Brain vomit.

I wish homosexuality was a choice. I’d be an excellent lesbian, and I’d never have to deal with the f***wits that make up 99.5% of the straight male population. I wonder if it’s something you can train for, like a half marathon.

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The other week, a bloke who looked exactly like Redfoo from LMFAO (well, he had an afro and sunglasses) wandered past the window at work. Myself and the other lass from work bolted to the front door, leaned out and hollered “everybodehh….shots shots SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!!!” at him. He looked utterly terrified and walked faster.

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After graduating high school back in 1998, I went on a celebratory camping trip to Tinaroo Dam with some friends. My good mate Stupid Paulie performed a beautiful re-enactment of a Jurassic creature emerging from the sea for the first time, which involved dragging himself through the mud with his knuckles while his back legs flopped uselessly behind him, all the while pulling a suitably ‘evolved’ face and squawking like a velociraptor. It remains one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Fast forward to 2009, and I find myself partnered with Stupid Paulie in a friendly game of barbecue charades. Paulie’s word is ‘evolution’….he drops to the ground, raises himself on his knuckles and we win in 3 seconds flat while the other contestants gape at us. Things like this make me think the universe is unfolding as it should.    

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Why did no one ever tell me you can cook steak in a sandwich press? Three minutes in the press and BAM, perfectly done steak. Quick morning tea at work? BAM, steak. Home from the pub at 4.00am? BAM, steak. (Granted, I did ingest a dangerous amount of melted plastic after neglecting to remove the wrap from the sirloin. I also mixed allergy meds with alcohol, leaving me comatose for the next 13 hours. BAM.)  

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12 thoughts on “Brain vomit.

  1. Yes, I agree with madtante – I cook everything in my George Foreman. Chicken breasts, steak, sausages, wraps, whatever. And I put a bit of baking paper under and over whatever I’m cooking and then you never have to wash it either.

    • He’s never been silly enough to allow me to videotape anything, sadly. Some of his impressions are absolute gold – he sends his fiance and I into fits.

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