I will not go to Ecuador and teach your needy kids. I have shit to do too you know? I can't just drop it all to learn Spanish while I brain wash your kids into aspiring toward futures they can't possibly achieve. This is South America for fuck's sake. I'm not going there based on your promise of a beautiful coast. Those kids probably gave their last teacher AIDs and that's why you need me. Lure me out to Ecuador you say; take my health and my money and my soul you say. Nuh! I'm way ahead of you. You ain't getting a piece of this!
Maybe if there were something interesting going on in the city of Brisbane I wouldn't be so hate filled and accusing ya'll of skankhood and boganism.
Instead I'm just chillin' on my couch, sipping on rum with my blog, exchanging jokes about our mothers' varying degrees of obesity.
I guess I'm feeling so relaxed and generous that I will share with you my favourite thing. Favourite thing! Since 2007 this has been an important element of my very existence. It defines me and I have made life-altering decisions with this is mind. It is my messiah. I'm so not even kidding.
Me: Oh, that's called a 'tyre stand'. It helps stop those pesky tryes rolling about or falling over.
Houseguest: Does that girl even speak English?
Me: Tyre stand. Speaking English. Tyre. Stand. English. Are you fucking retarded?
- So You Think You Can Dance
- (Country's name) Idol
Why? Because of the unnecessary attempt to be deep and emotional.
"Dancing isn't just spasming on stage. It's pure emotion. It comes from inside. It helps me get in contact with the spirit of my dead father. Blah blah etc."
Conversely, singing isn't just vocal spasms. "It's like, getting your feelings across to the public, through the medium of song. It's so special."
And now, food isn't just ingredients... spasming together on a plate. Apparently. I have watched some Master Chef. It's way too emotional for a show about preparing nutrients and digesting nutrients. And by association, let's face it, defication. It's a show about cooking, eating and then going for a nice healthy dump.
When I release my bowels, I think about my soul. I think about my loved ones. I want to give myself to the Australian television viewing public, spiritually.
And you're not sure if they're ever gonna feel the smooth rubbing of wizard cloak against their legs ever again. And you're like, "Use your Patronus, Harry!! Before it's too late!"
But it's a film (and a book) and he can't hear you. And yet you worry that he won't use his Patronus when all he has to do is use his fucking Patronus!
This is a photo from the only Mongolian person I knew during highschool. According to her facebook she is still Mongolian. This photo was infact taken in a club in Mongolia. The caption reads "ice that looks like a condom?!?"
Me: Just chuck it on the coffee table.
This is a shout out to that cupcake of a friend of mine who bought me a Beverley Hills 90210 Brenda Barbie that is still in the box and ceased being made more than 15 years ago. Reaffirming masculinity... she can sit next to my action figures. I don't play with barbies. The original 90210 is considered to be a very butch teen drama. All your favourite action stars and Russian chauvinist writers were big fans of 90210. Brenda comes with a (high wasted) bikini AND cowboy boots. Brenda, Brenda, Brenda. I also took a photo of the back of the box. It features a brief but informative Brenda summary. Brenda and I share a very similar hair style and seductive stare. Here she tries to replicate me. Good try, Brenda!
This is a photo of my brother I've used without permission. He's in a gosepl pop band. I love having his artistic influence in my life. Like when I asked him whether he was a virgin he told me to "Watch your back." It's like living with Terry Richardson. Photography and Music are both art forms, you know?
I'm certain that act would have met several requirements concerning foreign language teaching methodologies and she's bound to give me an A.
I remember they gave this really inappropriate performance in front of the whole school. It featured one of them (the tiniest Asian one they flung into the air) strutting to the front, the music cuts, and she mouths the words "Yo, I got a fake ID" as those same words echo through the school hall. I know it was a backing track and she didn't really say it, because she doesn't have the voice of a male African American rapper.
Her lip-syncing was a little off too. That really gave it away.
The rest of the routine is a total blur I cannot for the love of god remember. Possibly because I wasn't paying attention. Possibly because it was so good my body cannot handle experiencing it more than once?
1. Use a dense cigarette - one that will produce thick smoke. Hold it by the tip and hit it against a table so it packs down even more.
2. Take a deep drag, then hold the smoke in your mouth, from your teeth all the way to the back of your throat. This will give you cancer. Accept it.
3. Pucker your lips into an O shape. Round and rigid, like an arsehole, only bigger. This will look stupid, and possibly a little bit sexual. Keep your tongue firmly pressed against the bottom of your mouth.
4. Short, sharp exhalations - one per ring. Start from your diaphragm.
Works best when the air it still.
By Stan Mahoney at http://www.fourthousand.com.au/stray/how-to-blow-smoke-rings-2/