Reasons you will hate me

Friday q and a #85.

It's sunny, it's rainy, it's bowl-you-over with skirt-lifting gusts...I do love Melbourne in Spring. Not least for the balmy evenings and thrilling promise of Summer and all its charms.

I have soup, I have a stack of fine literature, and I am planning a spectacularly low-key roadtrip up north. I see no better reason to dive into a few random Friday questions, do you?

Miranda Airey-Branson said...
I think my dog and your dog could be friends.


I got lost the other day and found myself on Scotchmer St, which made me think about your dog.

This was patently not a question.

That's a tricky one, Miranda*...my dog is somewhat of a rabid left-winger and I can only presume that your hound bats for the other team with a fervour not dissimilar to its conservative owner's. What if the mutts ended up in some kind of ethics-based scrap and your dog went and dobbed on my dog to Andrew Bolt? The idea of poor old Bob Ellis being dragged kicking and screaming into the public eye by way of Rusty's colourfully mixed metaphors and heart-clutchingly dramatic sentences is just too much. She's only six, after all. I'm not sure she could take the heat and subsequent wash of interwebs attention.






*If indeed this is really Miranda, and not just some waggish type having what is known in comedic circles as a 'lend'.

Anonymous said...
where have the good kids gone?
i've never loved (not to mention dated) anyone and though i'm still young i'm finding it all a bit tedious.
please advise.
also, what is the meaning of life?

Hello.

1. I'm presuming you mean fresh-faced love interests and not actual 'children', as DATING FOLK UNDER THE LEGAL AGE IS WRONG AND WILL RESULT IN PRISON/A HEFTY FINE. If you're yet to love or date you have a world of specialness before you, Anon - exploring the brain of another via romantic circumstances is a truly blessed thing. And please don't fret about the lack of keepers. They're here, they're queer, get used to it searching for answers also and besides which if you're such a spring chicken there ain't no hurry. Take some deep breaths and revel in your moment of solitude before the world opens up and you're swept off your feet.



p.s. rsvp.com.au.





2. Words.





And now the first of many messages from our sponsor:

Witty Pseudonym said...

To Anonymous and all the sad ladies with futures that may involve cats - Bill Murray the weatherman from Groundhog Day, “You want a forecast? I’ll give you a prediction, it’s going to be cold, it’s going to be grey, and it’s going to last the rest of your life.” (Or words to that effect.) Dead pan Murray in the multiple suicide montage is just Dom Perignon.

Well yes, but that's hardly helpful. Nor is it particularly optimistic. I hope your advice improves somewhat over the course of the day.

richard_watts said...
catbrain - glad the Korean grocery worked out for you. :-)

Witty Pseudonym - I've never actually tried the pineapple juice trick, nor had a lover do the same, tho obs the taste of semen varies considerably from bloke to bloke.

According to Annie Sprinkle, the cum of vegetarians is "much sweeter than the cum of meat eaters". Apparently smoking, drinking, drugs and aspargus also negatively affect the flavour, she believes.

Milk and other dairy products are also to be avoided (makes for gluggy, foul tasting cum apparently); so fresh fruit - kiwi fruit is just as effective as pineapple apparently - as well as lollies and lots of liquids are the way to go if you want sweeter-tasting semen. It's always going to be a bit bitter tho, cos of the high levels of zinc it contains.

So google tells me, anyway...

'So google tells me' - a likely story, young man. Bunging that disclaimer on the end of such a wordy semen-based dissertation hardly disqualifies you as an expert on flavours. Although having said that, I will in future be ending my more humiliating admissions of perversion/degenerate behaviour with the words 'so google tells me, anyway' before attempting to deflect the attentions of the room on to someone else.

Witty Pseudonym said...

Thanks for the tips Richard, but was the adjective gluggy really necessary?

Yes, it was slightly too evocative wasn't it? At least he didn't say 'claggy', I suppose. Or 'gelatinous'.










Or viscid. Or mucilaginous.










Oh dear, I appear to have made myself violently ill.

Langie said...
Yegad! I never realised I could alter the flavour of my bodily fluids by ingesting fruity flavours such as pineapple juice and the like. How many pints of Mango Diaquiri do I have to skull before my little seamen sully forth now so totally fruitylicious that a gal would be gagging for more? (Sorry).
Most importantly, in the opinion of ye folk gathered here, what might be the favourite flavours a man might imbibe in order to make the little swimmers simply slurperful.
Any irrestible preferences girls?
Please do tell, I'll get a juicer tomorrow.
This is huge.
Cockaleekie anyone?
Woops.

You're free to ingest an obscene amount of Mango Daiquiris if you think it'll help you score, though be careful not to overindulge and end up a slurring mess with an orange stain encrusted around the outsides of his mouth as no-one will care to blow you outside of Pamela Anderson. Anyway, if you're asking me which kind of flavours I'd like to ingest during a lap visit - and I'm very much enjoying the idea of menfolk being some kind of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory-type magic tap, by the way - I'd probably go for caramel, green tea, and Pinot Gris.





I'm also a fan of White Castello cheese, but there's something about requesting that as a semen flavour which I find vaguely off-putting.



More from the original question poster:

Anonymous said...
Do you find it an offensive connection, Anon? Has it put you off knocking back coconut juice/bringing the boys to the yard?

1. Yes

2. Yes / Good heavens no, a girl has to get her kicks somehow. And bringing the boys to the 'yard' is enough of a rockin' good time to be worth enduring the little burst of coconut-esque unpleasantness at the end.

Also: loved loved loved LOVED Thursday's post. You're a genius.

AND for the sake of a question: Are there still plans afoot for an election party? Would be good to watch the demise of the slimy little bastard whilst getting heartily shickered amongst like-minded folk.

Actually, yes - I think an election party is definitely in order. I am considering venues at the moment, though it's hard to book somewhere without knowing exactly when we'll be raising our glasses/slitting our wrists. November 24th? First weekend in December? If the little prick chooses the weekend of Meredith I will seek him out and stab him in the goolies with a rusty nail.

Mercurius said...
Dear Ms. Fits,
Re: That fetching photograph you snaffled from Facebook last week - the one of the Young Liberals with their shirts off and the giant Howard poster.

Was the photo taken before or after their circle-jerk? I'm finding it a little difficult to judge solely from the expression on their faces.

Are you talking about this one?






It's rather magic, isn't it? At a pinch I'm going to wager 'after', as there's a certain sense of ball-emptied smugness about them. In particular that gentleman kneeling down seems fully cleared of any pesky ejaculate.



I wonder what they've got in those blue goblets. Do you suppose they're sparing a thought for flavour or are they too busy worshipping at the temple of JWH?



Even more tastefully:

Witty Pseudonym said...

Mercurius has invoked circle jerking. Ms Fits, I require your judgment. What is the hierarchy of offensiveness between circle jerking, swamping, and freckles? Freckles is a highly competitive game whereby a poo is placed in an appropriate container (a small esky has been used in past examples), all competitors place their chins on the edge of the container and a heavy object (such as half a house brick) is dropped upon the poo. The competitor with the most resultant splattered freckles on their face is the winner. I know your next question and it is prestige they win, prestige. Advanced competitors are known to play ‘tongues out freckles’. The origin of this game is rumored to reside with the Geelong Grammar rowing community. I wish to state that I have never circle jerked, swamped or played freckles and merely seek guidance for appropriate levels of behavior from the social elite. Perhaps there is merit in compiling a list of such activities with guidance grading in order to prevent any inappropriate embarrassment.

Oh alright, if I must. If there were a hierarchy of offensiveness competition, I'd rate Freckles as first prize, Swamping as second, and Circle Jerking as third. I find barely anything hideous about the notion of a few friendly folk killing time by indulging in a little mutual masturbation, but the 'brick on poo' game is utterly beyond help. Have these people not heard of Uno?

It's Barbie, Bitch said...
So...

blogging. Is it worth it? Or is it a bit like working?

Both, I think. My three years have been a worthwhile exercise attempting to push myself as a scribe, though some days I can't think of anything more tedious than finding some piece of half-interest in the tabloids and transcribing it just so some faceless fuck-knuckle can call me lacking in the brain department.


Also: telling your mother you can't attend lunch on Friday as you will be 'tending to the q and a people' doesn't hold much water as an excuse. Just for future reference.




p.s. More succinctly:

Ben said...

...it's a bit like working, but you can do it with porn up in another window.

Not that I ever would/am.



*closes AskJolene.com*






Also - believe it or not - WP has an opinion:

Witty Pseudonym said...

Number of blogs is disproportionately greater than bloggers. It is a graveyard out there. An enduring blog such as this is rare. Well done Fitsos Fitsos Ghali. Please say a rude word to remain edgy. From Blade 3, “Cock Juggling Thunder Cunt”.

Thank you, WP. Your continued and entertainingly unhinged support means a great deal to me in these troubled times.

Ben said...
I was about to post a hefty sigh and a lament, because no answers to me, but then I thought, ah I should check something, and yes, it is true. The lengthy and erudite question-oriented comment I posted last week somehow did not get posted, so it's no wonder you didn't answer.

And gosh it was a glorious post. It had advice for other readers, it had "good to have you back"s, it had laughter, it had tears, it had a little bit of saucy repartee between me and my wooden puppet friend Giacomo.

OK, let me try to remember the questions I asked...

Oh, yes. Ross Noble or Eddie Izzard?

Are you familiar with Ginger Meggs the movie? It had Garry McDonald as Mr Meggs, and Ross Higgins as the headmaster, John Wood as a policeman and Sid Heylen as a farmer. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep thinking I will never own the soundtrack. Unlike Fatty Finn's Ben Oxenbould and Rebecca Rigg, the young Meggs faded into obscurity. Or did he? Maybe you know him in adulthood? He was most flame-haired, so he may well move in your circles. Not that I'm suggesting you run some sort of ginger network or anything.

I have been invited to the announcement of the Walkley Award nominations. Do you think attendance would be a worthwhile use of my time?

Serious question: My sister recently wrote an article defending the values of Californication against would-be censors, and Chris Lilley has of late been forced to defend criticisms of his comedy by explaining his intentions. While these defences are both true and worthy, would it not be great if calls to "ban this sort of thing" were met by a hearty "fuck you, offence to your personal sensibilities is no grounds for anything, and I refuse to discuss my own creative vision with those who would censor it, because free expression prevails no matter the supposed worthiness"? I do realise such a long sentence is difficult to say heartily, but this is important. After all, Big Brother Up Late weren't no work of art, but censorship sucks even in such televisual fleshpots.

And also, if you were a young man writing a novella, would you go for the time-travelling detective, the dimension-hopping elf-hunter, the paedophile-obsessed vigilante, the undercover poet or the humorous serial killer?

It really is good to have you back.

And good to see you again, fine sir. I did my best to make it to your gig on Wednesday but was forced to attend my beloved ex's residency by a mob of well-meaning friendlies instead. Apologies, and do keep plugging.


So.


1. Ross Noble or Eddie Izzard?


Ross Noble. What a brain. What an utterly beguiling brain.



2. Are you familiar with Ginger Meggs the movie?...Unlike Fatty Finn's Ben Oxenbould and Rebecca Rigg, the young Meggs faded into obscurity. Or did he? Maybe you know him in adulthood?


I am indeed. From memory the two films were released only a couple of years apart, so I would have devoured it with rabid enthusiasm...though I always get confused about which one featured Bradman and the crystal set radio. It was Finn, wasn't it? Or was it P'tang Yang Kipperbang? I can certainly recall cricket in that, though perhaps a tad more bosom-touching than featured in Meggs or Finn.


You're right about the young Paul Daniel and no, I don't know him in adulthood though my Circle of Gingers is ever-expanding so who knows what the future holds.


p.s. He was dyed ranga, anyway - a fraudulent rusty cage in every sense.


3. I have been invited to the announcement of the Walkley Award nominations. Do you think attendance would be a worthwhile use of my time?


I don't see why not. They'd most likely have canapes and champagne; two worthwhile accoutrements to an afternoon's entertainment in anyone's language.



4. Serious question: My sister recently wrote an article defending the values of Californication against would-be censors, and Chris Lilley has of late been forced to defend criticisms of his comedy by explaining his intentions. While these defences are both true and worthy, would it not be great if calls to "ban this sort of thing" were met by a hearty "fuck you, offence to your personal sensibilities is no grounds for anything, and I refuse to discuss my own creative vision with those who would censor it, because free expression prevails no matter the supposed worthiness"?


Do you mean that instead of defending such accusations of debased humour-mongering we simply give naysayers the backwards flying V? I don't know; sometimes the ol' 'fuck you' stance tends to enrage the moral guardians more and send them into a year-long letter-writing frenzy from which there may be no escape. There's nothing wrong with occasionally having to back up one's creative output with eloquence and grace, though if by the end of it all you're still dealing with red-faced morons calling you a heathen I suggest a hearty raspberry and a not-unenjoyable stroll away in the opposite direction.



Or alternatively:

Witty Pseudonym said...

Ben – Are you of the opinion that sensor ship opinions should be written out of history? I am. Your Undercover Poet option appeals as the most intriguing and original to me. Undercover what? Is he or she a person that is pretending to be a poet or a poet that is pretending to be something else? It appears to me that this is the one you relate to the most and would therefore write the best about. An involvement by a Humorous Serial Killer as an intertwined character that is inadvertently and perhaps unwittingly thwarted by our central undercover poet is an option, rather than the typical obvious adversary role.

Do you sleep, WP? Ever? This is a genuine question.

Ben said...
Just for you WP, since you asked:

http://mrbehemoth.livejournal.com/1083.html

The origin of the undercover poet. Much more has been written of his exploits, of course, eg here: http://www.lulu.com/benpobjie

Plug plug plug.

I'm starting to think that you two are going to request co-authorship credits on this post. Just remember who runs the joint, okay?

BEVIS said...
"WP - the BEVIS you have when you're not having a BEVIS, discuss - has a take on it:"


You know you can always have a BEVIS, Ms Fits. All you ever have to do is ask ...

< Awkward pause. Crickets chirping. A nervous cough from the back of the auditorium. >

Seriously, though - my question from two weeks ago was omitted from both Friday Q&A # 83 and Friday Q&A # 84. However, I notice that the erroneous link to my blog has been amended, so that's nice. And it probably explains why you felt wasn't necessary to answer my question, but still. Doesn't stop me from verbally-diarrhoea-ing my thoughts at you here.

I hope you've all been enjoying Witty Pseudonym's BEVIS-like machine-gun interjections, persons unknown.

The world (ie. this blog) needs more people who do that. Just to make sure Ms Fits has no time to get anything else done on a Friday, other than answering our questions and dealing with our drivel.

You're right, BEVIS - it wasn't a question. You merely asked me to correct my link and I did. I can't be expected to post every wildly inventive gem that springs from your fingertips, you know.



Also:

rumbled said...
Is Witty Pseudonym actually Bevis in a not so cunning disguise?

I've wondered the same thing myself, rumbled. Although any random musings I've entertained on this subject inevitably end with the question which begins with the words: 'why on earth would someone...?'

Witty Pseudonym said...

Rumbled – Are you a transforming cassette that comes out of Soundwave, and do you have seismic piston arms that make earthquakes?

You don't have to answer that, Rumbled. Honestly.

James said...
FYI, Heavy Kevvy's Facebook profile is only knocking back friend requests because he's so 'down with the kids' that he's exceeded the maximum possible number of friends that Facebook can handle. A group, ' I want to be Kevin Rudd's Facebook friend too' has been set up to take the overflow.

Thank you, and correct. Group can be found here.

Anonymous said...
dear ms fits,

i have a slight dilemma. and its not my misuse of little letters. i have been getting together with 2 to 3 others and watching movies at each others house for almost two years. one of those 2 or 3 people is this absolutely gorgeous femme. from the moment the film watching sessions started, i have been a) in a series of short term relationships and b) besotted by her beauty. so much so, that i just cannot be my normal, charming, sensual self. on top of that, she knows about my very polygamous ways.

its not that there is a light saber of energy b/w us, not even a carpet rub spark. but i find myself always taken aback by her looks. i just want want to kiss her, once. i want to know for sure, that there is nothing b/w us. and i believe this will only be revealed with a kiss. how can i get to that base ?

N.

How can you be certain that there is nothing between you, N? Surely if this delightful lady is setting your world aflame to the point where you're simply unable to function then internal chemicals are telling you to sit up and pay attention. What happens if the kiss turns out to be the most electrifying lip-lock you've ever had the pleasure of sharing? Will it ruin the dynamic of the laidback movie gang? Are you prepared to relinquish cosy nights in front of the box watching Ben Stiller's latest romp in order to pursue a potentially heady love affair?


I've always been a fan of flat-out asking someone if they'd fancy a bit of a kiss, so why not start there and see what happens? Either that or see if she wants to re-enact the Selma Blair/Sarah Michelle Gellar 'moment' from Cruel Intentions. She can always say no.



p.s. Report back, please.

Marmalade said...
Dear Fits,
Does anyone know the formula for when a person should give up drinking? Like if:

Age in years > The no. of Sunday morning powerchucks x Time (am) they started?

Might be time to hang up the boots. Fits, can I apologise to Melbourne for my disgraceful behaviour on Saturday night? If so:

The punk @ the Victoria Hotel: Sorry I asked if you liked Green Day. A punk pub-crawl is an excellent idea and I'm glad the police came when they did.
Everybody @ the Drunken Poet: Sorry for being a noisy cunt and playing Charlotte Sometimes on the jukebox about 15 times.
Drivers on Elizabeth Street: Thank you for not running me over. 'Boxman' does not exist and would have no superpowers even if he did. I just couldn't see you because of the box.
That cute girl in the black dress @ the Corner: "Yeah, South Africa is pretty fucked" is not an accurate representation of the political challenges your country faces. Your counter-argument was apt and deserved. Want to go for coffee sometime?

Sorry, Melbourne. Thank you, Fits. I feel much better now.

I'm glad you've managed to repent, Marmalade. Anyone else who feels they have some kind of intoxicated poorly behaviour to make amends for may feel free to do so on this blog. Mi casa su casa, etc.



Also: not sure there's a mathematical formula involved, but if you're waking up of a weekend morn feeling as though you've been hit in the kidneys with an iron bar then it's possibly time to clamber on the wagon for a spell. Your life may be slightly on the duller side, but at least Boxman would have a well-deserved rest from superhero duties.

Witty Pseudonym said...


Marmalade – You and me and a night in Melbourne. My treat, I am very wealthy and decadent. You rock.

Think carefully before you accept this offer, Marmalade.




Very. Carefully.

bop-girl said...
Marmalade – You and me and a night in, in Melbourne. My treat, I neither very wealthy nor decadent, but i am willing. You rock.

Christ on a bike. Marmalade is the new TobyToby of RYWHM. I've not seen a dance card fill so fast in months. Save a cha-cha for me, won't you?

Joseph said...
I would also recommend thinking twice about consuming sev'ral pints of the Beast at the Gem. That stuff has more than a drop or two of Dr Jekyll's formula.

Public service announcement, et cetera.

Brought to you by TAC. Although let's face it, when you're staggering distance from the Gem it's much harder to resist the temptation of one or sev'ral more, particularly when proffered by such pulchritudinous barstaff.

T said...
I recently had cause in a semi-professional capacity to take key member's of Kevvy's posse on a tour of a large public venue on the day prior to an appearance from the man himself. His media advisor piped up at one point saying "You know, Kevin really is like a popstar. Everywhere he goes he gets like totally mobbed".

Questions:

In your venerable musical opinion, if Kevin was to actually pursue popstardom what style/theme/mojo would his debut single imbue? Or would he perhaps launch into the musical stratosphere with a kooky cover of a previous pop hit?

Would 'K-RUDD' be a suitable chart topping moniker?

and

Are you as alarmed as I am by the rampant use of the word 'like' with highly annoying upward inflection (particularly in the case of high ranking political staffers)?

What a lovely question.


1. I have no idea why, but this song immediately came to mind and now I can't get the notion of Kevin covering it out of my head:





DO YOU NOT FIND IT A BRILLIANT NOTION?




Even better if he covered it in Mandarin.


'乘坐在範圍, 我有我的帽子/ 我有我的起動- 多灰塵。/ 我有我的馬鞍在我的馬./他告訴....T t t t t 觸發器當然。/ 我想要是牛仔並且您能是我想要是牛仔的我的女牛仔並且您能是我想要是牛仔的我的女牛仔'




p.s. This translates - wonderfully - as:


'Rides in the scope, I have my hat / I have my starting - multi- dusts/I have my saddle in mine horse/He tells... T t t t the t trigger to be natural. /I want am the cowboy and you can be my female cowboy/I want am cowboy's my female cowboy /and you can be I want am cowboy's my female cowboy'






2. I think 'K-Ho And The Dynamic Hepnotics' rather suits, but that's just me.





3. There's a little bit of Paris Hilton in all of us, T. Sad but true.

Witty Pseudonym said...

T – Christian Rock. Although I am sure Fitsington Bear (a little too far?) will say revolutionary folk or socialist punk. Thunder stolen. Your thunder, my pocket, me walking out the door, with your thunder, in my pocket. Your thunder, gone. Here, thunder, none. No thunder here.


*sighs deeply*

I didn't say anything along those lines, so just you hand back that fucking thunder and be off with ye.

Anonymous said...
Fits,

Just hypothetically, let's just say a massively beautiful woman walks into your life one night and makes-out with all your current crushes high school style. At just one party she shatters your dreams and takes all the phone numbers with her. What would you do?

Since hearing that she has dates with every single one of them this week I have been watching and listening to Soko sing "I'll Kill Her" repeatedly for about an hour and half, but I feel I might be getting kinda stuck.

I cannot compete, she's American and looks like Beyonce or maybe better. I think her boobs are probably three times the size of my head. She's probably really nice too, smart and funny (hmpf).

I am currently contemplating my future with cats, hypothetically. And hyothetically, it's not looking good. Any advice?

x

First things first:

Ben said...
Anonymous, I'm scared of either her boobs or your head.

Don't be, Ben. God made us all in His image, and He happens to have an incredibly massive rack.




Here's some more unhelpful advice:

Witty Pseudonym said...

Can I have her phone number? You sound like a weak self pity case, but that can be a good thing. Plenty of guys are into weak girls with small breasts with large nipples, and bad posture. I recommend that you cry more often and never make eye contact. That will have the guys running back. This advice is straight out of the Fits handbook, “Get Your Own Self Confidence, You Lecherous Happiness Vampires, Volume 3”. Comes with $50 Polichicks voucher. I will be buying the Julia Gillard used underwear. My god I love Julia Gillard so hard it hurts, in a bad way. Watching, waiting, wanting (spoken like the narrator from Trap Door).

Charmless, WP. Completely charmless. I don't think our Anonymous friend is going to have a cold and grey existence just because some ubervixen has strolled nonchalantly into her world and scooped up all the available men. For one thing, she can't possibly continue dating all of them at once. They'll tire of her playing them off against each other like wee Matchbox cars and seek out more stimulating company/less bosom and THIS IS WHERE YOU STEP IN, MY FRIEND.


Don't give up just because an extra from a Russ Meyer film has decided to handpick your crushes out one-by-one for some tongue action. If they're so smitten by her comely charms they have no time to explore the lovely gals right under their noses, then more fool them. When she stomps off to take the next town by storm and hoover up all the innocent bystanders into her hungry mouth, your bewildered gentlemen will no doubt return to the fold and you may comfort at will. Tell the cats to look after themselves.



HOLD THE PHONE WE HAVE AN UPDATE

Anonymous 02 Oct said...
Well, Friday seemed too far away and WP pissed me off so I decided to do something instead of crying in front of utube and taking up dieting for the next 3 days.

A darling friend of mine suggested I firebomb my favourite crush's house or maybe just egg it but I stopped listening to her good advice since she nearly burnt her own house to the ground rather recently.

The word on the street is that Ms Kissamatron (she did pash SEVEN boys in one night) had actually asked a FEW of the gentlemen from the party to dine with her on one particular night without making it very clear to some that they were not going to be the sole attendees of the date. (Apparently this is just a slight variation on the 'group date', I have no idea how this works and I want to see it.) Since hearing this, a couple of girls and I are still contemplating booking ourselves a table at the same restaurant on this night and you
know, just being there, maybe like throw some bread at them or something (On behalf of all the women north of the river).

...

But then he called. Wanted to know why I'd sent him a text message saying I wanted to punch his date in tits and I tried to be really tactfull so I just said "Because she's disengenuous, she doesn't love you and she's stealing all the men, even the gay ones (truth)." And "Her jokes are boring and stupid." And then his phone ran out of credit and mine ran out of batteries two seconds later (truth).

...

But later I got text message that said:

"You are a beautiful diamond X"

And some other stuff.

The End

Did anyone else just get goosebumps?





Yes:

megs said...
You go Anonymous 02 Oct. That's lovely.

It is indeed. And heartwarming for all.



How good is Friday shaping up to be? Does anyone fancy a champagne?

Witty Pseudonym said...
Hey Fitstone –If god exists, why does he let all the bad things happen? *A child’s eyes stare up at you grief stricken and confused* Why do fools fall in love, why do birds sing so gay? That should delay you while I harass the other bloggers.

For those sharp abdominal pains I like to take, Bevis. Bevis gives me what I need to stay in control of my life. Bevis. Take only as directed. Bevis incorporated into advertising is strangely humorous. Got Bevis?

(Spoken like Sonny the Robot from I Robot). Is it true doctor? Am I Bevis? What is love? What is Bevis?

Crazy? Yes. Insane? Yes.

Hey Fits, Daily Show or Colbert Report?

Ammunition complete. Smoldering relief.

God lets bad things happen so bloggers have something to make off-colour jokes about, WP. Fools fall in love because they are not rational enough to comprehend the potential emotional wreckage before them, and more power to their trusting naivete. Birds sing so gay due to freedom of sexual expression.



The only other one of your questions I can answer is Daily Show. Gracious but you're hard work sometimes.

randall said...
Ok, no sarcasm, BS aside...

... what are you going to do if Howard wins again?

AGAIN??

I have been thinking seriously about this question ever since you posted it, randall. For one thing I'll probably have the lyrics to the beautifully apt Dan Kelly song 'Drunk On Election Night' tattooed to my back:







'I went to a party with my girl in the city
On election night
I was hoping everybody’d make a move to the left
But we done and took a swing to the right
Now I’m singing the blues for the country
As we move into another long night

I’m gonna catch that plane and fly
Gonna sail on the next high tide
Just to get away from that cocksucker motherfucker
Darkening my mind

I stood in the corner throwing glances at the TV
I ripped the label off a bottle or nine
Some sucker rolled up in a beemer trailing streamers
And I nearly got into a fight
I said ‘you’re making a fool of the country
holding hands with the Christian right’
Then I turned to my girl and I cried…

Gonna jump that train and ride
Sail on the next high tide
Just to get away from that cocksucker motherfucker
Playing on my mind and darkening our times

Well all of a sudden I got something to say
I buried my head but it wouldn’t go away
I sat around waiting for a brighter day
But the bad stuff’s coming when the good do nothing
It’s true…
So what am I gonna do?

Maybe backpack through Peru
Work for time on a farm in Timbuctoo?
To get away from that cocksucker motherfucker
Playing on my mind
The get away from that cocksucker motherfucker
Darkening our times.'



Honestly. The pain of 2004 has never been put so simply and perfectly. The man is a poet.



I don't know, I guess I'll do a little of what I did last time - curl up naked under a blanket and drink gin for two days - and then figure out why exactly I want to live amongst people so small-minded they think Kevin Andrews' slicing down the African refugee intake will lessen 'crime' (avoid the Herald Sun letters page today if you're feeling a little sensitive) before gathering up my gent and dog, buying a one-way ticket to Spain, and taking some much-needed time away from political heartbreak.











Oh randall, I couldn't bear it. I really couldn't.

MattB said...
Totally OT:

"Bioshock" appearance?




OK, it's probably just the flower :-)

You think that looks like me? That's rather kind and poorly judged of you. I must say I like the fact that it's a poster for cosmetic enhancement. Are you suggesting I take drastic measures in order to spruce myself up, young man?

Martin said...
Ms Fits,
How do you reconcile your anti-Howard stance with the fact that you're the only one he's chosen to reveal the date of the election to?
Could it be that you are in fact a pro-Liberal stooge, with a deliberately lefty self-indulgent persona designed to repel wavering Liberals considering dumping The Man Of Steel?
Are you in fact the Liberal party's answer to Labor's brilliant placement of Janet Albrechtsen as the "typical" Liberal woman, a tactic which has forced women throughout the country to join the ALP and use seriously less cosmetics lest any comparison be made?

OH LORD I'VE BEEN FOUND OUT.





*activates escape hatch*






SEE YOU IN HELL, LEFTY SCUM.

Witty Pseudonym said...
It is not expected for you to be the defender of all things Labor, however, are you aware that there is no tangible difference in troop deployment policies between the Coalition and Labor? ……Tangible ….. Sounds yummy. Perhaps Coalition = US stooge, but maybe Labor = Hypocritical US stooge. How does that grab ya?

US Ambassador to Australia: Lets talk about your troop commitments and also, completely unrelated, our trade relationship.
Kevin: Ok. Whimper.

Disclaimer spoken quickly like the authorisation following campaign commercials: Witty Pseudonym’s apathy and hypocrisy knows no bounds, and does not support any political party. Authorised by Julia Gillard’s underpants. Spoken by voices in your head.

Oh, it's you again. Please don't disappear like that; I missed you terribly.


Yes yes, I'm well aware of Kevin toeing the line in a fashion that is in no way admirable or forward-thinking. He's a conservative wee bugger, and making some interestingly bad choices when it comes to nodding agreement with the Coalition. I've said before on this blog that at the moment my main focus is on getting Herr Fuckwad and his merry band of Stooges out and seeing what happens when the fresh mob move in. We'll be keeping a close eye on them, fear not.

Ben (another one) said...
Hello,

I've been invited to a birthday party, and I'll be required to dress up. For my planned costume, I would need a samurai sword. Unfortunately, these cost upwards of $100. I was wondering if you or any of your readers knew of somewhere in the Melbourne area where plastic ones would be sold, as the only swords I've managed to find are those used by knights.

Also, I'm wondering, what inspired you to move from Blogger to, well, here?

Thanks for your time

Hello Ben (another one), and may I say how much I enjoy your question.


I'd suggest you go to Rose Chong in Gertrude street Fitzroy - they have a wide range of plastic swords and eye patches and roast chicken costumes and fright wigs and OH it's a marvellous place to spend an afternoon. I do so envy that you get to go and play dress-ups.



With regard to the move, I'd been in discussions with dear Joseph Make-Believe for a while and eventually he pushed and prodded me and designed this beautiful site until I was putty in his hands. My only insistence was that it proved easier to negotiate than Blogger as I am a renowned dumbass, and he has done a magnificent job. I owe him a few glasses of something alcoholic.


Though not The Beast, obviously.





************


We're completed again, and I feel better for it. Don't you? Time for fresh air, and dining with the inimitable genius of the Singles Lounge, and more blessed novels, and counting down the days 'til beachside gin and tonics with le Bloodnut.



Post your questions for next Friday below. I remain your humble servant, etc.





40 days until the next election

30 comments.