Friday, December 30, 2005


All men are bastards. All of them. Every, single, solitary one of them.

Herrod had the right idea. Kill them at birth.

That is all.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Things I’ve noticed while overseas:

*When people say Australians are more laid back than other countries, their right. It’s like being the water in a washing machine – the clothes are getting all tangled up, swishing around and talking really fast and loud, and the water’s just milling around, gently spinning and wondering where the nearest bar is. Okay, not exactly like a washing machine, but you get my point.

*The beer is flat here. Sometimes without a single bubble. And Sod’s law dictates I always get the flattest beer. Universally acknowledged as the truth.

*The chocolate tastes different over here. Probably because of the different climates, but the chocolate over here is much creamier, much richer.

*There are more South Africans on working holidays than any other nationality. I can’t believe there are that many South Africans and there’s still any left in their own country. It’s unbelievable. And why are they all single, attractive men?

*Why do they insist on making you scull pints? Through a straw?

*It’s not polite while driving through picturesque countryside to snigger, point out the window and giggle “Sheep!” because you find it amusing that they wander the roads quite freely

*Nor is it polite at 2.30am to start Baaing back at the sheep you can hear bleating in the moonlight (For some reason, you can only hear them when the moon is out – must be fear of the Werewolves) outside someone’s window.

*Or for your brother to pretend to chant like a Gregorian monk in a 600 year old Cathedral. Or shout “Ke! Ke! Come over here! Look at this candle, it can’t get it up!’ At a lopsy candle lit for the starving in Africa. Or something.

*Foam pouring from the ceiling onto revelling party-goers is not good for your Jeans.
*Or your make up
*Or your hair
*Or your handbag
*Or for trying to convince people you aren’t inebriated

*Time is weird. Time has gone really fast, then really slow. Usually depending on how long ago it has been since I’ve spoken to The Boy.

*It is a law universally acknowledged that the further away from your Boyfriend/Girlfriend you are, and the less interested you are in anyone else, the more men/woman will hit on you, the hotter they will be, and the more diverse their nationalities.

That is all for today. It’s 2.45 am. I’m not tired, but I need to lie down, and give my brain a stern talking to about the effects of sleeplessness coupled with jet-lag, seeing The Boy again after 4 weeks apart and starting a new job.

Last update from Wales tomorrow. I'm staying at my Grandmothers from tomorrow night until the wee hours of Sunday morning, when I catch the bus from Cardiff to London and catch my flight. I'm back on Tuesday.

See you soon!!!!!

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

A very, very quick update, as I'm in a rush.

This post is mainly so my brother can see that I've done what I promised to do and put a post up here about how he is a legend. So here it is. He also has very cool purple and blonde hair, and is the best brother ever. Except when he's hungover. Then, he's a pain in the arse.


Also, in response to the ever-elusive Mr. Lefty's question, Queensland was fantastic. It was relaxing (Apart from going on the Slingshot, which was hilarious and scary, as I was in fits of laughter at The Boy shouting "You are going to die. I am going to KILL you" for convincing him to go on it) sunny, lazy, and in short (and far too many commas), exactly what we both needed.

There will be more later, but for now, I hope everyone is well, except those who just don't know when to shut the fuck up. How many times? Things aren't going to get better if you keep making them worse. That and the fact that it's been close to a year now, lead me to make the following comment:


Oh, and anyone wanting porn, there's a lovely spam entry in my guestbook. Just in case you're interested.

Monday, January 24, 2005

Does the Pope have a sponsor child?


Yes, I’m back. But before I bore you with details of what I’ve been up to, and turn the nausea setting to projectile with talk of The Boy, I have a few serious posts.

Firstly, I’m going to talk about religion. Before I do, I would like those who are reading and may, once completed, want to stone me to death, to bear something in mind; - This is an opinion, not me telling you how or what to think. I welcome your opinion, and even a debate, but not pointless and wholesale abuse. For further clarification, simply look at the name of this blog. This is MY truth, tell me YOURS.

This has come about because I was reading the Monty Python biography yesterday, and I saw something that for me, optimised my beliefs – “Jesus preached tolerance, peace, and love, and his followers have spent the last two thousand years doing the very opposite”

I can’t say I disagree. I n the name of religion in one guise or another – in the name of religious Ikons, countless wars have been won and lost. Who can say how many villages, towns, cities, and human lives have been obliterated from the face of the earth in the name of one who would have wept at the very thought?

By giving your enemy a religious tag – infidel, savage, heathen – your war becomes a righteous war. You battle becomes a battel in God’s name, for God’s cause. You justify the greed, malice, revenge you must satisfy by calling on the highest authority as a myriad of armies have before you.

Does God forgive those who use his name in these terms? How can using a God who preaches peace and love admit these as his children to heaven and turn away those who don’t believe for some reason, or those who make an error of judgement, or those that die without receiving the Last Rites?

Another issue that bothers me with Religion – and you’ll notice I use the term religion, not belief – is the accumulation of wealth by religious organisations, particularly the Catholic church and organisations like Hillsong.

I’m sure there are many, many organisations with a religious base that use the money donated to them for worthy causes. I know there are, and I donate to quite a few of them myself. But for every one of these, there are a dozen churches that collect those funds to no benefit to those who need it.

Now, it’s been a while since I’ve consulted the scriptures in-depth, so I could be wrong, but I don’t recall ‘ol J.C collecting donations for a new pair of sandals, or a Remmington beard trimmer. Okay, your church needs a new roof, your carpet looks a little threadbare – have a bake sale, pass the hat around – whatever. But don’t make your church look like something that makes the Opera House look like a hut in Shanty Town. There’s a church in Wantirna that you can see from four suburbs away – It looks like a fucking concert hall.

And don’t give me your “Monument to God” argument. Wouldn’t a more fitting tribute to the magnificence and generosity of your God be to act a little more generous with the THREE FOURTHS OF THE WORLD who live in poverty? How about the Vatican giving away some of it’s exceptionally high pile of Lira to the children in Africa who are so hungry they don’t have the energy to pray?

Basically, I guess, what I’m saying is, follow the example of the man you claim to idolise. Put on your thinking wimple and have a good, hard look outside the monastery walls at the world around you. The blood you’ve shed in God’s name will not be washed from your hands, and the money you store in the bank vault won’t buy your way into heaven. Did you see Jesus commissioning painters to make the chapels look magnificent? My guess he was too busy hanging out with the poor, the sick, the neglected that have always existed, and always will, if we don’t have a look at the way we treat our communities. I’m guessing the homeless on the street don’t give a flying fuck about the mural on the wall when they don’t have any around them at night. I’m guessing that all the innocent victims of “Holy” Wars weren’t all money grubbing capitalists. How fucking stupid are you going to look when your knocking on heavens door, and St. Peter gets out the tally list and looks at the ledger and the blood of the innocent drips from the pages?

How about a Holy War on poverty? How about a Holy War on hate? How about a Holy War on something that makes a damn difference at the end of the day. When you look back on your life from your deathbed, would you rather you had adorned your church with yet another painting, or adorned a thousand poor children with some clothes to wear, and some food to eat?