Hair that thrashes mine

And what better way to be thrashed than by four polyester clad men reeking of hair spray:




This photograph makes me eight kinds of hot, especially the fine specimen peeking over the sunglasses on the right. Hello cheeky.

This is the sort of shit I like. Big fuck off hair, massive fake breasts and saying "cunt" on live television will win you all sorts of brownie points with me.

And this is the sort of shit that makes me want to cut my penis off with a blunt knife. The flowing locks at the back say "come to the boudoir" the asymmetrical bob on top says "I sniff paint" and the week-old moustache tells me "IF YOU SCREAM I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING THROAT"

Picture him slipping it in you.

Future sex offender?

He may be guilty for murder but LOOK AT THAT HAIR ROFLOLOLZ!!!!!11111

"Mom tap-danced while she was pregnant with me!"

Black people really need to cut this shit out.

Utterly, utterly speechless.

And this one just makes me smile. What a fox!

Many thanks to Tess for such a high-brow concept. Your genius astounds me sometimes.

But. I. Was. Drunk.

Is this not the most fantastic excuse for EVERY STUPID THING YOU HAVE EVER DONE? Not anymore, it seems. The NSW government is scrutinising this defence in an effort curb alcohol-related violence and binge-drinking, and I fear it will crush the spirit of the liquored up and out of control generation Y that I love so dearly.



Sally Fielke from the Hotels Association says it is about time drinkers took personal responsibility for their actions.



Personal responsibility?



What am I going to do? If the new laws pass, will they have a trickle down effect on societal attitudes too? Now how will I justify shitting on my driveway after a big night out?

Can you pass the Hockey, Mr Pasta?

Over the weekend I attended a dinner party and it was a lovely surprise to be seated adjacent to my seventeenth most favouritest politician, shadow minister for finance, Joe Hockey.

In general, I don't like the Liberal party very much, but I have to say that Mr Hockey was charm personified. I intently listened to his every word, hoping to hear drunken admissions of coke binges with high class prostitutes, but he was far too smart for that. That's not how Joe rolls. He completely disarmed me with his good humour and by the end of the night I was content to just sit and stare dreamily into his eyes.



That said, my month of sobriety greatly helped me to restrain myself from casually dropping "WHY IS AMANDA VANSTONE SUCH A VICIOUS CUNT?" into the conversation.



My family doctor was also in attendance, and the fact that she had recently stuck a Q-tip down my peehole amused us all to no end. The potential for post hors d'oeuvres fireworks was truly limitless.



Although the class was somewhat diminished after we took photos of ourselves on the toilet, it was a beautiful night and I'd very much like to thank Jess once again.



P.S Joe Hockey does not like eggplant YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST

A moment of clarity

After a long and cold winter spent entirely within armshot of cask wine, my partner and I have both decided that we would parttake in "Sober October." You see, we are a pair of ungainly boozehounds AND WE MUST BE STOPPED.





So please join us in support. It is a call to arms for all of us who have drank ourselves into oblivion for the gloomy months, and are now emerging into the spring with our heads, bodies and wallets in a state of disrepair. There is nothing shameful about a month of quiet peaceful reflection.



There is also nothing shameful about images like this:





























Or this:


























Or especially this:




















Minus the funbags and snatch, the plight of these three women pretty much sums up my life from late 2004 up until this point.



Pass the plonk, dear friend.

In the name of love

I have started this blog in the name of love.



Hardcore secularism, sodomy and hot dollar shopping have all been of utmost importance in shaping the fine man that I am, and these qualities and have since been blithely forced upon my lovely facebook friends in a swashbuckling, sometimes violent fashion. They will take it no more. The opinionated filth of my facebook page is beginning to give me a rather cunt-like public profile, which is but one of the myriad of reasons for me starting this blog. Another is to use my writing as a creative outlet whilst shrouded in a cloak of realtive anonymity, which is important because it helps me to avoid potentially embarrassing conversations, like this chit chat I had with a pretty young christian friend of mine a few weeks ago while I was out on the sauce:



Young Christian Friend: "I saw your facebook page the other week."

Me: "Oh!"

Young Christian Friend: "Do you really want to finger Jesus? Why do you write things like that?"

Me: "Oh no! No no! I didn't mean for it to be disrespectful or anything. Please don't take it out of context."

Young Christian Friend: "Explain it to me then."


*panics*


Me: "I merely wanted to see if Jesus would have the prostate of a carpenter."

Young Christian Friend: "...................."

Me: "I don't even think Jesus is that sexy!"

Young Christian Friend: "...................."


*panics more*


Me: "Except for in 'The Passion of the Christ' where he's in that dungeon and he's all bound with chains and covered in sweat. Hello"

Young Christian Friend: "...................."

Me: "...................."

Young Christian Friend: "I weep for your soul"



Do you see? Here at "The Golden Shower," I have created a melting pot that encourages diversity and creativity, where we can submerge ourselves in a left-wing soup and lather ourselves in good humour.



I have no idea where this is going to lead me, but if we're placing bets, my money is on an imminent assassination.



Let's have some fun.