Do you think that someone should tell Terri Irwin that she doesn’t need to wear the whole khaki outfit anymore? If its functionality she wants then blue and grey camo is both functional and fashionable. Khaki I’m afraid, is neither.
It has been a few days since I last blogged, the four of you that read this (not counting myself) may have noticed. I have been busying myself with watching the great man David Beckham play football and rather more disturbingly, having dreams involving close mates and their girlfriends.
In my latest, Big Gay Ray, who is not really gay, he’s only it for the monthly subscription to Does My Bum Look Big In This? mag, was showing us all at work a photo of his missus sleeping in the nude. The photo is taken from the top of her head (she’s lying down, face up) and has Ray at the foot of the bed with his thumbs up and a look on his face that says “Yeah, here’s a photo of my missus sleeping naked, score!”
But that’s not the weird bit. I want to know who took the photo? It’s not Ray, cause he’s at the foot of the bed and his missus is asleep so either the camera was on a timer, or there was a second pervert in the room. I'd take it up with him but seeing as the whole thing is a figment of my imagination it might not go down too well.
I used to work with a guy who would regularly hand round Polaroid’s of his missus in the buff. He had that same look on his face too. Obviously its cool to have watch other guys ogle your naked girlfriend. I can’t say that I’m rushing off to set up the camera in our bedroom just yet, but who knows, if the lighting is right and the mood is set?
This girl was attractive enough but always drunk or comatose in the photos, which kind of makes it illegal for him to be taking photos methinks. And he was always going on about how she was a ‘psycho bitch’. Gee I wonder if that was because she heard he was passing around nudie pix of her?!
Why does shit keep getting smaller?
Like Tim Tam balls and mini bite size versions of all the crap food you’d normally buy whole but get sucked into buying smaller portions because you think you’re eating less. Ever notice how you end up paying more for the smaller portions though? The food companies want you to think that they’re doing their bit in fighting obesity by making every thing smaller, but it all counts for shit when you have to buy double to make up for the fact you’re still as hungry as fuck.
Speaking of small balls, my wife believes there is a direct link to my up-tightness and the size of my man fruit. Her theory is that every time my anus puckers in anger i.e. every time I blog, it shrinks my manberries on account of the two being connected. So much like Tim Tam balls, mine are now available in minuscule but the good news is you can eat more of them. Now that’s what I call portion control.
Asians are great for making shit smaller. The ones that live across the street from me aren’t into small as much as they are into secretive. You hardly ever see them but I’d swear there are about 30 people living in the one house. Why just today they managed to move one sibling out and an entire trailer load of his stuff, without even lifting the garage door any higher than the bowl they cut their hair with.
I did once catch a glimpse inside their garage and I was surprised to see the thing was full of car tyres. I was expecting bags of rice but no, piles and piles of car tyres. I suspect they’re making them in there, that’s why the curtains are always shut. Pure uncut retread manufacture, it’s middle New Zealand’s latest epidemic. I’m actually damn tempted to go over and ask if they have any that will fit the ol’ passion wagon just quietly but I don’t want to let on I’ve spied on them whilst lying on the floor, under the coffee table, in our lounge just so they couldn’t see me.
Who doesn’t like to watch aye? Why just the other day I found myself in quite the predicament. Whilst closing the curtains I noticed the next door neighbours teenage daughter and her friend alone in their room, in their pyjamas, playing Singstar. Because they were in their pyjamas I knew it wouldn’t be long before they started stripping down to their grundies, shaving each others legs, having pillow fights and probably practising their pashing. I’ve seen enough girlie product ads to know that that’s what girls do when having a sleep over. My god was I tempted to turn the light out and watch.
And then Big Gay Ray appeared in their window with his thumbs up….or was that just another one of my dreams?
No comments:
Post a Comment