ignored me left to go on the runway, it was then that smirking girl informed me that girl who ignored me was cucumber guy’s girlfriend.
Bugger.
For the rest of the day girl who ignored me kept ignoring me and after the show she gave me a look of death as she left on cucumber guys arm.
I hear they now have cucumber kids and he’s seeing a carrot on the side.
The Doors
Posted on Monday, 5th June 2006 at 12:57am6 Comments Ensuing
Camp has a bit of a problem lately, this problem comes in the form of doors, glass sliding doors in particular. She seems to run into them quite a bit. When she hears the roller door go up and a car pull in she will become excited, start prancing around and wagging her tail furiously, then she puts her head down and run as fast as her little legs will let her go straight into a closed door. She hits the door which such force that everyone in the house can hear it – that sound – the sound of bone connecting with something hard. I told her it’s not a marathon. One should look up to see if any doors or other obstacles are present in their current running path, but she doesn’t listen.
To rectify the situation I have been contemplating putting some sort of doggy road bump near the door – such as a mat – to at least slow her down a bit, and maybe fashioning her some sort of door helmet and dollying it. She will either stop running into doors and in the process hate me for the rest of her doggy life for putting her in such a lame looking thing or keep running into doors and rejoice that she now has a helmet that she can use to break down said doors.
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