Secret Love Children Exposed!!!

I know I haven't posted on this thing properly for ages, but I have been doing some serious undercover research. Here is what I found out:


SJP had a baby that she thought was stolen by a dingo:






Not quite sure what Liza Minnelli was doing while she was married to Peter Allen but presumably she had to get rid of the evidence (which became Julian Cleary)



And finally... Layne Beachley's long search for her natural birth mother has finally ended:

"oh you can smell the nerd"

Thus spake Juicebar as we walked past a gaming shop at closing time and all the staff swarmed out together. Each one was so different and unique, yet so very, very nerdy. There was one of every kind: the girl with thick glasses and unnatural, bright hair; the pale and wan young man in dusty black who looks as though he has not been out in the sun since his christening; the young man who would be pale and wan yet is cowed with a rampant affliction of acne, and possibly also a skin allergy; the Asian geek with thin, square glasses frames designed in 1991 and an IQ so high he is left unable to boil an egg or figure out how the washing machine works; and finally the guy with the long pony tail who always tucks his shirt into his pants and never wears jeans. Really, they were Spice Girls of Geek.

Girl Power

As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling the other day, I got to thinking about how the feminists are leaving too many stones unturned. The battle for changing "manhole" to "personhole" has, I feel, been lost but that is no reason to give up the fight for equality on other words. Perhaps more women would take up a person-dolin than a mandolin?

Further to this, why are there not cuntroaches as well as cockroaches? While I know that a rooster is male, surely the noise it makes ought not be gender specific, so I encourage all and sundry to do away with "cock-a-doodle do" and instead embrace (at least 50% of the time) "cunt-a-woowoo do" or, if you prefer: "cunt-a-front-bottom do" or "cunt-a-vajayjay-do".

What's The Matter Walter - Chicken?

I think I am fairly balanced and fair, and I wouldn't call myself a snob or anything, but I have to say there are loads of things better about PoPo, our new hood, than the shit-encrusted, poxy rat-hole we lived in before. Ok, maybe I am being just a tiny bit dramatic. In actual fact, I can only think of two things that are better in PoPo: real estate agents and chicken carcasses. Other than that, things remain largely unchanged in my lifestyle.*

But I don't want to give the impression that these are minor changes, because not having to deal with Walter the Farting Dog (our former real estate agent) has put years on my life. As for the chicken carcasses, well... I could explain that one but it isn't quite so funny.


*Usually this word means one of 3 things: homosexuality, sexual promiscuity, or interior design. I just want it to mean "the style of my life".

What a To Do!

Writing a To Do list when drunk may be entertaining, but it probably isn't particularly useful. Here is mine from the other day:

-Google: Quentin/wheelchair
-Washing machine
-Walter Mathau and Fidel Castro in a New York apartment

Public Transport Always Entertains

Overheard on the bus:

Teenager 1 "St Slutstica's"

Teenager 2 "What?"

Teenager 1 "Slutstica's. There's a school called St Scholastica's and we always used to call them "St Slutstica's"

Teenager 2 "That's not very nice!"

Teenager 1 "Yeah I know. But they're all sluts".

A New Low

I have not posted here for a month and a half which is a new low for me. I could say it's because I have been busy. As a matter of fact, I have been quite busy: I moved house, I started a campaign to ban purple boat shoes from the streets of Potts Point, I spent a lot of time thinking about dimmable lights, and I have also started writing my memoirs*. But to be honest all that has been make-work to avoid the fact that I saw something which left me deeply traumatised and unable to concentrate on simple, everyday tasks. As part of my therapy I will relate the vision here:

A family stepped onto the footpath from a hotel foyer. The young girl (aged about 10) was wearing a sexy Mrs Santa negligee - red dress with fluffy white ruffles at the hem. She had a headband from which two giant candy canes protruded like antlers or - if you prefer hen's night type imagery - like red and white striped droopy penises. Her mother was wearing exactly the same dress in exactly the same size. And just to clarify, the mother was NOT the same size as her young daughter. Nowhere near. There was back cleavage.

At first I thought the two young boys (maybe 8 or so. Definitely old enough to have some agency in the way of sartorial choice) were just in mildly humiliating red and green combination clothes but it soon became apparent that they were dressed as elves with jaunty zig zag hems on their tops. I can't quite remember whether or not there were bells involved. I can see you thinking that the Mrs Santa disaster sounds a lot worse than the elf thing, and that is what I though too, until one of the boys moved so that I could see, written in large letters on his bottom "Santa's Little Helper". I have thought long and hard about phrases stamped on a small child's rear end, and concluded that there is only one phrase that could possibly surpass this one in hideous wrongness: "Santa's Little Helping". Actually, I only thought about it for a minute or so. I'm sure that the next time there is a blackout or a long car trip where the cd player is broken an excellent way to pass the time would be to think up phrases to have printed on the pants of your young children in order to scar them for life. Please keep me up to date with your suggestions!




*I haven't really got past the title yet, but it is going to be called "A ......" I'm still fleshing out the final details.