Suckspace

I don't get emos. I don't get why people wear their sunglasses indoors and I sure as hell don't get Myspace. Well, I take that back. I get it. I've been on there. I've checked out bands on there and I have friends on there. I get why it's great for unsigned artists etc, but I just don't get the point of it for 'normal' people.

The templates are chunky and the banner advertising is just plain ugly not to mention annoying. Then there seems to be a competition to see how many 'friends' you can get on your page. It just seems to be a self serving and indulgent example our obsession with being the voyeur. Sure, my blog is self serving as well, but it just doesn't seem as tacky as having a bio about your star sign, whether you're single, straight, a social smoker or drinker. Is it just me, or does it seem like an online bordello?

Ugh, there's just something icky about Myspace. But perhaps I'm just a blog snob?

P.S - To my friends who have a myspace page....I don't think you guys are self serving, indulgent or whoring yourselves out. It's just everyone else - ha!

Time out

It's official. BBQ City and I are on a break. We saw too much of each other and now we both need a bit of space. Perhaps it was wrong to go there on Friday night and over order when I wasn't even that hungry to begin with. Perhaps matters were made worse when Megan and I both claimed we were 'full' then proceeded to eat the rest of the spicy crispy beef we were going to take away. Mistakes were made. If only I had only ordered the dumpling soup as planned. It's for the best though.

A breakthrough

Ok, I realise that no one cares that I don't like spit, but I just wanted to share that I had a 'breakthrough' last night. I was lying in bed, trying to sleep when it suddenly hit me. I don't like spit because of a traumatic childhood event. Hmmm, ok, traumatic may be a slight exaggeration but imagine this. You're about 5 years old and at the dress rehearsal of your very first ballet concert. You're in your snail costume and you're pretty damn excited about the fact you get to shuffle onto the stage, point your toes for a bit and shuffle off again.

One of the older girls has been assigned to put on your makeup. In the midst of applying blue eyeshadow (yes, it was the 80's) she makes a mistake. She corrects it by spitting onto a tissue and wiping your eye. Another mistake is made, this time with a wayward use of eyeliner. Spit is place onto the thumb and under my eye is made sticky. My face now smells like hour old pizza shapes. Note, I am shuddering while I am writing this. Katie Ferrarer, I remember you.

Lid or no lid?

Let me set the scene. You walk into a toilet cubicle. You have one foot in the door when you realise that the toilet seat is down. Do you:

A) Leave immediately and go to the next stall hoping for an open lid
B) Take a chance and close the door

I am an A) person. I am afraid of what lies beneath the lid. Even if I am not in a public situation and there is only one choice, I still detest the lid. I hate touching it and I definitely hate nasty surprises underneath.

Why is the lid even there? For what purpose does it serve? It's only an impediment. Ban the lid.

Unhealthy obessions

Yes. I am officially obsessed with BBQ City. I went there twice this past weekend. Same last weekend. Once the weekend before that. I think I turn into a scary, unbalanced person when I start talking about their dumplings. Or the shallot pancake. Or the crispy beef. Mmmmm, crispy beef...... uh, what was I talking about again? Oh yes, unhealthy obsession. I think BBQ City and I need a bit of space. Maybe we'll just see eachother just once a week for a bit. You know what they say - distance makes the stomach grow fonder. And hungrier.

P.S - Contrary to popular belief, I do not receive commission from BBQ City.

Newsflash

I don't like spit. It grosses me out.

I had a dream last night that I ate a hard boiled egg but it split open and I ended up eating a lot of the shell. Now I keep on getting that crunchy flashback and it's making me feel sick. I also had another dream that I was having this massively intelligent conversation about ancient Greece. I remember thinking in my dream 'wow, this is kick arse dialogue', then I transported myself to someone's house where they told me to stuff their golden labrador into a kitchen cupboard. I did it, and surprisingly, it fit.

Pronunciation rage

Men, women and children of Australia - please pay attention:

Word: Croissant
Correct pronunciation: Kwassant (note the silent 't' on the end NOT crussant)

Word: Schnitzel
Correct pronunciation: Sssccchnitzel (NOT snitsel)

Word: Bolognese
Correct pronunciation: Bolonese (NOT boloGnaise)

Umm, that's it.

The burning questions in life

In this blog I like to address life's important issues. From the pursuit of dumplings to chicks with big lips having big tits, no stone is left unturned.

So I have another question. Whether it be parking or when we pull up next to cops at the traffic lights, why do we turn our music down ?

If we're trying to get into a tight park in the car park does it really help our concentration to turn the volume down a notch? Are the cops really going to turn their heads and think about pulling you over because you're reliving the 'Best of the 90's' in your car?

That's a no to both people.

So the next time you're driving, live a little. Keep your volume loud and proud.