What's your biggest fear? The death of a loved one? Drowning? Heights? Sharks? Snakes? Spiders? All valid fears, make no mistake, but you're most likely overlooking the most dangerous, the most evil, brutal, vicious and frightening creature of our time. They walk the streets. They catch public transport. You might even know one: the Crazed Teenage Girl. Make no mistake, there are plenty of ordinary teenage girls and it's almost impossible to tell the difference. They go undetected in their Team Jacob t-shirts and jeggings, sparkly lipgloss and ipods blaring Miley Cyrus. These teenage girls are harmless, right?
Yes, harmless. Harmless until you bring a certain pre-pubescent male into the picture...



A bleeding baby seal swimming into a Great White Shark colony comes to mind.

So on the weekend thousands of hormone-fuelled, rabid teenage girls foaming at the mouth screamed bloody murder in Circular Quay with clawing and shoving that would put Christian Bale to shame. Personally I think these girls had the right idea. I don't know about you, but I always imagined that one day I'd be at a concert screaming like I'd fallen into a meat grinder, eyes wild and bloodshot, and the musician of my dreams would pluck me, me out of the crowd. That girl! He'd say. The one who just tore the other girl's ear off with her teeth to get to the front row! (see there, with the blood-soaked shirt?). She's clearly not in need of psychiatric help and possibly going to kill me in my sleep. She's The One. I'm going to marry that girl!

Hello ladies

My cousin: what the fuck is wrong with you? who thinks of this shit, really?

Drunk guy: See, once your hair is gone, it's all downhill from there (grabs bald friend, points to his head) see, this guy's got nothing. Me? (points to small bald patch) I still have some good times ahead of me.

Drunk guy: (pointing at someone wearing a Beatles t-shirt) fuck Ringo Starr!

Drunk guy: (to me, after complimenting my friends shirt) why aren't you wearing a Bruce Lee shirt? You'd be fucking amazing if you were wearing a Bruce Lee shirt. You two would be so cool. I'll make a shirt, and it will have Bruce Lee pissing on a wall on it. You should buy it. Do me a favour, if you see a cat on the way home I want you to kick the shit out of it. Can you do that for me?

French lady: It is so different here. We go out in... "The Valley"?... In Queensland? and the girls, they dress, well they do not (gestures to body), they, em, wear not very much at all. Like, is it... a singlet? Or a dress? I can not tell.

My Mum: We took them (French guests) to the lookout at Bruxner Park!
Me: Did you tell them it's so nice and quiet because locals avoid Bruxner since that dead body was found there?
My Mum: ALEX! Not now. (smiles at French guests)

French guy: On April Fools' day in France, we stick things to others backs... like, "I am an arsehole. Kick me". So we put sheets on them, you know-
Dad's friend: WHAT? YOU SMEAR SHIT ON THEIR BACKS? That's not very politically correct is it?

Dear people who insist in making groups on facebook (often on a subject that already has 34 groups and 605,783 members, but whatever, I'm not judging you),

Yes, I imagine whether it's your passion for chicken sandwiches or your strong feelings on Tiananmen Square, you've probably got a lot of emotions. I imagine this causes you one day to be in your favourite cafe eating a bagel when you notice that, say, they've neglected to add the cream cheese you so politely requested. You race home, breathing heavily and sweating on public transport, or maneuvering your bicycle through heavy traffic with the Mission Impossible theme song in your head and adrenaline coursing through your veins. You race up your street, heart pounding, unlock the door, grapple with 10,000 tangled cables to retrieve your laptop. Now you type eractically, forehead vein throbbing, too passionate to care about spelling or grammar: "THAT MOMENT OF SHAME WHEN YOU ORDER SOMETHING AND IT COMES OUT WRONG AND YOUR TO SHY TO SAY ANYTHING!!". Create group. Click.

Today I saw a bunch of my friends had joined a PETA support group. Strongly disliking PETA myself I began the search for something along the lines of "Fuck PETA and their joke of an organisation and their unethical treatment of animals, not to mention immature protest tactics, petty name calling and throwing paint on Lily Allen when she was wearing fake fur, UNCOOL PETA that shit is expensive to dry clean". All I found were groups stating things on their page like, " I am a member of peta and proud of the fact. People Eating Tasty Animals", "Animals don't have rights", "There is a place for all Gods' creatures. Right next to the mashed potatoes", "correct me if im wrong, if you mistreat animals wont they try and kill you when you ride them?". Oh my, such intelligence and insight my brain might just melt and leak out of my nostrils. Just a side note, when you state "if you support these qualities, (of PETA's) then you have a low intelegence level" and you weren't being ironic when you misspelt the word intelligence then I'm not going to join your fucking group.
Maybe instead I'd put a sticker that says "REDNECK" on my forehead. Perhaps I'll get a Southern Cross tattoo? Dye my hair blonde and not bother covering the regrowth because Britney did it and everything worked out for her, right?
Or maybe I'll just shut up, quietly join thought-provoking groups like "NOOO CLING WRAP DON'T CLING TO YOURSELF" and be smug about how awesome and superior I am.

Yesterday I got home to find my seventeen year old brother in the lounge room with two girls wearing bunny ears.
Me: Hello brother, bunnies
Bunnies: Hi!
My Mum: (to my brother) Sweetheart I got new socks for you. I got black ones. (turns to bunnies) That's how he likes them!

I Get Chicks

Guy at bar: Hey. Do you want to dance?
Me: Okay
Guy: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: No
Guy: What's your name?
Me: It's Alex!
Guy: My name's Sam! Nice to meet you Alex
Me: Hey my brother's name is Sam!
Guy: (Looks uncomfortable) Oh My God, really?
Me: Yeah! and he's adopted! I haven't seen him in years! You might be him!
Guy: Uh... yeah. I have to (gestures in opposite direction, leaves)
My friend: Alex, you frighten me sometimes, you know that?

Some kid: Hi!
Me: Hi! I'm Alex!
Some kid: Hi Alex! Guess what my name is! Think guy in stripy shirt who goes missing a lot!
Me: OH MY GOD YOUR NAME IS WALLY!? I FOUND WALLY! (Yelling at my friends) GUYS I FOUND WALLY! (I start sending mass text message: "I found where's wally!!!") THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!
(Later)
My friend: Where'd Wally go?
Me: Oh, I didn't even notice he was gone!
My friend: Well played, Wally. Well played.

Me: I was just impressed by a guy on the premise of him wearing an ironic KFC shirt before realising my error and making a quick escape. It's time for me to go.
My friend: When Mel face-planted into the dancefloor and you started doing the macarena to Marilyn Manson I knew this night had started to turn.

Guy on side of the road: LET'S GET A KEBAB
Guy crazy eyes: A KEBAB!?
Guy on side of the road: YEAH A KEBAB
Guy with crazy eyes A FUCKIN' KEBAB?
Guy on side of the road: YES!!!
Guy with crazy eyes: THAT'S THE MADDEST IDEA EVER! THE MADDEST! MADDEST! MADDEST!

my friend: (noticing my Doc Martens) Hey, nice boots. So when you go out curbstomping Jews, do you have a special Nazi uniform? Or do you just go as is?