In other news – the Invasion of Queensland ’09™ has become the Invasion of Queensland ’09 ’10™… probably after mid-year. Which is annoying, but these things are sent to try us. And i know by whom.
God better watch out when i get to Heaven, i am going to nail the bastard’s scrotum to the wall. Another year (possibly that long) in New South Wales? Arrggh.
And i had tshirts made!
Sadly, Queensland is a bit like Jerusalem – warm, infested with terrorists tourists, you should be able to find a Kosher butcher, and it’s been put off until next year. Lack of funds mainly.
Extreme bummer, and ironic – we had an offer of free rent for a few months that would have enabled us to save some money. Ah well, these things happen. If i discern a reason, God’s Holy Hand Grenades get a reprieve.
Meanwhile, i’m trapped in New South Wales. *heavy sigh* And sooner or later someone – who didn’t like me being critical over the weather or my paddles in the shallow end of the Central Coast gene pool – will recognise me and try to stone me to death.
Probably as i wander lost in The Wilderness (AKA Erina Fair, biggest shopping centre between Sydney and Queensland). It’s tough being the Antichrist.
I’ll just have to take over this state first. I can’t be bothered waiting until we can invade Queensland. So, the revolution begins.
I suppose if i had a new tank, especially one with air-con, *hint hint* i might be persuaded to pop down, massacre every Sydney celeb that i can find – except those in my Twitter list. I promise by the #cultofmarkpesce (a strange, sweater-loving cult) not to hurt Mark Pesce.
However, Kyle Sandilands will be first to the wall. I reckon that ‘shock jock’ should be rebranded – ideally in the middle of the forehead with a hot iron – how does “famous for being a wanker” sound?
Reading back, i note this is the second blog in a row where i’ve mentioned nailing someone’s genitalia. Though abusing God’s is a new one. I’ll probably find i’m wrong, and “How many of God’s testicles can dance on the head of a pin?” was a common theme for debate in your average Middle Ages monastery. Or nunnery.
Genital abuse could be a theme, or maybe a motif. It could symbolise something. Like me wanting to kill things. I think this is part of being a real writer. “Oooh, ‘ark at her, a motif. Ain’t we la-de-dah?” It’s alright, that was just a voice from inside my head, we don’t pay attention to those.
I could use a staple-gun instead? For Kyle’s boy bits. Would that be more humane? I think i’d enjoy stapling parts of Kyle to a backboard far too much for my own good.
It might be tricky, him being so obviously over-compensating for lack of oomph. (Yes, that is a euphemism, for me being very rude.) Wait, didn’t one of the Hooker Dolls for PrePubescents ® come with her own Professional Dungeon & Dominatrix kit? Or did i dream that?
*sound of whispering*
Aw, shame, because there was a tiny staple-gun in the equipment,
the perfect size.
I was distracted from such happy thoughts by these figures just to hand. Beloved Visitors can be divided, those whose country of origin can be discerned, and those who can’t. Why do you hide from me, preciouses?
About half of you, i know where you come from. Don’t panic! Only your country, nothing more. I landed on one site yesterday that had a groovy widget that said the latest visitor, (i.e. me), came from “Budgewoi NSW” and swung the animated globe to where i am and zoomed in.
It was just someone’s blog, but I found myself wanting to hide under the desk and pull the curtains, in case a Google Earth van pulled up outside. Talk about scaring the Beloved Visitors. I don’t want to make anyone nervous like that.
However, I need more. I’m hooked on having minions slaves Beloved Visitors.
There is only one thing for it – i’m going to have to spread my market demographic. We have eunuchs, budgerigar fanciers, those pining for ponies, toaster sex aficionados, and the occasional lost soul who seems to be looking for me, or possibly God.
I’m trapped in this deity niche, i need to diversify my appeal. No problem, we already have sex, religion, politics, what else is everyone into?
We need more junk food, everyone likes junk food – i need to put in more pies, pizza, beer, and bacon. At the same time, by mentioning low fat, i’ll automatically pull in dieters. Oh, how fickle are search engines.
I found out what a corn dog was the other day – America, your shame is exposed. It’s fat and pigs’ lips, poached in oil. Okay, so technically, it’s a hot dog sausage, encased in corn batter and fried.
Anyway, i need more fat and beer – or at least the blog does. Tea and crumpets are not enough. Marmalade does not feed the man inside. I need some of that cheese that comes in a can in case there are people who don’t get cheese.
I should probably have a sausage sizzle. (No, that’s not a euphemism. Aussie tradition to earn some money, serve cheap eats, outside some shopping centre: sausages and fried onion in bun or bread with sauce.)
Note to self: stop scaring away men by talking about sex. Probably hold off the genital nailing until they get used to the castrations. If i really am serious about spreading my appeal, we need less about me getting the trains to run on time, and more about “Beers for all my friends!”
This blog’s been too low fat, except for the butter on the crumpets. There’s been hardly any booze, and not enough ball games. Unless stapling them counts?
ZOMG! I could staple bacon to Kyle! Woot, pork-on-pork action! “Baybee, we can haz hot secs nao?”
I don’t know who said that, everyone’s saying it was the other guy. I suspect the voices-outside-my-head, because they’re more into puns. I have a better idea.
We could race local wannabe’s like Kyle and his sidekick Jackie O (who makes Paris Hilton look classy), along the Opera House steps. Ooh, we can use Rove, of course. MacManus and Karl. The Aussie one AND the US one, why not? (Is the US one a cool guy? Cos he doesn’t have to die if you speak up now.)
Celebrity racing, with bacon, uh-huh.
I can see it – nude except for bacon loincloths.
The bacon’s just because everyone, no matter what socio-economic bracket, loves bacon. Liberal, Labor, Green, or People Even More Crazy Than Me, out here on the lonely Anarchist Monarchist fringes of polite politics. Me and Al Gore, we both pine to be queen.
Republican or Democrat – even if bacon is your shame – you love it. Bacon’s your guilty secret. And if we staple it to celebrities, sharks will be able to eat them without gagging.
And it occurs to me, i haven’t been instilling enough fear in the populace. I think my new TV show, Shark Versus Wanker, will do the trick.
Message to presenters: you will present the show, not yourself, thanks, or we will staple bacon to you.
A special invited audience will throw rotten meat as you run past, then are cattle-prodded dive jauntily into Sydney Harbour. Oh, how we will laugh as you try to make it to the Heads.
Jackie O would look très cute with a few bits of bacon
stapled to her chihuahua (that’s a euphemism).
I will be chumming the water with fishguts and cheering on the Sydney Harbour Bull Sharks. These are real sharks, not actually a team, but I think it would be HUGE. Yes, there will be cheerleaders from all the major football teams to chase into the water – for a small fee you even get your own cattleprod.
Before someone gets pedantic, that’s a Great White in the picture – it was taken in a studio, with makeup, and Cedric is just pretending to be a bull shark. Cedric is 8 metres (26 feet) long, and normally prefers colder waters. But for Kyle, he says he’ll make an exception.
And of course, that’s Kyle Sandilands to Cedric’s left, pretending to be a human being. Yes, Kyle’s head IS to scale. Don’t forget, no sentient creatures would be harmed in the making of this new gameshow, and we’d dispose of a pollutant. It’s a win:win.
Of course the celeb’s will be in it – look how much money Michael Jackson and Elvis have made since they became dead for tax reasons. Besides, Kyle will do anything if there’s a media pack there.
Excuse me, i think i follow his agent on Twitter,
i have to run before someone else pitches this.
What’s Toaster Sex? Sex with household appliances.
Gosh, i need to explain? Just remember to hold onto the cord.
And obviously, to unplug it first.
Here, i’ve blogged about it before. I even had Charlton Heston soliciting gay Hummer sex. (Yes, that’s with a car, men always like cars more than something out of the kitchen.)
If you’d like to see more pretty toaster sex pics, try here too.