Douches, they're everywhere

The Author is fired up by a bout of douche or not douche that accompanied his lunch (the answer was completely in a time machine and completely douche). To relieve the pressure here are some douchey things:

Yes, you are the odd one out. But I'd be convinced that Bon Jovi was cool if my male role model was that dad too.

Hey Mr Swayze, what you doing? Oh feeding a horse a hot dog, sure thing, that's not weird at all.


The modern day chicken and the egg: does this guy dress like a freak because no one sits with him in the food court or does no one sit with him because he dresses like a freak?

In keeping with the theme, this is the antithesis of the above, this is the right balance of ironic freak, you see her and her dog are dressed like members of Kiss, but they won't go the whole hog, she's wearing a tracksuit and the dog has a designer jumper, which is totally awesome because it says, yeah I like Kiss, but I'm not weird about it.

Isn't she on Sex and the City, and if so, why haven't I seen this episode?

If my plans to be a pre-teen millionaire through a lucrative bouncy ball pyramid scheme had of paid off, this is the house I would have built.
Let's break it down. Nothing like a good pie chart to analyse the motives of a supreme douche, what were his parents thinking: sausage and chop are taken, so we'll call him meatloaf! And really, since when was "that" not part of "anything". I would have thought that the definition of "anything" would include "that" along with, "everything beyond that".

The Horses Mouth

Synopsis: Oh My God is told that there are free miso soups at Wallywaggas, fearing that she will be misoless should she not nab a coupon (she did grow up in communist North Ryde, meal coupons were her life) she shoots from the hip and ends up shooting herself in the foot.

Then this guy named Alec Guinness turns up and does a whole heap of stuff that is totally unrelated to the story, but is pretty funny, like, Family Ties was pretty funny, but not that funny, not as funny as say, Zach Braff. But the bottom line is, she gets a meal ticket and the miso soup tastes like horse piss.

The last scene features Oh My God splattering out a mouth of miso soup all over the table in one of those awesome misty fountain WTF sprays and then as the camera pans out and up she looks to the skies and cries "damn you Karl Marx!".

By the way, I saw this Britney Murphy film called The Ramen Girl, I only sat through the first 20 minutes, but seriously, whoever made that movie owes me that part of my brain that it killed.

A Week of Fishing- 14/8/9

Friday: Yay, friday. Let's drink, but not with this guy, he has a face that says, beat me like a pinata.

Thursday: Speaking of faces, I took an art class, they said draw your hero, I said, by hero, do you mean annoying tv actor and by draw do you mean, make them look like a freakish wax model with oversized teeth?

Wednesday: You know what's really really great, when Englishers say "a drive by fruiting". I could listen to that ad infinitum.

Tuesday: It's the details that count, not only does he have an oversized cup, but that straw is thicker than Fatty Vautin. Respect to all you whacky asian tea with jelly houses.

Monday: The Author returned from where ever this guy comes from... aka Gosford. Totally WTF!!!

And the WTF of the week:

1. Who the hell buries cats in random places

2. Who the hell registers email addresses like whoburiedthecat@hotmail.com

Born Yesterday

Juju Space Jazz, man, is there nothing we can't believe in?

Turns out they put a man on a film set that looked a lot like the moon and everyone was like, oh wow, that must be the moon, because I've never seen a garage that looked so much like cheese and dust.

Is there nothing we can't believe in?

Praise Toast!

Bonjour Tristesse

Oh My God pleaded with me to make an appearance at this shindig. The crowd went wild so The Author said, why not?

Of all the great reasons why not:

1. I should be fishing
2. I could be catching bigger fish in a larger pond
3. I'd rather not be eaten by bears and marshmallows by frequenting this Speakeasy

I couldn't pick, so here he is, The Author.

In years to come a man by the name of Fergal Sharkey will release a song by the name of "A Good Heart" and years later still that song will still piss people off. Just saying.

The author looks on at the empty chair where Raymond (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonjour_Tristesse_(film) assembles for his daily purr and prim. Apparently some call him 'god', but not in capitals, because that would probably be blasphemy.

Heard a great story at lunch, I was eating mussells in Royan and there was a mad debate about Indian call centres, I was like, "me no speaka english" and "bring back the Raj."

I hope Oh My God and the Greek Choir appreciate this. Too esoteric, you be the fudge!

Roll credits... mon ami!