To our many loyal readers. We understand your pain at being without us for so long. Truly, we do. We get your letters. Your emails. Your voicemails. The chunks of hair you send us attached to an 'I WON'T LIVE WITHOUT YOU!' suicide note.
So here we are.
It has been suggested, by some, that maybe we were out devising bigger and greater things for our blog? Starting up new creative business ventures? Getting into film?
We weren't. (Though J did do a film, but as it's rated XXX we can't put the name of it here..)
No, we've just been, quite frankly, a little lazy. We were discussing the blog the other day, wondering why we actually started up, only to remember our bony little friend Liam. Well Ainsley remembered him (barely). Josh merely lifted his head from his beer for long enough to slur 'who? Oh him.. I don'tnjguarghjugs mumble mumble sleep'.
The start to 2010 rolled around as it always does. But this year is different. 2010 is really the year of change. People across the globe have already forgotten their New Years Resolutions. Not us.
2010 is the year we get mad and get laid. Telling it like it is, doing it like there's no tomorrow.
New jobs. New conquests.
January 14, 2010
November 20, 2009
LC-in-the-EATPOO
Another open letter.
Dear Liam,
Whilst we at ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com appreciate the lighter mood of your most recent blog, we feel we must re-enforce some ground rules. We feel it should be noted that if we do happen to have a slightly blotchy complexion, it is more than likely to do with the STD you sprayed on us in our sleep. You are lucky we didn't press charges at the time. As I'm sure you are aware Josh and Ainsley of ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com are near-perfect, and should be treated with respect, and like royalty. We fear your latest blog verges on making a slight mockery of us, and this shall not do. Consider yourself warned.
Also, you now work at the BBC. We have been waiting for you to make the first move here, but feel a gentle nudge in the right direction is in order. Perhaps you should consider leaving our blog open on a few computers there. A television deal with the BBC would be something we'd consider. Quite frankly, a break from Jane Austen dramas could do them a world of good, and a nice X rated television show about a delicious hag, her beautiful fag and a whole lot of trouble would be gobbled down by an eager British public, starved of actual entertainment. They may not know it yet, but they will soon.
All this aside, you are still considered to be our friend.
Just dont push it.
Love you! Xxx
Dear Liam,
Whilst we at ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com appreciate the lighter mood of your most recent blog, we feel we must re-enforce some ground rules. We feel it should be noted that if we do happen to have a slightly blotchy complexion, it is more than likely to do with the STD you sprayed on us in our sleep. You are lucky we didn't press charges at the time. As I'm sure you are aware Josh and Ainsley of ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com are near-perfect, and should be treated with respect, and like royalty. We fear your latest blog verges on making a slight mockery of us, and this shall not do. Consider yourself warned.
Also, you now work at the BBC. We have been waiting for you to make the first move here, but feel a gentle nudge in the right direction is in order. Perhaps you should consider leaving our blog open on a few computers there. A television deal with the BBC would be something we'd consider. Quite frankly, a break from Jane Austen dramas could do them a world of good, and a nice X rated television show about a delicious hag, her beautiful fag and a whole lot of trouble would be gobbled down by an eager British public, starved of actual entertainment. They may not know it yet, but they will soon.
All this aside, you are still considered to be our friend.
Just dont push it.
Love you! Xxx
November 17, 2009
It's Byron, bitch..
Due to popular demand, Ainsley and Josh are bringing their comeback tour down under.
A&J: The circles tour. (Tix on sale from Fri)
As the world is aware, the comedic duo of Josh and Ainsley has had its fair share of troubles in the past. Thrust into the media glare at the tender age of 17 (Josh was 15) they have lived the later years of adolescence and early adult life in the spotlight. Once media darlings, the world turned on them after a string of number 1 hits. A quickie marriage, baby bump watch and rumoured breast implants did not help, though it wasn't just Josh spinning around on the rumour mill. Ainsley was pictured cutting her hair off and driving erratically with Mr Finn on her lap, much to the dismay of the RSPCA. After some less successful albums and a very public meltdown (Josh was pictured attacking the paparazzi with what appeared to be a giant black dildo) they have returned triumphant with their new album 'Circles'.
Featuring such hits as womanhater and If You Seek 'K'(then check in my pocket), their tour starts in Byron Bay for one night only on the 5th December!
Don't miss out!!
A message from the team at Blogspot.com:
Like the slow spread of herpes, ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com is expanding. That distant thunder you've been hearing is not the effect of Global Warming, rather what we over here at blogspot.com call the 'Ainsley and Josh effect'. For many years this website has been devoted to giving you, the common people, a voice. From surly emo's to whiney backpackers (yes, you) we have been patient and nurturing. It has been suggested that we became lax with the quality of who we allow in. A brief look into most blogs and this is proven. It wasn't until a certain duo arrived on our cyber-shores that we sat up and took notice.
All of a sudden here was real talent. With brains and beauty they prove you don't need to be an angry twelve year old with a box of black hair dye and kohl to write a good blog. We have decided to throw our support 100% behind ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com.
With the arrival on Australian shores of the infamous 'Lauren' (mentioned many times within the blog) they have decided to expand and have invited her to contribute. We here at blogspot.com believe this to be a wonderful idea, and look forward to finally receiving some male perspective.
A&J: The circles tour. (Tix on sale from Fri)
As the world is aware, the comedic duo of Josh and Ainsley has had its fair share of troubles in the past. Thrust into the media glare at the tender age of 17 (Josh was 15) they have lived the later years of adolescence and early adult life in the spotlight. Once media darlings, the world turned on them after a string of number 1 hits. A quickie marriage, baby bump watch and rumoured breast implants did not help, though it wasn't just Josh spinning around on the rumour mill. Ainsley was pictured cutting her hair off and driving erratically with Mr Finn on her lap, much to the dismay of the RSPCA. After some less successful albums and a very public meltdown (Josh was pictured attacking the paparazzi with what appeared to be a giant black dildo) they have returned triumphant with their new album 'Circles'.
Featuring such hits as womanhater and If You Seek 'K'(then check in my pocket), their tour starts in Byron Bay for one night only on the 5th December!
Don't miss out!!
A message from the team at Blogspot.com:
Like the slow spread of herpes, ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com is expanding. That distant thunder you've been hearing is not the effect of Global Warming, rather what we over here at blogspot.com call the 'Ainsley and Josh effect'. For many years this website has been devoted to giving you, the common people, a voice. From surly emo's to whiney backpackers (yes, you) we have been patient and nurturing. It has been suggested that we became lax with the quality of who we allow in. A brief look into most blogs and this is proven. It wasn't until a certain duo arrived on our cyber-shores that we sat up and took notice.
All of a sudden here was real talent. With brains and beauty they prove you don't need to be an angry twelve year old with a box of black hair dye and kohl to write a good blog. We have decided to throw our support 100% behind ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com.
With the arrival on Australian shores of the infamous 'Lauren' (mentioned many times within the blog) they have decided to expand and have invited her to contribute. We here at blogspot.com believe this to be a wonderful idea, and look forward to finally receiving some male perspective.
November 12, 2009
He said, "Don't let your future be destroyed by my past." I said, "Dont let my door hit your ass."
An Open Letter.
Dear Liam.
Here at ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com, we greatly appreciate your blog membership and all the comments that you bring to our site.
However, you recent behaviour, well, it’s getting us down.
As you are well aware Ainsley and Josh are complex, intrinsic, metastasised pods of wonder and amazement, but as you may know from the popular trilogy ‘Lord of the Rings’, ‘with great power, comes great responsibility.’ This in relation to Ainsley and Josh, basically means ‘Ainsley and Josh are really great, but they have both meditated themselves into the most sensitive and desired paradigm of superiority, so exclusive and volatile, it can easily be shaken to its core by a little bitch complaining all the time.’ Yes. We are superior to you…in every way. Yes, we are better looking than you. Smarter. Sexier. Funnier. More successfuller. Better at speaking good. Yes our blog’s better. But this doesn’t mean that you should just feel obligated to ejaculate your acid burning, bitey problems onto us… just cos we are all those things above better than you and many more I couldn’t think of because my time is that much more precious than yours.
Don’t…no don’t cry.
Oh don’t do that.
Oh now you’re making me cry!
Oh Josh is getting weirded out/turned on.
Oh now you’re all blotchy and ugly and because we are so pure and godlike we are unable to look at ugliness in its rawest form.
(Now speaking from behind a curtain)
Now, Liam. We know it’s not all you. Something has made you this way, turned you into a knapsack of emotion. My top five causes of your increased whineyness:
(1) Your current location of London Ingerland leads me to believe that perhaps something in the air or water over there makes people whiney, crying for their mummy, nancy boys.
(2) Being away from Ainsley and Josh of ainsleyandjosh,blogspot.com is hard. Of course you’re Sad. Who wouldn’t be?
(3) The cold. Oh the cold. It pains me to think of how small your testicles are. Tiny, scared, searching for the light.
(4) An STD? Whingeyitis is a hard one to shake, I should know, Josh had it about a month ago...
(5) You’re gay, I’m sure I’d be deemed homophobic if I didn’t say your whiney wah wah’s was, in some part related to your genetic gayness. Maybe the high altitudes of travel triggered some sort of synaptic malfunction, causing you to take on the ‘sammy sad face’ persona usually observed in straight men.
But fear not Liam, I can stop you being a little shit face everyone hates. Read on petal, read on and find yourself k-yord KYORD I SAY! AMEN!
T’would only be fair to elighten you by power of all my charkas aligned, Liam, meet my top 5 ways to get you out of the Mr. Mopeys.
(1) You’re in Mother Fucking London! Mother Fucking London! It’s amazing! Not what you thought it would be like? Then you’re not going to the right places mein freund! Sure, customer service is lousy, lower than lousy, but Sainsburys! Trash Mags, Tesco! Cheap Books and Gigs! It’s ok to be in a pub at 3pm on a Tuesday, everyone else is! Hyde Park! Piccadilly Circus! Red buses, cute black cabs with cabbies who know where they’re going! And they speak ENGLISH! Sydney can only dream!
(2) You’re working at the BBC! The BBC! You are peaking! You will never be more than what you are at this moment. You’ll be like the hot girl in high school who’s ass got big! The BBC!
(3) Yes, you’re away from Ainsley and Josh of ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com. But reality is we’re having fun without you. We’re meeting better and funnerer people and we will most probably de-friend you from Facebook before the year is out! So don’t pine for us…we’ve moved on and already forgotten you.
(4) I spoke to your parents in Coles the other day, they feel the same as (3).
(5) Sydney is humid and there is the slight smell of rancid fish in the air.
Well, I hope that makes you feel better, I’m sure it did. I sure feel better for getting it all of my chest.
xx
Dear Liam.
Here at ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com, we greatly appreciate your blog membership and all the comments that you bring to our site.
However, you recent behaviour, well, it’s getting us down.
As you are well aware Ainsley and Josh are complex, intrinsic, metastasised pods of wonder and amazement, but as you may know from the popular trilogy ‘Lord of the Rings’, ‘with great power, comes great responsibility.’ This in relation to Ainsley and Josh, basically means ‘Ainsley and Josh are really great, but they have both meditated themselves into the most sensitive and desired paradigm of superiority, so exclusive and volatile, it can easily be shaken to its core by a little bitch complaining all the time.’ Yes. We are superior to you…in every way. Yes, we are better looking than you. Smarter. Sexier. Funnier. More successfuller. Better at speaking good. Yes our blog’s better. But this doesn’t mean that you should just feel obligated to ejaculate your acid burning, bitey problems onto us… just cos we are all those things above better than you and many more I couldn’t think of because my time is that much more precious than yours.
Don’t…no don’t cry.
Oh don’t do that.
Oh now you’re making me cry!
Oh Josh is getting weirded out/turned on.
Oh now you’re all blotchy and ugly and because we are so pure and godlike we are unable to look at ugliness in its rawest form.
(Now speaking from behind a curtain)
Now, Liam. We know it’s not all you. Something has made you this way, turned you into a knapsack of emotion. My top five causes of your increased whineyness:
(1) Your current location of London Ingerland leads me to believe that perhaps something in the air or water over there makes people whiney, crying for their mummy, nancy boys.
(2) Being away from Ainsley and Josh of ainsleyandjosh,blogspot.com is hard. Of course you’re Sad. Who wouldn’t be?
(3) The cold. Oh the cold. It pains me to think of how small your testicles are. Tiny, scared, searching for the light.
(4) An STD? Whingeyitis is a hard one to shake, I should know, Josh had it about a month ago...
(5) You’re gay, I’m sure I’d be deemed homophobic if I didn’t say your whiney wah wah’s was, in some part related to your genetic gayness. Maybe the high altitudes of travel triggered some sort of synaptic malfunction, causing you to take on the ‘sammy sad face’ persona usually observed in straight men.
But fear not Liam, I can stop you being a little shit face everyone hates. Read on petal, read on and find yourself k-yord KYORD I SAY! AMEN!
T’would only be fair to elighten you by power of all my charkas aligned, Liam, meet my top 5 ways to get you out of the Mr. Mopeys.
(1) You’re in Mother Fucking London! Mother Fucking London! It’s amazing! Not what you thought it would be like? Then you’re not going to the right places mein freund! Sure, customer service is lousy, lower than lousy, but Sainsburys! Trash Mags, Tesco! Cheap Books and Gigs! It’s ok to be in a pub at 3pm on a Tuesday, everyone else is! Hyde Park! Piccadilly Circus! Red buses, cute black cabs with cabbies who know where they’re going! And they speak ENGLISH! Sydney can only dream!
(2) You’re working at the BBC! The BBC! You are peaking! You will never be more than what you are at this moment. You’ll be like the hot girl in high school who’s ass got big! The BBC!
(3) Yes, you’re away from Ainsley and Josh of ainsleyandjosh.blogspot.com. But reality is we’re having fun without you. We’re meeting better and funnerer people and we will most probably de-friend you from Facebook before the year is out! So don’t pine for us…we’ve moved on and already forgotten you.
(4) I spoke to your parents in Coles the other day, they feel the same as (3).
(5) Sydney is humid and there is the slight smell of rancid fish in the air.
Well, I hope that makes you feel better, I’m sure it did. I sure feel better for getting it all of my chest.
xx
October 30, 2009
BADelaide... Fuck off, that's the best I could do
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
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
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
September 30, 2009
A Lesbian. Not Equal. Less.
Well, Just finished reading an email from my little Liam and it brought a tear to this Indian’s eye. I like to think Liam’s absence is what lead me to internet dating, at least it’s what I will claim in the next instalment of Josh and my autobiography, ‘Josh and Ainsley: Some Time Apart’. (Also in this series: ‘Ainsley and Josh: A Level Apart’ and ‘Josh and Ainsley: Torn Apart’) Without his masculine energy about, why, of course I need an outlet for all this pent up energy.
Speaking of masculine energy, not long ‘til Lauren is back. Josh and I have been discussing her return, over cigars and Brandy Alexanders and we fear that she will come back too cool for us. She was already the coolest out of our gang but, we feel this trip will be the clincher. The moment of truth where she meets up with us for a tofu shakes and saffron cakes, claims she’s going to the toilet and then never comes back. She will find cooler friends, perhaps with dreadlocks, or hybrid cars, and soon we will just be uncomfortable memories for her…like Josh’s copious AIDS scares… But we decided, you know, we can’t mope. There’s just no point because, she wont return to us. Despite our tears and Gossip Girl antics. So we thought ahead and have started holding auditions for her replacement. We went to a girls night, booked a couple of minutes of stage time and, in matching blue tutus and tiaras (blue for manliness, the lesbians like that) and said: “Hi, although we need no introduction, allow us to introduce ourselves, I’m Josh, and I’m Ainsley and as we’ve already Twittered, we’re holding auditions cos we need a new les for our group which is currently in recess. The les’s role is to add some, as the blacks would say ‘flay-va’ to our group, to make us seem less cliquey and more how you say ‘of the people’. She has to take a lotta shit, we like dyke jokes (“huge fans”) and paying out the vulgarity that is the female anatomy. In our group one might describe the lesbians role as the lackey, a lower rung, not equal, less. So if any of yous are interested, there’s a sign up sheet in the bathrooms, and please, Dykes or ugly lesbians need not apply…”
Needless to say, the list was so full by the end of the night, and we’ve had a lot of interstate interest, as well as a few trannies from Indo-China, so we’re still organising audition slots. Heheh, slots… So it’s early days.
Laters xx
Speaking of masculine energy, not long ‘til Lauren is back. Josh and I have been discussing her return, over cigars and Brandy Alexanders and we fear that she will come back too cool for us. She was already the coolest out of our gang but, we feel this trip will be the clincher. The moment of truth where she meets up with us for a tofu shakes and saffron cakes, claims she’s going to the toilet and then never comes back. She will find cooler friends, perhaps with dreadlocks, or hybrid cars, and soon we will just be uncomfortable memories for her…like Josh’s copious AIDS scares… But we decided, you know, we can’t mope. There’s just no point because, she wont return to us. Despite our tears and Gossip Girl antics. So we thought ahead and have started holding auditions for her replacement. We went to a girls night, booked a couple of minutes of stage time and, in matching blue tutus and tiaras (blue for manliness, the lesbians like that) and said: “Hi, although we need no introduction, allow us to introduce ourselves, I’m Josh, and I’m Ainsley and as we’ve already Twittered, we’re holding auditions cos we need a new les for our group which is currently in recess. The les’s role is to add some, as the blacks would say ‘flay-va’ to our group, to make us seem less cliquey and more how you say ‘of the people’. She has to take a lotta shit, we like dyke jokes (“huge fans”) and paying out the vulgarity that is the female anatomy. In our group one might describe the lesbians role as the lackey, a lower rung, not equal, less. So if any of yous are interested, there’s a sign up sheet in the bathrooms, and please, Dykes or ugly lesbians need not apply…”
Needless to say, the list was so full by the end of the night, and we’ve had a lot of interstate interest, as well as a few trannies from Indo-China, so we’re still organising audition slots. Heheh, slots… So it’s early days.
Laters xx
September 25, 2009
The Reviews Are In!:
After 2 months of blogging, we've finally been reviewed by the people who matter, here's what they said!:
The Sydney Morning Herald:
Josh and Ainsley have been on the Oxford St scene for a while, and I'm glad to say they're finally branching out to reach the rest of Australia. They use the blogging medium superbly, injecting their trademark humour into normal, everyday situations. Josh writes with a poetic beauty not seen since Dan Brown released The Da Vinci Code, and it's easy to get lost in what he's writing. In a normal Josh encounter it's often hard to get past his knockout good looks, so without that distraction it's wonderful to meet the man behind the beauty.
And Ainsley. Well, she writes. For a science student she's quite literate.
Margaret And David (at the movies)
David: 4 stars
Margaret: 4.5 stars
The Age:
This being a Melbourne newspaper, many were surprised when we announced we'd be reviewing a Sydney-based duo. As most people are aware, us Melbournians care about one thing: Ourselves. Which is why it is so easy to relate to these two. They are clearly unobservant in all aspects of life that don't concern them directly, leading many to think they actually hail from Victoria. They don't. Victoria is cool. Melbourne is better than Sydney. Melbourne rocks.
Who am I reviewing again? Oh right, Melbourne. 5 Stars.
DNA Magazine:
FAG! Ainsley and Josh are, like, totally cool. HOMOSEXUAL! They are good looking, and gay friendly. SEX! Never before have a Fag and his Hag been so accessible. GAY AGENDA! Josh is clearly a whore, which is perfectly suited for the readers of this magazine. PENIS! Ainsley is, quite frankly, a gay icon. HIV! If you haven't started reading these two, get on it, you won't be disappointed. QUEER!
Australian Catholic Weekly:
The deepest fires of hell are reserved solely for these two. They, and anyone who reads their homosexual propaganda will burn forever.
The Sydney Morning Herald:
Josh and Ainsley have been on the Oxford St scene for a while, and I'm glad to say they're finally branching out to reach the rest of Australia. They use the blogging medium superbly, injecting their trademark humour into normal, everyday situations. Josh writes with a poetic beauty not seen since Dan Brown released The Da Vinci Code, and it's easy to get lost in what he's writing. In a normal Josh encounter it's often hard to get past his knockout good looks, so without that distraction it's wonderful to meet the man behind the beauty.
And Ainsley. Well, she writes. For a science student she's quite literate.
Margaret And David (at the movies)
David: 4 stars
Margaret: 4.5 stars
The Age:
This being a Melbourne newspaper, many were surprised when we announced we'd be reviewing a Sydney-based duo. As most people are aware, us Melbournians care about one thing: Ourselves. Which is why it is so easy to relate to these two. They are clearly unobservant in all aspects of life that don't concern them directly, leading many to think they actually hail from Victoria. They don't. Victoria is cool. Melbourne is better than Sydney. Melbourne rocks.
Who am I reviewing again? Oh right, Melbourne. 5 Stars.
DNA Magazine:
FAG! Ainsley and Josh are, like, totally cool. HOMOSEXUAL! They are good looking, and gay friendly. SEX! Never before have a Fag and his Hag been so accessible. GAY AGENDA! Josh is clearly a whore, which is perfectly suited for the readers of this magazine. PENIS! Ainsley is, quite frankly, a gay icon. HIV! If you haven't started reading these two, get on it, you won't be disappointed. QUEER!
Australian Catholic Weekly:
The deepest fires of hell are reserved solely for these two. They, and anyone who reads their homosexual propaganda will burn forever.
September 24, 2009
Hey, Dude, Where's My Penis?
So, Josh used his powerful good looks to move my Anatomy and Physiology exam to two weeks from now. I offered to repay him in sexual favours. He declined. It created a slight air of awkwardness, nothing more than we're used to seeing as I am desperately in love with that which cannot be mine...Young, Thin John Cusack.
Dear Mr. Cusack,
Why so Mick Molloy?
Yours sincerely,
Ainsley Reed
So I binged yesterday. I regretted it. Today I am surviving on a diet of protein shakes and food guilt that must rival that of the catholic variety. I can feel myself getting fatter. I pray I am blessed with an eating disorder soon...
Kim Basinger is a smoking hot babe. I think I look a little bit like her... and I'm probably the most humble person I know...
Mr. Finnigan did a poo that was all peas. It made me smile, which poos do not often do.
I vomited in my handbag on the train, not drunken vomit, sick vomit. A lip gloss lost its life, as did many a vicks vapordrop (butter menthol flavour not as good as regular butter menthols, which am i right, are the bomb?). Though I morn their loss, I find solace in the fact that my phone, wallet, keys and Glamour with Blake Lively on the cover managed to survive. Fast thinking on my part, not fast enough to save that strawberry Nivea though, god how it hurts, she was not long for this world, barely a month...sad face. Sad face indeed.
But i work through the pain. Yesterday, yes, it was a step back granted, but I'm only human.
Oh fuck! my test is this Monday! DAMN YOU JOSH! DAMN YOUR LOOKS!
Dear Mr. Cusack,
Why so Mick Molloy?
Yours sincerely,
Ainsley Reed
So I binged yesterday. I regretted it. Today I am surviving on a diet of protein shakes and food guilt that must rival that of the catholic variety. I can feel myself getting fatter. I pray I am blessed with an eating disorder soon...
Kim Basinger is a smoking hot babe. I think I look a little bit like her... and I'm probably the most humble person I know...
Mr. Finnigan did a poo that was all peas. It made me smile, which poos do not often do.
I vomited in my handbag on the train, not drunken vomit, sick vomit. A lip gloss lost its life, as did many a vicks vapordrop (butter menthol flavour not as good as regular butter menthols, which am i right, are the bomb?). Though I morn their loss, I find solace in the fact that my phone, wallet, keys and Glamour with Blake Lively on the cover managed to survive. Fast thinking on my part, not fast enough to save that strawberry Nivea though, god how it hurts, she was not long for this world, barely a month...sad face. Sad face indeed.
But i work through the pain. Yesterday, yes, it was a step back granted, but I'm only human.
Oh fuck! my test is this Monday! DAMN YOU JOSH! DAMN YOUR LOOKS!
September 21, 2009
Does My Penis Look Big In This?
Salutations Reader!
It is I A-Tang III alpha. I bring to you, the news of sexiness. Sexiness is everywhere. Sexiness is in this computer. I am sexiness.
Sydney is hot, cold, Arthur, Martha. I am jealous of all things purple. Green is ok but blue is better. Sexiness is best.
I’ve been so busy that I didn’t even realise I was on holidays this week. I may have to go on e a date this week. Simultaneously, I think I may have been blown off. Boys are a difficult creature.
I want chocolate. And wine.
I have a hot date with Josh on Thursday which I am, sickeningly excited for. I plan to inebriate him with chocolate liquors then. Penetration. Watch this space.
It is I A-Tang III alpha. I bring to you, the news of sexiness. Sexiness is everywhere. Sexiness is in this computer. I am sexiness.
Sydney is hot, cold, Arthur, Martha. I am jealous of all things purple. Green is ok but blue is better. Sexiness is best.
I’ve been so busy that I didn’t even realise I was on holidays this week. I may have to go on e a date this week. Simultaneously, I think I may have been blown off. Boys are a difficult creature.
I want chocolate. And wine.
I have a hot date with Josh on Thursday which I am, sickeningly excited for. I plan to inebriate him with chocolate liquors then. Penetration. Watch this space.
September 16, 2009
Does Josh Smell Like Apples?
Well, another week in the life of myself. It’s been eventful. Hang on, someone near me just farted and I have to cover my mouth…
And I’m back. So gee, I have started a new job that I’m loving. My self esteem is returning from perilously low to just low and the world is my proverbial oyster...
Seriously. Another fart? You think I can’t smell them you dick! Yeah I can dude. I can.
OK. So with this new lease of heightened-though-not-high self esteem and the aphrodisiacal effect of the life oysters, bitch has started internet dating. Consequently I find myself exchanging emails with a foetus, or as I like to call him, ‘Foetus’. An Ashton to my Demi. Which has left me to have a Carrie moment, ‘How young is too young (head tilt, eyes ponder, slow pan out the window)?’ I find myself thinking about possible 21st birthday themes for next year. This bothers me. This bothers me. This is too young.
With that cleared up I find release. Fart guy has also gone which is lucky as I breathe a collective sigh of relief. Obviously the realisation clears nothing up. I still have to email him. I still have a lot in common with him. I still will probably have to meet up with him at some point. But I am at peace with the fact that I am getting involved in something that will always bother me, no matter how much I try to block it out. Just like when I dated a short. Wah. Why do I have this condition? So far no response from my 26 year old, sigh. I think it’s because my opening sentence was ‘Thank you for the complement’. What a moron. Why don’t people over 24 like me? Why are people under 22 drawn to me like proverbial moths?
I just did a massive facebook cull. It feels good.
‘Excuse me Miss, this blog is bland.’
STOP FARTING ASSHOLE!
The other day a certain white building on Macquarie Street made me sad. I miss my listener. But am glad he is having a good time :) (Yup, a smiley face on our blog, Josh, bring it).
So I just told Josh he bored me. To see what reaction it would get me. He squealed like a girl. Blamed it on me. Tears. Tantrums. We puppy-sat at the weekend and let’s just say, we should never have kids. Jose did not like Ainsley. This made Ainsley mad. Mad enough to almost punch that mutt in the face. But I didn’t. Jose made me sad. I wondered why he didn’t like me. I wondered whether my aura tasted of metal. Sigh. End of the day I chalked it up to the fact that he is owned by lesbians and had been bought up in an environment that hated straight girls. That’s the only explanation that made sense. I mean, I’m amazing! Good looking, funny and the most humble person I know.
xx
And I’m back. So gee, I have started a new job that I’m loving. My self esteem is returning from perilously low to just low and the world is my proverbial oyster...
Seriously. Another fart? You think I can’t smell them you dick! Yeah I can dude. I can.
OK. So with this new lease of heightened-though-not-high self esteem and the aphrodisiacal effect of the life oysters, bitch has started internet dating. Consequently I find myself exchanging emails with a foetus, or as I like to call him, ‘Foetus’. An Ashton to my Demi. Which has left me to have a Carrie moment, ‘How young is too young (head tilt, eyes ponder, slow pan out the window)?’ I find myself thinking about possible 21st birthday themes for next year. This bothers me. This bothers me. This is too young.
With that cleared up I find release. Fart guy has also gone which is lucky as I breathe a collective sigh of relief. Obviously the realisation clears nothing up. I still have to email him. I still have a lot in common with him. I still will probably have to meet up with him at some point. But I am at peace with the fact that I am getting involved in something that will always bother me, no matter how much I try to block it out. Just like when I dated a short. Wah. Why do I have this condition? So far no response from my 26 year old, sigh. I think it’s because my opening sentence was ‘Thank you for the complement’. What a moron. Why don’t people over 24 like me? Why are people under 22 drawn to me like proverbial moths?
I just did a massive facebook cull. It feels good.
‘Excuse me Miss, this blog is bland.’
STOP FARTING ASSHOLE!
The other day a certain white building on Macquarie Street made me sad. I miss my listener. But am glad he is having a good time :) (Yup, a smiley face on our blog, Josh, bring it).
So I just told Josh he bored me. To see what reaction it would get me. He squealed like a girl. Blamed it on me. Tears. Tantrums. We puppy-sat at the weekend and let’s just say, we should never have kids. Jose did not like Ainsley. This made Ainsley mad. Mad enough to almost punch that mutt in the face. But I didn’t. Jose made me sad. I wondered why he didn’t like me. I wondered whether my aura tasted of metal. Sigh. End of the day I chalked it up to the fact that he is owned by lesbians and had been bought up in an environment that hated straight girls. That’s the only explanation that made sense. I mean, I’m amazing! Good looking, funny and the most humble person I know.
xx
September 15, 2009
CyberLove.html
Just when you thought you knew us, in typical Ainsley and Josh fashion we throw you a curve ball that smashes you in the face and makes you realise you don't know what we're capable of.
That's right, we've become internet daters.
I know what you're thinking: 'But Josh, that doesn't surprise us at all. You're a whore. You'll take it from anywhere..'.
And you'd be right.
But Ainsley. That one you didn't see coming. We both have far too much fun trawling through her RSVP* site, deleting the bad and drooling over the good. As a gay man, used to Gaydar** I find it strange and unfulfilling that there are no cock pictures, or at least mention of penis size. Surely this is why people inter-date? Love Shmove, people are after a good doing.
I've been on two dates so far (with the same guy! Crazy!) and eagerly await being able to stalk Ainsley and her date when it happens soon.
Lust is in the air in Spring-time Sydney, from us to the horny cats*** on my street. We will keep you posted..
*This blog is not sponsored by RSVP.
**Or Gaydar.
***It is sponsored by horny cats, though.
September 08, 2009
Run For Cover Mother Fuckers!
Ok, so the reason I have shied away from this god-forsaken blog is because i have trying to write something poetic and funny and have spent the last few weeks, two intimidated to soil it with my verbal faeces. But now I'm poo throwing like a baboon on heat.
So Josh and I finally saw each other the week before last and it was everything I imagined and more! Waitara didn't know who had grabbed her from behind and menacingly yanked up her skirt, but if I am asked my opinion (and this may not stand up in a court of law), I'd say she was gagging for it. That night she was impregnated with spirit...and a little semen...
So the night ended with a smashed glass and the ingestion of a $2 bottle of red (Yes I know, bargain much) but thankfully, the hangovers weren't as bad as 'The Mists of Ireland' fiasco, we even went to the MCA and ate icecream on the Sunday. As we finished the day with beer (C'mon, it's Josh and Ainsley!) we looked over at Liam's building and cried a little, stopped and made out, then cried a little more. I'd be lying if we didnt miss the little ferret...and our little lesbian too. Sydney has become a lonely city without them. I miss Liam's fashion sense and outragious laugh, and Lauren?...I miss Lauren...
So this week I took a sickie to study for my Molecular Biology test and because it was too nice a day to spend in Satan's lair (Satan gets a cap and god doesn't? This site is just controversial as!). I was rewarded with a job interview at a chemist in the city that a demon hadn't posessed. The owner and his wife are clients of my sister and when she gets people naked and oils them up, she's a great little networker! So it went well and I know this because here we on sickie day number two (I have a back problem, consistency is key) he called and said he 'wanted me'. First guy to say that to me in a while and he'll be paying me! When I rang up my boss this morning and told her I was still having back problems and my chiropractor told me I need a week off she goes 'Sima isn't here either, can you do half a day?' Hello devil-woman! It's my faux spine! So yeah, looking forward to having to call her at the end of this week and say I'm not coming back! Gulp! I happen to know that every one of her employees, even the one who has worked with her for 9 years are quitting, so it's a race, it's a race!
Josh and I have spent the morning culling the last of my RSVP dregs (yes, I'm internet dating! I know!) I can't say no to people, I feel mean, especially if by looking at their profiles you seem to have a lot in common, but...looking at the photos...eeeh? But now I have said no to 16 of Sydney's least eligible bachelors. I have said yes to one (he's a foetus though) and one is a maybe (he's really funny but is in a band and in lots of his pics hes wearing some sort of fishnet top?). Josh says yes (but I think we know why).
Ok, so this weekend Josh and I are puppy sitting which I'm pretty excited about. I start my new job on Friday and well, all is good back on the ranch.
xxx
So Josh and I finally saw each other the week before last and it was everything I imagined and more! Waitara didn't know who had grabbed her from behind and menacingly yanked up her skirt, but if I am asked my opinion (and this may not stand up in a court of law), I'd say she was gagging for it. That night she was impregnated with spirit...and a little semen...
So the night ended with a smashed glass and the ingestion of a $2 bottle of red (Yes I know, bargain much) but thankfully, the hangovers weren't as bad as 'The Mists of Ireland' fiasco, we even went to the MCA and ate icecream on the Sunday. As we finished the day with beer (C'mon, it's Josh and Ainsley!) we looked over at Liam's building and cried a little, stopped and made out, then cried a little more. I'd be lying if we didnt miss the little ferret...and our little lesbian too. Sydney has become a lonely city without them. I miss Liam's fashion sense and outragious laugh, and Lauren?...I miss Lauren...
So this week I took a sickie to study for my Molecular Biology test and because it was too nice a day to spend in Satan's lair (Satan gets a cap and god doesn't? This site is just controversial as!). I was rewarded with a job interview at a chemist in the city that a demon hadn't posessed. The owner and his wife are clients of my sister and when she gets people naked and oils them up, she's a great little networker! So it went well and I know this because here we on sickie day number two (I have a back problem, consistency is key) he called and said he 'wanted me'. First guy to say that to me in a while and he'll be paying me! When I rang up my boss this morning and told her I was still having back problems and my chiropractor told me I need a week off she goes 'Sima isn't here either, can you do half a day?' Hello devil-woman! It's my faux spine! So yeah, looking forward to having to call her at the end of this week and say I'm not coming back! Gulp! I happen to know that every one of her employees, even the one who has worked with her for 9 years are quitting, so it's a race, it's a race!
Josh and I have spent the morning culling the last of my RSVP dregs (yes, I'm internet dating! I know!) I can't say no to people, I feel mean, especially if by looking at their profiles you seem to have a lot in common, but...looking at the photos...eeeh? But now I have said no to 16 of Sydney's least eligible bachelors. I have said yes to one (he's a foetus though) and one is a maybe (he's really funny but is in a band and in lots of his pics hes wearing some sort of fishnet top?). Josh says yes (but I think we know why).
Ok, so this weekend Josh and I are puppy sitting which I'm pretty excited about. I start my new job on Friday and well, all is good back on the ranch.
xxx
August 13, 2009
Absence
The sun may shine in Sydney, but it does little to warm our hearts. The bitter wind of discontent screams through it's streets.
An unnamed and faceless god conspires to keep us apart.
Illness is sweeping the city, and we are not immune. Bedridden for days, we can only take comfort in our dreams. Dreams of each other. It is, for the moment, only in these subconscious arenas that our love can be felt. True and deep. Our imagination is such that, once our obsession can be consumated, it may never be enough. Waking from our dreams, moaning loudly, we are reminded of the distance that seperates us.
It is not only sickness that fights us, a fearful dictator has taken over Wynyard. Now, forced into slavery, even our weekends are disappearing.
We can only hope to see one another soon.
For now, we have our memories and, of course, our dreams.
An unnamed and faceless god conspires to keep us apart.
Illness is sweeping the city, and we are not immune. Bedridden for days, we can only take comfort in our dreams. Dreams of each other. It is, for the moment, only in these subconscious arenas that our love can be felt. True and deep. Our imagination is such that, once our obsession can be consumated, it may never be enough. Waking from our dreams, moaning loudly, we are reminded of the distance that seperates us.
It is not only sickness that fights us, a fearful dictator has taken over Wynyard. Now, forced into slavery, even our weekends are disappearing.
We can only hope to see one another soon.
For now, we have our memories and, of course, our dreams.
August 06, 2009
The Departures
As we watch the back of Liam and Lauren, we are left to ponder: Will we miss them? The short answer is no.
We have each other, right?
Right? ...
Not ten minutes after our last sighting we were in good spirits. We meandered down to Opera Bar to drown our sorrows/look brightly into the future three months. Good conversation, good wine, good view, it was all there. It didn't take long for the warming effects of the mead to occur, loosening tongues, as it were. (That rhymed- You can decide for yourselves if it was on purpose..)
Then it happened.
One of our party, I'm not saying who, may or may not have exclaimed lovingly how sexually attracted they were to bespectacled members of the opposite sex.
This of course led the other person, who was at the time wearing glasses, to an inflated ego. The more beer that was consumed the more they became convinced their friend wanted to sleep with them.
(Ainsley and myself, of course, have an entire 'don't you let me know' history- The story of which is the reason for this blog's Adults Only rating. But I'm getting sidetracked..)
Alcohol was drunk, hands became wandering, the looks grew increasingly lusty. It was at this point that we stopped, withdrew, as it were, and looked at one another.
What was happening? What will happen? With the moral duo of our core four gone, will we be able to keep our friendship platonic?
Only time will tell.
This blog is for you, dear friends, so you can feel like you are still part of our day to day existence.
Watch this space.
We have each other, right?
Right? ...
Not ten minutes after our last sighting we were in good spirits. We meandered down to Opera Bar to drown our sorrows/look brightly into the future three months. Good conversation, good wine, good view, it was all there. It didn't take long for the warming effects of the mead to occur, loosening tongues, as it were. (That rhymed- You can decide for yourselves if it was on purpose..)
Then it happened.
One of our party, I'm not saying who, may or may not have exclaimed lovingly how sexually attracted they were to bespectacled members of the opposite sex.
This of course led the other person, who was at the time wearing glasses, to an inflated ego. The more beer that was consumed the more they became convinced their friend wanted to sleep with them.
(Ainsley and myself, of course, have an entire 'don't you let me know' history- The story of which is the reason for this blog's Adults Only rating. But I'm getting sidetracked..)
Alcohol was drunk, hands became wandering, the looks grew increasingly lusty. It was at this point that we stopped, withdrew, as it were, and looked at one another.
What was happening? What will happen? With the moral duo of our core four gone, will we be able to keep our friendship platonic?
Only time will tell.
This blog is for you, dear friends, so you can feel like you are still part of our day to day existence.
Watch this space.
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