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Plagiarised on 29.11.06 by Russell Allen @ 8:33 pm
Quite possibly the most unintentionally funny thing I’ve seen in a while. Follow the page down to the third image. Note which section the image is in. Planted In Window Box: Single Serve Pestilence Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 11 Comments Behind The Sofa |
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Plagiarised on 27.11.06 by Russell Allen @ 1:22 pm
Monday: Tuesday: Wednesday: Thursday: Friday: Saturday: Sunday: Planted In Window Box: Pig's Ear Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 16 Comments Behind The Sofa |
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Plagiarised on 24.11.06 by Russell Allen @ 11:33 pm
Am tired. Am bored. Am going to sleep. Will attempt to string words together sometime in the near future. Meanwhile, turn up classical radio, fill up your bathtub and grab a sharp implement. Not for any particular reason but sometimes you just want to give your flatmate a bit of fright. Planted In Window Box: Pig's Ear Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 8 Comments Behind The Sofa |
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Plagiarised on 19.11.06 by Russell Allen @ 5:25 pm
It was alright. Actually, let me clarify. It was alright until about 150. Dreamy. At 155 it started to get a bit unstable and unwieldy. 5 k’s less and the difference was well noticeable. At 160 it was wobbling about like a crazy methodone geezer shouting at his invisible brother. Disappointing for a six cylinder. I mean, you can tap a 3 Series or a WRX at well over that and it sticks to the ground. I had always thought Holden’s were more stable but I wouldn’t recommend this car for high-tailing it above 145 to be safe. You should mention that to the next person when you rent it out next. Planted In Window Box: Single Serve Pestilence Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 13 Comments Behind The Sofa |
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Plagiarised on 17.11.06 by Russell Allen @ 10:33 am
Virgin Blue serves up the suckiest sangers this side of the now defunct Ansett Airlines. Oh yes, I once received a Smoked Salmon with Cream Cheese roll from them made to look like a hot dog or one of those long, chantilly cream doughnutty things you can get. It was, how can I say, foul. Virgin Blue, though not that bad, have their blissfully and somewhat erotically titled ‘Ham & Beef Combo’. Usually I feel compelled to grab the sick bag and purge when one is within twenty feet of me but today I didn’t. I felt a certain specialness about this thing. Note: if you do ever throw up in a sick bag, notice that the bag is usually a self-addressed envelope to a photo development company. Hold onto the bag, seal it and mail it to ‘em. That’s one holiday snapshot they’ll love and appreciate. This time the container that holds the sandwich is beckoning me to spin it around and look at the ingredients. Normally I don’t bother but I did. There were a lot of additives. 102 - Tartrazine ie. Yellow 150 - Plain Caramel ie Brown 150c - Ammonia Caramel ie Another Brown 250 - Sodium Nitrite ie Preservative Stuff 260 - Acetic Acid ie More Preservative Stuff 282 - Calcium Propionate ie Yet More Preservative Stuff 316 - Sodium Erythorbate ie Antioxidant 325 - Sodium Lactate ie Gelling Agent 407 - Carrageenan ie A Humdinger - it’s a Thickener, A Stabiliser, A Gelling Agent and an Emulsifier. 407 I love you. 412 - Guar Gum ie Thickener - Hey didn’t 407 cover this ground? 415 - Xanthan Gum ie Thickener and Emulsifier. I’ve always favoured Xanthum over Guar mainly cos of its dual properties. 451 - Sodium tripolyphosphate ie An Emulsifier - clearly dipolyphosphates aren’t good enough so lets go in all guns blazing with yer tripolys. 452 - Sodium polyphosphates ie Another Emulsifier - shit oh dear, surely 451 is good. Though 452 sounds better cos it’s ONE more. 471 - Mono-&-di-glycerides of fatty acids ie I guess some kind of fatty acid thing, 481 - Sodium stearoyl-2-lactylate ie Something with salt in it, possibly something else. These high numbers are tough to figure out. 621 - Monosodium glutamate (MSG) ie Flavour Enhancer ie what the world has been saying the Chinese have been using in their foods that’s killing whitey one step at a time, but no, whitey’s using it on themselves. The charlatans. 1412 - Distarch phosphate ie A Stabiliser and Thickening agent and to be honest I kinda lose interest in additives above the 800 mark. So what does this all mean? Well, it is a disgusting prospect that one tiny little sandwich, insignificant in everything except it price and blandness would be filled with things with such long names that Scrabble players would moisten themselves in anticipation. However, I felt a gentle calm. This may have been for the small muscle relaxant I took shortly before getting on the plane but I had faith in the sandwich. Given the sheer number of additives, 17 for those who don’t have arithmetic in their eyes that can’t automatically deduct double spacing, it was calling me to count. With all these numerals if anything needed to be subject to the precise science of numerology and digital summation then this was the item. I added together the numerals within the additive. So Sodium stearoyl-2-lactylate is additive 481. So, 4 + 8 + 1 = 13. Then add the 1 to 3 to leave you with the base numeral for that additive. In this case 4. Now with 17 numbers left, one for each additive, I would add them all together, break it down, add together and break it down until I had one number left. That number is, *drum-roll*, wait for it, the number is 3. As I suspected. In Christian numerology is number 3 signifies: ‘Divine Perfection’ The sandwich was touched by God. Deified. Forget tomatoes and Cheerios that contain scripture. This is the real deal. Though the flight was mighty turbulent I knew I was touching down safely to fulfil my quest. The ebay cometh. Planted In Window Box: Pig's Ear Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 5 Comments Behind The Sofa |
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Plagiarised on 14.11.06 by Russell Allen @ 9:17 pm
INT: JUST OUTSIDE BRISSIE IN A SHITTY, SHITTY SHOPPING CENTRE. Russell Allen runs to Subway as he is hungry and it is the only non-toxic place for miles (or indeed kilometres). R.A.: Can I have a 6 incher. Chicken Teriyaki, Toasted on ‘Erb Bread. Pulease! *glance down at a touch screen* R.A.: A kiosk is like a small hutty thing, containing an old man with a flat cap that ordinarily sells newspapers and chewing gum et cetera. *Looks around* R.A.: I’m the only person here. There’s not even anyone next door or the place after. *Looks at screen and reads one word* R.A.: I’ve got a problem. *Dumbest Cunt Looks At My Hands* QPTDCIH: You have fingers. *bends over and pats shoelaces in a flaccid manner* R.A.: I can’t even tie my shoelaces. I need my friend who’s driving the car the feed me the sub while I’m…he’s driving. I even have to carry the sandwich with my elbows. It’s very difficult. You’ll even have to get the money out of my pocket. *Looks at screen again. Presses a few things* R.A: What’s Carrot? Planted In Window Box: Viva BrisVegas Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 21 Comments Behind The Sofa |
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Plagiarised on 06.11.06 by Russell Allen @ 12:33 am
Arrived. Thoughts… My one main observation was this…It seems like every Vanuatu-ian male over the age of 6 carries a machete but at least they’re all nice. Other notes include, but are not restricted to… There is a reason that Islander cuisine isn’t considered among the world’s best (cos it is well average) but I still pretty much ate everything put in front of me and enjoyed it…except the Lap Lap Taro. That was wrong. I still haven’t figured out what it was. Consequently, most of my slacks, jeans, leather pants, short trousers, pantaloons, knickerbockers etc are a bit tight and don’t really fit. It’s great how a T-shirt successfully copes with a yo-yo phase of weight loss, gain, subsequent re-loss, re-gain, re-loss and eventual re-gain. Those things worn on the legs say ‘Fuck Off!’ as soon as a millimetre is added either way. Daks? Shite! Tees? Great! One of the main reasons for the crash weight-gain was that bananas were available at the bargain price of $1 for a shitload (approximately 15 bananas). Daiquiris, banana splits, banana fritters, fruit salad (heavy on the banana) ensued. Game-fuckin-On. Subsequently, this alluring dangling banana made fat bogan twats walk straight past the hundreds and hundreds of signs at Brisbane Airport indicating (I paraphrase) ‘That imported fruit and veg breaks quarantine laws and will be binned and you will get your arse fined off’, go straight to the Customs Official and say ‘This suitcase is just fruit. I want to declare it’. Can you bottle that stupidity and I can I buy it discounted at Duty Free? While on the plane, and after many years of procrastinating, and meanwhile writing meaningless drivel, I have began writing the Great Australian novel. Believe it or not, it plans to be a satire on the Gold Coast. Is it possible to satirise it? I think so. I have written the first four lines. They are excellent. No peeking. On arrival, I noted that Ol’ Kylie Minogue’s looking well after convalescing from her facelift…sorry, I meant cancer. Of course, a less cynical friend (yes, I have a friend) said, “She had cancer. Didn’t you see her hair?”. After 2 minutes of rolling-on-the-floor derision I mention that I had seen Never Say Never Again which features Sean Connery with a dodgy toupee and even 25 years ago it wasn’t too hard to fake-up a dodgy barnet why would it be so hard now. On getting home I read an abusive email. A friend of mine got married for the second time at the weekend. I couldn’t attend, thankfully, so I sent her a fax. Her first marriage was a bit of a mistake. That happens why your eventual spouse starts courting you when you are 14 and he is 18. The fax read, “Congrats! At least you didn’t knowingly marry a ped this time”. Am I lying? I admit it was a little tactless but she should have expected it. For an engagement present I had given her a car sticker I carefully crafted.
Planted In Window Box: Pig's Ear Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 18 Comments Behind The Sofa |

My Dad
kinda looks like Christopher Moltisanti. Pow!