Real life is a massive pain in the ass.
My mother said it was simple to keep a man, you must be a maid in the living room, a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. I said I’d hire the other two and take care of the bedroom bit
Jerry Hall is my power animal
I see a lot of therapy in my future.
Of course, I don’t actually believe in therapy so I what I really see is a series of rather awkward, defiant afternoons trapped in a room with someone I don’t really respect.
So, just like any other regular day really.
Dare I ask, but what are ghetto nachos?
Ghetto nachos are the bastard love child of a secret drunken microwave recipe passed down from a secret drunken ex & the culinary restraints of a country that has never heard of Mexican food. That and the fact that I’m lazy & hungover.
Fry ground beef & an onion. Add a tin of tomato soup & reduce. Throw in jar of the only piss poor excuse for salsa available here. Dump the mess on a pack of Doritos (Australia: “That’s Mexican enough right?”) & cover in shredded cheese. Shove under the grill until you smell burning corn chips.* Eat with a spoon because Doritos have the load bearing ability of toilet paper in a hurricane.
*I made these for my mum so you can top with the lecture I received on why I haven’t shit out any crotch goblins yet.
And it’s Australia so serve with beer. Or, if you’re like me and think that beer tastes like a drummer’s sweaty armpit, the remnants of that bottle of Jack in the bottom of the fridge. Tastes almost as bad but you’re drunk quicker - and have nachos - so who gives a fuck?
Deciphering death metal lyrics is rad fun when you’re drunk.
Sober, it’s just some angry Norwegian dude screaming at you about burning a church.
Just realised how often I’ve been using “y’all” in conversation.
Dude. That’s fucked up. Real fucked up.
Just explained to my mum why she doesn’t want to watch The Human Centipede.
Consequently outlining the concept of ass to mouth to my mother? I just died inside a little. Also pretty sure that at this very moment my mum has finally realized that I’m no longer a virgin.
I like living in sin.
Sin & I are good friends. We’re like drinking buddies who pass out on top of each other on the couch. Naked.
They’re all gay. You’re all straight. Get back on the fucking bus.
This is why we can’t visit nice gay bars.
For fucks sake it’s a dick: wrap it, ride it, show it the fucking door.
Don’t call me at 3am to talk about your one night stands & expect to get some deep insightful conversation about the pros & cons of fucking shitty dudes you pick up in bars.