Salutations loyal readers.
I beam through your computer screen from the David Jones’ food court in… Adelaide.
Wait…don’t go! Hear me out…
I hate it here. Granted, it’s not the most happening place in the world/country/200 km radius, but I like Canberra so it can’t just be the sinful boredom that makes me nauseous. I wander around and know where I’m going. I know street names. I remember the feeling of the cold air on my saliva riddled face from that well hydrated guy I made out with in front of the pig statues. It’s all too familiar. I feel sick. And bored, there's fuck all to do here!
But I can’t blame Adelaide for the deep pain in the bottom of my gut. That pain my friends is not gas… It’s absence.
Two of my boys, lonely, cold and vulnerable.
Mr Finn…and my Josh
I mean, sure, I set up Mr. Finnigan with an extra big bowl of chow and a bucket of water. I have organised at litter emptier and pea thrower to break up his 72 hour solitude. But Josh can’t be waved off that simply. Our secret handshake is complex. He’s a gated, silent, loner with amazing teeth and lips and it is absence, my friends which has sent my heart a-quiver.
As you have read, he too shares these sick feelings of longing that annoy all who surround us. And Sydney too feels empty when he’s not there. Not as empty as when I’m not there, I mean, they declare that a national day of mourning, but if Josh spent his days comparing himself to me, why there would be no reason for him to go on…
I’m better than him in every way.
But I digress…
All I have here now are Giant Panda’s and an unquenchable need to binge. They are my only Southern Comfort, besides my bottle of Southern Comfort…
Meanwhile my brain is going and I’m struggling to speak good anymore. I used to be smart and now I’m stupid. I thought the void where spelling and speaking proper was being filled with science, but now I’m thinking it’s just being filled with sarcasm, insults and maybe a small tumour…
A shout out to all my gays:
Don’t Cry For Me Eastern Sydney
The truth is I’m lost without you.
All through my bigotry, my vile existence
I kept my Prom dress,
….at your insistence
Later sluts
xx
October 30, 2009
Hollow-Weiner
The ancient, grand Australian tradition of Halloween is upon us. Costumes are being prepared, Watermelons are being carved, and candy is being bought to entice young children into our rooms.
As Ainsley paints Adelaide red, Josh is painting his face red, in an effort to make himself look like he has been bashed close to death. That's right, in a twist of fate Josh will be attending Lauren's halloween party as the victim of a gay bashing. Controversial? Yes. How does one make oneself look bruised an battered? He's been looking at photos of Rihanna in order to ensure authenticity.
Lauren has returned, bringing back the male energy to our group. Testosterone seeps from her skinny pores, and, quite frankly, turns us into quivering lumps of lust and desire.
Josh, try as he might, cannot cope with Ainsley being in Adelaide. It is too far, too long, too wide, too thick... mmmm... But enough about Doug. With her so far away he has had to resort to getting his fix elsewhere. It turns out the homeless man in Paddington can't do vicious, cut-throat insults very well. He just wants beer. So he's at least like Ainsley where it counts. Sitting in the newie with a urine-soaked bum just doesn't have the same feel. So instead I decided to try with him what I've always wanted to do with Ainsley, and we made out for a while.
Sydney is not the same without her. I don't think it's being too overly dramatic to state that the entire city has shut down, and is in mourning.
I shall not smile, until my beloved has returned to me. Or at the very least until something funny happens.
As Ainsley paints Adelaide red, Josh is painting his face red, in an effort to make himself look like he has been bashed close to death. That's right, in a twist of fate Josh will be attending Lauren's halloween party as the victim of a gay bashing. Controversial? Yes. How does one make oneself look bruised an battered? He's been looking at photos of Rihanna in order to ensure authenticity.
Lauren has returned, bringing back the male energy to our group. Testosterone seeps from her skinny pores, and, quite frankly, turns us into quivering lumps of lust and desire.
Josh, try as he might, cannot cope with Ainsley being in Adelaide. It is too far, too long, too wide, too thick... mmmm... But enough about Doug. With her so far away he has had to resort to getting his fix elsewhere. It turns out the homeless man in Paddington can't do vicious, cut-throat insults very well. He just wants beer. So he's at least like Ainsley where it counts. Sitting in the newie with a urine-soaked bum just doesn't have the same feel. So instead I decided to try with him what I've always wanted to do with Ainsley, and we made out for a while.
Sydney is not the same without her. I don't think it's being too overly dramatic to state that the entire city has shut down, and is in mourning.
I shall not smile, until my beloved has returned to me. Or at the very least until something funny happens.
October 28, 2009
No You Can't Get To Heaven, In A Biscuit Tin. Cos God Wont Let, No Crummies In.
Oh well, gee...
Josh works four days a week and has more money than god (lowercase, I'm making a statement, wooo ooo!). I have six exams within the next two weeks, am (begrudgingly) headed to the Adel-of-aide this weekend and also work 12 hours a week on top of uni. But yeah, I can see how it's my responsibility to keep this blog updated! Josh's actions are speaking louder than words and I'm wondering why he's so shocked he's not getting postcards from Liam (except for the mercy fuck one of course). Where's the passion? He's off gallivanting with his little man friend, the rest of us are just chopped liver, whatever.
Well, enough about fart head, I got bible bashed via letterbox drop! They're infiltrating my home! The contraband made it past my filtering system because it was in an aloof disguise...they had put the slander in cute comic book form, which I happily indulged in before I was hit with the first damaging blow. I must admit, I was cynical, The title of the comic is 'The Choice' which I thought could have been a number of things:
a) Firstly and most obviously, 'The Choice' people make to be gay.
b) Then I thought, hey maybe its about incontinence? 'The Choice' people can make to have the freedom to start squatting and picking up small children again.
c) Laundry powder, ‘The Choice’ is always a tricky one…
d) Financial planning/Real Estate and other boring things
…and after about thirty minutes of staring into space, pondering I thought ‘Why not open it?’
I quote from page two:
Sinner: You’re going to say I have to choose between God and the devil right?
Man of the ‘good word’: WRONG! MOST people will be in hell because they thought like you…’
So at this point I’m like ‘whoa, seems a bit harsh Good Word Man’. But this comic is obviously set up very similarly to a Mills and Boon novel where something has to pique my attention and make me want to continue reading…and it worked!
The next few pages go one about the devil being bad and the ‘sinner’ character is taking on a very dim persona, whilst Good Word Man is looking dapper in his suit and is like the life and soul of the party. I think there is a marketing strategy in here somewhere…
Devil bad…we’re all born in sin, yada yada yada…
Page 7:
Good Word Man: George (a.k.a Sinner) because of sin, we are all born spiritually dead…and headed for damnation in hell…
Holy moley! This is getting a bit full on, especially for lunchtime. I mean, that quote coupled with an image of people falling off of a cliff with horror etched on their faces, they want their message delivered. There mode of transport? How about 8 Litres of uninterrupted FEARRRR! I’m guessing below the cliff is ‘damnation’, though at this point I think a handy little cartoon sign pointing downward saying ‘Damnation’ (or ‘Hell’ for those of us sinners who are less educated…) would have been a nice touch.
Then it lists all these things that the evil evil devil uses to prevent us from knowing the ‘one was to escape hell’s flames’. He so bad!
1. Religion…which I can’t help but think is a bit of a double edged sword for them...
‘He uses it to keep billions in bondage’. Believe me, if they kept you in bondage in church, I would go.
2. Education. Now this image is one of my favourites. It’s a teacher figure in a suit looking very similar to a politician who is pointing with one of those stick things to a picture of a gorilla with the word ‘Daddy’ underneath it. I must applaud them on their amazing ability to trivialise that little thing called evolution in such a small box! I mean, what are all the fossils? I think there should be another image of a dinosaur or primate skeleton with the words ‘I don’t know, probably Plaster of Paris or something...eh hem…’ underneath.
3. Peer pressure. I nice guy getting approached by a group of thugs…gulp. Damn those kids…
4. ‘Satan keeps some people (read: sinners, you and me) so busy chasing the cares of this world…’ The image is a man chasing money. Enough said.
5. This is another favourite: ‘He (satan, not god of course!) uses sports to keep many others (more sinners) away from it.’ Well! Finally something the gays agree with you on! Phew! The image is of a fat, tattooed man eating just food standing and cheering in a crowd of spectators. That’s a lot of stereotypes covered in such a small box, though we did steamroll evolution pretty fast. We got a lot of ground to cover…
I should note that after every outrageous claim there is a bible quote, you know, like they have referenced this comic book with ‘factual data’!
God is great … Jesus died for our sins, yada yada yada… you too can be saved sinner, I mean George… plenty of info to get me thinking ‘Hmm, maybe I am a sinner? Maybe it’s not too late for me.’ This is what would be referred to in Mills and Boon as the ‘foreplay section.
Good Word Man shouts at sinner George (bold and capitals and everything) because he repeats that he has a ‘Choice’ between the devil and god. I feel like there was a fist smashed down onto the table and maybe the rattling of cutlery and the diner falls silent, maybe a lady gasps, but this is not pictured. But they are in a diner, a public place so I think it’s a bit disrespectful to just yell at someone, but hey I’m just the sinner talking all my sinner talk.
The Good Word Man responds with ‘No George (It’s the back of his head, but I’m sensing disdain…), you don’t have to choose the devil…YOU ALREADY BELONG TO HIM! You are ALREADY CONDEMNED AND HEADED FOR HELL.’
Well, duh.
At this point they show a thug walking by the diner and I’m learning that any time a tattooed person is shown, it’s representative of those ‘headed for hell’. Maybe he’s just getting milk or something though, I don’t know.
George is scared, the fear is working. He says ‘This is TERRIFYING news. It REALLY scares me. What about my poor family…my aunts and uncles? They’re all great people! They couldn’t ALL be going to hell.’
Good Word Man doesn’t hold back he’s a man on a mission-ary (haha, bit of in house humour there): ‘I’m sorry, George but without Christ (Oh my gosh, my spell check automatically capitalises the word Christ! Note, Allah does not automatically receive capitals, though it is American spell check so its nothing we didn’t already know) they are DOOMED.
Doomed, Yeowser.
Then George questions other religions and those billions of people and FYI, they’re headed for hell too, you heard it here first.
At this point I think it would’ve been wise for George to say ‘What about the millions of people in isolated areas of Africa and Asia who will never come into contact with Christianity? Surely they wont go to Hell, just as creatures of unlucky circumstance.
Good Word Man would have been all like ‘yes. Yes. YES!’ with a ‘Thump, thump, thump’ on the diner table again…
Only one god…bible bible…’only one can rescue me from eternal damnation in the lake of fire’… Interrupted only by a funny picture of a devil being squashed by the bible.
Look, listers, I’m sad to say that on the second to last page, page 20, they’ve got George. He put up a good fight but says ‘Man, I could’ve gone to HELL!’ then on page 21 he’s repenting away like there’s no tomorrow. Then it goes on to tell me that I have a choice and I should ‘Choose Christ right now’
…But I don’t wanna
Well, it’s been real. ‘Til next time
xx
Josh works four days a week and has more money than god (lowercase, I'm making a statement, wooo ooo!). I have six exams within the next two weeks, am (begrudgingly) headed to the Adel-of-aide this weekend and also work 12 hours a week on top of uni. But yeah, I can see how it's my responsibility to keep this blog updated! Josh's actions are speaking louder than words and I'm wondering why he's so shocked he's not getting postcards from Liam (except for the mercy fuck one of course). Where's the passion? He's off gallivanting with his little man friend, the rest of us are just chopped liver, whatever.
Well, enough about fart head, I got bible bashed via letterbox drop! They're infiltrating my home! The contraband made it past my filtering system because it was in an aloof disguise...they had put the slander in cute comic book form, which I happily indulged in before I was hit with the first damaging blow. I must admit, I was cynical, The title of the comic is 'The Choice' which I thought could have been a number of things:
a) Firstly and most obviously, 'The Choice' people make to be gay.
b) Then I thought, hey maybe its about incontinence? 'The Choice' people can make to have the freedom to start squatting and picking up small children again.
c) Laundry powder, ‘The Choice’ is always a tricky one…
d) Financial planning/Real Estate and other boring things
…and after about thirty minutes of staring into space, pondering I thought ‘Why not open it?’
I quote from page two:
Sinner: You’re going to say I have to choose between God and the devil right?
Man of the ‘good word’: WRONG! MOST people will be in hell because they thought like you…’
So at this point I’m like ‘whoa, seems a bit harsh Good Word Man’. But this comic is obviously set up very similarly to a Mills and Boon novel where something has to pique my attention and make me want to continue reading…and it worked!
The next few pages go one about the devil being bad and the ‘sinner’ character is taking on a very dim persona, whilst Good Word Man is looking dapper in his suit and is like the life and soul of the party. I think there is a marketing strategy in here somewhere…
Devil bad…we’re all born in sin, yada yada yada…
Page 7:
Good Word Man: George (a.k.a Sinner) because of sin, we are all born spiritually dead…and headed for damnation in hell…
Holy moley! This is getting a bit full on, especially for lunchtime. I mean, that quote coupled with an image of people falling off of a cliff with horror etched on their faces, they want their message delivered. There mode of transport? How about 8 Litres of uninterrupted FEARRRR! I’m guessing below the cliff is ‘damnation’, though at this point I think a handy little cartoon sign pointing downward saying ‘Damnation’ (or ‘Hell’ for those of us sinners who are less educated…) would have been a nice touch.
Then it lists all these things that the evil evil devil uses to prevent us from knowing the ‘one was to escape hell’s flames’. He so bad!
1. Religion…which I can’t help but think is a bit of a double edged sword for them...
‘He uses it to keep billions in bondage’. Believe me, if they kept you in bondage in church, I would go.
2. Education. Now this image is one of my favourites. It’s a teacher figure in a suit looking very similar to a politician who is pointing with one of those stick things to a picture of a gorilla with the word ‘Daddy’ underneath it. I must applaud them on their amazing ability to trivialise that little thing called evolution in such a small box! I mean, what are all the fossils? I think there should be another image of a dinosaur or primate skeleton with the words ‘I don’t know, probably Plaster of Paris or something...eh hem…’ underneath.
3. Peer pressure. I nice guy getting approached by a group of thugs…gulp. Damn those kids…
4. ‘Satan keeps some people (read: sinners, you and me) so busy chasing the cares of this world…’ The image is a man chasing money. Enough said.
5. This is another favourite: ‘He (satan, not god of course!) uses sports to keep many others (more sinners) away from it.’ Well! Finally something the gays agree with you on! Phew! The image is of a fat, tattooed man eating just food standing and cheering in a crowd of spectators. That’s a lot of stereotypes covered in such a small box, though we did steamroll evolution pretty fast. We got a lot of ground to cover…
I should note that after every outrageous claim there is a bible quote, you know, like they have referenced this comic book with ‘factual data’!
God is great … Jesus died for our sins, yada yada yada… you too can be saved sinner, I mean George… plenty of info to get me thinking ‘Hmm, maybe I am a sinner? Maybe it’s not too late for me.’ This is what would be referred to in Mills and Boon as the ‘foreplay section.
Good Word Man shouts at sinner George (bold and capitals and everything) because he repeats that he has a ‘Choice’ between the devil and god. I feel like there was a fist smashed down onto the table and maybe the rattling of cutlery and the diner falls silent, maybe a lady gasps, but this is not pictured. But they are in a diner, a public place so I think it’s a bit disrespectful to just yell at someone, but hey I’m just the sinner talking all my sinner talk.
The Good Word Man responds with ‘No George (It’s the back of his head, but I’m sensing disdain…), you don’t have to choose the devil…YOU ALREADY BELONG TO HIM! You are ALREADY CONDEMNED AND HEADED FOR HELL.’
Well, duh.
At this point they show a thug walking by the diner and I’m learning that any time a tattooed person is shown, it’s representative of those ‘headed for hell’. Maybe he’s just getting milk or something though, I don’t know.
George is scared, the fear is working. He says ‘This is TERRIFYING news. It REALLY scares me. What about my poor family…my aunts and uncles? They’re all great people! They couldn’t ALL be going to hell.’
Good Word Man doesn’t hold back he’s a man on a mission-ary (haha, bit of in house humour there): ‘I’m sorry, George but without Christ (Oh my gosh, my spell check automatically capitalises the word Christ! Note, Allah does not automatically receive capitals, though it is American spell check so its nothing we didn’t already know) they are DOOMED.
Doomed, Yeowser.
Then George questions other religions and those billions of people and FYI, they’re headed for hell too, you heard it here first.
At this point I think it would’ve been wise for George to say ‘What about the millions of people in isolated areas of Africa and Asia who will never come into contact with Christianity? Surely they wont go to Hell, just as creatures of unlucky circumstance.
Good Word Man would have been all like ‘yes. Yes. YES!’ with a ‘Thump, thump, thump’ on the diner table again…
Only one god…bible bible…’only one can rescue me from eternal damnation in the lake of fire’… Interrupted only by a funny picture of a devil being squashed by the bible.
Look, listers, I’m sad to say that on the second to last page, page 20, they’ve got George. He put up a good fight but says ‘Man, I could’ve gone to HELL!’ then on page 21 he’s repenting away like there’s no tomorrow. Then it goes on to tell me that I have a choice and I should ‘Choose Christ right now’
…But I don’t wanna
Well, it’s been real. ‘Til next time
xx
October 18, 2009
Hell Hag No Fury...
He's absolutely right. Not about me creating a super hag, that's just ridiculous. I don't need a scientifically engineered 'super' hag to bring down the gay community. An article in Elle magazine about lesbians being the new gays would suffice...you'd be out faster than those Aladdin pants...
But he's right about hags in general. We ARE under-appreciated. There's always little snide jokes about how much a hag depends on her gay:
She wants to get him drunk and feel him up
She want him to get drunk and feel her up
She believes he's the only man that will ever satisfy her emotionally
She wants him to father her children
She believes he will end up with her when the gays have dried up (literally, with sun damage D&G style)
That's what she's hanging around for, right? They gays have nothing more to offer, right? And the gays laugh along because, end of the day, they're just recreating the high school hierarchy, with them as the cheerleaders now.
But it's a hags shoulder you're looking over as you sip your espresso in a sleazy cafe in oxford street.
It's a hag you're ignoring when you're flirting with an ex-fuck on the street.
It's a hag you're trampling over as you're throwing a cute gay up against the wall in Stonewall.
It's your unprotected hag that's being thrown daggers and bitched about with snide 'There's too much vagina in here' remarks from all those cute gays.
But when those cute gays have disappeared and you're being thrown out of Stonewall for I don't know, falling asleep or something, who follows you? Who is walking you home?
Your hag.
Who is keeping you from getting bashed in Straight town?
Your hag.
Who's with you at the sexual health clinic?
Your hag.
Who talks AIDS and pubic lice with you?
Your hag.
She's a Super Hag in her own right.
The hags brought the gay bashings to Oxford Street?
Well, maybe we wouldn't be dating such homophobic losers and bringing them out with us on Saturday nights if our gays could spend just one night enjoying our company without trying to score with the next cute POA that walks up to the bar.
I mean, can you think of time when the situation was reversed? Your hag left you in a straight bar alone while she's grinding hips with some random on the dance floor? Yeah, didn't think so. Because we enjoy your company, we don't feel the need to go off and and get off because we're having too much fun with our friends.
I'm not saying we want to be your Martha ball and chain, we don't want you to die alone and never get fucked again (That's the title of a Tori Amos song right?). We don't want to control your lives and be your number one priority, or any of the other things from the list above.
But on the occasion that you go out with your hag you should be out with your hag and satisfied with that. That's what we straight girls refer to as a 'girls night'. You spend so much time avoiding conversations about her vagina you forget that she's a lady who should be treated with respect. You don't have to like her bits, but you do have to show that you care about her 'everything else'. Because, one day you might wake up and your hag will be married with children, living in a mansion in Wahroonga, not wanting to introduce you to her family because "I don't know, That was all quite a long time ago wasn't it..? Besides, I don't think Henry would approve. He's quite religious..." Your lesbians will be with their life partners and their pet dogs. And I ask you my gay friends, where will you be?
But he's right about hags in general. We ARE under-appreciated. There's always little snide jokes about how much a hag depends on her gay:
She wants to get him drunk and feel him up
She want him to get drunk and feel her up
She believes he's the only man that will ever satisfy her emotionally
She wants him to father her children
She believes he will end up with her when the gays have dried up (literally, with sun damage D&G style)
That's what she's hanging around for, right? They gays have nothing more to offer, right? And the gays laugh along because, end of the day, they're just recreating the high school hierarchy, with them as the cheerleaders now.
But it's a hags shoulder you're looking over as you sip your espresso in a sleazy cafe in oxford street.
It's a hag you're ignoring when you're flirting with an ex-fuck on the street.
It's a hag you're trampling over as you're throwing a cute gay up against the wall in Stonewall.
It's your unprotected hag that's being thrown daggers and bitched about with snide 'There's too much vagina in here' remarks from all those cute gays.
But when those cute gays have disappeared and you're being thrown out of Stonewall for I don't know, falling asleep or something, who follows you? Who is walking you home?
Your hag.
Who is keeping you from getting bashed in Straight town?
Your hag.
Who's with you at the sexual health clinic?
Your hag.
Who talks AIDS and pubic lice with you?
Your hag.
She's a Super Hag in her own right.
The hags brought the gay bashings to Oxford Street?
Well, maybe we wouldn't be dating such homophobic losers and bringing them out with us on Saturday nights if our gays could spend just one night enjoying our company without trying to score with the next cute POA that walks up to the bar.
I mean, can you think of time when the situation was reversed? Your hag left you in a straight bar alone while she's grinding hips with some random on the dance floor? Yeah, didn't think so. Because we enjoy your company, we don't feel the need to go off and and get off because we're having too much fun with our friends.
I'm not saying we want to be your Martha ball and chain, we don't want you to die alone and never get fucked again (That's the title of a Tori Amos song right?). We don't want to control your lives and be your number one priority, or any of the other things from the list above.
But on the occasion that you go out with your hag you should be out with your hag and satisfied with that. That's what we straight girls refer to as a 'girls night'. You spend so much time avoiding conversations about her vagina you forget that she's a lady who should be treated with respect. You don't have to like her bits, but you do have to show that you care about her 'everything else'. Because, one day you might wake up and your hag will be married with children, living in a mansion in Wahroonga, not wanting to introduce you to her family because "I don't know, That was all quite a long time ago wasn't it..? Besides, I don't think Henry would approve. He's quite religious..." Your lesbians will be with their life partners and their pet dogs. And I ask you my gay friends, where will you be?
October 16, 2009
Dropping The Ball
A ball has been dropped.
It has come to my attention that I need to step away from the manscaping kit, throw away the unitard and get back to what's really important:
Keeping my hag.
Too often in society the role and purpose of The Hag is overlooked. Often the subject of intense ridicule, The Hag, and more importantly The Fags, seem to have forgotten her place.
Today's ruling Hag, we'll call her A, spends a lot of her time holed up in a fairly fugly tower near Broadway, mixing chemicals and sweating over petri dishes. I can only assume she is conjuring up a Super-Hag, with which she intends to gently remind the homosexuals of Sydney that Hag culture is alive and thriving, and if these Fags don't fall into line there will be hell to pay. This giant Hag (according to the bible, and to NW) will storm up and down Oxford St, ripping down every rainbow flag she sees. She will be in parks, late at night, hidden behind a bush waiting for beat-using gay men to meander past, where a swift kick will render them impotent and unable to perform their god-given right to anonymous toilet sex.
She will lead an army of Hags, all who know their Fag's weaknesses. Covertly these women will have their revenge on their pillow-biting friends, after being mistreated and under-appreciated for too long. Watch out boys: Hair removal cream will be replacing your mousse. A short circuited GHD will explode in your hand, leaving you unable to give a handy to a random in the Arq toilet queue. You'll find yourself snorting washing powder, and your lube will have a distinctly acidic feel.
It is time for us Fags to turn around, every now and then, and give them the respect they deserve.
That is, if you want to avoid the alternative.
The lesbians will recruit the Hags, and Fags will be ruined.
So take charge now, my queerlings, lest you receive a hostage note for your favourite Kylie Album, made up of torn up Lesbians On The Loose articles.
It has come to my attention that I need to step away from the manscaping kit, throw away the unitard and get back to what's really important:
Keeping my hag.
Too often in society the role and purpose of The Hag is overlooked. Often the subject of intense ridicule, The Hag, and more importantly The Fags, seem to have forgotten her place.
Today's ruling Hag, we'll call her A, spends a lot of her time holed up in a fairly fugly tower near Broadway, mixing chemicals and sweating over petri dishes. I can only assume she is conjuring up a Super-Hag, with which she intends to gently remind the homosexuals of Sydney that Hag culture is alive and thriving, and if these Fags don't fall into line there will be hell to pay. This giant Hag (according to the bible, and to NW) will storm up and down Oxford St, ripping down every rainbow flag she sees. She will be in parks, late at night, hidden behind a bush waiting for beat-using gay men to meander past, where a swift kick will render them impotent and unable to perform their god-given right to anonymous toilet sex.
She will lead an army of Hags, all who know their Fag's weaknesses. Covertly these women will have their revenge on their pillow-biting friends, after being mistreated and under-appreciated for too long. Watch out boys: Hair removal cream will be replacing your mousse. A short circuited GHD will explode in your hand, leaving you unable to give a handy to a random in the Arq toilet queue. You'll find yourself snorting washing powder, and your lube will have a distinctly acidic feel.
It is time for us Fags to turn around, every now and then, and give them the respect they deserve.
That is, if you want to avoid the alternative.
The lesbians will recruit the Hags, and Fags will be ruined.
So take charge now, my queerlings, lest you receive a hostage note for your favourite Kylie Album, made up of torn up Lesbians On The Loose articles.
October 07, 2009
Blogger Block
Ainsley has asked me to contribute more to our blog. But I seem to have a nasty case of Bloggers block. I have tried on a few occasions to sit and write something deep, long and hilarious. But, much like my sex life, my attempts have not been deep nor long. Kind of funny, though.
Life in Sydney ticks along as per usual. I have not seen nearly as much of Ainsley as I would like. I think it's because without Liam and Lauren, she's slowly realising I'm not as cool as she once thought. Or possibly cooler, which carries its own complications.
I'm contemplating Halloween-themed costumes, and it's not easy. How can I look good, yet like a disgusting monster from the deep? Liam, how do manage to pull it off?
I'm saving up for a proper camera, and soon I will dive into photography head first.
That's all. I'm off.
God, I just read this blog entry. Ainsley, the only reason I'm submitting it is for you!
I'll do better next time. xx
Life in Sydney ticks along as per usual. I have not seen nearly as much of Ainsley as I would like. I think it's because without Liam and Lauren, she's slowly realising I'm not as cool as she once thought. Or possibly cooler, which carries its own complications.
I'm contemplating Halloween-themed costumes, and it's not easy. How can I look good, yet like a disgusting monster from the deep? Liam, how do manage to pull it off?
I'm saving up for a proper camera, and soon I will dive into photography head first.
That's all. I'm off.
God, I just read this blog entry. Ainsley, the only reason I'm submitting it is for you!
I'll do better next time. xx
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