I’m writing this to you even though you’re not alive yet. Cool, huh? Right now, half of you exists in your dad’s balls and half of you exists in my… I dunno, ovary sack, I guess? I’m not a hundred percent on that one ‘cause I’m not a scientist.
Anyway, just wanted to tell you a few things while my head’s still clear and not filled with all the stuff I figure it’s gonna be filled with when you’re alive, like bills and diapers and poop and school fees and clothes and vet bills and shit. I only have a vague concept of parenthood that I got from that Steve Martin movie, Bringing Down The House, and it seems like it sucks so hard. It’s funny actually: By the time you read this, you’ve probably wrecked my life. HA! Sucked in, future me!
(Published at Bon Vivant on 27 March 2012)
I eat a lot. Sometimes I do it in my house, enjoying the lavish and delightful cookings of my flatmates or the magic people who bring foodstuffs to your door after you enter your credit card details into their website. Sometimes I cook for myself, creating tastebud tantalisers such as toast with avocado, toast with cheese, and toasted cheese and avocado sandwiches (to name but a few).
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(Published at Bon Vivant on 15 March 2012)
Dudes, I just wanna say, super massive big-up props for the whole “gays are lesser beings, let’s not pretend they’re equals” thing. I mean, one minute it’s asking for gay sex ed in the classroom, then marriage, then they’ll be wanting to sit at the table at dinnertime like they’re people.
(Published at Bon-Vivant.Com.Au on 07 March 2012.)
Dating by Bridget Neval
It’s been nearly a month since Valentine’s Day, so I’m figuring that most people have either stopped crying by now or have run out of tissues and are resorting to mashing their swollen, wet, runny faces into their sheets, curtains and loved ones’ protective smocks (provided by the nurses for situations like this). Either way: Settle down, you! Read this.