Here be an article I wrote that was in the Examiner last week. Front page too. Wuu.
Ways to Go – Grouplove
Imagine you are a fish, swimming in an ocean filled to the brim with other fish who are a lot like you but better in many ways. And instead of not wanting to be caught, you, the fish, are desperate to be reeled in by the fisherman. “Cast me, cast me!” you plead with your eyes as the fisherman toys with you in his net. “To keep and cast or to be thrown back in the ocean with all the other duds?” the fisherman asks himself as he examines you up and down like a piece of meat. Imagine all that – Welcome to the wonderful world of Hollywood auditions! Continue Reading »
End of the year. Wuu. Great time. People copying and pasting inspirational quotes all over the place. So that’s deep and profound. Also a wonderful time of year for people feeling an immense desire to give you their Best of Year Lists. Top 100 Moments of 2011! Top 84 Songs of the Year! Top 34 of Nothing! Thankfully, I shall not be doing this. Nay, nay. I’ll just be doing the tip, I swear…
My list shall consist of mighty things that happened in 2011 that I can think of off the top of my head right now. In absolutely zero order. Pure. Gibber. Mayhem.
Blogaruu, she’s been a while! My bad for the delay. Quite busy with vital stuff. Such as realising that I might be a fairy (apparently fairies can only handle or feel one emotion at a time. I am a full on fairy. Call me Tinker). And speaking of menstrual cycles… So back in the day, whenever a girl complained to me about cramps, I would complain back about people who complain a lot. Until I realised I actually can empathise. I too get man periods. Once a month. Every month. Rent cramps kick in. So now, I feel their pain. Similarly, whenever a girl complained about the thought of giving birth, I would shrug my shoulders and mention never having to deal with the pain of getting a kick in the fuss-balls. Until for some reason I thought about it like this: Imagine a little person exiting through the back door of your gift shop. If you know what I mean. I don’t think guys can fathom anything leaving through the front door, what with us not having one and all. But the back door seems to make it imaginable. Imagine that pain. Ripping. Tearing. Uncooperative. Sweet. Holy. Jesus. Must be ridiculous. Even thinking of it now is making my sphincter scream and squirm. So now I kind of understand the terror girls must have. Even worse, imagine if after all that, the child was to turn out like someone like the person writing this? For all that pain?! Dose. Apologies, Mum. Continue Reading »