Monthly Archives: December 2008

Our favourite Oaffieupagus gets back next week!

Sure. Sydney ain’t no Europe. But at the Haus ov Duum, we’ll be bonne chance to have her back.

And don’t worry Oafie, we’ll move to Paris one day.

There we will soak ourselves daily, lying down flat, and frolic in fields with buttercups, and sleep in till 3pm, and have ultra cute babies that never grow old and wear tiny stripy scarves round their necks that flag in the wind as they sail sail sail down paved paths throwing small baguettes into the hands of wizened crones leaning out of dusty windows.

This will be our soundtrack.


Our commune will front up a little something like this.


Buttercups like so.


Our daily diet? Melted butter, of course. (or margarine in a pinch) (hell, why not go the whole hog and say condensed milk).


And the piece de resistance? (see how well I’m gonna fit in in France?). Our tiny babies with satorial aplomb. And they can ride bicycles! And throw baguettes! With those kinda mad skillz, surely they can cook, clean, pluck our eyebrows and earn the cash-o-la.


Plus, they come with their own snow domes! (I can just tell Lucy’s gonna wanna steal this one’s outfit).

So, Oafie, hurry back! Cos we’ll go back to our future some day!

xx lalaz


Get a handle on this: BAD ART




How good is bad art? What could possess someone to painstakingly paint 3 takeaway coffee cups, you may ask? Just for the love of (awful) art.

Here’s another pearler I saw on a van in Stanmore.


I mean, for sure, nothing says clean toilet better than a gleeful dolphin defying space and physics (not to mention his dolphin family, who would be frankly disgusted, sure they’ll SLEEP with humans, but they won’t frolic in their fecal matter) – especially one so artfully rendered. The delightful, fizzy spray of water at his tail just makes me want to open my mouth and swallow. And those thunderous tear drops? More moving than The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride. “Wow” says the dolphin. Wow indeed.

You can see more bad art here:

— lalaz

I end this week, disturbed

Apparently I am the doggy door of the viral world.


In case you can’t read that, Backdoor Lala is a Trojan Horse that allows unauthorised access to a compromised computer. In human terms, I am a large wooden implement that is shelved where the sun don’t shine.


So, in the spirit of comraderie, I will give my fellow doomies Viral Names.

Sophie (happy birthday!) is: Spamallam Oafoffikus (BBQ!) Human terms: She is teflon to imaginary big penises, Nigerians, Surrealist poetry and replica watches.

Lucy is: Soft-in-the-head-Ware Fire-Hill (luv U LOL). Human terms: Soft and cuddly up top, raging tornado of fiery spikes elsewhere (that cannot be mounted).

Wow. I think my brain has been compromised by this backdoor business.

— backdoor lalaz

matthew gray gubler: a pictorial diversion.

Wonders never cease.