I think, sometime soon, that I'll have to accept that I am no longer in the 'spring chicken' section of the supermarket.
Am I ancient, or is it reasonable to expect that if you call yourself a 'band', then at least one of you should play a freakin' instrument? Nobody will ever fill in a tax return by entering "guitarist in Westlife" in the 'main source of income' bit. Not without smirking, anyway.
Should I be inserted into an incontinence ensemble just because I think, when a twelve year old routinely tells their parents to 'f*ck off', eats with their hands, and expects hundreds of dollars in pocket money for sitting on their spotty arse in front of an XBox, that they need a swift smack in the head? Punish the buggers - don't just buy them another computer.
I hesitate to mention the 'good old days', because in some cases they were just last week. But I don't want to live in an age where Paris Hilton releases an album.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
The world took a step backward when Melissa Tkautz was included on 'Australia's Brainiest musician. And in case you're wondering, no, she's not. Either.
It's possibly worth noting that if you get in to Coles at the end of the week, spring chickens can be had for a dollar or two, just as they are getting extra aromatic. It's possibly not worth noting too. Dogs aren't really very discriminatory that way.
I will always pay heed to the opinion of a dog who can type. Or even dictate.
Does one "pay heed to", or just heed?
What email tag do I need to publish my name as Your Mother, instead of your mother?
I'm not sure. What realm in cyberspace grants me immunity from grammatical criticism from my Mother? None. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Post a Comment