Monday, December 29, 2008
A quick comment
It's been an interesting Christmas and holiday period chock full of of fascinating work drama, travel delays and cock ups. I love this time of the year! Hang in there whilst I prepare a novel to entertain you all. Happy New Year!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Customer service
A few months ago, the wife of one of my friends was connected through to an India call centre because of a technical query (with a well known product).
She was abused and sworn at by the customer service representative who used every disgusting word known.
The India call centre tried to deny it but caved in when confronted with a recording of the call
India call centres are a growth industry but will be their own doom through poor management and people training skills.
Outsourcers pay cheap for India Call Centre support services but in turn will get customer backlash for their products through unsatisfactory support.
The above video is a funny parody of customer service
I confess. I stole the following comments and video from The Cathrinette Chronicles.
Cathrinette said:
"At one point or another we’ve all been forced to deal with that woman. You know the one that I’m talking about. The one that’s supposed to be helpful, has a look on her face like she’s constantly sniffing a big whiff of poo, and would rather stick her hand in a meat grinder than actually help you.
Most of us are lucky to not have to deal with such “helpful” bitches on a daily basis. We just randomly encounter them, deal with them, and then bitch to all our friends about how the woman was secretly begging us to slap her right in her insolent mouth. It just so happens, that I had the joy and pleasure of actually working with a woman just like this."
She was abused and sworn at by the customer service representative who used every disgusting word known.
The India call centre tried to deny it but caved in when confronted with a recording of the call
India call centres are a growth industry but will be their own doom through poor management and people training skills.
Outsourcers pay cheap for India Call Centre support services but in turn will get customer backlash for their products through unsatisfactory support.
The above video is a funny parody of customer service
I confess. I stole the following comments and video from The Cathrinette Chronicles.
Cathrinette said:
"At one point or another we’ve all been forced to deal with that woman. You know the one that I’m talking about. The one that’s supposed to be helpful, has a look on her face like she’s constantly sniffing a big whiff of poo, and would rather stick her hand in a meat grinder than actually help you.
Most of us are lucky to not have to deal with such “helpful” bitches on a daily basis. We just randomly encounter them, deal with them, and then bitch to all our friends about how the woman was secretly begging us to slap her right in her insolent mouth. It just so happens, that I had the joy and pleasure of actually working with a woman just like this."
Sunday, December 7, 2008
'tis the Mango Season. Time to Make Merry
I adore a mango. I've just purchased a case on special at the supermarket. They're good for you but don't tell the kids that.
For fun and pleasure, a mango ranks with Christmas. How fortunate these great seasons coincide in our part of the world. The innocuous mango has a colourful "history". But we'll talk more about this in a moment.
Same as Christmas, mangos are fun and social. For starters, they make people laugh when at lunchbreak I slop it's heavenly contents down the front of my crisp white Kalvin Klein shirt and Trent Nathan tie. It's even more laughable when I'm obliged to attend a meeting later in the day wearing said stained shirt and tie in an office that thrives on gossip and politics.
When invited to someone's home for dinner around Christmas time, a gift of a box of mangos does the trick. It solves the problem of what to give. A nice safe gift for someone you don't know. They'll remember your magnificent offering for festive seasons to come. "Remember when Foss brought those mangos?" Bring wine and they forget you the next day.
They're good for dinner conversation. Nothing breaks an awkward silence on a first date more perfectly - or subtly introduces the topic of mangos to a lemon-loving colleague better than a mango joke:
Two Jamaican men were throwing stones at a mango tree, trying to hit down a large mango right at the top, when one said to the other: "All de stone we stone, suppose de mango no ripe?" "True," said his friend, "Check it out mon." The first man then climbed the tree, went all the way to the top where the limbs were dangerously thin, felt the mango and came back down. "It ripe," he said to his friend. "We naa fling stone fi nutten." Back down the tree he came and then they began to stone the mango tree again.
Q: What is a feminist's favourite non-phallic fruit?
A: Mango
Q: How many mango farmers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: None. Mangos are cultivated by caterpillars and transported to market on the backs of of lice thus negating the necessity of having a farmer
Knock, knock
Who's there?
A mango
A mango who?
Have you always been able to speak to talking mangos with the ability to knock on doors or is this a new development in your mania?
Q: What do you call a woman with two mangos on her head
A: It's my friend Gertrude. She's mentally disabled and I'll thank you not to make fun of herThe mango attraction is not only enhanced by the eating. It's juicy gossip rating matches that of Britney Spears.
For centuries the people of, at first the Dark Ages, and then the Getting Brighter Ages, had engorged themselves on all the fruits known to man - the plum, the banana, the orange, the tortoise, the melon, the coconut, the apple, and the potato to name but a few - and apathy had begun to set in. Civilisation had become complacent with regards to healthy eating and lusted after the forbidden fruits of cigarettes, cornish pasties and the Aussie meat pie.
Sicknesses and diseases long-considered extinct or, at worst, confined to France such as rickets, scurvy, and Republicanism were sweeping through populations the world over. Something had to be done and someone had to do the something that had to be done before nobody did nothing about the something.
Sadly, nobody did until the latter half of the nineteenth century when popular scientist Isabella di Mango (Italian discoverer of aerobics and popular because of her insistence in performing it nude) accidentally created the world's first mango while trying to perfect the rear body reach near a bowl of overripe peaches and a pear with an inferiority complex.
One quick call to Malaysia to arrange growing rights and royalties, a naked aerobicist dripping in a mango juice advertising campaign, and the mango took the world by storm. As Isabella aged, her popularity, like her often-exposed breasts, sagged, and with it went the soar away success of the new fruit. But like General Douglas MacArthur, it returned to conquer us all
Have a merry mango Christmas
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Christmas office party - the silly season
After weeks of silence, I had this brilliant idea. The clouds disappeared, the sky was blue and goddamm. There it was. A bolt from that blue. A thought to pass on to you about Christmas parties now 'tis the season to make merry.
Even though we are thrust into the middle of economic gloom, (thank you US friends for your clever work) the party continues. A few companies have abandoned the Christmas party but most have not.
What the hell. Did not Nero fiddle on whist Rome burned?
But Sydney Daily Telegraph reporter, Joe Hildibrand, beat me to it. Curse his reporter hide! He got there first and stole my great idea.
But I gotta admit, Hildibrand makes me laugh. I promote him to him to "cool guy" status even though he is the enemy and thiever of great ideas. So read his utterances and enjoy.
Joe Hildebrand Friday, November 21, 2008 Sydney Daily Telegraph
"LIKE any good Catholic, the two main driving forces in my life are guilt and regret.
Psychologists agree that these are vital motivators for a happy and successful
future. If one cannot bask in the twin glories of angst and remorse then what
point life?
Of course to fully harness the benefits one must consistently @#$% things up.
Fortunately I have a natural talent for this but for others not so gifted
there is the Christmas party season.
Obviously all parties have a healthy scope for disgraceful behaviour, however Christmas parties raise the benchmark just that little bit higher.
For example it is not enough simply to throw up and pass out in the toilets; one must throw up and pass out in the wrong toilets.
Likewise a sexual indiscretion cannot be limited to mere infidelity or public exposure if it is to qualify as a genuine water cooler conversation.
It has to involve odd numbers, office equipment and a perversity that eclipses conventional bestiality - such as, for example, an unusual application of a potplant.
Then the next morning when you wake up in someone else’s bed/someone else’s flowerbed/Morocco you have to scratch your head and wait for the horror of the previous night to be gradually unlocked by a painful combination of memory recall and eyewitnesses.
Once this panorama of agony has been fully visited upon you I want you to consider this very important fact: You have a mother who sacrificed everything for you.
I now refer you to the opening sentence again.
The other dangerous thing is that the Christmas party season seems to start earlier and earlier each year, to the point where I haven’t stopped drinking since January.
In fact it just so happens I was at a Christmas party this week, which is lucky given that Christmas parties are the subject of this column.
It was held at a very fancy Italian restaurant that had a whole pig laid out on the table in the middle of the room, although after a while someone told Kim
Kardashian it was time to go home.
The party was also furnished with a range of boutique beers, so as to reassure the various media and lobbyist types who were there to convince themselves they were “connoisseurs’’ and not “alcoholics’’.
I myself commented approvingly on the texture of some 27 beers before wandering out into the street muttering something about infrastructure.
It is here that events are, shall we say, hotly contested by historians.
It may be that I ended up in a ridiculously poncy piano bar drinking a $12.50 beer. It may be that the beer was $7.50 and I dropped $5 on the ground.
It may be that Darrin said he didn’t care whether the beer was $12.50 or $7.50 he sure as hell wasn’t going to be buying one and could we all please go to Gilligan’s.
And there was also the rain. The more it rained, the more we had to stay and the more we had to stay, the more we had to drink - of course I don’t remember actually doing this, I just know it is a fundamental law of physics.
What I also know is that after I woke up and started talking to people throughout the morning everyone was looking at me with a mixture of anger and disgust - which is not unusual in itself but very rare when I am wearing pants.
I immediately rang Darrin to find out if there was something I may have done to have upset anyone and while it was difficult to make out what he was saying over the third chorus of On A Night Like This, I did clearly hear him use the words “absolutely everything’’ and “thanks for the appletini, Gomez’’.
Suddenly my memories of the previous night flashed before my eyes. Unfortunately this comprised only a series of European beer brands such as Peroni, Hahn and Melbourne Bitter.
I then toyed with the possibility that when I was telling various guests about my driving passions in public policy making I may have mixed up the words “infrastructure’’ and “paedophilia’’.
At any rate, it is clear that the transgression extended the capacity of even the most comprehensive group email list and so I offer all of you* this: I’m sorry.
*Except, for legal reasons, the stolen generations."
Monday, October 13, 2008
Let us not be politically correct
We are all too precious these days and should be saying it how it is.
It was spawned around 1980. Now - 30 years later, not a day goes by without another correctness rule chapter added to the fastest growing and now most popular manual in the world. The manual of political correctness. Let us review a few of these pearls of wisdom.
Chapter 20. Thought police say Christmas is a no no. Close it down. It will offend other religions.
Chapter 25. Jovial present giver, Father Christmas is accused of being a lie by correctness gurus. He's in the process of being de-ho ho'd together with the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny (oops! "ho ho" is politically incorrect. See Chapter 207). Winnie the Pooh is out and the books burnt because Winnie is associated with an inappropriate word. Out they all go!
Chapter 8. Not even Enid Blyton's "Noddy" escaped the madness. Noddy was branded a middle-class snob, prompting book and television rewrites to make him more "normal".
Chapter 1. Baby boomers will remember Florence Kate Upton's "Golliwogs". Shock horror. Black! This was the birth of the political correctness manual when the experts glanced at an illustration of a coloured person and decided it was time to act.
In England, a non potically correct citizen erected a barb wire fence to protect his house but was ordered to take it down as authorities were worried intruders might hurt themselves. In Australia, a citizen was asked to take down the Australian National flag flying on a flagpole outside his home as a neighbour considered it offensive.
Has the world gone mad?
The following "Politically Correct Tale of Little Red Riding Hood" by Jim Scanlon puts it all into peerpective..
There once was a young person named Little Red Riding Hood who lived on the edge of a large forest full of endangered owls and rare plants that would probably provide a cure for cancer if only Congress would appropriate the money to study them.
Red Riding Hood lived with a nurture giver whom she sometimes referred to as "mother," although she didn't mean to imply by this term that she would have thought less of the person if a close biological link did not in fact exist.
Nor did she intend to denigrate the equal value of non-traditional households, although she was sorry if this was the impression conveyed.
One day her mother asked her to take a basket of organically grown fruit and mineral water to her grandmother's house.
"But mother, won't this be stealing work from the unionized people who have struggled for years to earn the right to carry all packages between various people in the woods?"
Red Riding Hood's mother assured her that she had called the union boss and got a special compassionate mission exemption form.
"But mother, aren't you oppressing me by ordering me to do this?"
Red Riding Hood's mother pointed out that it was impossible for women to oppress each other, since all women were equally oppressed until all women were free.
"But mother, then shouldn't you have my brother carry the basket, since he's an oppressor, and should learn what it's like to be oppressed?"
And Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her brother was attending a special rally for animal rights, and besides, this wasn't stereotypical women's work, but an empowering deed that would help engender a
feeling of community.
"But won't I be oppressing Grandma, by implying that she's sick and hence unable to independently further her own selfhood?"
Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her grandmother wasn't actually sick or incapacitated or mentally handicapped in any way, although that was not to imply that any of these conditions were inferior to what some people called "health".
Thus Red Riding Hood felt that she could get behind the idea of delivering the basket to her grandmother, and so she set off.
Many people believed that the forest was a foreboding and dangerous place, but Red Riding Hood knew that this was an irrational fear based on cultural paradigms instilled by a patriarchal society that regarded the natural world as an exploitable resource, and hence believed that natural predators were in fact intolerable competitors.
Other people avoided the woods for fear of thieves and deviants, but Red Riding Hood felt that in a truly classless society all marginalised peoples (Nosferatu) would be able to "come out" of the woods and be accepted as valid lifestyle role models.
On her way to Grandma's house, Red Riding Hood passed a woodchopper, and wandered off the path, in order to examine some flowers.
She was startled to find herself standing before a Wolf, who asked her what was in her basket.
Red Riding Hood's teacher had warned her never to talk to strangers, but she was confident in taking control of her own budding sexuality, and chose to dialogue with the Wolf.
She replied, "I am taking my Grandmother some healthful snacks in a gesture of solidarity."
The Wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone."
Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop an alternative and yet entirely valid worldview. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would prefer to be on my way."
Red Riding Hood returned to the main path, and proceeded towards her Grandmother's house. But because his status outside society had freed him from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the Wolf knew of a quicker route to Grandma's house.
He burst into the house and ate Grandma, a course of action affirmative of his nature as a predator. Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist gender role notions, he put on Grandma's nightclothes, crawled under the bedclothes, and awaited developments.
Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said, "Grandma, I have brought you some cruelty free snacks to salute you in your role of wise and nurturing matriarch."
The Wolf said softly "Come closer, child, so that I might see you."
Red Riding Hood said, "Goddess! Grandma, what big eyes you have!"
"You forget that I am optically challenged."
"And Grandma, what an enormous....what a fine nose you have."
"Naturally, I could have had it fixed to help my acting career, but I didn't give in to such societal pressures, my child."
"And Grandma, what very big, sharp teeth you have!"
The Wolf could not take any more of these specist slurs, and, in a reaction appropriate for his accustomed milieu, he leaped out of bed, grabbed Little Red Riding Hood, and opened his jaws so wide that she could see her poor Grandmother cowering in his belly.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Red Riding Hood bravely shouted. "You must request my permission before proceeding to a new level of intimacy!"
The Wolf was so startled by this statement that he loosened his grasp on her.
At the same time, the woodchopper burst into the cottage, brandishing an ax.
"Hands off!" cried the woodchopper.
"And what do you think you're doing?" cried Little Red Riding Hood. "If I let you help me now, I would be expressing a lack of confidence in my own abilities, which would lead to poor self esteem and lower achievement scores on college entrance exams."
"Last chance, sister! Get your hands off that endangered species! This is an FBI sting!" screamed the woodchopper, and when Little Red Riding Hood nonetheless made a sudden motion, he sliced off her head.
"Thank goodness you got here in time," said the Wolf. The brat and her grandmother lured me in here. I thought I was a goner."
"No, I think I'm the real victim, here," said the woodchopper. "I've been dealing with my anger ever since I saw her picking those protected flowers earlier. And now I'm going to have such a trauma. Do you have any aspirin?"
"Sure," said the Wolf.
"Thanks."
"I feel your pain," said the Wolf, and he patted the woodchopper on his firm, well padded back, gave a little belch, and said "Do you have any Quik-Eze?"
It was spawned around 1980. Now - 30 years later, not a day goes by without another correctness rule chapter added to the fastest growing and now most popular manual in the world. The manual of political correctness. Let us review a few of these pearls of wisdom.
Chapter 20. Thought police say Christmas is a no no. Close it down. It will offend other religions.
Chapter 25. Jovial present giver, Father Christmas is accused of being a lie by correctness gurus. He's in the process of being de-ho ho'd together with the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny (oops! "ho ho" is politically incorrect. See Chapter 207). Winnie the Pooh is out and the books burnt because Winnie is associated with an inappropriate word. Out they all go!
Chapter 8. Not even Enid Blyton's "Noddy" escaped the madness. Noddy was branded a middle-class snob, prompting book and television rewrites to make him more "normal".
Chapter 1. Baby boomers will remember Florence Kate Upton's "Golliwogs". Shock horror. Black! This was the birth of the political correctness manual when the experts glanced at an illustration of a coloured person and decided it was time to act.
In England, a non potically correct citizen erected a barb wire fence to protect his house but was ordered to take it down as authorities were worried intruders might hurt themselves. In Australia, a citizen was asked to take down the Australian National flag flying on a flagpole outside his home as a neighbour considered it offensive.
Has the world gone mad?
The following "Politically Correct Tale of Little Red Riding Hood" by Jim Scanlon puts it all into peerpective..
There once was a young person named Little Red Riding Hood who lived on the edge of a large forest full of endangered owls and rare plants that would probably provide a cure for cancer if only Congress would appropriate the money to study them.
Red Riding Hood lived with a nurture giver whom she sometimes referred to as "mother," although she didn't mean to imply by this term that she would have thought less of the person if a close biological link did not in fact exist.
Nor did she intend to denigrate the equal value of non-traditional households, although she was sorry if this was the impression conveyed.
One day her mother asked her to take a basket of organically grown fruit and mineral water to her grandmother's house.
"But mother, won't this be stealing work from the unionized people who have struggled for years to earn the right to carry all packages between various people in the woods?"
Red Riding Hood's mother assured her that she had called the union boss and got a special compassionate mission exemption form.
"But mother, aren't you oppressing me by ordering me to do this?"
Red Riding Hood's mother pointed out that it was impossible for women to oppress each other, since all women were equally oppressed until all women were free.
"But mother, then shouldn't you have my brother carry the basket, since he's an oppressor, and should learn what it's like to be oppressed?"
And Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her brother was attending a special rally for animal rights, and besides, this wasn't stereotypical women's work, but an empowering deed that would help engender a
feeling of community.
"But won't I be oppressing Grandma, by implying that she's sick and hence unable to independently further her own selfhood?"
Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her grandmother wasn't actually sick or incapacitated or mentally handicapped in any way, although that was not to imply that any of these conditions were inferior to what some people called "health".
Thus Red Riding Hood felt that she could get behind the idea of delivering the basket to her grandmother, and so she set off.
Many people believed that the forest was a foreboding and dangerous place, but Red Riding Hood knew that this was an irrational fear based on cultural paradigms instilled by a patriarchal society that regarded the natural world as an exploitable resource, and hence believed that natural predators were in fact intolerable competitors.
Other people avoided the woods for fear of thieves and deviants, but Red Riding Hood felt that in a truly classless society all marginalised peoples (Nosferatu) would be able to "come out" of the woods and be accepted as valid lifestyle role models.
On her way to Grandma's house, Red Riding Hood passed a woodchopper, and wandered off the path, in order to examine some flowers.
She was startled to find herself standing before a Wolf, who asked her what was in her basket.
Red Riding Hood's teacher had warned her never to talk to strangers, but she was confident in taking control of her own budding sexuality, and chose to dialogue with the Wolf.
She replied, "I am taking my Grandmother some healthful snacks in a gesture of solidarity."
The Wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone."
Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop an alternative and yet entirely valid worldview. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would prefer to be on my way."
Red Riding Hood returned to the main path, and proceeded towards her Grandmother's house. But because his status outside society had freed him from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the Wolf knew of a quicker route to Grandma's house.
He burst into the house and ate Grandma, a course of action affirmative of his nature as a predator. Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist gender role notions, he put on Grandma's nightclothes, crawled under the bedclothes, and awaited developments.
Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said, "Grandma, I have brought you some cruelty free snacks to salute you in your role of wise and nurturing matriarch."
The Wolf said softly "Come closer, child, so that I might see you."
Red Riding Hood said, "Goddess! Grandma, what big eyes you have!"
"You forget that I am optically challenged."
"And Grandma, what an enormous....what a fine nose you have."
"Naturally, I could have had it fixed to help my acting career, but I didn't give in to such societal pressures, my child."
"And Grandma, what very big, sharp teeth you have!"
The Wolf could not take any more of these specist slurs, and, in a reaction appropriate for his accustomed milieu, he leaped out of bed, grabbed Little Red Riding Hood, and opened his jaws so wide that she could see her poor Grandmother cowering in his belly.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Red Riding Hood bravely shouted. "You must request my permission before proceeding to a new level of intimacy!"
The Wolf was so startled by this statement that he loosened his grasp on her.
At the same time, the woodchopper burst into the cottage, brandishing an ax.
"Hands off!" cried the woodchopper.
"And what do you think you're doing?" cried Little Red Riding Hood. "If I let you help me now, I would be expressing a lack of confidence in my own abilities, which would lead to poor self esteem and lower achievement scores on college entrance exams."
"Last chance, sister! Get your hands off that endangered species! This is an FBI sting!" screamed the woodchopper, and when Little Red Riding Hood nonetheless made a sudden motion, he sliced off her head.
"Thank goodness you got here in time," said the Wolf. The brat and her grandmother lured me in here. I thought I was a goner."
"No, I think I'm the real victim, here," said the woodchopper. "I've been dealing with my anger ever since I saw her picking those protected flowers earlier. And now I'm going to have such a trauma. Do you have any aspirin?"
"Sure," said the Wolf.
"Thanks."
"I feel your pain," said the Wolf, and he patted the woodchopper on his firm, well padded back, gave a little belch, and said "Do you have any Quik-Eze?"
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Big brother babe wants to sell her virginity
Capitalism is alive and well despite the rough ride in the financial markets the last few days.A former Italian Big Brother contestant wants to sell her virginity for a million Euros (US $1,438,500). Ex-showgirl Raffaele Fico made the offer while posing for racy photographs in an Italian magazine. Ms Fico, 20, a devout Catholic, wants the money so she can buy a house and take acting lessons.
Why lose it to some guy in the backseat of a Toyota when you can make a cool million? It makes sense. But why would you want to pay all that money for such a messy uneventful experience?
I thought Catholics were against prostitution. It must be something in the water or being a Big Brother contestant that makes them do strange things.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Wind-breaking mom a star of the show
Thanks and all credits to http://tauntvortex.blogspot.com/ for this flatulating story
DeFuniak Springs, FL - Part of the universal experience of being a teenager is enduring the slings and arrows of embarrassing words and deeds from their own parents. Perhaps no teen in America is more keenly aware of this than 14 year old Hannah Faye Foster of DeFuniak Springs.
"It's Gosh-awful embarrassing," says the aspiring young actress. "I mean, I'm glad mom tries to be supportive of me and all, but then she'll sit right in the front row during one of my musicals, and it happens."
"It" is the extreme flatulence of her mother, Beverly Foster. "Like, I had the lead role of Becky Thatcher in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer," Hannah elaborated, "and in the scene Tom's trying to impress me and I'm supposed to be all coy and everything, and then mom just lets one rip. It totally blows."
Beverly Foster's bouts of wind-breaking are notoriously loud and frequent. According to one patron of the DeFuniak Springs Community Playhouse who wished to remain anonymous, Mrs. Foster can often be heard as far back as section W, "even during a musical with the full orchestra playing." "The frequency varies," said another theater-goer, "from a low of about 4 during The King and I, up to about 11 times during Oklahoma. But that makes sense."
Much to Hannah's chagrin, Mrs. Foster has season tickets for her front row seats. Mrs. Foster claims that she simply loves to watch her daughter perform, as any proud parent would. "But I don't do it on purpose," she insists. "I've been to a bunch of doctors, and they just can't find anything. I've even cut back on broccoli, P.F. Changs and Hot Pockets, and it still happens."
Hannah says she tries to empathize with her mother, but notes that her gas-passing seems to be at its worst during her musicals. "She never farts during Coby's baseball games." To Hannah's credit, despite having dialogue punctuated by ear-splitting flatulence, she never forgets her lines."
The bright stage lights help," said Hannah. "I can't really see her, so I just pretend it's Mr. Bartlett*. But my eyes will still water a lot."
Despite her spunky "show must go on" attitude, Hannah Faye Foster is frequently the target of local dinner theater critic Lourdes Murilo. After a recent performance of Oklahoma, Murilo said of Hannah Faye's performance : "Her acting is horrid. She truly is the black hole of 8th grade talent. Watching her makes me look forward to the sequel to Gigli. If anything, her mother's disturbing flatulence is a pleasant distraction from Hannah's disturbing acting." Murilo went on to describe Hannah's awkward dancing as "An inspired combination of Elaine's 'kick' dance on Seinfeld and Dieter on 'Sprockets' from Saturday Night Live."
Look for Hannah Faye in the DeFuniak Springs Community Playhouse Production of "The Matrix" in November, where she will revive the role of Trinity. The Taunt Vortex recommends the balcony seating.* the kindly school bus driver who eats "Slim Jims" by the caseload.
DeFuniak Springs, FL - Part of the universal experience of being a teenager is enduring the slings and arrows of embarrassing words and deeds from their own parents. Perhaps no teen in America is more keenly aware of this than 14 year old Hannah Faye Foster of DeFuniak Springs.
"It's Gosh-awful embarrassing," says the aspiring young actress. "I mean, I'm glad mom tries to be supportive of me and all, but then she'll sit right in the front row during one of my musicals, and it happens."
"It" is the extreme flatulence of her mother, Beverly Foster. "Like, I had the lead role of Becky Thatcher in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer," Hannah elaborated, "and in the scene Tom's trying to impress me and I'm supposed to be all coy and everything, and then mom just lets one rip. It totally blows."
Beverly Foster's bouts of wind-breaking are notoriously loud and frequent. According to one patron of the DeFuniak Springs Community Playhouse who wished to remain anonymous, Mrs. Foster can often be heard as far back as section W, "even during a musical with the full orchestra playing." "The frequency varies," said another theater-goer, "from a low of about 4 during The King and I, up to about 11 times during Oklahoma. But that makes sense."
Much to Hannah's chagrin, Mrs. Foster has season tickets for her front row seats. Mrs. Foster claims that she simply loves to watch her daughter perform, as any proud parent would. "But I don't do it on purpose," she insists. "I've been to a bunch of doctors, and they just can't find anything. I've even cut back on broccoli, P.F. Changs and Hot Pockets, and it still happens."
Hannah says she tries to empathize with her mother, but notes that her gas-passing seems to be at its worst during her musicals. "She never farts during Coby's baseball games." To Hannah's credit, despite having dialogue punctuated by ear-splitting flatulence, she never forgets her lines."
The bright stage lights help," said Hannah. "I can't really see her, so I just pretend it's Mr. Bartlett*. But my eyes will still water a lot."
Despite her spunky "show must go on" attitude, Hannah Faye Foster is frequently the target of local dinner theater critic Lourdes Murilo. After a recent performance of Oklahoma, Murilo said of Hannah Faye's performance : "Her acting is horrid. She truly is the black hole of 8th grade talent. Watching her makes me look forward to the sequel to Gigli. If anything, her mother's disturbing flatulence is a pleasant distraction from Hannah's disturbing acting." Murilo went on to describe Hannah's awkward dancing as "An inspired combination of Elaine's 'kick' dance on Seinfeld and Dieter on 'Sprockets' from Saturday Night Live."
Look for Hannah Faye in the DeFuniak Springs Community Playhouse Production of "The Matrix" in November, where she will revive the role of Trinity. The Taunt Vortex recommends the balcony seating.* the kindly school bus driver who eats "Slim Jims" by the caseload.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Can I borrow a couple of million?
It costs $2 million plus and labelled the world's priciest car.
Ok. I'm not a car freak but it would be good for my image to cruise around town in this beast. Problem is, I would be scared to park it anywhere other than the vault of a bank. One scratch would cost zillions to repair. I couldn't just leave it parked in the street as it would stand out like a sore thumb and get knocked off by an enterprising car thief and rebirthed in another country in the blink of an eye.
Another problem. It uses 40 litres of fuel per 100 kilometres in city traffic or would run out of fuel in 12 minutes travelling at 250km/h. With the price of fuel these days, it means I would have to get a personal loan and not eat to fill the tank the necessary number of times each week to keep the thing running.
Built by Volkswagon, this Bugatti Veyron is a mid-engined sports car that can rocket to 100km/h in 2.5 seconds. On the autobahns of Europe it can legally reach speeds of more than 400km/h
End of daydream. I have to settle for a scooter.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
It's great to be back!
I've returned from my somewhat extended and disappointing trip. Let's not talk about that!
Damn. It's good to be home again.
But on a brighter note, first thing I see is this crazy story about a women's revenge against her unfaithful husband. It' a rib tickler!
The story unfolds...
Scorned wife's eBay revenge against husband
August 14, 2008 12:00am Sydney Daily telegraph
A SCORNED Queensland woman is literally airing her husband's dirty laundry on a global scale by auctioning his mistress's knickers on eBay.
In a spiteful listing on eBay Australia, the jilted woman is auctioning off a pair of lacy black underpants "size humongous" and an empty condom wrapper "size small" found in her bed after her husband allegedly engaged in an extramarital affair with a woman named Kylie.
The seller, 'Anna' , says: "They are so huge I thought they may make someone a nice shawl or, even better, something for Halloween perhaps."
The eBay listing, entitled "Empty condom packet & a photo of The Tart's knickers", also comes with a detailed account of the events leading up to her discovery, in which the woman returned from work to find her husband of 22 years watching a DVD and discouraging her from entering their bedroom.
Read the incredible detailed account posted on eBay - hell have no fury like a woman scorned
In the room she found the empty condom wrapper under his pillow and "the Tart's knickers . . . at the foot of the bed".
Anna also promises that this listing will not be the last in the matter, stating that her husband's Harley Hog is "the next item that will probably be sold on eBay at a start price of 99c and, of course, with no reserve!" Several bidders have already expressed interest in the motorcycle.
The embarrassing eBay listing, which does not name the husband, almost did not make the site though, as it was first taken down due to eBay's policy against selling secondhand underwear, spokeswoman Inessa Jackson said.
"We let her know about the policy and instead she's now selling a photograph of the offending knickers," she told The Courier-Mail.
"eBay does connect colourful buyers with colourful sellers and I wouldn't be surprised if someone did buy these items, though I couldn't speculate on who would buy them or why.
"This is obviously very therapeutic for this woman and it must be a great channel for her views on cheating and the sanctity of marriage."
The listing, which has a starting price of just 69 US cents, had attracted 49 bids by 1.20pm today and a top offer of $US142.50. Follow the bidding at eBay here.
More than 2500 have viewed the auction, however, and with five days to go the listing has also been added to eBay Australia's Best of eBay site.
And she says ...
What scorned wife told eBay over husband's affair
THIS is the description posed by the scorned Queensland wife on eBay describing how she came to try to auction his soiled goods and how she felt about his affair. Everything below appears in the way it was written.
UP FOR AUCTION?ARE ONE EMPTY ANSELL CONDOM PACKET (SIZE small)?
AND A?PHOTO OF?THE PAIR OF?? 'THE TART'S' ?BLACK LACEY KNICKERS (SIZE HUMONGOUS)
IT SEEMS?I HAD VIOLATED EBAY'S SECONDHAND CLOTHES POLICY BY OFFERING 'THE TART'S' (HER NAME'S KYLIE i HAVE SINCE FOUND OUT) ACTUAL KNICKERS?UP FOR AUCTION PREVIOUSLY
I CAN ONLY NOW?OFFER A PHOTO OF THE SAID?KNICKERS AND HAVE ADJUSTED THE STARTING PRICE ACCORDINGLY........ PERSONALLY, I DID THINK .99c WAS A BIT AMBITIOUS BUT, AS THEY ARE SO HUGE, I THOUGHT THEY MAY MAKE SOMEONE A NICE SHAWL OR EVEN BETTER, ?SOMETHING FOR HALLOWEEN PERHAPS,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
?
SO HERE'S THE STORY SO FAR.........
Once upon a time there was a women who, after 22 years of marriage, found?evidence that?the soon to be ex-husband, had had 'The Tart' in their marital bed?this very afternoon.? This low life deceitful son-of-a-person ( I'm all for political correctness) blatently denied that this event?took place?even though the evidence?is irrefutable and is now up for auction on e-bay.
The first tiny warning bells?started ringing?around about?the same time a text message was received by the wife stating 'Where are you darling, I'm waiting'.? As the wife had left the soon to be?ex-husband at home?only a couple of?hours earlier to go to work, she thought it somewhat strange getting a message of that ilk from him.?After a while curiosity got the better of her and with some trepidation, she decided to go home after telling her boss she had an upset stomach, which was no lie.? When she arrived home an hour or so later, everything seemed?normal?but she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.?? His car was parked in the drive-way where she had seen it earlier on and when she got inside, there he was infront of the T.V. watching a DVD as usual.? She explained?she wasn't feeling too well and said she was going?to lie down for a while. His re-action to this was a bit odd to say the least. 'Why don't you lie down here on the couch for a while and I'll get you a cup of tea', he said.?That was her first clue that something really was amiss here. Call?him chauvinistic if you?want and you would be right?because this?low-life had never made her a cup of tea in over 22 years of marriage.... so why?offer now.? Yep, you guessed it, he didn't want her going into the bedroom.... now why was that you may ask.? She concluded later that 'The 'Tart'?must have been?in the process of getting her ass dressed and out of there pronto when?she had unexpectedly arrived home. ?Of course she made a bee line for the bedroom then, with soon to be ex-hubby on her heels and apart from an unmistakable aroma of some cheap perfume?resembling nail polish remover?hanging in the air, nothing seemed to be different - except for one thing.? ?Oh, you men, you will never understand why we have those, annoying to you though they may be, throw pillows and cushions on a bed and what they mean to us women.? They are aesthetically important to?our decor?and when you see?them piled up on a chair in?a corner of the room, instead of on the bed where you arranged them a few hours ago,?those tiny warning bells you heard earlier were?now starting to?sound like 'Big Ben'.? Walking over to the bed,?she started slowly taking?it apart whilst?the soon to be ex-husband stood in the doorway watching.? Initially, when she first took?the doona cover off, she was sure he just thought she was going to have a lie down but he was oh so very wrong.? After the doona was deposited on the floor, she picked up her pillow, turned it over, checked under where it had been and then threw it on the floor.? Then came his pillow, she picked it up and here was where she found the first of the two items up for auction -?an empty condom packet.? With forefinger and thumb, it was gently lifted?from the bed and dangled in front of?the soon to be ex-husband's nose.? He had, by then, turned a?lovely shade of red and you could see his mind was racing,... 'how the hell am I going to get out of this'.? He then said the only inane thing he could come up with at the time which was, 'What's that?'.?As a couple, they had not used condoms for many years, or at least she hadn't,?but surely that didn't mean he could have forgotten what one looked like!? For some reason, she continued to strip the bed and when the top sheet was?removed the location of the 2nd item up for auction, 'The Tart's' knickers, were discovered at the foot of the bed.?
Explanations were?needed pronto?and would you beleive it, he actually came up with some.? They were all a pack of lies and instead of admitting it, apologizing and starting to grovel, this is what he came up with.? 'I dropped my phone down the toilet, I didn't want to put my hands down there and I could't get it out with the toilet brush so I used?a condom because I couldn't find?any rubber gloves'.? Well, well, well, that was thinking on your feet eh!? She thought she had heard it all now but figured she would see how big a hole he really was?keen to dig for himself so she then asked.?' When was that then and?where did you get the condom from?'.? He replied, 'It happened just after you left for work and I rummaged around and found one in the?pocket of an old jacket in the wardrobe'. 'So how is your phone then, is?it working?' she asked...? 'No, it's stuffed', he replied. 'So how do you explain sending me a text?message a couple of hours after I was at work then'.? 'What message? It wasn't from me, my phone's not working', he replied but?noticed he?had gone a funny shade of green as it began to sink in that he had actually sent the text to her by mistake.?'What about these knickers then, what are they doing in our bed and whose are they', she asked thinking to herself, this will be good.? She wasn't disappointed, as blatant as lies go, it was a classic.? 'Sorry love, I've been meaning to tell you for years but I am a closet transvestite and they are mine'.?
10 out of 10 for trying buddy but your out of here........? systematically his clothes were gathered up and thrown out the front door along with?'The 'Tart's' knickers which, after second thoughts, were scooped up and retrieved.? YES, there really is a God for?it started to rain then.??Not just that fine rain which gets on your damn nerves but bucket loads of?torrential rain which?the soon to be ex-husband found himself standing in?whilst calling the soon to be ex-missus all the names under the sun. He?was gathering?up his wet soggy clothes and?the photo she had thrown at him of them outside the church on their wedding day (she thought that maybe a nice touch) when?he screamed out for his car keys and wallet. Off she went to get them and with no hesitation, handed them over and told?him to get lost in no uncertain terms then watched as he drove away.? Dangling in her hand was the key she had slipped off his keyring, to the soon to be ex-husband's 'Harley Hog', his pride and joy - which?brings me nicely to the next item?that will probably be sold on?Ebay at a start price of.99c and of course, with no?reserve!?
Damn. It's good to be home again.
But on a brighter note, first thing I see is this crazy story about a women's revenge against her unfaithful husband. It' a rib tickler!
The story unfolds...
Scorned wife's eBay revenge against husband
August 14, 2008 12:00am Sydney Daily telegraph
A SCORNED Queensland woman is literally airing her husband's dirty laundry on a global scale by auctioning his mistress's knickers on eBay.
In a spiteful listing on eBay Australia, the jilted woman is auctioning off a pair of lacy black underpants "size humongous" and an empty condom wrapper "size small" found in her bed after her husband allegedly engaged in an extramarital affair with a woman named Kylie.
The seller, 'Anna' , says: "They are so huge I thought they may make someone a nice shawl or, even better, something for Halloween perhaps."
The eBay listing, entitled "Empty condom packet & a photo of The Tart's knickers", also comes with a detailed account of the events leading up to her discovery, in which the woman returned from work to find her husband of 22 years watching a DVD and discouraging her from entering their bedroom.
Read the incredible detailed account posted on eBay - hell have no fury like a woman scorned
In the room she found the empty condom wrapper under his pillow and "the Tart's knickers . . . at the foot of the bed".
Anna also promises that this listing will not be the last in the matter, stating that her husband's Harley Hog is "the next item that will probably be sold on eBay at a start price of 99c and, of course, with no reserve!" Several bidders have already expressed interest in the motorcycle.
The embarrassing eBay listing, which does not name the husband, almost did not make the site though, as it was first taken down due to eBay's policy against selling secondhand underwear, spokeswoman Inessa Jackson said.
"We let her know about the policy and instead she's now selling a photograph of the offending knickers," she told The Courier-Mail.
"eBay does connect colourful buyers with colourful sellers and I wouldn't be surprised if someone did buy these items, though I couldn't speculate on who would buy them or why.
"This is obviously very therapeutic for this woman and it must be a great channel for her views on cheating and the sanctity of marriage."
The listing, which has a starting price of just 69 US cents, had attracted 49 bids by 1.20pm today and a top offer of $US142.50. Follow the bidding at eBay here.
More than 2500 have viewed the auction, however, and with five days to go the listing has also been added to eBay Australia's Best of eBay site.
And she says ...
What scorned wife told eBay over husband's affair
THIS is the description posed by the scorned Queensland wife on eBay describing how she came to try to auction his soiled goods and how she felt about his affair. Everything below appears in the way it was written.
UP FOR AUCTION?ARE ONE EMPTY ANSELL CONDOM PACKET (SIZE small)?
AND A?PHOTO OF?THE PAIR OF?? 'THE TART'S' ?BLACK LACEY KNICKERS (SIZE HUMONGOUS)
IT SEEMS?I HAD VIOLATED EBAY'S SECONDHAND CLOTHES POLICY BY OFFERING 'THE TART'S' (HER NAME'S KYLIE i HAVE SINCE FOUND OUT) ACTUAL KNICKERS?UP FOR AUCTION PREVIOUSLY
I CAN ONLY NOW?OFFER A PHOTO OF THE SAID?KNICKERS AND HAVE ADJUSTED THE STARTING PRICE ACCORDINGLY........ PERSONALLY, I DID THINK .99c WAS A BIT AMBITIOUS BUT, AS THEY ARE SO HUGE, I THOUGHT THEY MAY MAKE SOMEONE A NICE SHAWL OR EVEN BETTER, ?SOMETHING FOR HALLOWEEN PERHAPS,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
?
SO HERE'S THE STORY SO FAR.........
Once upon a time there was a women who, after 22 years of marriage, found?evidence that?the soon to be ex-husband, had had 'The Tart' in their marital bed?this very afternoon.? This low life deceitful son-of-a-person ( I'm all for political correctness) blatently denied that this event?took place?even though the evidence?is irrefutable and is now up for auction on e-bay.
The first tiny warning bells?started ringing?around about?the same time a text message was received by the wife stating 'Where are you darling, I'm waiting'.? As the wife had left the soon to be?ex-husband at home?only a couple of?hours earlier to go to work, she thought it somewhat strange getting a message of that ilk from him.?After a while curiosity got the better of her and with some trepidation, she decided to go home after telling her boss she had an upset stomach, which was no lie.? When she arrived home an hour or so later, everything seemed?normal?but she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.?? His car was parked in the drive-way where she had seen it earlier on and when she got inside, there he was infront of the T.V. watching a DVD as usual.? She explained?she wasn't feeling too well and said she was going?to lie down for a while. His re-action to this was a bit odd to say the least. 'Why don't you lie down here on the couch for a while and I'll get you a cup of tea', he said.?That was her first clue that something really was amiss here. Call?him chauvinistic if you?want and you would be right?because this?low-life had never made her a cup of tea in over 22 years of marriage.... so why?offer now.? Yep, you guessed it, he didn't want her going into the bedroom.... now why was that you may ask.? She concluded later that 'The 'Tart'?must have been?in the process of getting her ass dressed and out of there pronto when?she had unexpectedly arrived home. ?Of course she made a bee line for the bedroom then, with soon to be ex-hubby on her heels and apart from an unmistakable aroma of some cheap perfume?resembling nail polish remover?hanging in the air, nothing seemed to be different - except for one thing.? ?Oh, you men, you will never understand why we have those, annoying to you though they may be, throw pillows and cushions on a bed and what they mean to us women.? They are aesthetically important to?our decor?and when you see?them piled up on a chair in?a corner of the room, instead of on the bed where you arranged them a few hours ago,?those tiny warning bells you heard earlier were?now starting to?sound like 'Big Ben'.? Walking over to the bed,?she started slowly taking?it apart whilst?the soon to be ex-husband stood in the doorway watching.? Initially, when she first took?the doona cover off, she was sure he just thought she was going to have a lie down but he was oh so very wrong.? After the doona was deposited on the floor, she picked up her pillow, turned it over, checked under where it had been and then threw it on the floor.? Then came his pillow, she picked it up and here was where she found the first of the two items up for auction -?an empty condom packet.? With forefinger and thumb, it was gently lifted?from the bed and dangled in front of?the soon to be ex-husband's nose.? He had, by then, turned a?lovely shade of red and you could see his mind was racing,... 'how the hell am I going to get out of this'.? He then said the only inane thing he could come up with at the time which was, 'What's that?'.?As a couple, they had not used condoms for many years, or at least she hadn't,?but surely that didn't mean he could have forgotten what one looked like!? For some reason, she continued to strip the bed and when the top sheet was?removed the location of the 2nd item up for auction, 'The Tart's' knickers, were discovered at the foot of the bed.?
Explanations were?needed pronto?and would you beleive it, he actually came up with some.? They were all a pack of lies and instead of admitting it, apologizing and starting to grovel, this is what he came up with.? 'I dropped my phone down the toilet, I didn't want to put my hands down there and I could't get it out with the toilet brush so I used?a condom because I couldn't find?any rubber gloves'.? Well, well, well, that was thinking on your feet eh!? She thought she had heard it all now but figured she would see how big a hole he really was?keen to dig for himself so she then asked.?' When was that then and?where did you get the condom from?'.? He replied, 'It happened just after you left for work and I rummaged around and found one in the?pocket of an old jacket in the wardrobe'. 'So how is your phone then, is?it working?' she asked...? 'No, it's stuffed', he replied. 'So how do you explain sending me a text?message a couple of hours after I was at work then'.? 'What message? It wasn't from me, my phone's not working', he replied but?noticed he?had gone a funny shade of green as it began to sink in that he had actually sent the text to her by mistake.?'What about these knickers then, what are they doing in our bed and whose are they', she asked thinking to herself, this will be good.? She wasn't disappointed, as blatant as lies go, it was a classic.? 'Sorry love, I've been meaning to tell you for years but I am a closet transvestite and they are mine'.?
10 out of 10 for trying buddy but your out of here........? systematically his clothes were gathered up and thrown out the front door along with?'The 'Tart's' knickers which, after second thoughts, were scooped up and retrieved.? YES, there really is a God for?it started to rain then.??Not just that fine rain which gets on your damn nerves but bucket loads of?torrential rain which?the soon to be ex-husband found himself standing in?whilst calling the soon to be ex-missus all the names under the sun. He?was gathering?up his wet soggy clothes and?the photo she had thrown at him of them outside the church on their wedding day (she thought that maybe a nice touch) when?he screamed out for his car keys and wallet. Off she went to get them and with no hesitation, handed them over and told?him to get lost in no uncertain terms then watched as he drove away.? Dangling in her hand was the key she had slipped off his keyring, to the soon to be ex-husband's 'Harley Hog', his pride and joy - which?brings me nicely to the next item?that will probably be sold on?Ebay at a start price of.99c and of course, with no?reserve!?
Monday, July 7, 2008
Conundrums
I'm overseas but thinking of you all! Read this and consider these serious matters whilst I conduct commerce.
· 1. If you take an Oriental person and spin him around several times, does he become disoriented?
· 2. If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren't people from Holland called Holes?
· 3. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
· 4. If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
· 5. If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?
· 6. Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?
· 7. When cheese gets its picture taken, what does it say?
· 8. Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist but a person who drives a race car not called a racist?
· 9. Why are a wise man and a wise guy opposites?
· 10. Why do overlook and oversee mean opposite things?
· 11. Why isn't the number 11 pronounced onety one?
· 12. "I am" is reportedly the shortest sentence in the English language. Could it be that "I do" is the longest sentence?
· 13. If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn't it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys deranged,models deposed, tree surgeons debarked, and dry cleaners depressed?
· 14. What hair colour do they put on the driver's licenses of bald men?
· 15. I thought about how mothers feed their babies with tiny little spoons and forks so I wondered what do Chinese mothers use? Toothpicks?
· 16. Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do, write to them? Why don't they just put their pictures on the postage stamps so posties can look for them while they deliver the mail?
· 17. You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.
· 18. No one ever says, "It's only a game" when their team is winning.
· 19. Ever wonder about those people who spend $3 on those little bottles of Evian water? Try spelling Evian backwards: NAÏVE
· 20. Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?
· 21. If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhoea does that mean that one out of five enjoys it?
· 1. If you take an Oriental person and spin him around several times, does he become disoriented?
· 2. If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren't people from Holland called Holes?
· 3. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
· 4. If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
· 5. If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?
· 6. Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?
· 7. When cheese gets its picture taken, what does it say?
· 8. Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist but a person who drives a race car not called a racist?
· 9. Why are a wise man and a wise guy opposites?
· 10. Why do overlook and oversee mean opposite things?
· 11. Why isn't the number 11 pronounced onety one?
· 12. "I am" is reportedly the shortest sentence in the English language. Could it be that "I do" is the longest sentence?
· 13. If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn't it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys deranged,models deposed, tree surgeons debarked, and dry cleaners depressed?
· 14. What hair colour do they put on the driver's licenses of bald men?
· 15. I thought about how mothers feed their babies with tiny little spoons and forks so I wondered what do Chinese mothers use? Toothpicks?
· 16. Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do, write to them? Why don't they just put their pictures on the postage stamps so posties can look for them while they deliver the mail?
· 17. You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.
· 18. No one ever says, "It's only a game" when their team is winning.
· 19. Ever wonder about those people who spend $3 on those little bottles of Evian water? Try spelling Evian backwards: NAÏVE
· 20. Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?
· 21. If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhoea does that mean that one out of five enjoys it?
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Rum the remedy for snake bite on penis
A MAN bitten on the penis by a deadly snake has told how he used a cold rum can to soothe the pain while he rang his mother to say a final goodbye.
"I thought I was gone," Daryl Zutt said of his now notorious encounter with a brown snake during a roadside toilet stop in remote far north Queensland, Australia, The Cairns Post reported.
"I thought, ‘Maybe, this is it. Maybe, I’m gonna cark it(die)’."
The Cairns Post revealed details of the bizarre encounter two weeks ago but the identity of the victim remained unknown until Mr Zutt came forward to tell how the brown snake took a near-fatal swipe as he relieved himself.
"I squatted down … I reckon I must’ve nearly sat on his head," he said.
"As soon as I felt it, I yelled.
"It really hurt.
"When it happened, I knew in the back of my mind it was a snake.
"I seen him coming out from between my legs."
He said he tried to remain calm as he inspected the damage.
"He got me about halfway down," he said. "I saw fang marks and a bit of blood come out."
Mr Zutt's friend drove him to a medical centre before he was moved to a hospital for further tests which showed he was not envenomated.
"They’ve been saying things like ‘It was a trouser snake fight’ and ‘He (the snake) saw the competition and got scared’," Mr Zutt said.
"Once they knew I was right, the jokes came out."
"I thought I was gone," Daryl Zutt said of his now notorious encounter with a brown snake during a roadside toilet stop in remote far north Queensland, Australia, The Cairns Post reported.
"I thought, ‘Maybe, this is it. Maybe, I’m gonna cark it(die)’."
The Cairns Post revealed details of the bizarre encounter two weeks ago but the identity of the victim remained unknown until Mr Zutt came forward to tell how the brown snake took a near-fatal swipe as he relieved himself.
"I squatted down … I reckon I must’ve nearly sat on his head," he said.
"As soon as I felt it, I yelled.
"It really hurt.
"When it happened, I knew in the back of my mind it was a snake.
"I seen him coming out from between my legs."
He said he tried to remain calm as he inspected the damage.
"He got me about halfway down," he said. "I saw fang marks and a bit of blood come out."
Mr Zutt's friend drove him to a medical centre before he was moved to a hospital for further tests which showed he was not envenomated.
"They’ve been saying things like ‘It was a trouser snake fight’ and ‘He (the snake) saw the competition and got scared’," Mr Zutt said.
"Once they knew I was right, the jokes came out."
Stick It Up...
There are more stickers than you can poke a stick at, stickers on cars and stickers on buses, stickers on walls and poles and bags and boxes of fags and bins of trash. As a society, we’re stuck with stickers and that sucks. 
I don’t how this started, or when, or why. Presumably, someone forgot to write something somewhere, an oversight that forced him to write it somewhere else, on something that could be adhered to the previous thing. A sticker is thus a confession of failure, an admission of a job not quite complete. Like those smackdown utterances that only spring to mind once the argument has been long lost and won, a sticker is but a pathetic afterthought, newfound evidence for last year’s trial. The only honest sticker would read: “I am not altogether happy with this thing”.
I don’t how this started, or when, or why. Presumably, someone forgot to write something somewhere, an oversight that forced him to write it somewhere else, on something that could be adhered to the previous thing. A sticker is thus a confession of failure, an admission of a job not quite complete. Like those smackdown utterances that only spring to mind once the argument has been long lost and won, a sticker is but a pathetic afterthought, newfound evidence for last year’s trial. The only honest sticker would read: “I am not altogether happy with this thing”.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
World's Longest Pizza Line
AUSTRALIA has a new culinary world record to boast about - but probably not too loudly.It's for the world's longest line of pizzas, beating the previous record set in the United States by just one metre. Thousands of spectators flocked to the Italian hub of Leichhardt, in Sydney's innerwest, to witness the record - 826 freshly cooked pizzas, stretching 221 metres. Twenty-five chefs used 500kg of flour, 250 litres of tomato sauce and 350kg of mozzarella cheese. After the Guinness World Record adjudicator deemed the record broken, the pizzas where donated to a charity to feed the homeless and disadvantaged. The previous pizza line record of 220 metres was set just three weeks ago in Fort Rustico, Florida.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Official Stationmaster
If you like cute animals, read about wonder cat
IN times of need, Japanese say they can even ask the cat for help. In this town in western Japan, people look to Tama, a nine-year-old cat working as master of an unmanned train station.
The tortoiseshell coloured creature, born and raised at Kishi Station on the provincial Kishigawa Line, wears a formal uniform cap of Wakayama Electric Railway and calmly watches passing passengers who greet her.
There are 10 train stations on the 14.3km line.
"Tama is the only stationmaster as we have to reduce personnel costs. You say you could ask for the cat's help, but she is actually bringing luck to us," Wakayama Electric spokeswoman Keiko Yamaki said.
The company feeds her in lieu of salary.
Tama was born from a stray cat brought to the station by a cleaner and kept by Toshiko Koyama, a local who runs a grocery store next door.
The station went unmanned in April 2006 as the line was losing money. But Tama stuck around.
She rose to national stardom in January 2007 as the railway company formally appointed her as "stationmaster".
Her appointment had an immediately positive effect, boosting the number of passengers using the line in January by 17 percent from a year earlier.
For the year to March 2007, the number of passengers rose to 2.1 million, up 10 percent from the previous 12 months, according to Yamaki.
Happy with her successful job as stationmaster, the company promoted Tama to "super-stationmaster" in January this year, making her "the only female in a managerial position" in the company's 36-strong workforce.
"She now holds the fifth highest position in the company," Yamaki joked.
In reward for the promotion, Tama got a new "office".
The stationmaster's office, a renovated former ticket booth at the station, opened in April with the attendance of Kinokawa Mayor Shinji Nakamura and Wakayama Electric president Mitsunobu Kojima.
The office guarantees her some privacy.
"She declines to relieve herself when passengers are looking. We set the toilet where passengers can't see," Yamaki said.
Those who want to greet her must be careful so as not to miss her.
"She works nine to five and takes Sundays off," Yamaki said.
Tama commutes with Koyama, the grocery store operator, from a shed next to the station. As Koyama tells her, "Ms Stationmaster, it's time to work," Tama comes along to the station, Yamaki said.
The stationmaster is set to appear in a French documentary film, being directed by Myriam Tonelotto, about wonder cats from around the world.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Most Expensive Burger - a one shirt rating?
As a burger connoisseur I have a fine appreciation of this burger story from Reuters. My local burger shop offers lashings of everything - tomato, cheese, lettuce, bacon, egg, beetroot topped with a sauce of your choice all in a fluffy big bread bun. It's something to die for. After consuming this culinary delight, it becomes necessary to change my shirt as burger remains and sauce on one's clothing are not acceptable when mixing in polite society. I give my local burger retailer a one shirt burger rating. The burger connoisseur one shirt rating is equivalent to that of a 5 star hotel. Cost of burger, $7. Cost of shirt cleaning, $4.NEW YORK (Reuters) - Its creators admit it is the ultimate in decadence: a $175 hamburger.
The Wall Street Burger Shoppe just raised its price from $150 to assure its designation as the costliest burger in the city as determined by Pocket Change, an online newsletter about the most expensive things in New York.
"Wall Street has good days and bad days. We wanted to have the everyday burger (for $4) ... and then something special if you really have a good day on Wall Street," said co-owner Heather Tierney.
The burger, created by chef and co-owner Kevin O'Connell, seeks to justify its price with a Kobe beef patty, lots of black truffles, seared foie gras, aged Gruyere cheese, wild mushrooms and flecks of gold leaf on a brioche bun.
The eatery sells 20 or 25 per month in the fine dining room upstairs versus hundreds of $4 burgers each day at the diner counter downstairs, Tierney said.
Pocket Change previously designated the double truffle burger at Daniel Boulud's DB Bistro Moderne as the most expensive at $120, and the Burger Shoppe set out to top that.
Boulud's creation -- available only during black truffle season from December to March -- rose to $150 this past season, so the Burger Shoppe raised its price on Monday to $175.
"Our burger is not about the price," said Georgette Farkas, a Boulud spokeswoman. "If you are making something concerned only about the price, you are off in the wrong direction."
Without truffles, Boulud's burger costs $32. It has a ground sirloin patty stuffed with red wine braised short ribs.
O'Connell said the Burger Shoppe was "finding the ultimate expression of each one of the ingredients."
"The concept was like a mushroom-bacon-Swiss cheese burger, which is my favorite sort of burger," he said.
The burger comes with golden truffle mayonnaise, Belgian-style fries and a mixed greens and tomato salad. O'Connell pairs the dish with many fine wines, a lager or a toasted brown beer, or ginger ale.
The Wall Street Burger Shoppe just raised its price from $150 to assure its designation as the costliest burger in the city as determined by Pocket Change, an online newsletter about the most expensive things in New York.
"Wall Street has good days and bad days. We wanted to have the everyday burger (for $4) ... and then something special if you really have a good day on Wall Street," said co-owner Heather Tierney.
The burger, created by chef and co-owner Kevin O'Connell, seeks to justify its price with a Kobe beef patty, lots of black truffles, seared foie gras, aged Gruyere cheese, wild mushrooms and flecks of gold leaf on a brioche bun.
The eatery sells 20 or 25 per month in the fine dining room upstairs versus hundreds of $4 burgers each day at the diner counter downstairs, Tierney said.
Pocket Change previously designated the double truffle burger at Daniel Boulud's DB Bistro Moderne as the most expensive at $120, and the Burger Shoppe set out to top that.
Boulud's creation -- available only during black truffle season from December to March -- rose to $150 this past season, so the Burger Shoppe raised its price on Monday to $175.
"Our burger is not about the price," said Georgette Farkas, a Boulud spokeswoman. "If you are making something concerned only about the price, you are off in the wrong direction."
Without truffles, Boulud's burger costs $32. It has a ground sirloin patty stuffed with red wine braised short ribs.
O'Connell said the Burger Shoppe was "finding the ultimate expression of each one of the ingredients."
"The concept was like a mushroom-bacon-Swiss cheese burger, which is my favorite sort of burger," he said.
The burger comes with golden truffle mayonnaise, Belgian-style fries and a mixed greens and tomato salad. O'Connell pairs the dish with many fine wines, a lager or a toasted brown beer, or ginger ale.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
It's a Cat's Life
My housemate, Tuxedo the cat received this recent email from his feline friend next door.
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am.
Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.
However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow - but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.
The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe.
For now...
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am.
Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.
However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow - but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.
The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe.
For now...
Sunday, May 18, 2008
It's A Weird World
They do it because they can!
Perhaps life doesn't need to be that serious thanks to technology. Cartoon animators such as the the producer of the above video have helped lighten the mood.
People do other funny things like creating strange world records for 15 minutes of fame. Look at this small selection of weird world records and happenings:
Largest (and Probably Only) Airplane Ever Eaten. Michel Lotito, better known as Monsieur Mangetout (Mr. Eat Everything) is basically a normal guy, except he eats things like metal and glass.
He is the current (as if anyone else can do it …) world record holder of biggest meal ever eaten: a Cessna 150 airplane.
Doctors found that Mangetout’s stomach lining is twice as thick as a normal stomach lining, which explains why he is able to digest these things. The doctors concluded that his rare condition must have developed when he was still in his mother’s womb.
World’s Greatest Miser. Hetty Green was a very rich woman - actually, she was once the richest woman in the world, probably because she didn’t spend any money. And I mean any:
Green was mainly interested in business, and there are many tales (of various degrees of accuracy) about her stinginess. She never turned on the heat nor used hot water. She wore one old black dress and undergarments that she changed only after they had been worn out. She did not wash her hands and rode an old carriage. She ate mostly pies that cost fifteen cents. One tale claims that she spent a night looking for a lost stamp worth two cents.
Hettie’s son Ned broke his leg and had to have it amputated because Hettie delayed treatment while insisting on finding free medical care!
World’s Largest Gold Coin. How’s this for spare change: a 100,000 Euro gold coin made from 24-karat gold created by the Austrian Mint:
The coin, with a face value of 100,000 euros, bears a replica of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra’s famous hall on one side and instruments on the other.
Only 15 of the 24-carat discs - dubbed Big Phil and measuring 37cm (14.5in) -were created by the Austrian mint.
World’s Largest Bagel. At 868 lb, 6 ft in diameter and 20 in thick, Bruegger’s Bagel made the biggest bagel in the world in the 2004 New York State Fair.
The bagel is so big that it needed to be baked in a custom-built oven and moved with a small crane!
World’s Fastest Human Conveyor Belt. On March 3, 2005, one hundred students at Eisenhower Junior High School in Taylorsville, UT, set the world’s record for fastest human conveyor belt by "conveying" a mattress a distance of nearly 180 feet in just 2 minutes and 1 second.
World’s Largest Currency. The currency in the teeny Island of Yap, where stone wheels larger than tractor tires are used as cash!
Hundreds of giant stone coins, some as big as 12 feet in diameter, stand by the side of the road, lean against houses or lie half hidden among trees and shrubs. Many of the mottled gray stones are centuries old and are worth thousands of dollars.
Though doughnut-shaped coins that weigh a ton might seem impractical elsewhere, stone money is an essential part of the economy and cultural life of Yap, a small group of islands 4,300 miles west of Hawaii.
The larger pieces are seldom moved and instead change hands in something akin to an electronic bank transfer. They are used to buy land, pay for services or provide compensation in cases of wrongdoing or negligence. Even stones that sank offshore long ago still hold their monetary value.
Perhaps life doesn't need to be that serious thanks to technology. Cartoon animators such as the the producer of the above video have helped lighten the mood.
People do other funny things like creating strange world records for 15 minutes of fame. Look at this small selection of weird world records and happenings:
Largest (and Probably Only) Airplane Ever Eaten. Michel Lotito, better known as Monsieur Mangetout (Mr. Eat Everything) is basically a normal guy, except he eats things like metal and glass.
He is the current (as if anyone else can do it …) world record holder of biggest meal ever eaten: a Cessna 150 airplane.
Doctors found that Mangetout’s stomach lining is twice as thick as a normal stomach lining, which explains why he is able to digest these things. The doctors concluded that his rare condition must have developed when he was still in his mother’s womb.
World’s Greatest Miser. Hetty Green was a very rich woman - actually, she was once the richest woman in the world, probably because she didn’t spend any money. And I mean any:
Green was mainly interested in business, and there are many tales (of various degrees of accuracy) about her stinginess. She never turned on the heat nor used hot water. She wore one old black dress and undergarments that she changed only after they had been worn out. She did not wash her hands and rode an old carriage. She ate mostly pies that cost fifteen cents. One tale claims that she spent a night looking for a lost stamp worth two cents.
Hettie’s son Ned broke his leg and had to have it amputated because Hettie delayed treatment while insisting on finding free medical care!
World’s Largest Gold Coin. How’s this for spare change: a 100,000 Euro gold coin made from 24-karat gold created by the Austrian Mint:
The coin, with a face value of 100,000 euros, bears a replica of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra’s famous hall on one side and instruments on the other.
Only 15 of the 24-carat discs - dubbed Big Phil and measuring 37cm (14.5in) -were created by the Austrian mint.
World’s Largest Bagel. At 868 lb, 6 ft in diameter and 20 in thick, Bruegger’s Bagel made the biggest bagel in the world in the 2004 New York State Fair.
The bagel is so big that it needed to be baked in a custom-built oven and moved with a small crane!
World’s Fastest Human Conveyor Belt. On March 3, 2005, one hundred students at Eisenhower Junior High School in Taylorsville, UT, set the world’s record for fastest human conveyor belt by "conveying" a mattress a distance of nearly 180 feet in just 2 minutes and 1 second.
World’s Largest Currency. The currency in the teeny Island of Yap, where stone wheels larger than tractor tires are used as cash!
Hundreds of giant stone coins, some as big as 12 feet in diameter, stand by the side of the road, lean against houses or lie half hidden among trees and shrubs. Many of the mottled gray stones are centuries old and are worth thousands of dollars.
Though doughnut-shaped coins that weigh a ton might seem impractical elsewhere, stone money is an essential part of the economy and cultural life of Yap, a small group of islands 4,300 miles west of Hawaii.
The larger pieces are seldom moved and instead change hands in something akin to an electronic bank transfer. They are used to buy land, pay for services or provide compensation in cases of wrongdoing or negligence. Even stones that sank offshore long ago still hold their monetary value.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
A Wicked Wit!
I have a favourite journalist. With a wicked sense of humor Joe Hildebrand, of the Sydney Daily Telegraph. Read and enjoy!
Reflections on Mischa Barton’s bottom
This week I sat down to write a column about how I always seem to keep offending people, and by “people” I mean “Clare”.
Clare is a girl I work with whom has often been described as “charmingly petulant” - albeit mostly by me and with a fair degree of lattitude in the meaning of the first word.
Clare is very small and cute and seems like a kindly and warm soul but if you cross her even once she will tear out your eyes with a butterknife.
So I was about to write a column about how I always seem to offend Clare because as well as being highly volatile and prone to violence, she is also quite sensitive - especially about personal things being discussed in public.
Then all of a sudden I got a phone call from Bryon.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” said Bryon.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Oh nothing,” said Bryon.
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Bryon.
“Right,” I said.
“What are you doing?” said Bryon.
“I’m doing a column on offending people,” I said.
“I’ll tell you what’s offensive,” said Bryon. “Mischa Barton’s arse.”
And with that, he was gone.
I later learned that Bryon was making reference to the growing controversy surrounding the size and texture of Mischa Barton’s caravan of courage.
Apparently it has been discovered that Mischa Barton has cellulite, which is that colourful see-through paper your mother used to wrap up birthday cake so the other kids couldn’t tell it was mouldy. Apparently Mischa’s stylists had the same thing in mind.
What a terrible situation, I thought. Mischa’s clearly going through a very difficult time and here the media is cruelly exploiting her. And to see just how cruel, check out our Mischa Barton cellulite horror picture gallery at dailytelegraph.com.au.
It’s certainly an eye-opening experience that makes you think about your own mortality. Of course luckily the scourge of cellulite is one fatty menace that is yet to ravage my body, which at least sets it apart from Darrin.
I was just reflecting upon this when I received another phone call from Bryon.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” said Bryon.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Oh nothing,” said Bryon.
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Bryon.
“Right,” I said.
“What are you doing?” said Bryon.
“I’m writing a column about Mischa Barton’s arse,” I said.
“I’ll tell you something about Mischa Barton’s arse,” said Bryon. “It’s great.”
And with that, he was gone.
So then it got me thinking, was there anything actually wrong with cellulite?
Sure, it looks like cottage cheese but a lot of people love cottage cheese. In fact if you’re growing up in an all female house without a strong male role model it’s perfectly natural.
Cellulite also looks a bit like scrambled eggs, which is also very popular. In fact at Bowral’s Cafe Rocca they will charge you an extra 80 cents to scramble your eggs, which is a bit like a hairdresser charging extra to mess up your hair, which is in fact pretty much what they do.
(Incidentally, in fact-checking for this story I rang Cafe Rocca to ask if it cost an extra 80 cents for scrambled eggs and the person who answered the phone just said “Yeah”. What does one have to do to arouse suspicion?)
And cellulite is also soft - have you ever heard of someone say they hate pillows? Plenty of times but Darrin always talks them round.
But most importantly cellulite is as natural as Mischa Barton’s acting, and everybody likes that too - with the obvious exception of the Academy.
So I was reflecting on this when the phone rang again.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” said Bryon.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Oh nothing,” said Bryon.
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Bryon.
“Right,” I said.
“What are you doing?” said Bryon.
“I’m doing a column on body image,” I said.
“I’ll tell you something about body image,” said Bryon. “It’s all a conspiracy by gay fashion designers to make women look like boys.”
And with that, he was gone.
Surely, I thought to myself, there must be someone I can report him to?
Reflections on Mischa Barton’s bottom
This week I sat down to write a column about how I always seem to keep offending people, and by “people” I mean “Clare”.
Clare is a girl I work with whom has often been described as “charmingly petulant” - albeit mostly by me and with a fair degree of lattitude in the meaning of the first word.
Clare is very small and cute and seems like a kindly and warm soul but if you cross her even once she will tear out your eyes with a butterknife.
So I was about to write a column about how I always seem to offend Clare because as well as being highly volatile and prone to violence, she is also quite sensitive - especially about personal things being discussed in public.
Then all of a sudden I got a phone call from Bryon.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” said Bryon.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Oh nothing,” said Bryon.
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Bryon.
“Right,” I said.
“What are you doing?” said Bryon.
“I’m doing a column on offending people,” I said.
“I’ll tell you what’s offensive,” said Bryon. “Mischa Barton’s arse.”
And with that, he was gone.
I later learned that Bryon was making reference to the growing controversy surrounding the size and texture of Mischa Barton’s caravan of courage.
Apparently it has been discovered that Mischa Barton has cellulite, which is that colourful see-through paper your mother used to wrap up birthday cake so the other kids couldn’t tell it was mouldy. Apparently Mischa’s stylists had the same thing in mind.
What a terrible situation, I thought. Mischa’s clearly going through a very difficult time and here the media is cruelly exploiting her. And to see just how cruel, check out our Mischa Barton cellulite horror picture gallery at dailytelegraph.com.au.
It’s certainly an eye-opening experience that makes you think about your own mortality. Of course luckily the scourge of cellulite is one fatty menace that is yet to ravage my body, which at least sets it apart from Darrin.
I was just reflecting upon this when I received another phone call from Bryon.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” said Bryon.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Oh nothing,” said Bryon.
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Bryon.
“Right,” I said.
“What are you doing?” said Bryon.
“I’m writing a column about Mischa Barton’s arse,” I said.
“I’ll tell you something about Mischa Barton’s arse,” said Bryon. “It’s great.”
And with that, he was gone.
So then it got me thinking, was there anything actually wrong with cellulite?
Sure, it looks like cottage cheese but a lot of people love cottage cheese. In fact if you’re growing up in an all female house without a strong male role model it’s perfectly natural.
Cellulite also looks a bit like scrambled eggs, which is also very popular. In fact at Bowral’s Cafe Rocca they will charge you an extra 80 cents to scramble your eggs, which is a bit like a hairdresser charging extra to mess up your hair, which is in fact pretty much what they do.
(Incidentally, in fact-checking for this story I rang Cafe Rocca to ask if it cost an extra 80 cents for scrambled eggs and the person who answered the phone just said “Yeah”. What does one have to do to arouse suspicion?)
And cellulite is also soft - have you ever heard of someone say they hate pillows? Plenty of times but Darrin always talks them round.
But most importantly cellulite is as natural as Mischa Barton’s acting, and everybody likes that too - with the obvious exception of the Academy.
So I was reflecting on this when the phone rang again.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” said Bryon.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Oh nothing,” said Bryon.
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Bryon.
“Right,” I said.
“What are you doing?” said Bryon.
“I’m doing a column on body image,” I said.
“I’ll tell you something about body image,” said Bryon. “It’s all a conspiracy by gay fashion designers to make women look like boys.”
And with that, he was gone.
Surely, I thought to myself, there must be someone I can report him to?
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