Paragraphs are for the organised. I am anything but.
Jay pointed me towards Things White People Like. Hilarity, and eerie accuracy, ensue.
This blogging thing is a double-edged sword. On one hand, if someone at a dinner party says: "Greetings Stefan! I enjoyed your piece on the apology," it's a nice feeling. However, if later at the same soiree you launch into a spirited anecdote, only to realise too late that some have already read that story on your blog, it can get a bit awkward. "Oh yes Stefan. I'm already well aware of your stance against Little Britain. I read it on your blog, when you had the benefit of editing and were not drunk. It was an entertaining aside, but is deeply unfunny the second go around: quite unlike Little Britain."
This company makes plush toys that are accurate recreations of viruses and microbes, just millions of times their actual size. I dearly want a Sleeping Sickness microbe to rest on my pillow.
"Stefan! What is that delightful object nestled in your boudoir?"
"Oh him? He's just something I picked up to help me sleep." The jokes write themselves.
I nice man recently invited me into his office to discuss my superannuation. It went well and we decided to make some changes to my policy that I barely understand. The wheels fell off when he asked me for my Tax File Number. Is a Tax File Number the sort of thing people carry on their person? That certainly seemed to be the expectation. It was assumed I had the number on hand, or could at least produce it at short notice.
The man is very polite. This is evidenced by his ability to gently ignore my poor grasp on personal finance. I still don't have the number. I failed to return his last phone call. I feel bad about it.
Cracked has published the results of its latest photoshop competition, where it asked readers to produce children's book covers. They're hilarious, and often hilariously wrong. I'm a fan of this one:
Subtle, but effective.
The writers of the television show Dexter manage to elicit sympathy for their protagonist despite him being an emotionless sociopath. I envy their ability.
Inserting an ecstasy tablet anally apparently produces much the same affect as taking it orally, with the added bonus of a tingly arse. I don't see myself using the information in any way, but life is richer in the knowing.
Public support for the Australian Government's Apology to the Stolen Generation has apparently jumped sharply since sorry was said. Results bitches.
2 comments:
What was the meaning of your last paragraph with the term 'results bitches'? Is this meant for a particular element within our society who, I suspect, does not support the apology?
Greetings anonymous! Thanks for popping by.
To elaborate, 'results bitches' was intended to mean 'however small, making the apology has produced some kind of result. It may be small, but it's early days, and it's there.'
So to answer your question, yes.
Post a Comment