|
Plagiarised on 25.02.07 by Russell Allen @ 5:00 pm
If Jennifer Hudson wins the Oscar tomorrow then surely, if there is a God, we know who the President of the Free World is gonna be next year…
Yup…I So Excited…Love U Paula I have used my solitary prayer to the lord baby jesu to ensure this happens. To push things along with the great ordainer of natural facts and figures, email me directly for your special George Huff pin badge…
You Know You Want One Planted In Window Box: Wearing Lindsay Lohan's Panties Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 6 Comments Behind The Sofa |
|
Plagiarised on 22.02.07 by Russell Allen @ 12:21 pm
“Now darl, just straight in and straight out, OK “ “Errr…OK” Planted In Window Box: Single Serve Pestilence Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 15 Comments Behind The Sofa |
|
Plagiarised on 20.02.07 by Russell Allen @ 2:03 pm
Why would you live anywhere in Australia other than the Gold Coast. We have WATER!!! Unlike soft places around the country on Level infinity water restrictions there is no drinking of our own piss here. We have so much drinkable water we literally pour glasses of tap water onto the floor because we can. Officially, this is an unofficial message from the unofficial Gold Coast board of tourism. Fo real! Planted In Window Box: Very GC Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 21 Comments Behind The Sofa |
|
Plagiarised on 15.02.07 by Russell Allen @ 8:03 am
Number of Valentine Cards = 0 I was excited at this as this was the first valentine msg I had received since 1998. Get in there!! I shouldn’t have been. It was from a spambot trying to pawn love pills onto me. I don’t need love pills. I am now a lesbian. I am refraining from washing and chopping my pubes. I will persist in wearing several shades of khaki mixed with pink at all times and wear silly little badges saying ‘Prefect’ or ‘The Mighty Mighty Bosstones 2001′. I will develop acne and purchase an oversized helmet on which to ride my scooter. I will always carry a quart of kerosene with me and a box of matches in case I get angry at another lezzer or I may use it on myself as I will be so depressed from the lack of cock I am getting. Labia lickin and dry rootin is never as satisfying … ever. But this is what I am resigned to in my new choice. I will read loads and loads of crappy books from the gay literature section. Though I may have to contend that DH Lawrence was as camp as a row of tents just so I have an excuse to read about Lady Chatterley getting done by the tradesman up his so-called entrance. I will have posters of Kylie up on my wall and flick off to it while I eat packet after packet of Double Choc Tim Tams and scullin can after can of Slimline Coke cos it will make me beautiful just like Kylie. I will send Olivier Martinez a thank-you note for being a shitty love-rat to our Kylie and this may be the relationship that finally turns the pop princess into a lezzer just like me. I will read copies of DNA magazine under the guise of being a lezzer just so I can perve at the pics of hot hot boys covered in olive oil and imagine their greasy fingers in my dry unkempt pussy. I will not be able to contain myself as I sit down on a sofa in Borders with my copy of DNA pretending to read about David the gay farmer from Big Brother’s struggle with city life when in fact I am looking at the page opposite of a mock male threesome and violating myself with a Hello Kitty pen through my corduroy dungarees. I will not buy the Hello Kitty pen as it is now greasy, smells a wee bit and is covered in wiry pubes. And just like every lesbian I’ll do all those things, even if it is to my detriment, just so I can avoid doing something really, really simple. Planted In Window Box: Pig's Ear Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 18 Comments Behind The Sofa |
|
Plagiarised on 14.02.07 by Russell Allen @ 9:36 am
Burwood, Auburn, Lidcombe. Why don’t these beautiful places ever appear on Getaway? Rich in culturey cultureness and only 20 quick minutes from the CBD. You can really gauge an area by its level of consumption. Example: Number of disposed aerosol cans left on the side of the railway track in the Homebush area = 14. Number of Slimline Coke cans left in the same area = 1. Clearly all the godless fucking of Olympic athletes only a few years ago has not positively affected this area over the long term. Planted In Window Box: Rational But Brutish Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 5 Comments Behind The Sofa |
|
Plagiarised on 11.02.07 by Russell Allen @ 9:08 am
5 things actually… 1. Shrove Tuesday was again a triumph of baked goods over common sense. Engorged? Yes. Satisfied? Never!!! *Note: For those not in the know, I fuckin love Pancake Day 2. Noosa, on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast is a cosmic centre of camel toe. There must be more camel toe per capita in Noosa than any other place on earth. Possible reasons are (a) the fitness freaks are out in force and can’t help slipping fabric up their flanges (b) their collective flanges are humungous, or (c) there was a coach trip from Rockhampton in town. Could be all three even… 3. Slimline Coke cans are fully gay. Nuff said. 4. I’ve been let into the inner sanctum of a brothel. You could say I was working there and not in a ‘3 digits in the jacksi’ capacity neither. Brothels need business consultants too. Believe it or not I have decided to accept cash as payment and not 10 grands worth of gift certificates. Someone throw me a hot water bottle and a blue pill please. 5. My dad has had the same pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarers he had since well before the Cruiser and his shit-eatin grin, threw on a pair for seven-eights of the running time of Top Gun. Needless to say he has gone over the top of uncool to be absolutely cool. More to the point, how the frickin hell can anyone keep the same pair of sunglasses of over 21 years and not break / lose / drop / flush ‘em down the khazi in a fit of drug-induced pique? Planted In Window Box: Pig's Ear Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 8 Comments Behind The Sofa |
|
Plagiarised on 05.02.07 by Russell Allen @ 10:00 pm
A little man stood next to me at the crossing. He was a shorty but alas, no midget. I love those little bastards with their chubby little chipolata fingers. Anyways, just before I reached out to pat him on his little balding head he said something to me. “Could you tell me where the crossing is?” Since we were stood at the crossing. I assume three of three things. Stupid or blind or culturally dyslexic. “You’re at the crossing fella. Just point and shoot.” “It’s stupid how the beeping of the crossing only starts when the crossing is green. I am blind so I need to find the crossing. It makes no fucking sound so how can I push the button…and then when it starts beeping there isn’t a linear projection of sound so how the fuck do I know I’m not walking into a car” I didn’t pipe up straight away but I had always wondered the same thing. “Worse still, turning cars can still go on a green man if the coast is clear”. “Can they. Holy shit!” “Yep” “…” “I can help you across the road if you like. I promise I won’t leave you in a vegetable patch or anythin” “Only if you want to. It’s a bit gay” “Who are you here to see?” I helped him across the road and toward the external lift at the hospital. “Which floor? … Why do they have braille on lift buttons?… How do you even know where the button is?” “I didn’t even know there was a lift here. I took the walkway last time. That took an eternity. I’m here to see my wife. ” “Nothing too bad I hope” “Can’t get any worse. She was supposed to die 3 months ago and she’s still going” “I’m sorry to hear that” We are standing at the cancer ward. I’m heading to the recovery room. “Here take this” “Flowers. This is now becoming very gay” “It’s a large mixed bunch of flowers, seasonal, lots of nice colours. Your wife will love them” “You don’t have to” “It’s OK”. In a way I didn’t. It was a selection of lillies. All white. It made him happy and I’m sure its something the wife wasn’t expecting. He walked away smiling Planted In Window Box: Rational But Brutish Comments: No Comments, Actually I Found 19 Comments Behind The Sofa |
| previous posts » |
My Dad
kinda looks like Christopher Moltisanti. Pow!