Posts Tagged ‘life’

1. Your profile. BAM!

2. cryptic Status Updates That Look For Attention
“Lex Windows WISHES YOU WOULD STOP CALLING ME FFS”
“OMG Whoos callin u dude?”
“They know who they are, I’m not going to say anything”

WHAT? YOU JUST FUCKING DID, YOU FANTASTIC DICKHEAD.

3. See Who Your Biggest Stalker Is apps.
Firstly, none of these things work. Facebook isn’t a list of information that can be manipulated into any combination of teenage neo-faggot apps that deliver the news that the hottest chick in your Facebook Friends list has been secretly checking out your ugly ass photos taken from your mobile phone in your bathroom. It’s Not. Gunna. Happen.

If you think you have no chance on god’s earth with someone, thennnnn ya don’t. OK?

Secondly, if you’re a chick and you have heaps of photos of you flouncing about in undies/nude/duck face poses in your bathroom then you don’t don’t need an app to tell you who’s stalking you, you just need me: EVERY FUCKING DUDE IN YOUR FRIEND LIST. THEY ARE CHECKING OUT YOUR FINE ASS AND BANGING TITTIES. Don’t like it? TAKE DOWN THE SLUT PICS THEN.

4. Serial Likers and Serial Pokers.
Scotty AssassinMc thinks everything is shit and fuck everyone
Puppy Fart *likes this*
FUCK OFF

5. Saliva Dripping Sleeze Balls That Add Hot Chicks They Don’t Know.
Almost every one of my female mates are drop dead gorgeous. Some of them so much that they are models, which means they put up a lot of their modelling pics. Good for them, I reckon. But then each of the photos they post comes this under it, from people you have never seen or heard of before:

Tom Dickenharry: Helloooo!
Harry Muffdiver: Woah girl! SO HOT lol
Barry Dumbcunt: Man if I was only 50 years younger lol!
John Isreallysmall: Sexy sexy sexy. Wish u wer on my beach! LOL
Random Fuckwit: Hey are those metal earrings? I love metal! We shud cach up and talk metal (meaning I want to rape your ass)

HELLO, SLEEZE BAGS… CAN I HAVE A SECOND PLEASE?

Rule 1: Chicks don’t choose a suitor from Facebook Comments, nor does it turn them on
Rule 2: Chicks like to have sex with a) People they know, and b) PEOPLE WHO AREN’T OLD FAT SLEEZY GREASEBALLS
Rule 3: Chicks that are STEAMING HOT in BIKINIS while MODELLING ON A BEACH, how can I put this, er, YOU DON’T HAVE A CHANCE IN LIONFUCK OF GETTING.

So look, take your hand off it, do some laps of a pool or find thrity by anything but walking to KFC, buy clothes from somewhere besides Target, get a personality and go out and talk to ACTUAL REAL WOMEN. You might get laid if you’re lucky.

Advertisements

Facebook, love it or hate it, has become one of the most powerful social networking devices of our time. You don’t need to remember your friend’s birthdays, you just watch out for all the Hapie Birfdai wall posts and follow the flock (pretending you knew all along). Hi Mum xxx. You can catch up with the goss on people, find out where mates are, stalk your ex, even connect with your REAL friends.

But here’s a few things that make you look like a prime cut of fuckwit steak, so try to not do the following things on Facebook:

1. Start tribute fanpages for dead people.
Yeah this first one isn’t funny, why would you start a tribute fanpage on Facebook for a young person that has died in tragic circumstances? That’s like having their funeral at a nightclub full of drunks. What the hell were you expecting? The internet to stop what it’s doing and feel sorry for you?

The internet is not a reflection of the face people put on in the real world, it is the reflection of the rawness of the personality usually filtered by the part of the brain that avoids you getting punched in the face in a face to face situation. Perceived anonymity not only makes people braver than normal, it exposes how fucked up humans really can be. Don’t put anything that deserves complete and utter respect and reverence on Facebook and expect it to be. It simply will not.

2. Be a racist kitten squeezer.
If you have more than 3 friends on Facebook and join those “Fuck off we’re full” groups, chances are your 3+ friends aren’t all as stupidly narrow minded and downright socially retarded as you are. There’s even more chance that atleast one of them comes from a background different to yours. Even more chance that you regularly eat the food of the people you are being racist towards and are nice to their faces.

Come on, we’re all adults here, how many people with Southern Cross tattoos and FOWF stickers on their Holden Ute eat meat pies, dim sims, pizza, tacos and kebabs? I’ll tell you, every single one of them. Also, racist jerks, whoever you are complaining about taking “our jobs” does a job you wouldn’t do anyway, or are not qualified to do. So shut the fuck up.

3. Over-share your life with status updates.
You know the ones, “Fred Johnson IS SICK OF THIS SHIT, FUCK YOU JENNY, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HAD ANAL SEX WITH GEORGE. I LOVED YOU, I EVEN DID THAT THING YOU LIKE WHERE I WEAR THE CLOWN NOSE ON MY PENIS”.

Yeah, don’t.

4. Woe is me status.
No one gives a shit about your ailments. You sound like a wet rag that can’t handle life. “So Andso is sick of this sprained ankle”, “Bitch Tits is not feeling good, time to up the dosage”, “Whinge fucken whinge”, shut up. What are you looking for? Sympathybook? An iBandage? An eHug? Fucking sooks.

5. Farm animals.
There’s already enough horse shit on Facebook. Agriculture and computer technology don’t mix. YOU CAN’T FEED SHEEP INTERNETS, THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS VITAMIN TCP/IP ENRICHED CHICKEN FEED. YOU HAVE TO USE REAL HAY AND THERE’S NO WHERE TO PUT IT HERE. So stop trying to farm animals on Facebook, it’s cruel and probably illegal to turn animals into zeros and ones then make them live in Facebook.

6. Invite people to anything important.
If you send me an invite to your wedding on Facebook, I hope a rabid dog bites you on the balls. Fuck you.

7. Spam people not in your group.
Groups are for people who are interested in something you want to plug. Nightclub parties, whatever. So start a group up, watch the people who are interested roll in, and send them messages about upcoming events. Don’t send me personal messages about some boring event with DJ Blah playing deep funky sexy house step. I fucking hate your music and techno music isn’t sexy.

8. Become a fan of sex.
You’re not special. The human race is upwards of 6 billion because of sex, not because of a Facebook slut page. Of course you like sex, we’re designed to. Stop being a floozy.

9. Announce “inside” Facebook information.
Facebook has a blog for this, we don’t need your “expert opinion”. Stop joining “I WILL NOT PAY TO USE FACEBOOK. I NEED 1 MILLION PEOPLE TO JOIN ME” groups. Facebook subsides with joint partnerships and advertising schedules that generate millions of dollars. They don’t need your fucking money, idiot. Use your brain for just a tiny bit for god’s sake before clicking on things. Why are you being stupid? Stop it.

10. Continually post photos of how sexy you are.
Because you’re not.

Our friend’s little girl, Rose, watching Barney.

The moon tonight.

Playng with zoom

I didn’t do groceries on Sunday because I was being drunk and unreasonable. This means I have, once again, a whole lot of useless items in my fridge, freezer and pantry. Time to make something awesome while the women aren’t home, here’s what I found:

truss tomatoes, carrot, wonton wrappers, chicken breasts, cous cous, mushrooms, tobasco sauce, four bean mix, sweet corn, nandos “perinaise”, garlic, cracker barrel cheese, jarlsberg cheese, avocado, challot

This can mean only one thing: GIANT MEXICAN CHICKEN WONTONS WITH GUACASALSA SAUCE

Step one is to make something I made up just now: Guacasalsa. Yep, it’s not guacamoli and it’s not salsa. It’s guacasalsa.

Guacasalsa: challot, avocado, cumin, corriander, lime juice, tomato, tobasco sauce, salt, garlic…

SMASH

Next I make some stuffing, make two pockets in the chicken breast, then wrap in in tinfoil and bake it.

Stuffing: tomatoes, grated carrot, garlic, cheeses, lime juice, tobasco, perinaise, salt, pepper, mushrooms, olive oil…

SQUISH

Once the breasts are baked, I let them rest and make a big wrapper out of the little wonton wrappers, then lightly fry them in some oil so they have crispy jackets on:

SIZZLE

Then whack down a strip of cous cous, bean, corn and carrots, sit chicken on top, slop in some sauce

Wa-la

GIANT MEXICAN CHICKEN WONTONS WITH GUACASALSA SAUCE

NOM

Few from the weekend.

I sit here writing to you waiting for my girl to get ready to go to the Rosemount. I’m sure I speak for all men when I say I am interested in what takes so long to do this. I mean, here is my ritual. I arrive home and tear off my work clothes and throw them onto the floordrobe, then reach over to my non-work shoes, put them on, grab my non-work shirt and slip it on and walk out to the fridge and open a beer. Put beer down, walk back into room, put on pants, return to beer. I’m now ready.

My girl however begins the ritual with the preamble “I’m going to have a quick shower”. This means action stations and that I have atleast 20 minutes of hassle-free tobacco time to myself. During this time in the bathroom it’s like the opening scene of American Psycho, with 70 extra steps, and all of these products have avocado in some form in the active ingredients. They are guaranteed to make any taught, silky smooth, curved, lean, shiny haired woman look taught, silky smooth, curved, lean and with shiny hair.

After this, it’s to the bedroom for yet another pharmacy load of growers-produce infused creams, followed by what resembles a machine with hundreds of tiny tweezers gnashing at her legs. Except it’s not, it’s, well actually, it is a machine with hundreds of tiny tweezers gnashing at her legs. This makes her silky smooth taught legs silkier and smoother.

Now for the fun part, the wardrobe. This is like a men’s floordrobe except it is upright with little “hangers” holding each piece up in a neat line of never been worn dresses that each have a specific purpose in mind when they were first purchased for example, one might be if they were to happen to find a pair of matching yellow shoes and would be invited to a girl named Sally’s engagement on a Tuesday in Spring during a downturn in the Iranian Stock Exchange.

Once the specific outfit is discovered, it’s put on 7 different ways until a suitable configuration is found then it’s make-up time. For me this isn’t too painful as my girl wears little if any, but I have experienced some in the past that have a trowel, a heat gun and three Sherpas on hand during a 3 hour session, then come out looking like Joan Collins after a food fight.Anyway, she’s ready now.