Archive for the ‘I cannot think of any.’ Category

I don’t usually pay attention to the people who are sitting around me at a restaurant. Or anywhere else, to tell the truth. But yesterday my mate pointed to me a couple sitting at the table next to ours. “Look what their baby’s eating for dinner” – he said.

And I looked. The German (or possibly Austrian) couple Mr. Fat Belly and his wife Even Fatter had filled their daughter’s bowl with French fries – and filled it to the point that said fries were falling on the table, on the floor and onto the baby’s lap. The baby, she couldn’t be more than eighteen months old or so, was having nothing else.

We are staying at one of those super-beach resorts where people help themselves to food and drink as much as they like. The food display was impressive, from fast food (pizza, burritos, spaghetti bolognese, fish and chips, roasted chicken, ham, hamburgers) to vegan (bananas, pineapple, watermelon, mangoes, melon, cauliflower, peas, carrots). And yogurts, jellies, smoked salmon, cheeses, chocolate cake, strawberry shortcake, ice cream, meat balls, coleslaw, tempura, fried or boiled eggs…. any food anyone could think of. Yet Mr. Fat Belly and Mrs. Even Fatter just chose to fill their daughter’s plate with fried slices of potatoes.

Oh well, not our business.

Today we were coming back from a late show when we almost collided with something small in the darkness. It was the baby, wandering about the garden on her own. The beach resort is huge, with each hut surrounded with palm trees and bouganvillae shrubs, and pools scattered here and there – so as to give the impression that you’re spending your holidays in a wild place. The only way to find your way to your hut is to check the zone (A;B;C;D;E…) and the numbers (100,101, 217,324…). The child was all alone, there was no other adult around. My mate and I were utterly surprised. It was after midnight. What the hell was doing that baby, still wearing her beach clothes, wandering in the dark?

My mate went to try to locate either Mr. Fat Belly or Mrs. Even Fatter. We didn’t want to leave the little girl alone, but I was well aware that I would frighten her if I picked her up. Being German, or possibly Austrian, she wouldn’t understand a word I said. So I just kept following her and making sure she didn’t go near any of the pools. Given the size of the resort we agreed on a 40 minutes wait before I called the police.

35 minutes later my mate appeared followed by Mrs. Even Fatter, who was holding a beer that kept spilling as she walked, or rather waddled. She picked up her baby (but she held to her beer with the same care) and I was so angry that I shouted “do you know that there are paedophiles out there, or don’t you even care?” but she just shouted at us something that sounded like blutigen ainmischung auslander.

I wish the little girl all the luck in the world. With such a  mother, she’s going to need it.


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Now that the days are longer and sun shines (er, well, sometimes it does shine), barbie season begins.

It is an institution here; everyone who has a back yard has a BBQ. All barbies I have been to  seem to follow a quite definite pattern; and finally, someone somewhere has been able to write down the rules.

New Standard Operating Procedures Released Today


It is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity.

When a man volunteers to do the barbie the following chain of events are put into motion:

1- The woman buys the food.

2- The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegs, and makes dessert.

3- The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill – beer in hand.

4- The woman remains outside the compulsory three meter exclusion zone where the exuberance of testosterone and other manly bonding activities can take place without the interference of the woman.

Here comes the important part:


6- The woman goes inside to organize the plates and the cutlery.

7- The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking great. He thanks her and asks her to bring him another beer while he flips the meat.

Important again:


9- The woman lays the table, cuts the bread, brings the salads, sauces, meat, napkins and places them on the table.

10- After the meal, the woman clears up the table and washes the dishes.

And most important of all:


12- The man, full of himself, asks the woman how she enjoyed “her day off”.

13- The doctor asks the man whether he has been hit by a hurricane.

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A friend sent me the link, and I´m still wondering how the hell did they do it.

It´s amazing!


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Someone sent this to me, and I can confirm I’ve used one or three more than once!

1.You! Off my planet!!
2. Not the brightest crayon in the box now, are we?
3. Well, this day was a total waste of makeup.
4. Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.
5. I’m not crazy, I’ve just been in a very bad mood for 28 years.
6. Allow me to introduce my selves.
7. Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.
8. Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.
9. Do they ever shut up on your planet?
10. I’m just working here till a good fast-food job opens up.
11. I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.
12. Stress is when you wake up screaming and you realize you haven’t fallen asleep yet.
13. I can’t remember if I’m the good twin or the evil one.
14. I just want revenge. Is that so wrong?
15. You say I’m a witch like it’s a bad thing.
16. Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?
17. Chaos, panic & disorder – my work here is done.
18. Everyone thinks I’m psychotic, except for my friends deep inside the earth.
19. Earth is full. Go home.
20. Is it time for your medication or mine?
21. Aw, did I step on your poor little bitty ego?
22. How do I set the laser printer to stun?
23. I’m not tense, just terribly, terribly alert.
24. When I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you.

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One thing about blokes from Oz is that their hearts and humour are
always in the right place!
T. B. Bechtel, a City Councillor from Newcastle, Australia, was
asked on a local live radio talk show, just what he thought about the
allegations of torture of suspected terrorists.

His reply prompted his ejection from the studio, but to thunderous
applause from the audience.
‘If hooking up one raghead terrorist prisoner’s testicles to a car
battery to get the truth out of the lying little camelshagger will save
just one Australian life, then I have only three things to say,’
‘Red is positive,
Black is negative, and
Make sure his nuts are wet.’

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Glory days

Today the twins decided to open a box that had remained unopened for years,  forgotten since the day we packed our things and moved. It was full of letters, school reports,  library passes. And there it was. It was taken on a Monday morning, the morning after Easter Sunday. It was a tradition on such days to go on pilgrimage to a hill to eat and dance around a strangely shaped big granite rock.  A pagan festival, dating back to pre-Christian times.

And there we were, a bunch of youngsters sitting cross-legged on the grass under the oaks, casually dressed in faded Levi´s and T- shirts, pullovers tied carelessly around our waists, with our bright young faces turned to the spring sun.

So gloriously young, so gloriously happy and carefree.

Andrew, the boy with the burning black eyes who was the first boy who ever tried to French kiss me. Henry and his girlfriend Lou, always so posh. Mick, with hs mane of curly brown hair and green eyes.  Moses, the one standing up, who was my parent´s  godson. Xavier, straw-haired Jara, who used to follow me everywhere when I was way out of hand to see that I was safe and come to no harm. Tony, who played the guitar so beautifully and who looked so much like Ringo Starr, nose and all.  Ginny, with her long blonde hair and whose teats all the rest of us girls envied. Mary, the blue eyed freckled little one. John, always so serious. Angel, who was so sweet and kind, always laughing and always generous.

And I.  The one half hidden behind Charlie, because I didn´t like to be photographed.  The one who was to become a stranger, because she was terrified of needles.

I never consciously realised that all the friends of my youth are dead. That not one of them ever reached adulthood.

But how can they be dead, when I can still see Xavier running on the beach, trying to evade the waves. When Tony still plays The house of the rising sun under the moonlight, while I sing Oh, mother, tell your children not to do what I have done.  When Titus and I still wade fully dressed across the sea, drinking vodka from the bottle and fishing conchies and kissing.

How alive we are, Titus and I. In the clear, warm, sweet afternoon, when time does not exist and future and past do not exist. The world does not exist, nothing is real outside us both kissing endlessly, holding our hands, oblivious of everything and everyone. Nothing exists outside his shining golden eyes locked with mine. Nothing exists outside our lips and our mouths, kisses sweeter than life, tasting of vodka and marijuana.

We were alive.

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I don´t know where my friend got them from. But they´re smashing!

1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus (n.): A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.

3. Intaxication (n.): Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation (n.): Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy (n.): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

7. Giraffiti (n.): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

8. Sarchasm (n.): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the Person who doesn’t get it.

9. Inoculatte (v.): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

10. Osteopornosis (n.): A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon (n.): It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The gruelling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido (n.): All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler effect (n.): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The colour you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you’re eating.

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