Monthly Archives: August 2008

7 things i hate about you, winter

no, this isn’t a rant about Miley Cyrus: i think she’s suffered enough.

this is my entirely original tirade against the arch-enemy of happy times, winter.

fuck you, winter!

“pourquoi?” you ask?

1. excess pudge.

i guess i can’t really chalk this up to THIS winter, but all winters, and all months… and THE WINTER OF MY LIFE.

i know it is a faux pas to talk openly about this, especially when i don’t really have anything to worry about, but i have indluged in so many tasty treats in this last year, that i have put on 5kgs since last weighed by my doctor, prompting her to get me tested for a thyroid problem. thanks pain au chocolat, thanks unsinkable appetite for lard, thanks constant desire for carb-on-carb action, thanks meatballs, thanks ricotta cheesecake, thanks you’ll love coles belgian mint chocolate . THANKS FOR NOTHING.

2. fruit not in season.

watermelon. grapes. quince. cherries. mangoes.

bananas, apparently?

3. friends high-tailing it outta here.

there has been a mass exodus out of sydney/australia of late, to warmer climes. what they don’t know is that THEIR WINTER WILL COME. and it will be FAR WORSE than the winter we are currently suffering. Oh, those european-dwelling thundercunts don’t know what’s coming to them!

4. chillblains.

WTF? people being decapited, whales being slaughtered, chillblains? are we in the dark ages? time is cyclical, but can’t we be a bit more inventive with our ailments? not to be confused with frostbite and trench foot (because i know you’re constantly thinking about trench foot), chillblains are ulcers caused by an individual leaping from cold to hot and back again. i don’t have chillblains – eww, gross, did you srsly think i was talking about myself?

5. not being able to dress like a slut.

dammit, i want to be scantily clad! i want to strut around in threadbare duds, letting my gorgeous tanned bod be raped by the eyes of all. winter, you are getting in the way of me being a rampant slut! obviously, there are ways around this predicament:

6. oil heaters.


the perps:’s fucking cold!

constantly. no respite. seriously.

all that said, i will miss:

  1. a legitimate excuse to dress like a massive dag.
  2. the moment a good hot chocolate touches my tongue.
  3. the smell of burning rubber under my desk, as my feet get intimate with my heater.
  4. being able to walk to work and not die from heat exhaustion.
  5. showers: they’re just not as good in summer.
  6. my trusty leather jacket (made from my trusty steed cow).
  7. having albino peers! soon you’ll all be bronzed!

you take the good, you take the bad, and there you have: the facts of life…

and a number one hit! go Miley! GET DOWN WITH YOUR BAD SELF.


if i could eat my monitor, i would

Charmaine Wilson declared THE ONE!

Spirit whisperer and down-to-earth lady Charmaine Wilson last night scooped the nation’s spookiest tiara, being chosen by the good people of Australia as our most gifted psychic. This was after her rivals, housewife and non-professional psychic Amanda Roussety and spirit speaker and “humble  man” Ezio De Angelis both predicted, in a final, chilling test, that she would.


As a precognitive dreamer myself, I know how hard it can be to grapple with “the other side”. Traffics a bitch, you run into all sorts of people you normally avoid on Facebook, the Grim Reaper’s always hogging the Scrabble board, and the constant wind-chime soundtrack can get a bit tiresome.

Still, when you’ve got the gift, you gotta do what you gotta do.

I wish Churchill had listened when I precognitived World War 2.

Not to mention the shock win of the Logan twins, Big Brother 05.

And the great alfalfa crisis of 1931. IF ONLY WE’D INVESTED IN MUSHROOMS!

So, to be taken seriously in the most serious of arenas, a game show hosted by a Daddo, is no mean feat. Congratulations Charmaine. I knew you could do it. I said, I KNEW!


Lazy Day

On Friday Lucy went on a work Yay Day. This is a novel concept where one’s work treats one to nice things, other than free internet and a regular wage.

Sophie and I don’t know anything about Yay, working as we do in unglamorous industries, with little cash dollars, even for stationery. But there are all sorts of other Days that we thought of, whilst at work, working hard. You know.

Flay Day

When you get to torture everyone you hate.

Lay Day

Where people who aren’t professoinal experts on things get to talk about those things/have sex with people/sleep.

Entree Day

When everything is bite-sized.

Melee Day

Where everyone gets involved a noisy and confused situation.

Gay Day

See above, Yay Day.

— lalaz & oafie