Thursday, January 28, 2010
Irrational reasons for hating your parents friends
They resemble a villainous character from your favourite video game
They have the exact voice you have always invisioned a paedophile to have
They wear short shorts
They like Judas Priest
They won’t shut the fuck up about Judas Priest
You don’t understand what the fuck they’re talking about, because you rely on people doing things like making their voices go higher when they ask a question, but this person talks in a funny, slow, level sort of way that makes you want to stab your eyes out because you’d comprehend the dialogue of a charred burrito better
They have no chin
They have the exact voice you have always invisioned a paedophile to have
They wear short shorts
They like Judas Priest
They won’t shut the fuck up about Judas Priest
You don’t understand what the fuck they’re talking about, because you rely on people doing things like making their voices go higher when they ask a question, but this person talks in a funny, slow, level sort of way that makes you want to stab your eyes out because you’d comprehend the dialogue of a charred burrito better
They have no chin
John Safran
If I had a magic castle by the sea
I’d ask you to come live with me
If I were eurasian, eyes pretty, hair long
To love a non-jew wouldn’t seem so wrong
Please give me a call, don’t be mean
You can sing for me, I’d still be keen
We could rummage through Tracy Grimshaw’s bin
Or somehow upset old Ray Martin
I adore you so, I don’t know why
It’s the way you sneak and pry
Stealing Nicole Scherzingers’ panties
You, dear John, are the bees knees,
The cats pyjamas, cream of the crop
I especially like your top
Your eyebrows, socks, your loungeroom chairs
Or perhaps the way you cut your hair
Streaking through Jerusalem,
The way you say “I’ve been thinking”
The way you made your father admit
He’d had his large nose tampered with
It’s the way you lisp and speak and sound
When you say “hospices” my head spins round
People tell me to be wary of you
As Tina Fey might say, they can eat my poo
I simply do not understand the drama
All you did was wank to Obama
I love you so much, I just can’t concieve
Why you have a restraining order against me
I’m not a stalker, I’m just a fan
On my laptop outside your house in my van
I’d ask you to come live with me
If I were eurasian, eyes pretty, hair long
To love a non-jew wouldn’t seem so wrong
Please give me a call, don’t be mean
You can sing for me, I’d still be keen
We could rummage through Tracy Grimshaw’s bin
Or somehow upset old Ray Martin
I adore you so, I don’t know why
It’s the way you sneak and pry
Stealing Nicole Scherzingers’ panties
You, dear John, are the bees knees,
The cats pyjamas, cream of the crop
I especially like your top
Your eyebrows, socks, your loungeroom chairs
Or perhaps the way you cut your hair
Streaking through Jerusalem,
The way you say “I’ve been thinking”
The way you made your father admit
He’d had his large nose tampered with
It’s the way you lisp and speak and sound
When you say “hospices” my head spins round
People tell me to be wary of you
As Tina Fey might say, they can eat my poo
I simply do not understand the drama
All you did was wank to Obama
I love you so much, I just can’t concieve
Why you have a restraining order against me
I’m not a stalker, I’m just a fan
On my laptop outside your house in my van
Dad’s friend:…so do changes in weather slow down zombies? snow? humidity? You think we’d be safer in Australia?
Dad: You think they’d get dehydrate, but…
My uncle: No, no I don’t think so… it doesn’t seem to work. No, what you do is you wait until they all start dying of hunger
Dad: But how long would that take? Months?
Dad’s friend: By then, normal food is spoilt, you’re running out of canned food and you don’t have any fresh fruit or vegetables, you get sick…
My Uncle: Nah, get some meat into you… I reckin you want to reduce veg intake, eat more protien, shoot better
Dad: So then you get some fuckin’ bush tucker
Dad’s friend: Kangaroos, bush turkies, crocs… gotta shoot a good sized one. I nearly shot my foot off once trying to get a croc, I’d never shot through water before
Dad: What about supplies? The batteries go, your torches go, then you eventually run out of candles, you need to learn to make candles
My Uncle: Use fat from the dead fucking bodies!
My Dad: We should join the facebook group, “Ïf zombies attack, meet us at Bunnings Warehouse”. You joined that, didn’t you Alex?
Dad’s friend: But Bunnings isn’t next to a coles, that makes no sense, where do we get food?
My Dad: They always have those barbeques and shit though. Just eat a fuckin sausage
Dad: You think they’d get dehydrate, but…
My uncle: No, no I don’t think so… it doesn’t seem to work. No, what you do is you wait until they all start dying of hunger
Dad: But how long would that take? Months?
Dad’s friend: By then, normal food is spoilt, you’re running out of canned food and you don’t have any fresh fruit or vegetables, you get sick…
My Uncle: Nah, get some meat into you… I reckin you want to reduce veg intake, eat more protien, shoot better
Dad: So then you get some fuckin’ bush tucker
Dad’s friend: Kangaroos, bush turkies, crocs… gotta shoot a good sized one. I nearly shot my foot off once trying to get a croc, I’d never shot through water before
Dad: What about supplies? The batteries go, your torches go, then you eventually run out of candles, you need to learn to make candles
My Uncle: Use fat from the dead fucking bodies!
My Dad: We should join the facebook group, “Ïf zombies attack, meet us at Bunnings Warehouse”. You joined that, didn’t you Alex?
Dad’s friend: But Bunnings isn’t next to a coles, that makes no sense, where do we get food?
My Dad: They always have those barbeques and shit though. Just eat a fuckin sausage
I hate how blindingly bright new sneakers are. I just purchased a new pair of converses and I feel like they’re saying “Hey! Look at me! my brightness is a clear indication that the person wearing me, in her casual jeans-and-tshirt regalia actually cares enough to have recently purchased new shoes. What a tosser”.
The white parts are so incredibly, outrageously white I think you could probably see them from Neptune. What’s that? an atomic explosion? A nuclear holocaust? Dave Grohls teeth? No? Must be new sneakers.
The white parts are so incredibly, outrageously white I think you could probably see them from Neptune. What’s that? an atomic explosion? A nuclear holocaust? Dave Grohls teeth? No? Must be new sneakers.
My friend: Hey, you should have come out this weekend. It was pretty great. Except Louise was being a slut, as usual, with her tits flapping all over the place, and I mean literally flapping. Then this disgusting thing came over and they started dirty dancing, I mean literally dry rooting right there on the dancefloor, and I’m about to vomit, every time we go out it’s like, see the creepiest most toothless, feral person in the room? THAT’S who she aims so have sex with-
Her brother: (stops what he is doing and stres at her wordlessly)
My friend:- and it’s fucking embarassing (notices her brother) what the fuck are you looking at, ugly? anyway, Louise is such a slut. It’s so embarassing, I fucking hate going out with her. Oh God, it was so shit. Anyway, we’re going out again on Friday, you should come out with us!
Her brother: (stops what he is doing and stres at her wordlessly)
My friend:- and it’s fucking embarassing (notices her brother) what the fuck are you looking at, ugly? anyway, Louise is such a slut. It’s so embarassing, I fucking hate going out with her. Oh God, it was so shit. Anyway, we’re going out again on Friday, you should come out with us!
My mother: How's the roast, guys?
My brother: This is disgusting. It's so burnt i cant even tell what it is.
My mother: Well maybe you'd like to come home from a stressful day at work and cook dinner for us instead
My brother: Don't change the subject. This tastes like ass
My mother: How do you even know what ass tastes like?
My brother: I've eaten your cooking.
My brother: This is disgusting. It's so burnt i cant even tell what it is.
My mother: Well maybe you'd like to come home from a stressful day at work and cook dinner for us instead
My brother: Don't change the subject. This tastes like ass
My mother: How do you even know what ass tastes like?
My brother: I've eaten your cooking.
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