cremated

Hola!

2008-12-18T21:08:00.005+11:00

I'm thinking of blogging a bit more. I know I'm always saying this, but have been mired in a flaccid hell of study/work/drink for the last...oh, 2 years or so, and nothing has happened that is really worth reporting, NOT EVEN ANYTHING IN MY IMAGINATION. However, I think as I rapidly approach middle age (30!!!!!!!!!!!!!) that I really need to get my priorities straight. What's more important than my meaningless rantings of bitter disappointment? NOTHING, dudes, except maybe catching up with the latest on Samantha Brett's Fairfax blog.

(Does she still even do that blog? Does it tell you what impossible depths of abject depravity that I have sunk to that I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF SAMANTHA "CUNTHEELS" BRETT is still doing a blog? )

"THAT'S PRETTY ABJECT, MISTER NORA"

Tell me about it, bitches.

DOES USE OF "BITCHES" MEAN I'M IRRETRIEVABLY DATED?

"Lady, you're more dated than the tubs of low-fat soy yoghurt at the back of your fridge."

Man, I wish I were still up with young people. I went to Meredith last weekend and had almost the most wet/awesome time of my life, despite not taking any illegal drugs (SCREW YOU, DODGY AGING TICKER. Also: hello, alcohol, cigarettes, and neurofen plus!), and although it was good times all round, I was deeply concerned by the fact that there appeared to be young folk all over the shop wearing LEGGINGS as TROUSERS, and acting as though it were COMPLETELY NORMAL and/or 1992. I suspect that when the fashion-wear of my miserable teens becomes the retro-wear of the current generation, it's time I retire my season pass to lolitaville.

I guess my time to be a youthful sensation has passed. Have squandered that opportunity on large quantities of cerveza and a full-time job with about as much dark, pulsing sex appeal as a 15th century eunuch. You just don't hear that many stories about how cocaine use/wife swapping is rife within the civil service, and, though it pains me to admit this, the blame doesn't solely rely on incredibly effective confidentiality protocols.

Aside from the lack of cocaine on the job tho, life is ok. Am still spending significant periods of time hanging out with the pussycats and having hand-to-mortein combat with Monsieur Octavio's more belligerent cousins. Am thinking it's time I put more effort into having adventures/FUCKING UP MY LIFE in order to produce more bloggable material.

Anway. Will report on any developments, toot sweet. Promise.

xoxonora

russian brides

2008-11-14T21:53:00.004+11:00

LIKES:

1. grainy photos

2. deal or no deal

3. CRAZY CATS

4. winning

5. drinking alone

DISLIKES

1. waking up

3. consecutive things

6. everyone

2. crack daddies

5. vomit hair

xoxo nora

why do i spend valuable time?

2008-11-14T12:45:00.004+11:00

Oh man, life as a motherfucking bureaucrat can really shove a nice girl over the edge. Most of the time, I am like the world's most malleable employee. I just walk around being all nicey nicey zoo zoo and pretending that this horrendous system of sign-offs and linguistic shit sculptures and civil motherfucking service is not a complete whore's breakfast; most of the time I simply close my eyes to the smudged moral certainties, the loveless cocksucking, the flaccid
weet-a-bix that lately make up the majority of my waking life. And most of the time, I get by ok - I mean, sure, I have hives, nightmares, and male-pattern-baldness, but like a lonesome Gloria Gaynor in the washed up wreck of a once thrilling relationship: I will survive.

But there are some days when the daily slime of self-disgust associated with this post-industrial waste of time called EMPLOYMENT really soups itself up into a fucking feast of clay-flavoured self-loathing. Last Friday was one of those days.

Last Friday, I had to go to TRAINING DAY. For those who have never been TRAINED in the public service, TRAINING DAY basically means OVERPAID CONSULTANTS in URINE-HUED TIES trap you in WINDOWLESS ROOMS and teach you HOW TO WASTE A DAY OF YOUR PRECIOUS DWINDLING UNRECOVERABLE YOUTH. If they had been training themselves in HOW TO
INDUCE EXPLOSIVE HOMICIDAL RAGE IN MISTER NORA I would have given them full points, but sadly, it was ME who was supposed to be learning, and LEARNING I WAS MOTHERFUCKING NOT.

Thing is, even though I've been to a billion of these horrific exercises in futility, for some reason last week my filter was completely busted. Instead of wearily resigning myself to the usual performance of docile mooing, glassy-eyed grass munching, and general obsequious participation in bullshit hypothetical group activity role plays, I spent approx. 96% of the day with my head on the desk, mixing up long periods of wrathful silence with the occasional noisy declaration that I couldn't be fucked with this motherfucking bullshit. This went down real well with my piss-tie facilitators, let me tell you.

I also found that I could not stop myself from riling up the other participants in my group. There was one girl in particular who really gnawing away at my psychological equilibrium by wearing HIGH-WAISTED BROWN CORDS with a MINT GREEN TURTLENECK and having the GALL to try to tell me what to do. Girl just could not understand that I DO NOT TAKE INSTRUCTIONS FROM STYLE-RAPISTS IN TURTLENECKS. Anyway, result of this was that every time she said anything at all, I would sigh heavily and say "oh, honey, I don't think so," and then fail to budge in the face of her many sensible arguments. It was like face-to-face trolling, and it drove her fucking mental. There's some lingering guilt associated, but overall I would HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT.

Anyway. Have since recovered from this miserable day, but even after my unprecedented display of rampant unprofessionalism, this week I find myself STILL TRAGICALLY EMPLOYED. So, motherfuckers, answer me this: WHO AND/OR WHAT DOES A GIRL HAVE TO FUCK TO GET THE SACK AROUND HERE?

xoxonora

I never wanted to kill; I am not naturally evil.

2008-09-23T15:15:00.005+10:00

Duuuuuuuuuuudes. How have I missed you? let me count the ways.

1.

OK I can't think of any ways. But still, MY LONGING FOR YOUR COMPANY IS TURNING ME INTO A DEAD BROWN(ing) POET! Along the lines of Robin Williams & Ethan Hawke etc, only with a more contemporary sensibility and less of a rigid social milleu leading to indulgence in Shakespearean tights, latin cliches, suicide, etc.

What's that? You haven't missed me at all and would prefer it if I fucked off back to my grim life as a full on 'Dult with a job and a mortgage and a sensible approach to grammar and actually spent this fine Tuesday afternoon doing some work to earn the money payed to me in fortnightly installments by your good friend and mine, the ATP?

Well fuck you, sunshine. As The Dude's friend Philby would say, I'M NOT BOBO THE DANCING MONKEY, BRO!

Hey, c'mon mister nora. Tell them the motherfucking truth.

Ok OK. So I totally am Bobo the Dancing Monkey. They practically have me wearing a little red vest and a fez here. But dude, if the taxpayer cannot afford to pay me more than $20.66 an hour for the pleasure of advancing the Common Good, then the taxpayer can suck this dancing monkey's cock.

You know the interesting thing about being a dancing monkey round these parts is that all the surrounding monkeys are so consumed by ennui that if I do so much as lift my little monkey foot in a half hearted high-kick, they all start jumping up and down making "hoot hoot hoot hoot" noises and practically drowning me in amazing performance reviews. I have tried pointing out that I'm not exactly Rudy fuckin Nureyev here bros; in fact I more closely resemble some kind of neckless footballer on Dancing with the Stars (which, incidentally, should be totally reinvented as DANCING WITH THE STASI! How much would THAT lift ratings eh, motherfuckers!) but I'm telling you dudes, it's to NO MOTHERFUCKING AVAIL. I could fucking do a shit in a tea cup and submit it as a research memo and I would get a departmental commendation.

This does not inspire me to do my best work. Or any work, in fact. Never mind, I am moving to new department next week; hopefully they will employ some STICK as well as CARROT and possibly some other type of PHALLIC SYMBOL and I will once again find in myself a love of toil. But right now, it's Tuesday afternoon and bitches, this monkey refuses to boogie.

xoxo nora

mister nora will kill again.

2008-08-07T15:26:00.001+10:00

So it seems like the soul of mister nora has been left to die a slow and undignified death in obscurity while some monstrous bitch with excellent skills in Microsoft Office cavorts around in her old, bloated body, making it do humiliating things like attend professional development seminars or plot how to make a rapid ascension up the pay-grade scale. Worst thing about this impostor is that she is fucking terrible at scaling the grades, so bad at it that she is in fact climbing downwards. If this shit continues, it looks like her five year plan is for her to be paying her employers a reasonable wage for the grand fucking honour of getting her name impermanently tattooed on the textured plastic wall of her very own sky-rise cubicle. This bitch sure knows how to live the high life.

Soul of mister nora is scratching around out there somewhere, though. Sometimes the impostor can feel one of mister nora’s claws pressing itchily on the underside of her pitiful conscience. This occurs most often when, cruel mistress that she is, the impostor is forcing the bloated body to stride intently past an inviting public bar without stopping by to exchange even a brief bit of chit-chat with a cold beer. When she’s at work, too, the impostor occasionally experiences a startling flicker in the corner of her eye, and she could almost swear she sees a large, three legged martini glass crawl speedily up the cubicle wall on her left before disappearing, in one slick manoeuvre, into a slender crack in the ceiling. And then there’s the thing that happens on the train on her way to work, when, lulled by the rhythmic sway of the carriage, the impostor will find herself gazing lovingly at the passenger beside her and listening to a gentle crooning on the inside of her head: hey there, pretty lady, would you like a small aperitif? A teeny weeny breakfast snack? A delicious and nutritious beginning to your busy day at the office? Well then, pretty lady, say hello to THE SEVERED HEAD OF YOUR FELLOW COMMUTER!

It’s times like these that the impostor thinks maybe she’s not quite rid of mister nora afterall.

xoxonora

HEY SPANKEYES!

2008-03-22T10:47:00.003+11:00

Dear Life Counsellor,

Today I realised that I rarely get to use the terms COCKSPANK and CUNTEYES in my day to day routine.

Do you think this is because I am a Cancer? Sometimes I think my life would be wholly different if my star sign had been named after some less terminal disease. I know with these days with Chemotherapy and Leaching etc the prognosis is not always totally hopeless, but still, being riddled with tumors is just not glamorous in the way that, say, Syphilis or Dwarfism are glamorous. Obviously, for my particular problem, the illness of choice would be Tourette's, but even Gangrene has a certain way of catching the public imagination which I feel it's not entirely unreasonable of me to envy. You know, like you go off on a dangerous yet exhilarating mountain mission and/or attend an icecapade and you come back to civilisation with an aura of inner stillness and a more limited number of toes, and suddenly everyone thinks you're some kind of HERO. Call me crazy, but I feel that if I had a Gangrene related star sign not only would I be feared and admired in equal measure by my adoring public, but the words COCKSPANK and CUNTEYES would also be featuring pretty prominently in my everyday communications. But then I'm no expert on these matters...which brings me back to my initial question, life counsellor: ~~ARE YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR BECAUSE YOU HAVE BEEN STRUCK DOWN WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL MUTENESS AND AS SUCH YOU ARE FILLED WITH IMPOTENT RAGE AND WORDLESS DESPAIR~~ are my extensive and highly stylised personal woes my own fault, or merely the unfortunate result of a mistimed birthing incident? I.e. CAN I BLAME MY PARENTS.

I look forward to your prompt response.

Yours,

xoxo nora

PS Myers Briggs says I am ENFP if that is of any assistance.

Legally a Midget?

2007-09-25T13:30:00.000+10:00

Fuck, bros. Despite earlier claiming that 'reports of my death are grossly exaggerated' etc it seems that those reports were FAR MORE ACCURATE THAN INITIALLY PRESUMED. I am at home with THE ILLEST ILLNESS OF ALL TIME; it's a pretty sad story but essentially what happened is that I ordered for my limbs to be sawn off in the dead of night and replaced with BIONIC LIMBS that would mechanically enable me to Effectively Fight Crimes in my Ill Fated Quest for Justice (or whatever), only it seems my cosmetic surgeon fucked up bigtime with this shit as my new bionic limbs are made of BAMBOO and are about as fucking useful as a sack of rats. THANKS A MILLION, DR 90210. I am baking up some tort(e)s as we speak so I can slam Dr Nine Oh in the face with a (low)CLASS ACTION in PROFESSIONAL NEGLIGE.

Eat my torts, motherfucker.

Basically, I am feeling a lot less like this Bionic Woman:

"Yes, yes I DO fully endorse the Mister Nora School of Hair."

and a lot more like this bionic woman:

"I AM NOT AN ~~ANIMAL~~ UNREALISTIC ROLE MODEL FOR IMPRESSIONABLE YOUNG WOMEN!"

Still, despite the Illness, I made a commitment, and this week MISTER NORA SAYS YES TO RELIABILITY. As a result I am dictating this blog to the cats from my death bed in order to bring you the promised WEEKENDE ROUNDE UPPE. I must warn you it may be long and nonsensical as I am poss suffering from delirium OF THE BRAIN. In case you are wondering, this is much, much worse than delirium of knuckles/glutes.

1. FRIDAY NIGHT

Friday night was pretty much a journey into the darkest, most perverse reaches of the contemporary suburban psyche, i.e., I went to a Foot Ball. It was a lot like other Balls I have attended only with less Satin Frocks and also THE BEER WAS LITE. I won't even attempt to express the depths of my horror. Still, it was a pretty good excuse to yell out "KILL HIM" and "GO PUSSY" and "SUCK SHIT SUCK SHIT SUCK SHIT!!!" in the presence of some small children. I recommend it - you might discover your inner banshee, get touched up by the common man, etc etc. IT CAN'T ALL BE BEAT POETS AND WUTHERING HYATTS YOU KNOW.

After the Ball we went to a Delightful Venue full of scrubbers and balding drunks. HOT. There was an awesome band on though so we watched that, and then afterwards made up for the not-beer at the Ball by getting steadily hammered with the lead singer like the ~~DESPERATE GROUPIES~~ sophisticated adults that we are, and then stayed up smoking and ranting in our kitchen until some hour much later than is recommended by your dermatologist. TSK.

2. SATURDAY

Clearly, this began with a hangover. What followed is a bit hazy but involved a "COMPETITION OF PIE", to which The Dude took a Vegetarian Pie, which was SCORNED by the slavering carnivores. FUCK YOU, SLAVERING CARNIVORES. The Dude's pie was totally delicious [NB: no double entendre intended], and I feel he was fully justified in telling the Pie Judges after they had failed to Award him Medals that the pie they had just eaten and scorned was SEASONED WITH URINE and STIRRED WITH PENIS. They took it on the chin. <--also not a double entendre.

3. SUNDAY

HIGH VIBES. I have not been to this event before and was expecting basically a heap of shit. It was actually Fucking Awesome, and if I knew any positive words except 'Awesome' I would describe it as those things also.

[OH WOES, BEING AN ~~EMU~~ EMO SPOILS YOUR VOCABULARY SO.]

We saw several Bands, and those that fell under the category of "AWESOME" include: Johnny Got His Gun, Touch Typist, Charles Jenkins & the Swedish Cowboys, and Wagons. Highlights were a Swedish Cowboy's Gram Parsons haircut, the supernaturally lanky washboard player from Wagons busting a rap, and the lead singer from Johnny Got His Gun, who The Dude described as 'Taxi Driver does American Idol as Axel Rose'. Yes.

Falling under the category of "HIGHLY IRRITATING" was the non-attendance of The Commas, the unfortunate attendance of Martin Martini, and the large number of Dancing Ferals who became particularly prominent as the day wore on into night:

"Hi! We're Ferals! Our hobbies include discarding our shoes, rubbing poo in our hair and raping your retinas with our ~~crazed leaping~~ funky moves!!

I embrace my fellow man, I really do. But I'm telling you now, brothers, I will draw the line [and possibly also a gun] at a dancing feral. STANDARDS MUST BE MAINTAINED.

xoxo nora

OK ALREADY

2007-09-20T15:50:00.001+10:00

Sheesh. So I have been a bit slack. Dudes, you must understand that it’s hard to muster the motivation to blog when your life is more boring than an endless reel of Ingmar Bergman films.

"WTF? SCREW YOU, MISTER NORA"

Sorry Ingmar. But you can't deny it's true.

Anyway, for the last couple of months I've pretty much done nothing but go to work, fantasise about the dole, sniff white out, go home, drink myself into a stupor, and fall asleep in front of Quizmania.

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST KILL YOURSELF AND HAVE DONE WITH IT, YOU MISERABLE WHINING BITCH."

Am thinking about it, my furry little brothers.

Anyway. I am doing some fun things this weekend involving
1. BALLFEET
2. PIE COMPETITIONS
3. GETTING HIGH

If exciting things happen I promise I will compose something SPECTACULARLY HILARIOUS/barely worth vomiting all over.

xoxo nora

Sometimes it hurts to be alive.

2007-07-06T16:10:00.000+10:00

You're at your desk right now thinking THANK FUCKS it's NEARLY OVES. Tell me it's not true.

This weekend I am intending to blow. Take that how you feel you must, because y'know what, on Monday I will be 28. TWENTY FUCKEN EIGHT. That's heaps more years than it should be. May as well throw myself wholeheartedly into financial planning/get a small dog, in a jacket/give away all dreams of getting hot new role in Home & Away as hot new year 7 student who gets impregnated by hot new student teacher and then gets kidnapped by crazy buddhists right before going into surgery to abort they baby and then during the rescue discovers that she is actually Alf's daughter and ALSO HIS SISTER, except that she is actually a boy.

"LIKE, OMG."

I know. To be honest, I'd rather that on Monday I was turning 23. And not just because getting so old is fucking up my chances with H&A. Twenty three was a pretty awesome age. Maybe because I met The Dude when I was 23, maybe because I spent that year basically drunk out of my fucking brain roughly 78% of the time. Ahh, 23. Those were sweet days. At 23, getting cirrhosis of the liver seemed as far off and fanciful as getting a law degree/job. Aww. I was like, so fucking ~~dumb~~ adorable, back then.

But then, when I was 23 I had to live in a sharehosue with approximately a million other people, including a political advisor to the liberal party, a quasi-anorexic psychology student with a major personality disorder, a cranky graphic designer with an iron will, a jewellery maker with a seedy boyfriend and a hot rack, a highly promiscuous Californian midget, a lovelorn chef (who was constantly engaged in bitter psychological warfare with the quasi-anorexic), a Dutch PhD student with a tiresomely complicated personal life and a wardrobe full of colourful pants, a naturopath who was also known as the Most Boring Girl in the World, and a stoner physiotherapist who hid in his room, feigned an allergy to cats, and ripped us all off majorly. Fucker.

WHY CAN THEY NOT GET SUCH A LOVEABLE CROWD OF FEUDING MISFITS ON BIG BROTHER.

Whatevs. I guess the moral of the soiree is that it's heaps nicer to be sharing domestic blisters with The Dude, even if I do have to be twenty fucken eight.

xoxo nora

1. High level written communication skills

2007-07-03T10:58:00.000+10:00

Dear Optus,

Dude, thanks for your offer of heaps of megabytes, but basically things are really fucked up right now and I have no time to deal with the Big Questions you keep posing re: DO I HAVE ENOUGH BROADBANDITS IN THIS AGE OF MODERNISM/internet malls. Like, do you remember how I used to lie around on those hazy summer days drinking Sangria and chatting to your sales representatives like there was no tomorrow? THOSE DAYS ARE OVER, BABY. I'm a professional now, and it fucking hurts.

Not that I can't be your friend again ever but seriously your lousy call centre marketing drop-outs are totally getting on my nerves.

xoxo nora

Dear Nancy,

I know you're checking me our right now thinking 'hm that bitch looks vaguely familiar. Also, like, AWESOME HAIR.' And I can understand if you don't immediately recognise me given that ~~you're a complete fucking fucktarded motherfucker whose syphillitic cuntbrain is pretty much full to the fucking rafters with baby spinach and beetroot salad and various species of exotic poos~~ we've never met. Still, you might remember me as the woman who now inhabits the sweet little hovel you once called home, 'once' meaning like 10,0000 mega-aeons ago when the earth was still flat and you had a big crush on that charismatic amoeba with a minor substance abuse problem who ended up fucking your sister, just because she had bigger tits than you and could pay for her own drinks. Man, I guess that must have hurt.

Anyway Nancy, now we've gotten the introductions out of the way, I would totally love to stay and chat about the weather/the genuine awesomeness of my hair etc, but as it turns out I am too fucking busy SETTING FIRE TO THE 3 MILLION TONNES OF MAIL ADDRESSED TO YOU THAT STILL ARRIVES AT MY HOUSE EVERY SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING DAY, CLOGGING UP MY MAIL BOX WITH ANNUAL REPORTS FROM ONE OF YOUR 89 SUPERANNUATION FUNDS AND MENACING NOTICES FROM THE MAGISTRATES COURT AND LOVE LETTERS FROM BEARDY MEN AT VICROADS AND DAILY FUCKING UPDATES FROM NATUROPATHS R US AND SO ON WHEN IT COULD BE FULL OF PRESENTS. AWESOME PRESENTS. PRESENTS FOR ME, BITCH, FOR ME! sharpening my knives.

No hard feelings.

xoxo nora

Dear Electricity Meter Man,

God, you look so fucking hot in that orange jacket. And I really love what you've done with your hair – no really, that's like a
serious compliment coming from me. I don't fucking joke about hair.

What is not so much of a compliment is my appraisal of your TIMING SKILLZ. I don't mean to be touchy and shit but must you always come to read the meter when I am sitting around in yesterday's knickers, idly masturbating over some story about childhood wheat allergies (or similar) in the Herald Sun? It's like you're just parked around the corner for months on end, waiting like a SPIDER for the moment when some fat little kid dies of peanut head explosion and I find it so INEXPLICABLY AROUSING that I just can't quite resist coming over a bit Chrissie fucking Amphlett over my morning bowl of Grits. AND THEN, ONLY THEN, DO YOU POUNCE, throwing me right off my game with your tight safety jacket and your SEXY ELECTRICAL HAIR.

We could have been so happy together, Electricity Meter Man. Your Timing Skillz suck shit.

xoxo nora

all my troubles seemed so far away

2007-06-10T00:50:00.000+10:00

OK so it's like 1 am on a Saturday and I am writing a blog. DON'T JUDGE ME, BROS. I have heaps of a life it's just sometimes I choose not to use it. Also, BONEFINGER is on TV. Awesome.

I was at a bar with the Dude and some awesome booky kids last night and we were kind of laughing maybe a little bit meanly about the fucktards at the next table (pretty harmless badmouthing, you know how it is, 'HAHA are these fuckers from like Templestowe [or similar] or what* HAHAHA did they arrive on a bus AHAHAHAHA that HAIR CUT is not HAIR CUTE AAAAAAHAHAHAHAH ' etcetc, ok maybe not superwitty or whatever but in my defence I PUT IT TO YOU, LAYDEEZ AND GENTLES OF THE JURY that at this point there were some alcohols involved, and SOMETIMES IT'S FUN TO BE CUNTY).

Anyway, we thought we were pretty safe cos the bar was in Northcote and as we are all FROM Northcote basically we assume we rule the palazzo and as such possess unlimited power over life, death, pool etiquette, bar snacks and approximately everything else. This turned out to be slightly incorrect however because last night THE FUCKTARDS FOUGHT BACK. Apparently they didn't like the way we were lookin at them.

We had some delicate moments there with one fucktard in particular, who took poorly to our random snakey jeering. We dealt with this in different ways, with me going 'heh heh let's all be friends heh ehe eheh heh PLEASE DON'T BEAT ME' and our friend L going 'hmmm you ARE a curious specimen, let me provoke you a little more BECAUSE IT GIVES ME PLEASURE' and The Dude going 'I WANT TO KISS YOU' and L's boyfriend G indicating quietly and convincingly that he could take this fucker DOWN. Luckily it didn't turn to fisticuffs though since somehow I think in the Drunks of Northcote v Fucktards of Templestowe bar brawl the Drunks are lookin at some pretty long odds. L and G can probably hold their own but The Dude prefers to conduct his homicides using large ammunitions and I can barely stand up without giving myself brain damage.

Aw Bowfinger just ended. SAD.

Anyway it all ended sweetly when the fucktard got a bit scared of The Dude's vaguely menacing homosexual advances and ran away. Sorry about this lame ending to a pretty boring story. If you like you can give it more Human Interest by imagining that it ended in much the same way as Al Pacino ended in Scarface, and that we were all dressed as GIANT PILES OF SNOW.

SUCK IT UP MOTHAFUCKAS.

Yeh.

xoxo nora

PS NORTHCOTE DRUNKS: 1 / TEMPLESTOWE FUCKTARDS: 0.

PPS clearly this is yesterday's news, but like WHAT HO brothers, sometimes Australia Post is fucking slow. SO SUE ME.

CAUTION : NEVER RETURN DRY, HARD SPECIMENS TO TETRACHLORIDE OR BENZINE YOU MUST RELAX THEM FIRST !

2007-06-06T13:33:00.000+10:00

So in case you were wondering, I have spent the last couple of months in a pretty dark place. It was pretty much identical to that squelchy passage that Indiana Jones walks through in some fucking movie or other, except that instead of exploding with snakes or whatever it was fucking teeming with rats, earwigs, lawyers, and generally just heaps of germs.

“LIKE, EW!”

Tell me about it. If you are squeamish/below the age of consent and want a more ‘Wordsworth-of-the-Antipodes’ type explanation, basically I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been trapped at the heart of a balloon full of poo, where pretty much all I can see or think of is poo. There were occasional sweet evenings where I got to wave out the Poo Balloon window at The Dude & the Pussycats as they slopped around town mopping up blood, ‘busting moves’ etc & so on, but mostly it’s been All About ~~Eve~~ Poo. Let’s just say that after all the good times of my trips abroad, I have been wearing The Dude’s ‘I hate my life’ shirt around with a renewed sense of authenticity.

“IT’S GOOD TO BE HEARTFELT WITH UR TSHIRTS, BROTHERS & SISTER[N]S OF THE LORD.”

Totally. But anyway, point is that since my head fucking exploded last weekend, things have been looking up, and I am now ready to ONCE AGAIN enjoy all the WONDROUS FRUITS that the world has to offer me. So far I am focussing on pecans. Is this fruits?

Also, I am thinking of taking up a hobby so that I can acquire the ‘totally achievable work/life balance’ that is surely the ~~POISONED CHALICE~~ HOLY GRAILS of the Modern Young Professional. After some extensive research I have decided that my new hobby will be…

"OMG is this like Dancing with the Stars or what."

That's right bros, I will totally be COLLECTING BEETLES.

This is also known as ‘coleoptera’ and so I am pretty much counting on it involving pantswork with Mark Antony* OR dying of cholera. Obvs I will have to do more research but basically I am just deeply attracted the list of necessary equipments:

- killing jar

- killing agent

- sweep or/and aerial net

- aspirator

- knife (poss. a steel throwing knife called "silver arrow")

- Portable light

- pitfall trap

- berlese funnel

- sifter

- chopin and prying tools

- malaise trap

DOES THIS SHIT CRY OUT NON STOP GOOD TIMES OR WHAT.

How awesome would prying tools and a malaise trap be?! E.g. ‘Suck shit malaise, try keeping me down with your fucking neuroses/savage ennui/pestilence of the heavens etc from the jaws of my awesome trap! NOW I WILL USE MY TOOLS TO PRY U. AHAHAHA, etc.’ This could poss be the key to Eternal Bliss!

“THAT’S AWESOME MISTER NORA. I’D LOVE TO STAY AND CHAT BUT I HAVE TO GO PURCHASE A KILLING AGENT”

Guess I’ll see you later then.

xoxo nora
* Hot Roman, i.e. not J-Lo’s corpse bride.

P.S.
"Where you look and collect beetles:
a. under the bark of trees
b. under logs and stones
c. on the flowers and leaves.
d. on and in the soil under carcasses
e. in animals excrements, especially cows"

HI!!!!!

2007-06-03T16:11:00.000+10:00

"HI BITCH"

Hello.

"HAVE U MET MY MONKEY BRIDES?"

Do you mean these ones?

"YES?"

That's awesome, babes, kind of like projectile vomit is awesome.

"GOD MISTER NORA, WHY IS U SO UPTIGHT LATELYS"

Would you believe...

". . . . . "

You're right to be suspicious.

xoxo nora

So how are things with you?

2007-06-02T18:20:00.000+10:00

xoxo nora

International playboys/girls ahoy!

2007-04-09T15:56:00.000+10:00

Something I've been pretty excited about lately is FINDING LOVE via the International Herald Tribune classifieds section. This is not so much for me, as I have already found love with a good looking social phobic with a liking for swearing, neon signage and women who drive utes, which is pretty much the entire list of what I would put in as essential life-partner requirements in a personals ad, except the bit about the utes, as I don't own a ute and can only drive in the 'legal' sense [ie. not in the 'possession of driving skills e.g. knowledge of which pedal is for stop and which pedal is for go' sense....was a high point in my life when I found out that those crazy cats at VicRoads will give out driving licences to fucken just about anyone so long as you give 'em their 130 bucks ~~and a blow job~~.]

However, I feel that others, with lonelier hearts than mine, should really be made aware of the vast pool of quality humping candidates which can be found in the IHT classifieds. To be more specific, I am referring of course to the many international millionaires and leggy financial executives who have hired the mysterious Gabriele Thiers-Bense to hawk their lovin' wares in this high quality paper.

"Hi! I'm Gabriele! Give me your credit card details and I will give you eternal lasting love with someone of good aristocratic family and a passion for polo!"

Gabriele runs a website which has some truly powerful background music............................ and also a fine list of Wealthy Peoples who may like to marry you some day if you have appropriate DNA/horse skills.

Here is a sample of some of the fine beasts of manhood she has on sale at the moment:

Pretty explosive – that VICTORY SMILE – which you will not want to resist…ONE out of a 1000 – PROMINENT FINANCIER, Ph.D.

Young and vigorous 50, 190 tall, of splendid appearance-!!!With passion for aesthetics in all respects, sponsor for the classic arts and according
events.
A racy and cultured young future wife, of excellent descent and professional international presence is a must - just as her positive, well balanced structure, which he will support and complement with genuine participation and enthusiasm-!! World Citizen of this category are treasures and your future happiness.

OMG I can't tell you how long I searched for a Pretty Explosive man of Splendid Appearance before I found The Dude. Ladies, THIS COULD BE YOUR LAST CHANCE! Unless of course you go with this fellow:

THE HEIR TO A EUROPEAN INDUSTRY – Ph.D.Early 50, 188 cm tall, a World Ciizen of supreme quality-!

Everything he does is extraordinary –he is a passionate art sponsor, Interested in sculpturing World economy & politics, He is a flight pilot Sailor, Golfer, Deep sea diver, Mountain climber – And comprehensively a darling man-!!!

And he resides mainly in a magnificent castle and maintains various Western European residences. He will marry an intelligent and beautiful lady of 30 up to his own age –A woman with civil courage, an expressed sense for adventure and, of course, of adequate family descent.World Citizen of this
category are treasures and your future happiness!

Man if only I had civil courage/adequate family descent I would pretty much be that dude's perfect match. WHY CAN'T I HAVE A COMPREHENSIVELY DARLING MAN who is also a WORLD CIIZEN. I guess there's always this guy:

A HIGH CARAT YOUNG ELITE PERSON WITH A WORLD CLASS PERFORMANCE

He is in his thirties, values foremost reliability, inspiring
spirituality,the maintenance of traditions and expansion of wealth.
It amuses him, that he is considered as a conservative individualist, Because… - he is likely to unhinge the world with his dynamic drive and power…!
He seeks to marry a courageous woman with a speedy intellect, multilingual, with equal passion and ambition –of course of excellent family descentand endless curiosity for whatever is going on out there on this planet…!

Man, I want to unhinge the world with a dude like that! He obviously has an awesome sense of humour. Fucken fucks, but that whole 'family descent' shit just keeps getting in the way. WHY MUST I BE DAUGHTER OF LOW CLASS NOBODIES W/O CASTLES, DYNAMIC DRIVE, ETC. DEAR PARENTS, PLS TELL ME I AM ~~ABORTED~~ ADOPTED.

Fellas, you may have better luck than I. How would you like a go at this lovely lady:

SHE COULD BE YOUR FUTURE WIFE & BEST CHOICE…! SUPERB BRITISH DREAM WOMAN – MEDIA EXPERT Graduated at British Elite University
Vivacious and seductive 32 years young, 176 tall, slim with a strikingly beautiful face and excellent figure…Of first class descent, professional in 4 languages,she passionately loves horses and horse riding, she is a fascinating conversationalist and comprehensively a delight to be with!
She very much values the traditional social life with all of its luxury merits and seeks a family together with an internationally present Gentleman who is aware of and adores the attributions of a playfully successful young world lady. Female professionals of this category convince my most demanding clients.

The only question that remains is really whether you are an International Present Gentlement who is aware of and adores the attributions of a playfully successful young world lady. If so, go for it, lads. If not, try this one:

BE BEWITCHED BY AN ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING BLOND BEAUTY…Tres chic, disposing of a self made fortune, Millionaires, Global Finance Expert
Late 30, 174 tall, slim with an immaculate figure and marvellous legs…of excellent family descent, fluent in 4 languages, passionately addicted to horse sport, horse races and the breeding of fine horses!
She also loves sailing, alpine skiing, has travelled the World due to her business, she belongs to the First International Society and is accustomed to the finest lifestyles –Childless, she now seeks her own family life with an according husband/-world Citizen and should he have children, she will be delighted to inherit them.Young female professionals of this category
convince my most critical clients.

On second thoughts, maybe stay away from that one. It's true that with your help, and perhaps some assistance from Betty Ford, she may be able to beat her addiction to horse sport...but seroiusly, are you prepared to let her inherit your children? IS HER SELF MADE FORTUNE NOT ENOUGH FOR HER? I'll be she's a fucking feminist too. SHE PROBABLY WEARS FLAT SHOES. Fuck that, bros.

Luckily there are heaps more ladies and gents on the site for you to choose from. Go on, my single friends of adequate descent, take a chance on Gabriele.

xoxo nora

Will I kill again?

2007-04-08T14:43:00.000+10:00

Hello there.

YO.

Sorry I’ve been inattentive. Cremated has pretty much taken a back seat lately, and stayed there, drinking bourbon straight from the bottle, injecting crystal meth and making out with high school drop outs and petty criminals while I have been going through my 2193081204391248th Early-Late-20s-Crisis. I am reading a book right now about JP Sartre and S de Beauvoir and thinking FUCK ME DEAD, I’m TWENTY SEVEN; WHY AM I NOT SMOKING GITANES/FUCKING HEAPS OF VIRGINS/LIVING AN AUTHENTIC LIFE/MAKING WITH THE ORIGINAL THOUGHTS LIKE IT’S 1929?

See I have come to something of a Creative Full Stop after discovering recently that I did pretty well in the Laws Degree. The ‘Full Stop’ looks a bit like this:

WHAT KIND OF BORING FREAK DOES WELL AT LAWS.

[Ok so basically most people I know who did well at laws are completely non-boring freaks; there are nice, creative people of the laws, sure, hilarious bloggers of laws, people of laws with edgy fashions, and many laws dudes might even care for the rights of fellow humans, engage in Fun Runs/Oxymorons for Charity, ferociously defend unpopular causes while WEARING WIGS, etc etc etc………….basically all I have to say to your CONVINCING REBUTTAL is 'WHATEVER, dudes, YOUR PEDANTRY IS SPOILING MY IRRATIONAL INDIGNATION.' Also, I think the Tide of Bores is on my side. I will SEE your Shaun Micallef and RAISE you one John Howard and WHATCHA GOT TO SAY FOR YOURSELF NOW, SUNSHINE.].

I am thinking that maybe I should turn all that Power of Brain that allows me to understand complex trust arrangements into shit that might actually not make me want to drink Ajax. Something worthwhile. Something interesting. Maybe something like drafting a REVOLUTIONARY MANIFESTO. Or building large animals out of twigs and chewing gum. Or GETTING A PROPER HAIR CUT. The possibilities are endless, unlike MY HAIR, which is FULL OF ENDS [split].

With this in mind I am now going to make like the WILD BEAST OF ACTION that I am and maybe get myself some lunch.

Seeyouse.

xoxo nora

Fill your life with croutons!

2007-03-19T23:18:00.000+11:00

So I finally managed to download my pictures from on to my Fucked up LapTop. That up there is the Berlin Wall.

NB Here is how Fucked Up my Lap Top is:

IS THAT POSTMODON OR WHATS.

[I'm not sure what went wrong with the computer. I took it to Queensland last year and I think a fucken varmint bled all over it or some shit. Those inky blots in the middle make me feel sort of old-skool and Anne of Green Gables and 'please sir may I have some more of those scrumptious smoked squid scones yr packin' and 'OMFG my nib is naff, WOT am I 2 DO' and 'What is the best place to get your Poodle Serviced' etcetcetc IF YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GETTING AT [NB I'm not sure I do] but they also make Processing my Words of Wisdomz and Peacez pretty difficult.]

Anyway. Whatevs. Point is that pictures from Berlin reminded me of Graffiti, and Graffiti, for reasons unknown to some dudes incl. Boy George and the Australian Federal Police, makes me think of George Carlin.

This is pretty fucking excellent because although George isn't like 500% Nutricious & Packed full of Nuts & Grains of Wisdom (NOT LIKE ME), the good news is that the Books you get in George Carlin's 'Join the Bookclub!' Comedy Track are pretty much the most awesome shit ever. Here is a Selection of Choice Cuts:

- How to Fillet a Panda

- 64 Good Reasons for Giving up Hope

- My Dog is a Real Fruit

- Reorganising Your Pockets!

- What to Wear on the Toilet

- Tremble Your Way to Fitness

- Eat, Run, Stay Fit, and Die Anyway!

- A Complete List of Things that are Still Pending

- The Meaning of Corn

- Cooking With Heat!

- Marriage for One!

- Let's Change the Alphabet!

- Sport Fishing with Power Saws

- Don't Throw Away Your Old Skin

- How to Give People Your Best Regards

- How to Kill a Rat with an Oboe!

- How to Turn Unbearable Pain into Extra Income!

Ahh, things that are amusing even when I am not plastered off my frankly lobotomised brain on SIMPLE LOVE OF THE LIFES/PLEASURE OF FLOWERS/SUNNY DAYS/FEVEROUS KILLINGS. These are the things that make it all worthwhile.

xoxo nora

PS 'I Gave Up Hope and Died and It Worked!'

If the devil is six, then god is seven.

2007-03-12T18:37:00.000+11:00

Fucken fucks, how time flies. There I was six weeks ago hanging around the hovel and making hilarious jokes about sodomy with the pussycats and now WTF I am pretty much spending all my time staring at the chandelier* in My Office (FYI not a euphemism for 'the miscellaneous light fitting in My Vagina') thinking about ~~awesome ways to kill myself~~ The Laws and that.

You can relax though because although I am clearly now Adult in the manner of a 'MISTER NORA DOES DONKEYS' DVD, I'm not letting all this Maturity/Income go to my head. Basically I am just the same as I always was...only without all that bothersome Alcohol Addiction/Good Times/Will to Live shit that used to plague me in my Youth.

Am I awesomely interesting now I am Adult or what? I can't tell you how much The Dude looks forward to me coming home and telling him all about how I interpreted s.568 of the Crimes Act that afternoon.

And yet...

...I am sort of beginning to wonder how someone as committed to 'Anarchist Philosophies of Idle Boheme Etc' as I am has ended up where I have ended up.

Basically, life used to be a lot more like this:

'what r u lookin at, cunt.'

Now it's more like this:

'I type at 1238 wpm!'

There is nothing awesome about that.

Sorry, I know I rabbit on about this crap like a fox with a fucken rabbit up its date, or some shit. I promise I won't whinge anymore for like, at least another couple of hours.

xoxo nora

*there is a chandelier in my office, I am not joking bros. Does chandelier=HIGHEST DEGREE OF WORLDLY SUCCESS ATTAINABLE ON MORTAL PLANE? I think the answer to that question lies in the area of YOU FUCKEN BET IT DOES, hey. Let's retire.

she just laughed and said 'oh you're so funny'

2007-03-03T09:29:00.000+11:00

I read this article yesterday morning and practically spat all over a memorandum.

There were two things about it that particularly touched my central nervous system:

1. After doing what black-armband historians will one day describe as ‘fuckawl’ for Mr Hicks for practically this entire millennium, John Howard is now taking credit for the fact that ‘the process has been accelerated’ due to his ‘personal appeals’ to Dick n George.

Dear John,

I refer to your claim that your cocksucking skills are highly influential with ‘Americans of Note’.

I now request that you supply further and better particulars as to:

1. why you neglected to make demands regarding expeditious charging of Mr Hicks during any of the previous ‘mutually satisfying oral love related encounters’ you have had with Mssrs Bush & Cheney over the previous five years; and

2. how much you charge for anal.

Kind Regards,

mister nora

2. “I've said very directly to both President Bush and to the vice-president that whatever may be the feelings about Mr Hicks' alleged behaviour, it was simply not acceptable that somebody be detained indefinitely without trial.”

Dear John,

I refer you to the 2003 case of Al-Kateb v Godwin. I must alert you to the alarming possibility that your Immigration Department is running ethically squalid Court cases behind your back. I suggest that this is the only explanation for the fact that Mr Ruddock et al successfully [which reminds me: Dear High Court, WTF?] argued that it was ‘fucking A-OK’ to keep asylum seekers in indefinite detention without trial and no foreseeable prospect of release - clearly a position which you personally abhor!

Or is it only A-OK if it is towel-head/politically expedient? Pls explain.

Kind Regards,

mister nora

NB resort to politikz commentary for blog fodder may or may not indicate that I am now Adult/Not Drunk.

OH WHEN YOU'RE NEAR ME, DARLING CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?

xoxo nora

You've been fondled.

2007-02-20T23:15:00.000+11:00

Things have been a bit weird around here lately. You see, I have recently come to suspect that The Dude is possibly - oh, fuck, it's hurts my gracious mortal soul to say this - I have come to suspect that The Dude is possibly Not a Virgin.

[I won't name the monster who smeared this APPALLING NOTION all over my previously unsullied Moral Respect for The Dude, but I will say that he is an 8 legged gay narcissist who speaks French and lives behind the toilet.]

[Just when I thought I'd convinced the household insects to finally shut the fuck up, I ~~run out of antipsychotics~~ let my guard down for an instant and it's all tentacles this and multi-legged that all day fucking long. SHAREHOUSING IS SO FUCKING HARD IN THE GAY NOUGHTIES.]

Anyhow, my growing suspicion has totally lead to much fretful tossing ~~off~~ and turning in the early hours of the Morning, basically I have been stuck in a perpetual state of 'Holy Shit' in case Jeezy finds out and totally fails to sanction our Joyful [common law]Matrimony.

"OH, WOES!!"

Ya well it was totally woe x 1 million up until I made the bold move of conferring with the traditional source of Spiritual Guidance, and found out how to deal with this distressing turn of events.

Basically, I have found the Ultimate Oracle of ~~Carnal~~Bible Knowledge + FAQS!! And it straight up gave me the answer to my quandry:

Question:

What is the importance of choosing a virgin for a wife? From what I've read in the Old Testament, this was of paramount importance. If a man found that his bride was not a virgin, and he "detested her," he could have her put to death.

ANSWER:

...The keys in picking a partner is are they a Christian, are they trying to live a holy life, and are they the one that God has called us to marry? For what she looks like, and whether she has ever kissed another man, or been fondled or has fondled, or is a virgin or not is not really as important. Remember once a person (male or female) has been "born-again" and washed clean by the blood of Christ, then Christ declares them clean, and they are completely clean! And let us not declare someone unclean that God has declared clean...

YOU FUCKIN BET I WON'T!! I have ordered some Blood of Christ off the internets like straight off and am currently running The Dude a Bath: PROBLEM SOLVED.

Good fortune doesn't end there though. This site is fucking BRIMMING WITH HELPFUL KNOWLEDGES! E.g.:

Questioner
Who was the oldest person in the Bible and how old was he when he died?

Answer

The oldest person in the Bible was Methuselah at 969 years, then later God lowered the average life span to 120 years, and then even lower to our current average of 70 to 80 years--and this because of the increasing wickedness of mankind.

OMFG I have been wasting so much fucking time on good hygiene/green leafy vegetables etc. Like, I don't mean to be rude and shit, but DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT SHORT LIFE SPAN, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER 9 CENTURIES PLS PS I PROMISE NOT TO COVET ANY MORE ASS K THX BYE.

Other points of particular interest which may reward further study include the answers to the following insightful questions:

Question :
Do dogs go to heaven? My lab of eleven years recently passed away from cancer and this is important to me. Is there not a passage about how God created the dog to be a companion to man?

Question:
Can a career in the "arts" make for a godly career and life-style?

Question:

Are angels masculine in their nature, they have masculine names such as Gabriel and Michael. Also why does the Bible quote God as "He"? Can you answer these questions?

Question:

Would you happen to have verifiable proof regarding the committee of Lesbians that were working on the NIV?

Question:

I have a question about a person who seems to be suffering from some sort of demonic possession. Do you think it is possible that the iniquity of the parents can be part of the reason why they are being tormented?

Question:

Last night on the Discovery Channel they told of people who make phone calls from the dead, if they had a cell phone placed in their coffin when they were buried. Is this true?

I could go on - this site is a total goldmine of Bible Related Advice.

Here is some un-Bible Related Advice: MAKE IT YOUR HOMEPAGE IMMEDIATELY.

xoxo nora

new rules for celebrity head?

2007-02-19T19:12:00.000+11:00

Something I'm really not understanding today is why rooting Ralph Fiennes would result in a lady getting fired. Is this what our new industrial relations regime is all about?? I mean seriously, that kind of customer service should be rewarded with promotion/special meals! She was doing Qantas a fucking favour [literally].

Dude had paid for first class, after all. That extra $4,000 or whatever must go towards some kind of special privileges, and if those special privileges involve an ex-policewoman with mental health issues and no regard for sexual hygiene, WHO ARE WE TO JUDGE ~~JUDY~~. Also, if Qantas want to come (HAHA) down hard (HAHAHA) on inflight sausage disposal they should refrain from referring to staff as 'hostesses';fuckin may as well call them 'oriental masseuses with complete relaxations for western gent yes forty dollar special deal full service just for you, sir!', like for reals, bros.

You know, this reminds me of this one time when my friend Gilldo and I were enjoying the unique delight of the senses that is the Long Haul Flight on Egypt Air (DO YOU LIKE THE SOUND OF ELDERLY ARABS COUGHING UP PHLEGM AND SPITTING IT INTO POTS? I KNOW I DO!!!) (DO YOU ALSO LIKE THE HEADY SCENT OF CHEAP CIGARS MIXED IN WITH A RARE AND SPICY FLATULENCE IN A CONFINED SPACE?? BOOK YOUR FLIGHT TODAY!!!!), and Gilldo was actually invited 'backstage' to get bizzzzay with an alluringly surly Egyptian Flight Attendant. Bizarrely, she turned him down - and this was even BEFORE we had worked out that Arabs are Monsters who Hate Our Freedoms and Democracies!! Clearly she did not attend the Ralph Fiennes School of Sexual Opportunism.

"OMG, CAN I ENROLL RIGHT NOW? I HAVE PAPERS."

Sure, but it's expensive and may involve sex with his less attractive younger sibling. Your call, babes.

xoxo nora

i've made it.

2007-02-13T22:44:00.000+11:00

I am Please to Announce that according to Sitemeter Research Bureau, Cremated is now coming in the TOP TEN google search results for the following phrases:

1. freky porn (NUMBER ONE!!!)

2. why is mycunt hairy (6th)

3. glugging from inside vagina (3rd)

4. mean dwarves (3rd)

5. floozy sing a gram (2nd)

6. grouselike birds (6th)

7. hate samantha brett (3rd)*

8. picture of absalom on a mule (3rd)

Now you can all say you knew me BEFORE I was famous.

xoxo nora

*after seeing this I tried Samantha Brett is a fuckwit : NUMBER ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! now I die happy

Nice Dream

2007-02-11T22:10:00.000+11:00

In the interests of being less "Predictably Hateful" about everything I thought I would make a list of some things that I actually fucking like:

1. Prayerbabies. Although they haven't been updating their site thingy they are still playing about town. That Ian Birdwheel is a motherfucking genius.

2. Sleepers Publishing. The laydeez at Sleepers totally give good Almanac. Also, their Salons are "Alcoholic Friendly" which suits my Crazy Bohemian Lifestyle.*

* right now not actually crazy. or bohemian. or a lifestyle.

3. Bill Henson. His photos make me want to violate copyright LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW.

Dear copyright police: please don't arrest me? I will kill your grandmother/apply for adjournments.

4. Not Chicken
:

Dear SoyBased Chicken Substitute: I HEART YOU!! can I please also eat you kthnxbye.

...

Man is this being nice about shit BORING OR WHAT.

xoxo nora

The one I spent watching you shower.

2007-02-11T12:51:00.001+11:00

Woah so working life is apparently taking up heaps of my time what with all the "Memo: Re: How Big is My Desire of Weekend? VERY." and "Wistfully Recalling My Lost Youth While Learning All About Spinal Injury" type shit that goes down.

I have been keeping pretty busy of an evening too, doing things like going to see Various Bands, eyeing off their leather pants and thinking "Hey, why don't I quit The Man and become a Rock God so I can lay around snorting coke and getting tattoos all day long, how hard can that be, fuck I am born to do that job, where do I sign up, what is the annual leave entitlement in that shit, is international fame is going to be tough, when will I get to bang Kate Moss, questions questions, I better update my CV" etc & so on.).

I also saw Barry Humphries last week who was a totally Nasty Piece of Work, also funnier than a motherfucked motherfucker. Somewhat disturbingly there is an installation at the Arts Centre of Edna Everage's house which looks pretty much IDENTICAL to the Slovenly Pit of Mutual Filth that The Dude & I live in. WHY AM I NOT A 1950s HOUSEWIFE WITH TEN KIDS, A KNACK FOR BAKING AND A RELIABLE SUPPLY OF HORSE TRANQUILLIZERS. I was totally born too late.

Also in the last week I have caught up with a number Old Friends. My average conversation starter is "DO I APPEAR DIFFERENT TO YOU NOW I AM A SOULESS DRONE OF REGULATIONS?" and they have generally been unconvincingly reassuring, especially since I have also had several Random Encounters with people who I went to high school with who say shit such as "mister nora! What are you up to these days - you look like a lawyer!!" which generally leads to me Punching Them in the Face

Oh and finally in this AWESOMELY EXCITING update of the goings on in my life, I went to a Wedding yesterday.

Dear Cunts: FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK WOULD YOU PLEASE FUCKING STOP HAVING THESE FUCKING WEDDINGS.

Also, if you ARE going to have a fucking wedding could you please not fucking sit me at a table with a bunch of girls whose personalities can only be described as "Bubbly" and whose boyfriends all look like Amateur Rapists. I DO NOT WANT TO TALK TO PEOPLE WHO ARE MAD ABOUT SPORTS.

Also, Dear Bubbly Fuckwits At Weddings: please do not ambush Black Hearted Misanthropes by coming at them with a motherfucking Video Camera, shining a fucking Nuclear Powered Spotlight in their eyes and demanding that they come up with some kind of On the Spot Message of Goodwill for the Happy Couple on their Special Day.

Next time this happens, I will scratch your motherfucking eyes out and/or steal your hollywood tape fo' realz, bitchez. FO' REALZ.

xoxo nora

Like, tell me about it.

2007-02-03T15:10:00.000+11:00

Hi, I'm nora but you can call me mister nora if you like, I'm new around here. Oh yes I'm loving the job, it's great, you know, because I love the law, really love it. Would you like to speak in latin about technical questions of petty dispute and shit all day? ME TOO!! Amazing. I guess I was just born with a love of thinking heaps about whether someone is allowed to put up a fence or not, you know, for some of us it's really a calling. And God, don't you think it's so great that we get to wear suits like, all the time? If I could wear maybe ten or eleven suits at once I would SO do it, I like wearing them that much. Like, right now it's Saturday afternoon and I totally wish I was wearing my favourite "Dour Black" or maybe that sweet little "Grey Polycotton" number, I just find the grey really brings out the colour of my eyes and skin and shit. It's so - what's the word? - expressive, you know, of my inner world. Wearing grey suits is now pretty much my favourite thing ever. Except getting out of bed, maybe; getting out of bed is just awesome! HA! HA! HA! I love mornings so much I could literally die of it. The sound of my alarm going ding-a-ling-a-ling in the morning like a flirty little birdy just brings a sort of ecstatic joy to my heart, and my stomach starts getting all like "HALLO!! IS THIS ECSTATIC JOY FUN OR WHAT! CAN I JOIN IN??"...it's like I'm so fucking full of intense happiness that I kind of feel like throwing up? And sometimes also I just feel like screaming out loud with the happiness of it all. Haha isn't that funny. Huh. What's that? Oh...yeah no, sure, I guess some people might say that I've just "given up" all "hope" of leading an "interesting" or "creative" life and that now I'm just about "making money" and "waiting to die". But you know, do THOSE people have the kind of AMAZING white goods that I plan to put a downpayment on as soon as the Massive Dollars start rolling in? HAHA I don't think so. And like I've been thinking lately, would spending my life getting hammered and sleeping in and writing stories about dead people going boating and doodling away on my piano and annoying my cats and working a fuck easy job with really lovely people and reading Who Weekly and ranting on to The Dude all day really be that great anyway?

Not nearly as great as a Big Fat Bucket full of Cold Hard Cash! HA HA!!

xoxo nora

Is it getting tepid in here?

2007-01-23T09:28:00.002+11:00

I don't know if you've cottoned on to this already [ARE YOU SHARP LIKE A FOX?] but up until now I have not exactly been a Total High Achiever in my life, at least not in the Style of Sports Heroes/Media Magnates/Jennifer Hawkins. Given my 'LITERALLY UNBELIEVABLE' natural talents, I put this down to the simple fact that so far in life I have not really committed to success.

See, instead of like, buckling down to EARN COLD HARD CASH DOLLAR and SUPPORTING THE FASCIST POLICE STATE BY CONTRIBUTING TO GDP/RISING CONSUMER CONFIDENCE/etc, I have spent most of the last 27 years doing shit like lying half dressed in someone else's clothes on my greasy kitchen lino drinking Yalumba straight from a cask and singing along with Blondie songs circa 1979 (WOAH-OH, OH-OH, WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?) while my cockroach buddies play poker on my distended torso [or similar]. This has been fun and all, but it hasn't really meant 'Worldly Success' has come at me like an acrobat shot out of a canon....or whatever.

All that is about to change.

You see, on Monday, I start my ~~dreaded~~exciting new job as a ~~COCKSUCKING SELL OUT WHORE TO THE MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX~~ Grown-Up-Adult-WithOut-a-Drinking-Problem, NosirreeBob, I-Can-Take-Vodka-or-Leave-It-You-Bet, BUT-THANKS-FOR-YOUR-CONCERN, SIR, Type of Professional. In preparation for this ~~heinous~~important event, I have been researching Pyschological Techniques of Motivation. This has taken a bit of time, like I have investigated shit as diverse and inspiring as Anthony Robbins CD Packs, K-Mart Staff Manuals, Bert Newton's Hairpiece, and the Rise and Rise of Lara Bingle.

When it came down to it, though, I really couldn't go past the simple yet awesome philosophy of renowned international 'Brain+Muscle Combination', Fiddy Cent:

"[INSERT GOAL HERE], OR DIE TRYIN"

You have to admit, it's pretty awesome.

So I guess the only point of this post really is to warn you that by next week I will either be 'dead' or 'adult'. My bet is on 'dead'/minimum of coma.

Well, it's been fun bros.

xoxo nora

je ne regrette rien, or some shit

2007-01-12T14:29:00.000+11:00

Phew, so I have finally escaped from the clutches of Crazy French Pigdogs; those fuckers know how to make life difficult/capitulate in wars/write a menu with no vegetarian dishes on it like NOBODY'S BUSINESS [on the upside I have now learnt to survive for weeks in the wild with nothing to eat but delicious crepes. SOME CALL ME THE JUNGLE WOMAN.]

[Some call me "cuntface"]

Anyway, am now totally hiding out in a Bangkok Hotel, eating chillies and generally fáiling to see sights/heed DFAT travel warnings. Dudes, I live for thrills. Yeah I have been swimming in the pool and watching cable TV with basically NO REGARD FOR MY OWN SAFETY/THE SANCTITY OF HUMAN LIFES.

You might think I am reckless and foolish in this way, but FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, if that's what you think then you're basically the moral equivalent of the UPTIGHT POLICE CHIEF WHO WANTS TO TAKE DIRTY HARRY OFF THE STREETS.

"Go ahead DFAT, make my day"

Sometimes what you need is a renegade, know what I'm sayin. And YOU CAN THANK FUCK that this particular renegade is ''loaded with STACKS AND STACKS of courage/testicles" because it has lead her [me] to discover that the ABC Network over here shows Stingers re-runs like TWICE A DAY. This is pretty much the most fucking awesome news I could possibly report, because although I may not have alerted you to this before, TOO MUCH CHURCHIE IS NEVER ENOUGH.

"Churchie [right] with random whore"

Seriously, with this killer combination of "Tropical Weathers" and "High Quality Police Dramas" I should totally move to Bangers like for evs.

xoxo nora

what is it mister nora?

2007-01-06T23:27:00.000+11:00

OMG it's my new COLOUR TEMPLATE, that's what it is!! Is it the highest motherfucking tech you've ever seen OR WHAT, motherfuckers.

"WHAT."

SHUT your FACE!

"SUCK SHIT"

FUCK THAT, MOTHERFUCKER, YOU SUCK SHIT!

"NO, YOU SUCK SHIT"

etc.

xoxo nora

this space for rent.

2007-01-05T23:56:00.000+11:00

So I was doing a google search for myself the other day [and NO I'M NOT ASHAMED, I KNOW you do it too, and YES, I'm looking at YOU, Gary Simpson], and I found out that a while ago the awesome Christine Keeler, who should really have her own blog, suggested to Larvatus Prodeo that they add me to their blog roll. So the dude came over to my site, checked it out, and pronounced it 'Not Sufficiently Concerned with the Motherfucking Realness', The Realness being 'The Politics of Lands'.

At first I was totally like WTF, Nobody Deals with Big Issues Like mister motherfucking nora. I mean sure they do a nice job covering La-Di-Da Local Issues but do you see Larvatus Prodeo reporting on the fucking Threat to Civilisation as We Know it that is the Rats of the Sky/Aggressive Squirrels/Seals of Wrath? I DIDN'T THINK SO.

However after like, a number of hours/weeks spent gnashing teeth, renting hair [mostly The Dude's] and howling to the moon etc, I experienced what my Doctor termed a 'grand mal seizure', although I personally prefer to call it an Epiphany of Self Realisation. Dudes are totally right, there is Not Nearly Enough Talk of Rights for Darkies/How Much Andrew Bolt Sux and so on on this blog.

So GET YOUR BRAINS OUT KIDS, cos here is my first ever round up of World Events and shit, divided up into Colours to make for easy reading and comprehension:

1. War: Pros - money spinner for The Man; Cons - Distracts from Sports.

2. Democracy: Pros - better than Kingdom of Heaven; Cons - humans are pretty dumb.

3. Women: Pros - tits; Cons - Getting Uppity.

4. Australia: Pros - is not as full of Krauts as Germany is; Cons-not enough areas suitable for dog sledding.

5. Justin Timberlake: Pros - broke up with Cameron Diaz; Cons - went out with Cameron Diaz.

6. God: Pros - fullsome beard; Cons - wears togas.

7. George Bush: Pros - speaks English; Cons - Friends with God.

8. Daryl Somers: Pros - retired; Cons - came out of retirement.

9. Private Schools: Pros - boating opportunities; Cons - blazers.

10. Droughts: Pros - The Dude likes deserts; Cons - I prefer desserts.

Woah, are you happy now Larvatus, cos my Brain is Really Fucking Sore. THANKS A MILLION.

Let this be a lesson for like, four or five of us.

xoxo nora

a thing or two about love.

2007-01-04T23:16:00.000+11:00

HEY PUSSYCATS!!!!!

"What up, bitch?"

GUESS WHAT! I'LL BE HOME IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!!

"...whatever."

OMG GOD I'VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!! WE CAN PLAY SCRABBLE AND WATCH DANCING WITH THE STARS!!!!!!!

"Just be sure you is packin some duty free Friskies and a cask of Yalumba's finest, ok bitch."

LIKE, OF COURSE!!!!!!! THIS IS GONNA BE SO AWESOME LIKE I CAN'T WAIT, I TOTALLY CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU, IS THIS LIKE EXCITING OR WHAT!!!!!!!!! AREN'T YOU GLAD I'M COMING HOME???

"I'm thrilled."

OMG ME TOO!!!! LOVE YOU GUYS SEE YOU SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE YOU!!!!!!!! LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! XOXOXOXOX

"..."

xoxo nora

NEW YEAR REVOLUTIONS

2007-01-02T22:48:00.000+11:00

In 2007 I intend to:

1. Imagine Some Shit.

2. Get a Sled of Dogs [+dogs].

3. Devastate Jesus.

4. Rape a plant.

5. Read some blurbs.

6. Drink less Not Wine.

7. Purchase some Physical Features.

8. Enter a World of Pain.

9. Pull more Bongs.

10. Eat more rats.

[11. Fail in Revolutions.]

xoxo nora

Hallo.

2006-12-30T22:54:00.000+11:00

Are holiday snappies like the best thing ever you could ever possibly see on a blog ever?

MOST RHETORICAL QUESTION EVS SINCE MY LAST RHETORICAL QUESTION.

xoxo nora

PS "Chez Pope":

Travels with My Cunt

2006-12-29T10:39:00.000+11:00

Sooooooooooo bros news from The Continent is that I am currently thinking of fashioning some kind of large firearms, possibly out of du mineral water, a frenchman and maybe a porcelaine figurine resembling a milkmaid avec un garcon seeing as that's the kind of material I have on hand right now. Sometimes I am truly thankful to Our Saviour that I am so fucking resourceful in an engineering/EXTREME VIOLENCE sense.

You see, facts are that while on holiday I have been PROVOKED by a KRAUT! Basically, it would take a long time (YEARS OF YOUR LIFE) to explain fully but the outline of the situation is that a VGermin has sent me an email suggesting that I am some kind of INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL/SLOB/CONWOMAN/CARMEN SANDIEGO.

"OMG, THE NERVE! LIKE, WHO WON THE ~~ASHES~~WAR[Z], FUCKFACE!"

Exactly, dudes, like, FOR REALS. I almost wrote back suggesting that Mr Germanski "CLIMB UP AN ARSEHOLE FULL OF POOS" or something similarly poetic/concise, but after some consideration I decided that such words might be Hasty; this situation instead calls for quiet reflection, prayer and a polite response that will ensure that I will keep a firm handle on the Moral, Spiritual and also Legal Higher Ground,

AND ALSO THAT THE KRAUT HAS HIS FACE/TESTICLES BLOWN AWAY AND HIS CHILDREN SKEWERED FRIED AND EATEN BY SOME SWISS DUDES AS AN ACCOMPANIMENT TO RICE CRISPIES, SEVERAL LAGERS + MAYBE A POT OF FONDUE.

I have been in touch with the Australian Embassy indicating that I would appreciate their help in arranging the above, in basically the same words only WITH MORE CAPITALS, but all they could say was "WE SUGGEST YOU CONTACT RUSSIANS, PS CRIKEY WE LOVE VEGEMITE". Honestly WTF are embassies for if not to provide assistance in SKEWERING GERMAN CHILDREN.

I was briefly worried that this whole incident is turning me a little bit Racist, but thing is I am full of Hatred for Dudes and Laydeez of All Kinds, my misanthrophy does not discriminate on the basis of national boundaries, fingernail length, penchant for lederhosen etc, so according to my research I am pretty fucking confident that once this milkmaid gets put to work launching grenades/nuclear devices at the Germ, my actions will safely fall within the Geneva Convention/Declaration of Human Rights/International Laws of the Sea.

Also, like Jesus says, "IF NOT NOW, WHEN?"

"Is it next year/some time next week?"

I don't know bros, ask the fucking Germans.

xoxo nora

How to Improve Christmas in 5 Easy Steps!

2006-12-28T04:15:00.000+11:00

1. Spend it 20,000 miles (or some such shit) away from anyone you are related to by blood.

2. Consume 20,000 champagne cocktails.

3. Kick it off with some delightful TV Christmas Specials, preferably all in German.

"Einer spittel liebe markt guten tag vow vow das ist fich dich doch selst, ya?"

4. Watch DVDs involving Mel Gibson at an earlier, handsomer, less antisemitic age.

"In a post-apocolyptic future, I will become quite ugly, quite drunk, and slag off the jews, and then I will make a fucking killing at the box office. Awesome."

5. Give The Dude a haircut.

ALWAYZ GUT FOR FUN TIMEZ.

xoxo nora

BRAIN OF RADIATION

2006-12-09T23:50:00.000+11:00

Woah so am in place where everyone talk funny (EVEN THE CHILDS), wear nice shoes and is more cultured than fuck; I am 90-311% sure peeps here view me and The Dude as single cell organisms that live under sewerage pipes. Cannot stop speaking in Borat-esque Kazahkstani Accent, maybe this is sign that I am Central Asian at Heart\in DNA?

Sad to have left the Untied Stats, that place had more algorithms than nearly anywhere I have travelled [NOTE TO SELF: WHAT IS ALGORITHM]. But we is pleased to announce that diagnosis=STILL AWESOME.

Oh fuck, no time for Springer style Words of Fucking Awesome Wisdom of the Day as am apparently running out of air time, which cost about EURO 1 MILLION [AU$12389120983190283190284019284 approx]. To sum shit up, basically, how nice is old shit [HEAPS].

xoxo nora
PS wish u woz here 06!!!!!!!LOLZ!!!!!!!
PPS WTF

Then Absalom fled on a mule

2006-11-30T19:43:00.000+11:00

For a few moments tonight I was under the impression that Bananarama had vowed to overthrow the Fiji government by noon tomorrow.

I was also under the impression that a woman had been busted performing indecent acts on a horse in northern NSW, and WORSE, that Samantha "Motherfucking" Brett was taking a stand against gender stereotypes; unfortunately in these cases there was no dyslexia afoot.

After such unsettling items, I thought I'd relax by spending some time checking out my favourite fashion related site, which totally responds to the need "for women and girls to return to principles of modesty and femininity — to truly dress like women of virtue and principle".

Some women of virtue and principle:

"Fabric styles and patterns include denims, floral prints, mini prints, corduroy, flannels, plaids, checks and poly-cottons."

"AWESOME! I HEAR JESUS LOVES PLAIDS, CHECKS AND POLY-COTTONS."

If are not fully understanding of Modest Fashions, please refer to this site:
"Modesty for the women means to cover the body. There are clothing which cover the body, but are also immodest. Dresses that are too tight are immodest, even if they are a cape or a jumper.

"EVEN IF THEY ARE A CAPE OR A JUMPER? NO FUCKING WAY."

"I've always been blessed by sisters whose dresses were long. I think a safe guide is if they are at least half way between the ankle and the knee."

"OMG TELL ME ABOUT IT, MY SISTERS DRESS LIKE HOS. SOMETIMES EVEN IN TIGHT CAPES. WHAT AM I TO DO BUT FUCK THEM."

There is also some awesome advice on that site regarding wifely submission/curing of rebellious teenagers, basically way more wisdom than you could ever possibly imagine being all in the one place, with a lime green background colour.

"MORE WISDOM/LIME GREEN THAN I CAN HANDLE?"

Could be. Maybe best to just trawl for horse related porn instead.

xoxo nora

Feliz Navidad?

2006-11-30T15:47:00.000+11:00

So I haven't been blogging much mainly because I have been way too fucking busy:
(1) watching cable tv; and
(2) catching buses with drug dealers.
My life is both full and fulfilling.

I now have less than a week left in lovely San Fran, which completely breaks my big gay heart. Speaking of which, we saw Evan Dando play last week; previously I have not been fond of him but that was before I realised he was "EXCRUCIATINGLY GOOD LOOKING"- full points for hotness, the man can wear bangs like nobody else.

EXHIBIT A:

Other shit that been tootling down the street round these parts includes seeing new work by Phil Collins................................NO NOT THAT PHIL COLLINS, "THIS ONE"...........................at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Turkish kids doing Karaoke to The Smiths' album "The World Won't Listen" = fucking awesomeski.

In other breaking news, we have moved from our palatial apartment in The Hate and moved to a hotel room on the edge of the Tenderloin, which is also palatial if by "palatial" you mean "tinier than frog balls". The neighbourhood also is maybe a little down at heel, basically most of our interactions with locals go like this:

Random Homeless Dude: Yo man, Can you spare a dollar for a nigga jew?
Me + The Dude: No/Yes.
Random Homeless Dude: Fuck you motherfucker/How about two dollar.

Yeah I'm gonna miss this place; homeless dudes in Australia got nothing on their colleagues in the Greatest Nation on Earf.

I received my final results ever for "VILE DEGREE OF LAWS ETC" today; basically dudes at Law School were all like "WTF HOW CAN ONE WOMAN BE SO AWESOME/INSIGHTFUL ABOUT LEGAL ISSUES OF OUR TIME, ALSO THAT BITCH HAS ATTITUDE OF THE GODS". Those kids will be totally sad [suicidal?] to see me go [OBVIOUSLY], but not as sad as I will be to farewell the many [nb: "0"] beautiful friends I have made during my studies. When you are looking for Awesome Humans, I'm tellin you bros, look no further than your local Law Faculty; those places are total hotbeds of Sweetness, Humility & Goodwill of all Kinds.

"THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES, CUNTFACES".

OK, The Dude & I have an appointment with America's Next Top Model/Similar High Quality Viewing, so will see you laters bros.

xoxo nora

FEEL THE WRATH OF THE BABY SEAL

2006-11-19T04:36:00.000+11:00

This whole adorable animals on the fuckin rampage in the San Francisco Area is really messing with my head;

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE TO GO BACK INTO THE MOTHERFUCKIN WATER, etc, latest monster =

"Hi everybody! My name is Pompom! I love spinning balls on my nose/killing your children!!"

Seriously bros, this is freaking me out.

xoxo nora

Terror Alert: Promiscuous Scarlet

2006-11-16T11:35:00.000+11:00

WWIII "THE MOVIE"

SCENE ONE:

[Dude is chillin]

[Suddenly...]

Rat Of The Sky: "TAKE THAT, STINKEE LEETLE GROUND RAT!!! AHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!"

Dude: OMG, LOL, is it the apocalypse, this event was totally not scheduled in my blackberry, like basically, WTF dudes, etc.

SCENE TWO:

[Another town, same day...]

[Dude is chillin]

[suddenly...]

ROTS: I FEEL LIKE STINKEE LEETLE GROUND RAT TONIGHT! LIKE STINKEE LEETLE GROUND RAT TONIGHT!! AHAHAHAHAAA!!

Dude: [softly]Woah...like, Don't cry for me, Argentina...LOLZ...*dies*

SCENE THREE:

GB: Yo, Top Agent, I need yer t'git back here, like pronto. Dick says the Avians of Evil situation is getting 'Fucking Serious'.

TOP AGENT: FUCK YOU GEORGE I'M ON HOLIDAY.

GB: FUCK YOU RIGHT BACKATCHA, TOP AGENT.[slams phone down]

[Cut to shot of TA running on beach, poss in bikini?]

SCENE FOUR:

ROTS: "Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh."

SCENE FIVE

[Faure's Requiem plays while camera pans over ruined city]

SCENE SIX

[Somewhere in Asia...]

TA: (sings) As long as I know how to love I know I'll be alive...

[Audience boos]

TA: Fuck this shit I'm getting back to work.

SCENE SEVEN

[TA has infiltrated Secret HQ of ROTS, We Built This City on Rock n Roll plays in background]

TA: Hey Brothers, Together we can work it out!

ROTS: [conferring] Dude seems reasonable.

TA: BTW do you think I resemble a young Kevin Federline in this outfit?

ROTS: LOLZ, TOTALLY RHETORICAL QUESTION BRO!!!

TA & ROTS: [High fives]

SCENE NINE

GB: We have struck a deal with the Terrorists!

ROTS: Together we can live in Perfect Harmony!

GB, Dick, ROTS & TA sing "We are the World" to fade; Sean Penn/Bono dance in background.

Bono: How awesome is like, world peace!!

SP: Like, totally!!!!!!!

SP & B: [High Fives]

THE END

[Credits Roll]

CODA

GB: Suckers.

K the script probably still needs some work but I think it shows promise.

xoxo nora

Halp us Jon Kery

2006-11-09T11:25:00.000+11:00

"

WTF is this?"

I'll tell you WTF it is, bros. IT IS COLD HARD EVIDENCE OF AGGRESSIVE SQUIRRELS.

"Getcho Nigga Ass Outta My Motherfuckin Town Square, Yo, or I Blow U Up Like U Is One Fucked Up Exxxxxplodin Motherfuckin Acorn, YO!"

'

"Yo Kim Jong 'Totally' Ill, Please direct me to my next Human Target. Also, do I not resemble a middle aged Elizabeth Taylor in this outfit? [rhetorical question]"

"Dudes, our military products contain at least 5% Democracy and 13% Freedom=please desist with your tiresome complaints."

"Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh."

For more Evidence please consult this site. In particular Squirrel tributes to Jon Benet Ramsay and Steve Irwin are especially Touching of The Heart/Inciting of EXTREME FEAR OF SQUIRRELS, although Possibly not quite as much as the memorial of Petra Nemcova during the Boxing Day Tsunami.

WTF.

xoxo nora

Bee Star Nirvana

2006-11-03T08:53:00.000+11:00

Man, this last week or so has been pretty fucking exhausting. You might not be aware of what's been going down...........................................IF YOU LIVE IN A BEEHIVE, THAT IS, A BEEHIVE FULL OF SHIFTY FUCKING BEES WHO DON'T TELL YOU FUCK SHIT BECAUSE YOUR PARTICULAR FUCKING COMMUNE OF BEES HAS TOTALLY CUT ITSELF OFF FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD AND YOUR GREAT QUEEN BEE IS PROBABLY AT THIS VERY SECOND PLANNING HER ASCENDANCE TO SOME FUCKING BEE STAR NIRVANA OR SOME SHIT BY ROUTE OF COERCIVE MASS SUICIDE/SACRIFICE OF VIRGINS/LAZY BEES ETC, LIKE I'M REFERRING TO MORE OF A CRAZY FUCKING 'CULT OF BEES' THAN YOUR MORE TRADITIONAL 'YEAH MAN LIVE AND LET LIVE BUT DON'T BOGART THAT REEFER BRO' STYLE OF 'HIVE', IF YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GETTING AT, AND I THINK YOU DO. Anyhow guess my point is that unless you are in a Cult of Bees, you have no fucking excuse for not being aware that Late October is pretty much FESTIVITY SEASON with like 10 million of my favourite holidays basically exploding all over eachother like the products at Thrifty Car Rental's Baghdad Airport Division.

Things kicked off with the fucking molten hot "Austria Day" on October 26, followed up by a less ostentatious but still intensely happening "Czech Republic Day" (October 28), which as usual lead on to the Climactic Climax that is "Turkey Day" (October 29), I'm telling you it was pretty edgy shit bros, and like that's not even mentioning THE BIG ONE>i.e. October 27, which is of course Day of St Vincent and the Grenadines - AND NOT ONLY THAT SHIT MAN BUT ALSO TURKMENISTAN INDEPENDENCE DAY!! Only thing I love more than Turkmenistan Independence Day is Turkmenistan National Melon Day and Turkmenistan National Horse Day. That type of Good Times is almost too much fun for one puppy to gnaw at, I'm telling you right now.

Anyways plenty of dudes might have been discouraged from engaging in further Good Times after a week like that, but that's not me, man. So when it came to this 'Halloween' shit they were having here in the 'US and A' the other night, I totally decided to go to the Heart of the Action, i.e. WHERE THE GAYS ARE AT. So come Halloween me and The Dude stride down to The Castro, hoping for general extreme decadence/babylonian wild times etc. As it turns out there were like 2 million people there but HARDLY ANY GAYS. Fucked up shit, man, fucked up. Obviously The Gays were having a private party elsewhere, fucking sly cunts.

Anyway, the Castro made up for the Lack of Gays by fully providing a VERITABLE SMORGASBOARD OF COCKTARDS, a whole heap of MILLING ABOUT, and also a full quota of GUNFIGHT with bonus stabbings. By the time that shit was stirred up though, me and The Dude had retired to the safety of a Bar, where we drank a fucking freight train of these, then drank some more of them, and then when we went home I gave The Dude an Unbelievably Stellar Fucking Hair Cut with some paper scissors, which was all WELL AND GOOD until I woke up the next day feeling like this, only a lot worse...so basically with the benefit of hindsight/wisdom I should have just stayed for the gunfight, and maybe not had so much to drink. Guess you live and learn.

Anyways after a week like that today I had to sleep til midday then stare at some cats for a while. Totally soothing...hopefully I will be fully refreshed by the time my next Official Engagements wheel round - notably including Thanksgiving Day (Nov 23, Laos), President Tubman's Birthday Day (Nov 29, Liberia), Perioperative Nurse Week (Nov 12-18, USA), etc. Fuck, bros, I need a holiday (from holidays).

xoxo nora

The only thing different, the only thing new

2006-10-30T06:15:00.000+11:00

Man when this blog gets turned into a big budget BBC Television Production ["critics are calling it 'Enchanting!' 'A sure fire Oscar Contender!' 'Hotter than Dancing with the Stars!'"], the episode covering Late October 2006 will probably be pretty slow going. I will try to attend to that problem right now with an update on all the most amazing things going down over the last few weeks:

1. OK biggest news of all is that The Dude did something I've been hinting at for him to do for like, 10 million years now, something extremely special and important and life changing and romantic and intense and...well, you know, like, the best thing a man can ever do for a woman.

Yep, I think you know what I'm getting at.

"Did The Dude perform unnatural sex acts with his meat gun, mister nora?"

THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M GETTING AT. Jesus fucking christ, do I have to spell like EVERYTHING out???

"Maybe yes. Maybe no."

Man, do you kids play your cards close to your motherfucking chest or what.

Anyhow, point is:

THE DUDE BOUGHT US TICKETS TO MORRISSEY!

I am now in his debt for life, man. This is something money/blowjobs can never repay.

2. On a sadder note, I totally failed to get us tickets to the Jesus Alive Coffeehouse Open Mic Christian Talent Night; I have yet to break this to The Dude as he is often like a Hare with a Sore Bed in the mornings. Trust me you do not want to see his 'Operation: Shock and Awe' style of tantrums when his desire to go to Open Mic Christian Talent Nights gets thwarted.

3. We spent some time living on a golf course, which was pretty awesome/refreshingly free of golf.

4.The Dude and I found a really sweet pair of "Young Americans" and totally flummoxed them with a Single White Female style of Attack...it was pretty intense there for a while but to cut a long story short, we are now living in their cool Haight Ashbury apartment, reading their large collection of Classic/Quality Modern Fiction, leafing through their mail and mainly just hanging around jivin with their cats....Yeah when those poor bastards wake up in a Storage Container on a plane flying direct to Downtown Estonia or some such shit they aren't gonna know what hit em. Suckers.

5.My BBQU classmates, who I suspect were totally jealous of my success with skewers, marination and so on, spread the word that I am into Morrissey, leading to my early expulsion. I'm not too fussed, I mean like, whatever bro, that shit was too fucking esoteric for me anyways, like where was it ever going to get me in the Real World? I'm going to re-enroll in the School of Hard ~~Coc~~Knocks.

So basically, moral of the story is that Steve Raichlen can suck my fucking cock.

xoxo nora

Sometimes second best is all you're gonna get.

2006-10-13T06:40:00.000+10:00

So homies in case you're wondering what's beening going down in da hood lately, basically round these parts its all "HEY JUDE, DON'T MAKE IT BAD", "YOU'RE MY CHERRY PIE, TASTE SO GOOD MAKE A GROWN MAN CRY", "SOME SAY LOVE IS LIKE A RIVER" etc.

I have been as busy as.....someone with not a whole lot to do.

Still, I'm not totally wasting my time. I have totally decided to use this sabbatical to TRANSFORM MYSELF, DEVELOP MY INNER PEACE, WATCH APPALLING TELEVISION, and basically, to LEARN HOW TO BE A WINNER, NOT A WHINER!!!.

You see, bros, according to Gary Simpson:

Winners attract people to them like bees around honey. They have infectious personalities. They stand out in a crowd. They are people to be reckoned with. They are dreamers, planners and achievers. Winners have conquests in their minds. They talk about opportunities, projects and the future. Winners smile.

Whiners repel people like a bad smell in a confined space. They have poisonous personalities. They too stand out in a crowd but for opposite reasons. They find it difficult to hold conversations because people find them tiresome. Whiners have conflict in their minds. They criticize, deride and ridicule others. Their favorite topics include rumor and innuendo. Whiners scowl.

According to Gary's categories my currently diagnosis is TOTAL WHINER. Evidence of this includes:
1. My doctor tells me my personality is more akin to Marfan's Syndrome than to the Black Plague, I.E. MORE HEREDITARY THAN INFECTIOUS.
2. MY FAVOURITE TOPICS ARE RUMOR [sic] AND INNUENDO.
3. I am scared of bees, I DON'T EVEN CARE FOR HONEY.

Luckily Gary has a totally dynamic and psychologically tested method for changing my appalling whining ways:

wear a small elastic band around your wrist. Whenever you say or think something disingenuous, uncomplimentary, rude, abusive, negative or self deprecating, stretch the elastic band out and let it sting your skin. You will find that after a while you will begin to change your ways.

"THAT SOUNDS HARD, GARY. MY WRIST IS GETTING BLOODIED AND RAW."

Then why don't you also purchase my snippets of Zenspirational Wisdom!!!

"MY HAND JUST FELL OFF, NOW I AM LEFT WITH A BLOODY STUMP."

There's a simple solution to that, mister nora! Put a small elastic band around your elbow...."

"I BETTER WIN CASH PRIZES FOR THIS, GARY."

How about a miniature bust of my head?"

"AWESOME!!!!!"

xoxo nora

BREAKING NEWS

2006-10-06T10:30:00.000+10:00

"MOUNTAIN VIEW DECLARES WAR ON AGGRESSIVE SQUIRRELS."

My sources inform me the Squirrels are totally in cahoots with the "THE RATS OF THE SKY".

THIS IS WAR PEOPLES. WAR.

xoxo nora

Learning is a Lifelong Journey (of Beef)

2006-09-30T12:19:00.000+10:00

So in case you have been concerned that what with my intense Vacationing Abroad/Viewing of Colon(ie)s Etc I have given up hope of bettering myself through the Pursuit of Heaps of Knowledge, I'm telling you now bros, DON'T BE AFRAID [OF THE STORM OR INDEED OF MISCELLANEOUS OTHER THINGS INCLUDING SHEEP/CHICKENS/LEATHER BROGUES/LICE/ETC].

I have lately enrolled myself at none other than the Highly Esteemed 'Steven Raichlen's BBQ University'. This place is the shit, I have totally learned more than I ever thought I could about barbequing of all kinds. Favourite classes so far include "402: The New Face of Beef" and "408: Extreme Grilling" (100% more awesome/life threatening than Regular Grilling, I am not kidding).

I can hear you ask, "HOW DID YOU FIND THIS SHIT, YOU ARE ONE RESOURCEFUL MOTHERFUCKING LADY OF THE KNOWLEDGE". Well, yes I am. You see, on the Television yesterday I learned that Steven is One of The Most Trusted Faces in Barbequeing in America, due to his many "Firey Recipes" as well as his "luxurient facial hair." Right away I knew I was on to something AWESOME so I signed up at his BBQU Straight Off, i.e. without a second to waste.

Today I joined the Poultry and Game Sorority at BBQU which has involved certain amounts of Consumption of Chickens/Sexual Humiliation, but it has totally been worth it because once I graduate (current estimate: 3.2 weeks/several years) I am going to invite all my Sorority Sisters over for the Sensational Graduational Thanksiving BBQ of none other than mister nora BA (Hons) LLB (Hons) BBBQ (Poultries) 34EE (Tits)*. We can all stoke our BBQs and stroke our beards (facial) together: it will be like those infamous KFC Christmas Parties of the 1980s, only heaps more Educated/hairy. Steven Raichlen will obviously be the Guest of Honour; I am considering requesting he perform his special secret Vegetarian Spit Roast Dish, but first I will need to find a reliable Kosher Vegetarian Slaughterhouse, there are many Jews in my sorority (I will look in my Lonely Planet for listings and keep you Updated on Developments of All Kinds).

Tomorrow I learn about "BBQ From Soup to Nuts". My life is being enriched in more ways than I can count (i.e. over seven) and I highly recommend you purchase the DVD .

xoxox nora
* Tits not guaranteed.

Are you going to San Francisco?

2006-09-28T07:32:00.000+10:00

Cos I recommend it; it's got Television/stately dudes requesting monetary gifts on the sidewalk/etc/basically everything you could ever need. Last night a chubby teen walked by offering "spankings for a dollar! spankings for a dollar!"; I told her she needed to join a union and she spanked me (free!)...I am clearly in the spiritual home of the Free Market, have to watch out not to express my communist leanings/Desire to Emancipate the Common Worker from the Chains of Capitalism Through a Combination of Peaceful Sit-Ins and Large Scale Guerilla Violence etc. On the plane they made me fill in a form which asked various salient questions along the lines of "Are you seeking to enter the United States for the purposes of commiting terrorist activities or activities involving moral turpitude?" and "Are you on the run from the International War Crimes Tribunal?" and "Are you carrying any mould species/mushrooms?" and "How do you get your hair to look so voluminous and shiny all at the same time?" and "Is that a Fox in Your Pants or are you just Happy to See me?" and so on. Anyway, point is they clearly have a HIGHLY SOPHISTICATED method of sniffing out reds/towelheads (ie STEP ONE ask dudes if they are red/towelheads STEP TWO if they say yes, get out bazookas etc") so I am feeling a bit nervous cos I voted for Steve Bracks and he is both LEFT LEANING and OF LEBO DESCENT. I FEEL LIKE BONNIE & CLYDE (with less Clyde).

I'm here for a while, kind of sans innerned so will probably not be posting very regular or nothin. But I'm trying to take note of Colourful Locals and keep my eye out for Amusing Anecdotes so I can return and publish a bestselling type collection of Meaningful Travel Experiences/Personal Awakenings/Erotic Adventures/Descriptions of Various Dental Equipments of the World and so on. Basically I will be the next Bill Bryson only probably with more "WHAT UP MOTHERFUCKER" type dialogue and I will try to be more embracing of Racist Generalisations, because who doesn't love a Racist Generalisation?? (clue: "no one")

Ok so news from the California is that:
- the "World News" on the ABC network does not run any stories about anywhere except America; meaning that IT DIDN'T EVEN COVER THE AFL FINALS/TRAFFIC CONDITIONS ON THE MONASH FREEWAY, making me think Channel 10's News at 5 with Saucy Helen Kapalos is clearly a finer purveyor of "Actual News" than any of the product they develop over here.
- dudes here are obsessed with a) traffic conditions (HOW IRONIC! [see above]) and b)toned athletic bodies, meaning that I am obviously a huge hit what with my sculpted abs/toll-free 12 lane freeway.
- dudes here CANNOT GET ENOUGH of my Steve Irwin impersonation
- The Dude has an even better impersonation along the lines of "CRIKEY IT'S A FUCKEN STING--."
- dudes here were not fucking kidding - Arnold Schwarzenegger REALLY IS the governator!!!!!!

Do you see how well I am soaking up local traditions/quirky cultural characteristics. IT'S LIKE I AM KOFI ANNAN.

"WTF are you talking about, bitch?"

I don't really know, but surely that is all part of my kooky freewheelin charm.

"No."

Noted.

xoxoxox nora

An Inconvenient Tooth

2006-09-13T13:22:00.000+10:00

Man, lately I’m just feeling too fucking happy to blog…What is up with that, and is there some kind of anti-anti-depressant I can take for this shit? [“nurse, please get me to a psychiatric hospital ASAP, I can no longer cope with this terrible joy that blows through my soul like a sharp blast of wind from a frozen tundra, destroying all in its path”]. [Do you like how I can even complain about having nothing to complain about? THESE ARE SOME SERIOUS TECHNICAL SKILLS YOU ARE WITNESSING HERE, DUDES]

Incidentally, I have recently discovered that my house, aka the Slovenly Pit of Mutual Filth, is actually a “Tundra.” The first inkling of l occurred to me when I read on this site that a tundra is “the coldest of all the biomes.” [FOR REAL? THAT SHIT IS TOTALLY COLDER THAN ALL THE OTHER BIOMES? UNBELIEVABLE!!]

My suspicions were fully confirmed when I went on to read that the Tundra “is noted for its frost-molded landscapes, extremely low temperatures, little precipitation, poor nutrients, and short growing seasons. Dead organic material functions as a nutrient pool.” READ BETWEEN THE LINES DUDES: I AM LIVING IN A MOTHERFUCKING TUNDRA!!

Let me elaborate:

“Characteristics of Tundra/mister nora’s house:
1. Extremely cold climate
2. Low biotic diversity
3. Simple vegetation structure
4. Limitation of drainage
5. Short season of growth and reproduction
6. Energy and nutrients in the form of dead organic material
7. Large population oscillations “

CASE CLOSED.

I’m just not sure if my house is an Arctic Tundra, or an Alpine Tundra. See, the fact that “a layer of permanently frozen subsoil called permafrost exists, consisting mostly of gravel and finer material. When water saturates the upper surface, bogs and ponds form, providing moisture for plants” suggests that the Slovenly Pit of Mutual Filth is totally Artic in its Tundraness. However, this morning as I was getting dressed for work I noticed a kind of large number of pikas, marmots, mountain goats, sheep, elk, grouselike birds, springtails, beetles, grasshoppers, and butterflies just like, wandering around in the laundry, which made me think hold on, baby, AM I ACTUALLY LIVING IN AN ALPINE TUNDRA? THIS IS INDEED AN ECOLOGICAL DILEMMA, WHERE IS AN ATTENBOROUGH WHEN YOU NEED ONE.

I suspect this conundrum may only be solved by an alchemy textbook and maybe some vodka cruisers. I will get to work.

xoxo nora

the young and the pestilent

2006-09-08T16:35:00.000+10:00

As if my life weren't exxciting nuff already, last weekend I was out on the turps having a pretty weird night generally [at my local bar there was a woman in an fat suit and a barmaid with a pinada on her head>crazy times afoot] and, when the local bar closed, we were booted on the next bar, and so there we were slouching around HAPPILY DOWNING HAPPY BEER when my baby pointed out a dude in a glowing white suit with a glowing white head just a few stops down the bar.

Was it the Bundy bear>NO!

Was it Gandalf> NO MAN, WAS BETTER THAN THAT!

WAS IT BILL MOTHERFUCKING HUNTER>

...

woah brother, how did you guess that? DO WE HHAVE SOME ESP CONNECTION/ARE WE IDENTICAL TWINS?

Anway...Bill motherfuckin Hunter!

So there's no real point to this post 'cept to demonstrate how extremely fuckoed my brain is at the moment with a pointless story about Bill Hunter featuring a pinada>i.e. pretty fuckoed.

normal service will resume shortly.....unless i have done myself some permanent damadagio/acquired brain injury etc. Or unless my brain has finally cracked it with my whoring/drinking/violence and has moved back in with its parents.

[Man, you know I love you brainy. Please come back. I promise I will treat you good this time.]

xoxo nora

My name is mister nora, and I have a photo booth problem.

2006-09-07T18:13:00.000+10:00

Surely there is some kind of helpline for this shit.

xooxoxo nora

I don't.

2006-09-06T16:23:00.000+10:00

So me and The Dude are going to this wedding in a few weeks (I struggle to say ‘The Dude & I’; makes me think of ‘The King & I’ and I totally do not wish to attend a wedding with Elvis P, basically cos I don’t like to hang out with dudes who have bigger hair than I do, also apparently he is totally “dead”! So not hot.). The wedding thing is pretty hardcore; The Dude has to give a speech, and I have to sit around and get hammered. Man, my life is so hard sometimes.

Anyhow, no offence to the hitched/hitching types amongst you, but I really don’t understand why anyone gets married in the first place. I can only think of reasons why NOT to get married, e.g.:

1. Princess Diana got married and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO HER.

2. If you take the “i” out of “married”, you get “marred”, as in “MY LIFE WAS FOREVER MARRED BY MY TERRIBLE UNION TO A TEETOTALLING ACCOUNTANT.”

COINCIDENCE? I think not, my brothers.

3. If you take the M, A, R, R, & I out of “married” and replace those letters with D, I, S, E, M, B, O, W, E, & L, you get DISEMBOWELED, as in “I HAVE JUST DISEMBOWELED THE NON-DRINKING BEAN COUNTER, I THINK YOU WILL AGREE HE DESERVED IT.”

COINCIDENCE? I think you already know what I think, my brothers.

4. White dresses remind me of Nicole Kidman. Nicole Kidman reminds me of murder/suicide.

5. The thought of having to insert “my husband and I” into sentences makes me kind of queasy, e.g. “Yes, ho ho ho, that’s truly quite amusing. Reminds me of that time in ‘64 when my husband and I were in Portsea at Fee’s little holiday pad, and our darling little dog Maxwell, god bless his poor departed soul, kept humping the neighbour’s rabbit! Ho ho ho! Little fiend! And you know I found out later my husband was humping the neighbour! And Maxwell too! And the Rabbit! Oh ho ho ho! No wonder the poor little thing was confused! Ah, Portsea. Those were indeed the days. Would you pass the binoculars? Thank you, thank you my dear, very kind.”

6. Sin is a totally cutting edge place to be living in; in fact it is almost as cool as Northcote (I said almost). Marriage, on the other hand, is more akin to Burwood, and dude, really, who wants to live in Burwood.

7. If you want to trap someone into loving you 4 evs, I say try being lovable. Pretty crazy, I know, but according to recent ABS figures this works way better than a voidable contract. Otherwise you could do what I do and just beat your partner into submission [nb slightly illegal, but on the plus side, cheaper than a wedding].

8. If me and The Dude got married, he would have to change his name to “missus nora” & I suspect he would not be fully down with that.

9. I am quite sure any sprogs I have will be complete bastards, otherwise it just won’t seem right.

10. Britney Spears got married, and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO HER.

If you ask me, that’s ten pretty solid reasons to baulk down the aisle.

xoxo nora

Whiskers on kittens

2006-09-05T20:51:00.000+10:00

Officially finished Studying the Knowledge yesterday...there goes the most ambivalent motherfuckin law degree ever completed. I only really started that shit as some kind of elaborate joke, but the moment I enrolled it was like I'd accidentally boarded one of those really long moving walkways at the airport which was going in totally the wrong direction, and I wanted to get off like straight away but there were all these dudes me hustling me forward and so was just trapped there until the end of the ride, only the ride took like 6 million years. I have always had a fucking shit sense of direction; next time I will TAKE A FUCKING MAP OF THE AIRPORT. Maybe I will just take the fucking train. Or a boat. I am really fond of boats. I mean what was I doing at the airport anyhow, I SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE FUCKING BOAT TO BEGIN WITH.

Anyhow, so handed the thesis in, have not stopped internal fireworks of celebration since. My inner world looks pretty much like the sky above the Eiffel Tower on new years eve, only heaps more festive than that. Its like I am bathing in a giant martini glass full of good vibes/party drugs/circus performers, like if my emotional state were a TV show it would be called "DIAGNOSIS: AWESOME".

I am so happy that I spent today cleaning the house, and ENJOYED IT. I didn't so much enjoy getting Ajax Exit Mould in my eye, that will not feature on Top 10 Memories of 5 September 2006. Still, I was pretty tough, I just splashed some water around, took out my contact lens and continued destroying the dense forest of various rare moulds/funghi that The Dude and I have been cultivating in the bathroom as some kind of beautiful homage to Mother Nature. Later on The Dude read the back of the AJax packet which goes "IF YOU GET THIS SHIT IN YOUR EYE YOU WILL PROBABLY GO BLIND AND/OR DIE, GO TO HOSPITAL YOU CLUMSY FUCKING MORON", and insisted I went to The Doctor. Man I hate The Doctor; least this one didn't poke me with needles/question me regarding my drinking habit etc, he just examined my eyeball and told me to fuck off. So basically, diagnosis: not blind and/or dead, i.e. AWESOME.

xoxo nora

Nightmares in Northcote

2006-09-02T14:27:00.000+10:00

World has gone fucking loopy: have been offered ANOTHER JOB. Dear jesus why does everyone want to employ me allofasudden, can't they just leave me in peace to play web based sudoku/read horse magazies/write poems about forks?

Also - GET THIS: apparently 'full time' means every day of the week [except Sat/Sun]...like, WTF?? Are these law dudes on some kind of methamphetamine habit/how can they expect me to be awake so often? Is it too early for an early-mid life crisis, WHERE IS A BLONDE BABE IN A CONVERTIBLE WHEN YOU NEED ONE. FUCK. As if my body is not fucked enough what with all the martinis/red wine, now I am also going to have to get up before midday/wear shoes without holes in them, OMG its like I'm suddenly World President, ONLY HARDER/MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT.

At the moment I have accepted both jobs ["GOD YES I'D LOVE TO WORK FOR YOU AND YOUR FANTASTIC COMMITMENT OF TEAMED PEOPLES, WHEN CAN I START/HOW EARLY CAN I GET UP/I CANNOT BEAR THIS TERRIBLE LIFE OF LEISURE, IDLENESS MAKES ME NAUSEOUS/CAUSES CANCER"] so come Monday I am going to have to call someone up and break their hardened little Human Resources heart. Or else I could just try working 2 full time jobs next year, how hard could that be? NOT NEARLY FUCKING HARD ENOUGH FOR THE LIKES OF MISTER NORA!* THE ONLY THING MORE FUN THAN WORKING 2 FULLTIME JOBS WOULD BE WORKING 223 FULLTIME JOBS, THAT WOULD BE TOTALLY AWESOME, WHERE DO I SIGN UP.

*[Now I have been welcomed to the World of Employment I feel I am fully justified in referring to myself in the 3rd person, also the 4th, 5th 6th etc.]

[I think I'm taking this capitalisation thing too far, maybe I should just make everything bold and utilise more exclamation marks to underline my intense excitement about this whole situation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

I AM SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I AM SO EXCITED I COULD ALMOST DIE OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IN FACT I AM SO EXCITED WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE JUST KILL ME NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

XOXO NORA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Medical emergency/how I learned to stop worrying and love the Kid.

2006-08-30T12:33:00.000+10:00

Today I visited the doctor so she could protect me from Asians, who are apparently keen to infect me will all variety of hepatitises. Originally I was like, "fuck that shit man, I'm no racist!" but the doctor was all like "lady, do you really want to end up a skanky hepatitoid like Pam Anderson? Do you want to spend your disease ridden days hawking M&Ms and your disease ridden nights blowing Kid Rock??" and I was all like "WTF have you been reading my diary" and she was like "well ok so Kid Rock is totally hot, but what about the liver damage?" and I was like "have you been looking in my recycle bin? I swear The Dude drinks more than I do" and she was like "just put out your fucking arm and let me inject you; how will I buy a porsche/large Alphington residence if I spend all day talking to mongoloids like you, fucking time waster" and I was like "I knew you were racist!" and she was like "some of my best friends are mongoloids" and I was like "whatever" and then she injected me.

K I should probably confess I am scared of injections. It's possible that after she jabbed me I may have cried like a little boy/Bob Hawke. It's kind of humiliating, but at least it keeps me off smack.

I am also scared of wasps, priests, and people who don't drink. Is there a name for this condition? I would ask the doctor but I am afraid she will try to fix me with an injection/racist slur.

xoxo nora

Is this some kind of joke/am I on candid camera?

2006-08-29T13:48:00.000+10:00

Brace yourselves, dudes, I have some pretty fucked up news.

I had a phone call this morning from this lady who goes, "so, mister nora, how did you feel your job interview with 'Miscellaneous Professional Workplace' went last week?"

I said "Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Good?"

She said: "Did the position sound interesting?"

I said, "Ummmmmmmmmmmm. Yes?"

She said, "Well, we'd like to offer you the job!"

I said: "[shocked pause]............that's..... great?"

Apparently using phrases such as "I work with a team of committed, fantastic people" then kind of starting to giggle in the midst of a job interview really pays off.

This turn of events is remarkable to the point of UNBELIEVABLE, also a little bit HILARIOUS and kind of CONCERNING.

And fuck man, I was soooo looking forward to spending next year lolling about in the manner of a Paxton, pulling bongs & watching Springer all day. HOW DID I GET MYSELF INTO THIS MESS????????????

xoxo nora

101 Damnations

2006-08-27T14:18:00.000+10:00

So the big news round these parts is that come September, me and The Dude are going to split for a few months to drink from the cultural vanilla thickshake that is North America, & then when winter comes we plan to get frostbite in Europe & after that it's on the cards that we'll get our frost unbitten in the sweaty climes of Asia. So basically the World is our Oyster, etc, except I don't eat Oysters so I guess the World is my Tofu-based Meat Substitute.

Even though I am aged and worldly (not only did I grow up in the hotbed of sin and sophistication that is Country Victoria, I have also travelled widely, like in my time I've seen the sights of everywhere from Geelong to Colac, and once I even visited Pascoe Vale South[FOR REALS, I AM TOTALLY NOT EXAGGERATING HERE])...anyway even DESPITE all this aged worldliness, I am quite excited.

I know many of you will be asking "why the fuck would she bother going anywhere else when she's currently enjoying the sweet life just 10 minutes walk away from all the delirious delights that Northcote Plaza has to offer, god that mister nora is a stupid fucking cuntbag" and so on, and I do see your point. However EVEN THOUGH I am clearly living in the Closest Thing to Heaven on Earth (if by "Heaven" you mean "Thornbury" and/or "Clifton Hill") I still fancy the idea of broadening my horizons, if only so I can visit shit like the Getty Centre in LA and go "Yeah like it's okay for what it is, I guess, but it's no Doncaster Shoppingtown." Absence makes the heart grow abscesses, or whatever.

What was the point of this? Oh yes.

HOW AM I EXPECTED TO STUDY WHEN I HAVE KRISPY KREME DONUTS/ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER/KUM N GO PETROL STATIONS/BAGUETTES/THE POPE/COMEDIC GERMAN ACCENTS/COCONUT BASED DISHES/CHILD PROSTITUTES/POTENTIAL EARLY DEATH IN TERRORIST PLANE HIJACKINGS TO LOOK FORWARD TO?

I AM SQUIRMING WITH EXCITEMENT LIKE A BAG OF ANTS.

CAN I PLEASE NOW DROP OUT OF MY LAW DEGREE NOW PLEASE, THAT WOULD BE SUPER.

KTHNXBYE.

xoxo nora

Seven Dwarves = ROYAL FEAST!

2006-08-25T12:53:00.000+10:00

So apparently Pluto is no longer a planet , it’s just a little dwarf planet.

If I were a dwarf person I would be pretty fucking pissed off about this turn of events; like does this mean dwarves are not actually people? Personally I have always suspected they were not of our species and should be farmed like pigs and harvested for their internal organs. We could also make like little leather gloves/small briefcases out of their skins and maybe could carve up their thighs into juicy dwarf loin chops for Sunday lunch with nan... man, there’s just so much you could do, I’m seeing a major boost for agriculture.

Unfortunately when I suggested this to Parliament the dudes from the Equal Opportunity Commission were all like “DOWN WITH THE NAZI” and I was like, “Woah, chill, man, sure it sounds extreme but have you ever eaten Dwarfy Bits? Fucking delicious, totally justifying of caging the fat little fuckers and eating them for breakfast/in sandwiches.”

[Of course, I’m not totally heartless. If any of them befriended a spider or some such shit that advocated passionately for their survival, I guess we could let those ones live. (Maybe as domestic pets?) ]

Anyhow this whole ground breaking policy has not so far received bipartisan support from our vision-free politicians, but I think with the whole Pluto “not a planet” business, things might be looking up for the Dwarf Harvesting Industry. Remember, kids, you heard it here first.

xoxo nora

PS BREAKING NEWS: according to my sources, Pluto is also no longer a cartoon dog. He is just an overgrown rat.

That Pluto has deceived us on many levels. That’s some fucked up shit, man. Fucked up shit.

PPS This is my 100th post, and I must say I'm quite proud of my perseverance in the face of obscurity.

I lay a little bear for two.

2006-08-24T11:20:00.000+10:00

I'm fuck busy right now, cos apparently I have to hand in this thesis claptrapbap in 10 days or some such shit (CRAZY TALK!). Nevertheless this week I have managed to>

- go to two (2) job interviews where I had to wear a highly uptight suit-type costume, pretend I care about The Poors/Ethnics/Gays/etc and use the phrase "I really enjoy working with a team of fantastic, committed people"; I think I am going to hell for this rape of language/appalling lie (tho I think I may already have had a booking there what with all the swearing, masturbation, violence to children etc). Also, during one interview I started laughing at my own stupid fucking response to their stupid fucking question while they looked at me curiously like I was some weird wriggling soot-covered mole from deep within the earth - do you think I will be hired? I forgot to sing "Eye of the Tiger" as I walked in the room so statistically speaking I think it's very unlikely.

- attend one (1) literary part-ay as part of Melbourne Writers Week. Had awesome time, drank heavily (BAR TAB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and ranted on boringly to whoever I could sink my drunken (sooty) claws into. Man I do get passionate about all sorts of inane shit when I'm drinking (maybe I should drink [more] before job interviews).

- have a row with The Dude at Souvlaki King (and they say romance is deaf!)

- wake up to a MASSIVE HEADACHE/small quanity of shame.

How do I fit it all in? Amazing. I should write a book on time management for alcoholics/the unemployed (is this Pulitzer Material? Possibly EVEN MORE SO than this blog!) (HAHAHA! as if that were possible!!).

xoxo nora

What Not To Wear, LOLZ!!!!!

2006-08-21T18:29:00.000+10:00

This season you should totally not be seen dead or alive or half-dead or brain dead or comatose or buried or shipped out to sea or MIA or AWOL or on the back of a milk carton or in an Archibald prize winning portrait or awash with ennui or ridden with herpes or even a little bit cremated (LOLZ!!!) while wearing the following items:

1. Samantha Brett

Author of "luv n txt" and Sydney Morning Herald Blogger, here is a sample of her work:

Getting a man to propose is hard to do. But what if you've been
dating him for what seems like an eternity, yet the bloke still just won't
budge? Is there a way to get him to propose without begging, bitching and
backstabbing your way in like a premature desperate housewife? And, is it
ever okay for the females do the asking?

She also has totally fucked up grammar, and as you can see from my blog I AM COMPLETELY FUCKING ENRAGING OF BAD GRAMMARS.

So dudes, next time you're thinking of donning a pair of Samantha Brett eyeballs, think twice; they only come in size"HEY SAM YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKING DEADCUNT WHY DONT YOU CALL YOUR STUPID FUCKING BLOG 'WELCOME TO COCKSTOWN' THEN INVITE ALL YOUR STUPID FUCKING FRIENDS TO THE SAMANTHA COCKSTOWN MASSACRE LIKE PRONTO YOU FUCKING VENEREALLY DISEASED MOTHERFUCKING TARDCUNTED FUCKWIT. APART FROM THAT, TOTALLY LOVE YOUR WORK!! LOLZ!! LOVE FROM MISTER NORA, NORTHCOTE, VIC. XOXOXO PS LOLZ IS IT EVER OKAY/LEGAL FOR FEMALES TO RAPE THEIR HUSBANDS? HAHA LOLZERYTHMS!!! KTHNXBYE. "

2. The Dude's meat gun.

"Yo, mister nora, is this the meat gun you're talking about?"

No, man, that's not the meat gun I'm talking about.

Anyway, The Dude can wear his meat gun around because he is 10-15 years ahead of fashion with little to no chance of parole. But it's probably not advisable for the likes of you and I. (Unless you are Kate Moss, that hotbabe can get away with anything. Also, if you are Kate Moss: PETE DOHERTY? LOLZAPALOOLZA!!!!!!!!#*%!!!!!1)

I'll try to post pictures laters but right now you'll have to content yerselves with the meat hat.

THOSE DUDES HAVE BEEN STUDYING THEIR LOLZZZOLOGY!!!!!!!!!!!! LOLZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!

3. These outfits

LOLZ IZ IN DA HAUS!!!!!!!!!

xoxo nora

PS JESUS LOLZ YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOLZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!1

I don't know much about art, but I know what I like.

2006-08-17T12:22:00.000+10:00

So I was going to post a picture of a Garlic sucking off a Lime while getting sodomised by a Date with a Sweet Potato looking on, but then I thought 'hey, mister nora, you totally do not want to offend Steve Fielding! Steven is your core constituency! Also, HAVE YOU NO RESPECT FOR JESUS/ORDINARY HUMAN DECENCY?', so I decided to stick with some clean family shots.

Ma and Pa

The kids - L to R, Fred, Ernesto, and Javier.

Oh fuck it.

Fred, Ernesto and Javier fucking in the kitchen; George Clinton in the background.

Ernesto examines Javier; Fred stands in left of shot; Pa and George Clinton in the background.

You know, sometimes I worry this blog intimidates people, what with all the high culture and fierce intellectual debate.

xoxo nora

Mental wellness test results

2006-08-10T19:57:00.000+10:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
RRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
RRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

xoxo nora

Stealing pies.

2006-08-09T15:27:00.000+10:00

Hee hee.

Some things that are excellent about today include:

- I had a walk in the park, which was a total walk in the park. Next item on schedule: taking candy from a baby?

- Diet dry ginger ale; as delicious as a drink can get when it has 0% alcohol content.

- The pussycats are reenacting the Jonestown Cat Massacre in front of the Conray.

- Have once again failed to secure a proper job, meaning I DON'T HAVE TO GO TO WORK!

- Despite my many flaws, I am still not a Young Liberal.

- This guy is looking for a girlfriend. So is this guy. And this guy. Not to mention this guy. Fuck I love personal ads.

- I've yet to do a scrap of work.

xoxo nora

The world won't glisten.

2006-08-08T20:48:00.000+10:00

Motherfuck I am feeling fucked in the head area today. The American blew in and out of town, and as usual it was a bit like a collision with a pint sized truck (of fun),...y'know, like it's a good time, but it leaves me sort of in need of minor orthopedic surgery. This is not really uncommon I guess; I have only realised just lately that all my friends are a bit* crazy in the brain...and that I like them that way. WHAT COULD BE MORE BORING THAN THE MENTALLY STABLE.

On Sunday we were up in the kitchen drinking VERY FANCY WINE FROM BOTTLES until 5.30 in the morning (we are consummate hosts, you know) which lead to me getting to work still kind of drunk, and although that's probably not totally ideal professionally speaking, I still think it's an awesome way to begin the week.

Today involved, amongst other things, a visit to a cemetary, a drive to the airport, a moment of extreme panic and also a meal at Norflands Pancake Parlour (yes, my brothers, if you want glamour and sophistication, you are totally reading the right blog). I had a nice moment of supreme love at Pancakesville (which is fully the most disturbing aesthetic experience I've had since I last looked in the mirror while fucked off my nut on acid) when The Dude gave me both the marshmallows from his hot chocolate. Reminded me of why I adore him so much (BECAUSE THE DUDE IS TOO COOL/ADULT FOR MARSHMALLOWS).

Here's a picture our beautiful friend Meegy took of me and The Dude sharing a moment earlier this year:

"Brother, can you spare a dime?"

Is that picture seething with sexual tension or what.

xoxo nora
*i.e. a lot

So I know how hard I gotta work it.

2006-08-06T15:57:00.000+10:00

Last night I worked late at the shop where I flog product to fancy customers while calling them "cuntycuntycunts" under my breath. It was kind of busy and I had to deal with some real narky fuckers, dear god was I ready for a drink affer it was all oves. Only thing was, the tramp I was supposed to be drinking with had pulled a sicky, and The Dude was out in the 'burbs at some Part-ay for Rich Professionals (NB obviously The Dude was there as a spy/fraud rather than as a Rich Professional; lately The Dude spends all his days lounging about the house drinking rum and reading Who Weekly cover to cover; as far as I can tell, this does not make him Rich or Professional). Anyway, point is that my darling co-conspirator in crime and alcoholism was Not Available, and so I headed back to the Slovenly Pit of Mutual Filth all alone. Aw.

Lucky for me, I'm pretty able when it comes to "making my own fun" - comes from being neglected as a child according to my therapist. So to cut a long story sideways, when The Dude came home a few hours later he found me in the kitchen with my friend the Newly-Empty Cask of Red, having quite a party of my own. There was music, there was drinking, there was dancing: only thing missing was BoringChitChatWithPeopleYouWishYouDidn'tKnow. Fucking good times were had by all (i.e. me). The Dude joined in, I slapped my arse while shaking booty to Missy Elliott, and then we pashed on like teenage bogans in the back of a ute. Awwwww.

What's that thing they say about drinking alone? Can't quite remember but I think it has something to do with "Productive Citizenship and Good for One's Health".

Health not so grand today, however; required late greasy breakfast & a lot of fluids. And my Yank friend is arriving tonight to stay for a couple of days, a turn of events which my astrology charts indicate may involve Alcohol.

xoxo nora

You are beautiful, no matter what they say.

2006-08-03T22:20:00.000+10:00

So my latest thing for avoiding finishing my degree is looking up pictures of ugly things, e.g.

ugly cats

ugly dogs

Ugly hats

Ugly brides

Ugly bedrooms

In my travels, I have also come across this excellent site which will be the making of me, for sure. Personally, I have my eye on Maboo.

Right. Now. On to that thesis.

xoxo nora

far away from the cold night air

2006-08-03T15:07:00.000+10:00

So according to the paper today, most women would prefer a new plasma TV to a diamond necklace.

I am hugely cheered by this news; clearly these dudes are concerned about the abuses/environmental damage/exploitation going down in diamond mines in Sierra Leone and are TAKING A STAND (and putting a big TV on it). It’s so awesome that so many people care about this stuff…you know if it weren’t for stories like this I would sometimes start worrying that the only things dudes are really passionate about are their polished floorboards and like, the cricket. HOW WRONG AND STUPID WOULD I HAVE TO BE TO THINK SOMETHING LIKE THAT. The world is full of love and compassion, bros, love and compassion.

Anyhow, got me thinking, there are quite a few things I would prefer over both a diamond necklace and a plasma TV, e.g.

- a bottle of Bombay Sapphire that never runs out;

- a houseboy;

- a houseboat;

- a loveboat;

- a talking cat;

- a diamante necklace that spells “fuckyou” instead of my name (actually I already have one of those)

- a telegram bearing news of John Howard’s death;

- one of those key rings that beeps when you lose it;

- a time machine?

- a cloud for sleeping on;

- a kettle that whistles;

- a grenade launcher;

- a nicer personality;

- a look that could kill (literally).

xoxo nora

Fox wins.

2006-08-01T21:52:00.000+10:00

xoxo nora

I'm hairy, I'm hairy hairy hairy.

2006-08-01T19:26:00.000+10:00

So in the course of writing this thesis about crazies who kill, I've come across a lot of cases about CRAZY PEOPLE WHO KILL PEOPLE. I don't mind so much, actually, I'm just like "whatevs, my mentally ill brothers, you can't help that you thought your girlfriend was an alien, you're just a helpless little leaf in a howling hurricane of madness, and also, what the fuck was up with that bitch? Like I'm not saying she was asking for it, as such, but I think we both agree she was a bit funny lookin" [nb this does not mean Jamie from Big Brother has a license to kill Katie, although I put it to you, WOULD THE WORLD BE SO MUCH WORSE OFF?]

[...and that is how I plan to launch my glittering career as a highly paid criminal barrister, totally defying all those doubters who suggested I was more suited to a mediocre career as a lowly paid criminal barista].

Anyway, I was going somewhere with this and then I thought maybe it's a bit crass to milk other people's horrific deaths for laughs ["TOO LATE!"].

I best go now before I start getting stuck into the Blintz vs Kebab conflict.

Although... I do have to say, and I mean this, how can people hate the Jews? Sure there's some fucked up shit going down in the middle east, but man, they totally come up with some awesome shit. And I'm not just talking about Seinfeld, Anne Frank, Al Franken, Jon Stewart, &c...'cause although all those people are total foxes, I found something even better while researching this post (yeah dudes, I research - you don't think I come up with unebelievably profound shit such as this by just letting a monkey loose on a keyboard, do you? Haha! Oh. I see. You do. Well, whatevs bros, I'll bet my monkey is like heaps smarter than any fucking monkey you could lay your bestial paws on, and HE ALSO HAS A BETTER HAIR CUT, and like Shakespeare says, "I know you are but what am I", and also, NAH NI NAH NI NAAHHH NAHHH")..................Anyway, while researching, I came across this sweet website about Jewish Food, which has the most fucking rocking soundtrack ever. I would like this played at my funeral, thankyouverymuch.

Awesome. Although I should add that according to this site, the Jews are responsible for Kenny G, so maybe that's what the Arabs are so cut up about. Tho then again, us skips came up with the likes of Natalie Bassingthwaighte and John Howard, so I am loathe to point too many fingers.

I can't believe I just linked to Kenny G.

xoxo nora

Thoughts About War.

2006-07-31T00:17:00.000+10:00

So today I had lunch with some relatives of The Dude, apparently two of them spawned him at one point. They were pretty chill, obviously they are totally stoked about me and The Dude being drinking buddies and common law wives.

(At least, they are stoked to our faces, it's possible that after we leave they throw eachother appalled glances and cry out "What IS he DOING with that DREADFUL WOMAN?", but whatevs, while I'm there they're all like "mister nora you fucking rock," and I'm all like "Shucks, you guys, you almost make me wish I had parents of my own," and they're all like "We'll adopt you, babycakes" and I'm all like "that's such a fucking awesome idea, except, like, when me and The Dude bang it will be against nature" and they're all like "..." and then I'm like "anyway to be honest I have already agreed to be adopted by Bert and Patty Newton," and then things are awkward for a while but eventually we all have a martini and like, everything is sweet.)

(I love how you can make things italic; did Italians invent that? If so, where can I book tickets to Boldy? Because I also love how you can make things bold, I never get to be so fucking bold in my actual life...although I do like to say "that's a bold claim" in an arch tone of voice to people who say things like "Sanda Sully is so yesterday's news(reader)" or "man, did I ever tell you how much I love goats". From now on I am going to add "that's an italic claim" to my list of pat responses to comments to which I would otherwise have no response.)

Anyway, the point was, at lunch today there was a Lady who lives in India, who has 598 servants or some shit, she was regaling us with tales of how terribly annoying it is when the cook arrives at 7am and then thinks they can leave by 4pm ["It means I have to cook the dinner and it is a terrible burden, you know, because I just don't like to cook"]. At one point I think she actually said "Oh yes, yes, it's awfully hard to get good help these days, very difficult to find someone who is going to work around the clock and not ask too much of us."

So, basically what I'm getting at is that I think me and The Dude need to hire some servants to do things like watch Neighbours for me when I can't make it home by 6.30pm and maybe go to parties for me when I don't feel up to mixing with Other People and also endure hangovers for me when I've had ten too many beams and cokes. It should be wayyyy easier to get good help nowadays since those new IR laws came in...so long as we only get 99 employees/luft baloons, we are fucking set.

See, right now it would be good if I had a servant to go to bed for me. But as it is, I'LL JUST HAVE TO DO IT MYSELF.

xoxo nora

pablo picasso was never called an asshole

2006-07-31T00:04:00.000+10:00

Be honest with me, now.
Should I throw it all in to pursue a career in the arts?

xoxo nora

Giraffe v Fox

2006-07-29T19:52:00.000+10:00

VS

I LOVE YOU BOTH, FOXY AND 'RAFFY. I LOVE YOU BOTH THE SAME.

xoxo nora

Are you there, God? It's me, nora.

2006-07-29T19:23:00.000+10:00

Mr Jesus Christ
Son, Christianity Pty Ltd
Heaven, Mystical Universe, 2006

Dear Mr Christ,

Once in a lifetime business opportunity!

Today is your lucky day! Because today, mister nora enterprises (mne) invites you, in your capacity as the representative of one of the world’s leading deities, to participate in a unique investment opportunity open to a very select group of spiritual beings.

mister nora enterprises is a respected local company which has been meeting the needs of Victorian consumers for over 27 years. To adjust to growing demand for our services, mne is currently reorganising its corporate structure and as a result, we are now offering a very limited investor group the opportunity to become involved in our expanding business.

The process? Auction by tender.

The participants? Yourself, Satan, Buddha, Krishna (et al), Allah, Tom Cruise.

The prize? MISTER NORA’S MORTAL SOUL!

This never-before-seen opportunity is a once in a lifetime event. You could be the major shareholder in one of the most talked about mortal souls in the greater Darebin area. Just in the last four months, ever since the first rumours of this upcoming takeover opportunity set tongues wagging in switched-on churches, mosques and latrines across town, we’ve had positive reviews from most major daily publications, a number of trade journals, and assorted radio commentators from Victoria and beyond.

Here’s just a small taste of what people have being saying about mister nora’s mortal soul:

Business Review Weekly: “mister nora’s mortal soul might seem at first glance to be merely one more fetid reminder of all that’s wrong with humanity, but with recent moves to cleanse and gentrify, our analysts say that this hot property is sure to increase in value over the coming six months.”*

Financial Review: “Yo, What Up Bitch?”

Alan Jones: “…mister nora’s soul has recently been subject to some scathing attacks by the so-called ‘intelligensia’, the so-called ‘elite’, those ABC, SBS, ACRONYM bludgers living off our tax dollars and growing hair from their eyeballs, those lefty creeps who wouldn’t know their arses from their asses… well, today I just want to say, don’t believe the haters, people. Don’t believe the haters. Also, what’s with them towel heads?”

So, Mr Christ, what are you waiting for? To take part in this unbelievable opportunity to acquire one of the most sought after souls since the last apocalypse, simply state in 100 words or less why your deity deserves the rights to mister nora’s soul and what you are prepared to offer mne in return for said property. Your tender must be received by mne by close of business on 6 August 2006. The successful applicant will be announced shortly afterwards.**

Further queries regarding the selection process should be directed towards mister nora personally on the email address supplied. We wish you all the best in preparing your application, and look forward to hearing from you over the coming week.

Kind Regards,

mister nora
CEO, mister nora enterprises

* Increase in value not guaranteed.

**the successful applicant will be required to sign a form confirming that they agree to accept mister nora’s soul in its current condition, including all rust, tearing, wind damage and tendency to commit deadly sins. Applicant accepts risk of future sins.

When you've seen how big the world is, how can you make do with this?

2006-07-27T15:14:00.000+10:00

I know I get a bit tiresome what with the career crisis x 21309123 shit I go on with, but if only there were a job which involved sitting in a bar drinking martinis and shooting the shit 9(pm) – 5(am)>I would be hired straight off for sure; my resume is so fucking suited to such a profession.

And why do position descriptions never come up with such shit as “1. Staying up late watching Big Brother; 2. Calling in sick; 3. Drinking wine from a cask; 4. Pretending employee has serious plans to write a novel; 5. Wishing employee were dead.” I could totally pull that shit off if I put my slushy little brain to work. (HELLO, slushy brain, WHY DON’T YOU DO SOMETHING WORTHWHILE FOR A CHANGE).

I need help.

MISTER NORA CRIES FOR HELP MULTIPLE CHOICE QUIZ!

(a) HELP!

(b) Dear psychiatrists/astrologers/Courtney Love:

I was wondering yesterday why I have spent like totally 6 million years working like a super ambitious fox wasting the best years of my life to get qualified for a job I have always known I would never do. PLEASE EXPLAIN.

Also, I am now 5 weeks off getting said unwanted qualification and am kind of thinking of “dropping out of degree” for the THIRD TIME (gun me down, blow me up, melt me, whatever, I am the terminator of law school and I’ll always be back), HOW ROCK AND ROLL WOULD THAT BE? (“not very” – Courtney Love).

(c) Hello, bonjour, yo wassup bitch, etc, How are you? Incidentally could you please direct me to the nearest bath full of gin. Kthnxbye.

Do you select (a) (b) (c) or “mister nora would you please just leave us the fuck alone.”

xxo nora

I've fallen in love, I've fallen in love for the first time...

2006-07-24T15:59:00.000+10:00

As anyone who's seen me drink the dregs from someone else's tinny of Fosters will attest, I'm something of a gutterslut when it comes to alcohol.

Last week, however, something happened which maybe, maybe has finally cracked my hardened, whoring heart.

Hello there, you handsome devil.

Martinis from Ginger. This time I know it's for real.

xoxo nora

If I had my way...

2006-07-24T13:54:00.000+10:00

Matthew McConaughey would be kidnapped by a fan who would express their undying love for him by sawing his testicles off with a small cheese knife and then sewing them into his eye sockets. After kissing him passionately, the fan would then sigh and murmur "if you love someone, Frederick, you must set them free", and proceed to let Matthew loose in a deserted area of Albania so that he could stumble around blind and bleeding until he tripped into a sewer full of cantankerous wasps. He would survive their vicious stings for weeks and think himself saved by a passing Albanian farmer, only to die moments later of sudden infant death syndrome.

Jessica Alba would be thrown into the depths of depression after boyfriend Cash Warren admits cheating on her with Queen Latifah. Little Jess turns to beer and meat pies for comfort, stacking on 293kg within 3-6 weeks, and in the midst of her wobbly grief she forms a strong friendship with Britney Spears and K-Fed which involves wild nights of drunken pingpong and regrettable group sex leaving them each feeling sore and vaguely embarrassed in the morning. Jess then turns to God and briefly finds fame as an evangelical preacher on an obscure and soon-to-be-bankrupt cable network, before she is convicted of fraud, embezzlement, and gross indecency in a public place and subsequently imprisoned for 16 years in a low security Florida jail.

Due to the threat of international terrorism, government rationing leaves Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman deprived of all mirrors, dental floss and hair products for an indefinite period or until the coming of the great apocalypse. Intensifying their woes, in the same week both Who Weekly and New Idea feature front page photos of the pair with captions including “Stars with Cellulite!” “Hollywood’s Faux Marriages Exposed!” and “Aussies? Like, sooooo three seasons ago”. They spend the next 4 years doing bi-annual interviews on Rove Live where they swear their love for eachother is true, then fade away into obscurity until in 2019 they again make the news when Nicole is charged with slaughtering and eating Keith in the manner of a German cannibal.

That's all for now.

xoxo nora

workin hard to make a living

2006-07-20T12:57:00.000+10:00

mister nora's not dead, she's just partying like it's 1999...

...that is, like it's 1999 and she's got a major credit card debt and 2 low paying jobs and a thesis to write and like, 10 million job interviews requiring dress-ups in suits and poorly feigned interest in writing briefing papers and making life easier for The Man. And if her brain was called "New Orleans" this cold she's packing would be widely referred to as "Hurricane Kitty Kat Katrina", like there is quite a lot of flooding in the streets and looting in the supermarkets if you know what I'm getting at, and tonight she's suppose to go watch flamenco (FLAMENCO!) but she were up til 3am last night and really mister nora would rather a nice quiet night spent dead under a bridge. But like the bible says, man, you can't always get what you wa-a-ant.

But I still love the blog, oh yes. Will get on with it. Any time now.

xoxo nora

Machines of Love

2006-07-07T14:10:00.000+10:00

Is there anything nicer than a big motherfucking crane?

OF COURSE NOT!

(“Not even a tractor?”)

(No, not even a tractor. I think you’ll find the CORRECT answer is that NOTHING, I SAID NOTHING, IS NICER THAN A BIG MOTHERFUCKING CRANE.)

If I could live in a crane, that would be like the most awesomest thing ever. I would have a hammock, and a hard hat, and a fluorescent vest, and a packed lunch, and a thermos full of hot coffee.

LIFE WOULD BE SO FUCKING SWEET.

But you know I’ve made some enquiries and “The Man” has totally put the hex on my whole crane-house fantasy, citing “miscellaneous bylaws and regulations” and “occupational health and safety concerns”.

“DOWN WITH THE MAN!”

Sometimes I find life too disappointing for words.

xoxo nora

Where are you now, when I need you?

2006-06-25T11:29:00.000+10:00

The Dude and I are heading west today for some melancholic hikes on the moors and gazing out to sea with furrowed brows type action.

Actually we plan to sit around on the sofa in matching tracksuits, drinking red wine straight from the bottle, watching Britney Spears videos, pulling bongs, stuffing our bloated bodies with rice crackers and maybe belching a little. Could life be any sweeter? Only if it contained aspartame, man.

So, the moral of this story is, no blogging for a week. CAN YOU LIVE WITHOUT ME, DEVOTED READERS (yeah, I know you're out there, in your thousands, MILLIONS, possibly even GAZILLIONS, you're just somehow evading the watchful eye of Sitemeter. Oh yes, you think you're clever, but I am on to you LIKE A FOX, my friends.)

I will totally be back soon though to update everyone on the fine details of my glamorous lifestyle. I just need a break from the paparazzi, man. Why won't they just let me and K-Fed live our lives in peace? We're people too you know.

Um. So...like, later dudes.

xoxo nora

The end of the affair

2006-06-23T13:19:00.000+10:00

I, mister nora, of the Slovenly Pit of Mutual Filth, do solemnly swear that never again, not even in the pits of alcoholic slothfulness, will I purchase alcoholic products from the Northcote Wine Monkey.

I swear not to believe the Wine Monkey when he says the wine is “Good, yes that’s a good wine, very good, very good. It has medals, see, it’s good.”

I swear not to smile at the Wine Monkey as he slurps cash from my credit card so that he can keep himself in sweaty shirts, garlic, aging hookers and dirty Bulgarian vodka.

I swear that not even in the midst of detoxifying desperation will I ever again buy and drink bottles of “$18.99! Is good!” liquor, liquor that any right thinking person would use to dissolve the battered bodies of murder victims in a steel bath while smoking a cigar and chuckling to oneself in a quietly sinister fashion.

I swear that next time I am thirsty, I will make like a fox straight to Liquorland. Even if it does mean walking an extra 500 metres. IN THE RAIN.

I swear on my mother’s grave, on Jarvis Cocker’s pants, on Vladimir Motherfucking Nabakov, I swear that I will not continue to support the filthy wine merchandising of the filthy Northcote Wine Monkey and the filthy bat’s piss he insists on selling me at outrageously filthy prices.

Fuck you, Northcote Wine Monkey. I may be a lousy lazy drunk, and you may run the nearest bottlo, but I’ve had enough. You’ve pushed me too far.

You and me, Northcote Wine Monkey: it’s over.

xoxo nora

The hair in there is square as well

2006-06-21T13:41:00.001+10:00

You know it's my birthday soon.

I am turning one of the following: -7, 7, 17, 27, 37, 47, 57, 67, 77, 87 or 92.

I was going to put "97" but dude, I know that would never fool any of youse. As if I am gonna live that long with my "Wild and Crazy" partying lifestyle!

(Exhibit A: it's a typical Wednesday afternoon, the beige sky falling like dust over the silent suburbs. mister nora stares at the computer and asks herself, 'it is time for another cup of "Not Wine"?' She's still wearing her dressing gown, and has the ghostly, vacant look of a girl who's stayed up late to catch the Channel Ten Late News. 'I gotta stop this madness before it kills me', she thinks, pulling the crocheted blanket tighter around her knees. 'A woman my age should be watching ABC news at 7pm.' Oh, but will she ever learn to age gracefully? Who knows, man, who knows.)

My life should totally be XXX rated right now; IMAGINE IF THE KIDDIES SAW THIS SHIT AND TRIED IT AT HOME? The moral fibre of the nation would be turning from wool/silk blend to 70% polyester overnight, no fucking kidding.

So anywayyy, back to my birthday. My star sign is cancer (totally the best ever: you get associations with pubic lice and terminal illness: TOP THAT, you fuckin libran/leo/sagi/cap/fishy/tauran/etc cunts), and I've been looking to the skies for career advice. Apparently jobs that suit cancerians are:

Cook, dietician, farmer, fisherperson, gardener, genealogist, historian, builder, hotel worker, landowner, lifeguard, manufacturer, merchant, nutritionist, non-profit founder or manager, plumber, rancher, sailor.

So basically my future goes like this:

I start reading about like, the dead (all of them), and during my research I take a particular interest in the dead who are related to me, and discover that I am totally in line to inherit a farm from some far flung dead great-great-cousin-uncle-whatever. When I move in to my new digs at the dinky little farmhouse however I find out the toilet is totally not flushing, but when I try to fix it I instead cause a flood, which might phase a non-cancerian but doesn't worry me because with my superb handyman skills I build a damn to like, slow the flow. To celebrate my prowess with tools I go for a boat ride with my dearest tool, The Dude, and when The Dude falls out of the boat (or I push him), I totally dive in and save his life, BECAUSE I AM HEROIC and also like swimming (I am a crab/have crabs, afterall). While in the water I catch some fishes, which I cook up according to the latest modern scientific health advice and then because I am "Jesus-esque" in my work with the loaves and fishes etc, I have to start the "Feeding The Peoples with The Fish" Foundation just to get rid of all the fucking fish. I get a bit jack of working with the fishes however, seeing as I am a vegetarian, so I decide to throw it all in and fulfill my lifelong dream of working in a seedy Queensland hotel, which doubles as a drug factory, but it's so poorly managed (by me) that we go bust, and I get busted for poor management (also for making drugs), and sent off to the clink where I whittle away my final days planting gardenias etc and herding prison cattle (the cows will never fucking tell me what they did to get put in the slammer; I suspect lesbianism/unnatural sexual relations etc). Then I die.

Oh my god I have so much to look forward to. My frown has totally turned, if not upside down, at the very least at right angles.

xoxo nora

blogging fast and loose

2006-06-20T22:35:00.000+10:00

oh my god so i was sitting in my house today drinking like 203102840 cups of tea and reading about how to deduct your inputs from your franks or some such shit and wishing i had a fucking panadol and maybe eating too much not chicken,

ASIDE: fuck have you ever tried not chicken IT'S TASTIER THAN ACTUAL CHICKEN, and as the dude pointed out to me, we are pretty fucking lucky round these parts because EVERYTHING IN OUR HOUSE IS NOT CHICKEN, WE HAVE A HOUSE MADE OF NOT CHICKEN. rest of you dudes probably have to put up with actual chicken, maybe you even think you're pretty fucking fancy with your 'actual chicken breakfast bar/sofabed/outdoor decking' etc, well guess what brothers, apart from our many not chicken appliances, the dude and me we have an 'actual cow chaise lounge' in our house, yep WHEN VEGANS ARE KING WE WILL BE FIRST AGAINST THE WALL.

....where was i? oh yeah, i was drinking cups of tea, or as i like to call it, "NOT WINE", and doing some serious for shit studying the knowledge like it's nobody's business, like come september I am going to be the official "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST MOST OVERQUALIFIED CUNT ON THE BLOCK", HAH! i will also know quite a lot about big brother season 6, some say too much, but it's all paying off because i have qualified for ANOTHER JOB INTERVIEW;

"WAITS UNTIL EXCITED WHOOPING ETC QUIETENS DOWN"

for a job i sooooooooooooooooooooooooo do not dream of getting. nonetheless have started spending my impending megasalary; i'm definitely the kind of girl to count my notchickens before they're hatched; like WHAT IF THEY DIE IN CHILDBIRTH AND WE DON'T KNOW HOW MANY LITTLE NOTCHICKEN GRAVES TO DIG.

"hee hee"

did i mention my head hurts?

and the word on the street is that (unlike not chicken) "not wine" is not as good as "actual wine", BOO to that shit man.

sorry, again, i know. WHO'S A BAD BLOGGER? (see below)

xoxox nora <--below

Beefy snacks I've known and loved.

2006-06-09T15:40:00.000+10:00

I am currently biting off my own head (for real, like the papers are publishing pictures with headlines in bold font, yeah, maybe even capitalization, ‘monsieur nora mange sa propre tête, oui! AUCUN BADINER! Ou est la baguette! J’adore fromage!’ Even physicists/magicians can’t explain it, so don’t ask me, dudes. Je ne parle francais, MERDE!).

Why? WHY? WHY? MISTER NORA/DELILAH?

I’ll tell ya. I have just realized I was so busy reading about Californian Copper Syndicates et al that I forgot to attend the World Meat Congress 2006. It was just up the fuckin road in Brisbayyyno too, I COULD HAVE WALKED THERE (if I had legs, shoes, spinal cord, etc). There is no way I will be voted on to the International Meat Secretariat with this sort of lousy "failure of early warning systems" and or "poor management skills" attitude. Fuck those Meat dudes and their "SURPRISE CONFERENCE!" obsession. Fuck em.

Anyhow just though I’d share my grief: NOW IT’S YOURS TOO.

xoxo nora

Wow them with your bubbly personality.

2006-06-02T14:47:00.000+10:00

This week I attended the “job interview” of 2006. To set the scene, picture mister nora, in a suit [of human hair, and some other threads], in an office, shaking hands, maybe twitching a little.

Anyhow, the interview starts, they ask me some totally crazy shit such as “what are your strengths?” and “why do you want to work for us?” etc, man, where do they come up with this stuff? Normally in this situation I would be pretty nervous, like, my whole worth as a person [est. $17.52] was being assessed by some wacky dudes from HR [WHAT IS WITH HR DUDES; WHY MUST THEY SMILE LIKE SHARKS/ASK QUESTIONS/CONTACT MY REFERENCES? Like, just CHILL OUT, dudes, woah.]. This time, though, I was CONFIDENT LIKE A FOX.

You see, I had a super powerful secret weapon on my side. And it’s time to get excited, friends, because out of the pure golden kindness of my charred and filthy heart, today, I am going to share my secret with YOU!

When you are in a job interview situation, CURE YOUR ANXIETY in one simple move:
IMAGINE YOU ARE ROCKY.
- Do this by PUNCHING THE AIR, and maybe also your INTERVIEWER.
- Make sure you are SWEATING PROFUSELY, and have EATEN SOME RAW EGGS.
- SNARL, and ensure your NOSE LOOKS BROKEN.
- FINALLY, the finishing touch, without which you cannot be Rocky:

AS YOU ENTER THE INTERVIEW ROOM, YOUR SOUNDTRACK MUST BE “EYE OF THE TIGER”; I REPEAT, “EYE OF THE TIGER”.

Preferably “Eye of the Tiger” will be performed by a “Quality Pop/Rock Cover Band with Influences Including Bryan Adams, P Diddy, Dave Mathews Band, Tortoise, Queen, Frank Sinatra and various Hardcore Metal Acts”. If this is too hard to arrange (DO YOU REALLY WANT THIS JOB?), another option is to simply play the song on repeat in your head as you stride in to BLOW THEM AWAY WITH YOUR POWERFUL ROCKY MOVES.

They are sure to hire you.

No doubt about it.

Just remember, dudes: it’s all in the eye of the tiger.

xoxo nora

If only I could get round to it.

2006-05-29T23:34:00.000+10:00

Lately I've come to the conclusion that say there were less big brother, the drink and sleepiness in my life, I would stand a much better chance of becoming an upstanding citizen/leader of the free and/or enslaved world.

Under my "Benevolent Dictatorship", you'd love it, for sure; get this:
1. No more films featuring Bud Tingwell/Gwynneth Paltrow
2. No more mullets, not even under the auspices of irony ( blanket prohibition)
3. More ads on TV claiming coffee beans have been "roasted in farts"
4. Patchouli= banned, a lot
5. More widespread knowledge of how to spell patchouli?
6. Raclette would be the national dish, i.e. served in every meal, including "pie", "weetbix" and "salad".
7. Free trade agreement with the Swiss, also Norway; watches, knives, chocolate and maybe some moose would be exchanged for like, the more disgraceful aspects of antipodean history, and a sheep/several toads.
8. By the year 2010 no child will live in poverty (NB only applies to "poverty of imagination"; poverty of food/schooling/homes/foxes = still going down)
9. Disco Churches
10. Infomercials ALL DAY, OR taps in houses with less water, more Shiraz; take your pick.

Do you think this policy platform is solid enough to see me elected King/Deity in 06/07? I am fully prepared to "meat the people", "shake fists with the common man", "fuck babies" etc. Yeah so basically, SEE YOU IN CANBERRA, DUDES.

xoxo nora

If it weren't for my love for The Dude...

2006-05-25T11:15:00.000+10:00

I would be quite likely to agree to the sex with:

Jarvis:

Dylan:

and David:

Sex with Mister Becks there would obviously be under the caveat that he didn't actually say anything, even though the fact that he has the voice and brain of a sweet, if slightly slow, adolescent clearly makes me RANDY LIKE A FOX.

Um, clearly this post is a bit lacking in the hard-hitting, unbelievably hilarious mister nora that you've come to KNOW AND LOVE. Whatevs, bro. mister nora is kind of short on brain and time, and she were just looking for an excuse to image search for Jarvis Cocker, and refer to herself in the third person, AS IF SHE WERE IMPORTANT>the poor dear is suffering from some low self steam>let's buy her a fucking rice cooker, WITH STEAM FUNCTION, that'll fucking cheer her the fuck up>although if she thinks any of the above three fellas would deign to get pantsy with her maybe she needs LESS STEAM, MORE HUMIDITY. Or humility, or MAYBE JUST MORE HUMMUS. YEAH, BRO, LET'S GET HER AN ARAB!

The Tower of Knowledge may have just fallen over on my head, and caught fire, YES! It IS like the TOWERING INFERNO (of knowledge) IN HERE!

I think I need a Becks and a good lie down: "WINNER: MOST APPALLING PUN OF 2006!"

"WINNER: MOST APPALLING POST, 2001 - 2042"

SORRY.

xoxo nora

AW, IS THIS GORGEOUS OR WHAT?

2006-05-24T12:42:00.000+10:00

If there's anything that gets me clucky, it has to be photos of kids with animals:

"Hi, my name is Jimmy! The only thing I love more than the baby Jesus is playing on my x box and killing the beasts of Satan/Santa!"

"I'm Janella-May, and my mommy says I'm gonna win Miss Junior Iowa this year for sure! My favourite things are tiaras, ponies, and severed heads!"

"My name is Charles, but my friends call me Chuck! My hobbies include watching cartoons, going to Scouts, and reenacting scenes from Bambi!"

Are these little tykes the most adorable young rascals you've ever seen? TOO RIGHT THEY ARE!

It just warms the cockles of my heart and lungs to know that they'll grow up to look like this:

Or this:

I'm booking in the Unprotected Sex like pronto.

xoxo nora

Opposable thumbs, GET FUCKED.

2006-05-23T22:53:00.000+10:00

While I am busy learning every piece of fuckin punctuation in the Tower of Knowledge, i.e.:

The Pussycats are in the same room, doing this:

IS THIS WHAT OUR BOYS ARE DYING FOR?

xoxo nora

Nervous Breakdown, COME ON DOWN!

2006-05-22T13:54:00.000+10:00

Do you sometimes feel as though life is getting on top of you?

Like you’re being pushed to the limit, too busy to breathe?

Well, as a reader of this fine publication, you’re in luck!

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For just $99.95 RRP (+postage & handling), each lucky purchaser of this fabulous offer will receive our entire selection of:
- FEAR
- SELF LOATHING
- PANIC
- ALIENATION, and
- QUIET DESPERATION!

As if that weren’t enough, purchase “HOMECOOKED NERVOUS BREAKDOWN” today and we will supply you AT NO EXTRA COST with your very own set of:
- Weeping
- Songs from the period 1994-1998 (OH, YOUR LOST YOUTH!)
- Low Level Anxiety
- Alcoholism

- Foetal positioning, and
- EXTRA FEAR!

You are 100% guaranteed to lose 40kg of marbels in A MATTER OF WEEKS with MISTER NORA'S HOMECOOKED NERVOUS BREAKDOWN!!

Here’s what one satisfied customer has to say about mister nora’s HOMECOOKED NERVOUS BREAKDOWN:

“Before I tried mister nora’s Homecooked Nervous Breakdown, I was so happy and stable it almost ruined my relationship with my husband. I was always very organised, efficient and successful…I tried all kinds of personality disorders, mental illnesses and substance abuse, but nothing worked! There I was, wealthy, in a great job, with a loving family, some beautiful dogs and a terrific hairstylist – it was as if no matter how hard I tried, I simply could not screw my life up.

"Then one day in the back pages of Beagles in Peril Magazine, I saw an ad for this wonderful product, and since then my life has totally turned around! I now live underneath a trailer in a swamp, my kids have all got herpes, my parents have died in suspicious circumstances, I’m suicidal and I’m making a living my selling beans by the side of the road. I could not be more of a basket case!!

"You know, I never thought that this could happen to me, but it did - thank you, mister nora!”*

- Mrs L.J.Finkelstein, Sacramento, C.A.

All these terrific experiences could be yours! But remember, this offer is available for a LIMITED TIME ONLY! So get in quick to ensure you don’t miss out on this wonderful opportunity for that PERSONALISED INNER TORTURE you’ve always wanted!

CALL TODAY!!!

You'll never look back.

xoxo nora

* results may vary.

Career Crisis #21317841102847108247102498

2006-05-18T15:25:00.000+10:00

So I'm applying for this "job" thing this month to distract myself from Studying the Knowledge and to improve my Cash Situation (currently rated: "troubling, very troubling indeed"). I was shocked to learn recently that apparently these so-called "employers" want to "interview" me before giving me the position! The nerve of these people!! Those cunts should be eating out their own vaginas/applying science/blackmailing family members to get me on the team. That is what I wrote them in my application letter, anyhow. Obviously they weren't paying sufficient attention, LAZY CUNTS.

Anyway so in preparation for the big day, I have gone on the internet looking for tips and advice. Apparently "desired behaviours" that employers look for include:

"Adaptability Communication-Oral Communication-Written Control Analysis Attention to Detail Decisiveness Delegation Development of Subordinates Energy Entrepreneurial Equipment Operation Insight Fact Finding-Oral Financial Analytical Flexibility Impact Independence Initiative Innovation Integrity Judgment Leadership/Influence Listening Motivation Negotiation Organizational Participative Sensitivity Management Planning and Organizing Practical Learning Presentation Skills Process Operation Rapport Building Resilience Risk Taking Safety Awareness Sales Ability/Persuasiveness Sensitivity Strategic Analysis Teamwork Technical/Professional Knowledge Technical/Professional Proficiency Tenacity Training and Work Standards."

Like, blah blah, fuck, blah. NOWHERE do they mention "Acoholism, Eccentricity, Big Hair, Greed, Knowledge of Big Brother, Neighbours and Deal or No Deal, Slovenliness (IT'S NEXT TO GODLINES, derr!), Idleness, Misanthropy, Unbridled Rage, Tendencies to Violence, Poor Credit Management, and Talents of Swearing, Blowjobs and Hypochondria."

I worry that my multiple skills and disabilities will be overlooked in the venomous snakepit of birthday suit ambition that is the "group behavioural interview". This is traumatic and damaging to my emotional and mental state because HOW WILL I BUY THE DUDE A YACHT WITHOUT A JOB? [selling drugs/winning tattslotto/going on big brother/stealing/etc]

Life is just so hard. Sometimes I just want to give up and end it all/eat soup.

xoxo nora

The State of the Union

2006-05-15T12:02:00.000+10:00

The Dude has abandoned me once again to go visit his friends Philby and Meegy in Darwin where he is no doubt drinking Beer and having Good Times as we speak. Being SLY LIKE A FOX, the motherfucker diverted any tantrums, china tossing, door slamming, knife attacks etc which I had up my sleeve by spending yesterday cooking me various items, including lentil bolognese, chestnut soup and sweet potato soup (Verdict: "mister nora hereby pronounces these foodstuffs 'Delicious.'").

HOW SNEAKY IS THE DUDE? (very sneaky; also culinary).

Meanwhile I am stuck in Leningrad drinking coffee (instant edition) and finishing off Studying the Knowledge so I can acquire an Impressively Remunerated Professional Job where I get to become a High Net-Worth Individual with Multiple Whitegoods and a Corner Office with Views of Waterway by Fiendishly Crushing the Little Man; also apparently I must buy The Dude a yacht equipped with 19 year old underpants models (female) with bellybuttons full of cocaine and also a full bar.

Little does The Dude know that last night in his absence I went to a Place of Hip Hop where my Hips Awoke Passions (not so much my Hops) and I was "hit on" by an Unemployed Stoner with a Ponytail (DREAMBOAT ALERT!). I went on to stay up past MIDNIGHT, only to wake up this morning hungover and SURROUNDED BY PUSSY [cats]. Oh, it's racy times we live in, my friends.

On the upside:
- Claudie is in town and is totally ready for action.
- 5 and a half hours of Big Brother on the telly tonight.
- I have gone AWOL from the Font of Knowledge and am looking forward to an "afternoon of naps".
- Radio National on the Radio (derr).
- Conray, my love, my electric heater.

I'll keep you posted on further exciting developments (e.g. "mister nora boils the kettle - PM says: THAT'S HOT!") as they happen. Don't topple off the edge of your seat in frenzied anticipation, will ya now, babycakes. Bueno.

xoxo nora

Re: not drinking til June

2006-05-12T10:42:00.000+10:00

I failed.

Whatevs, at least I fail consistently. I'm just FUCKIN RELIABLE like that. Some would call it a virtue! Personally I think of it as a calling.

SHOOSH. Stop getting all HIGH HORSEY. YOU try saying no to FREE WINE, at a HIGH SPIRITED CULTURAL EVENT. I'm telling you, it's simply not possible (for people with drinking problems).

xoxo nora

Some Awesome Knowledge, Imparted.

2006-05-01T15:22:00.000+10:00

... to conclude,

1. "A toilet that flushes is better a flushless toilet, quite a bit better." (You can totally quote me on that, my friends.) AWESOME!!

2. Drowsy Drivers ROCK (they Roll also). AWESOME!!

3. REVENGE ROOM! AWESOME!!
I need a revenge room in the S.P.O.M.F. so I can wreak the havoc with The Dude's head when he fails to adequately "love and obey" (I'm joking, hah! Like he would dare!!)

4. I am acquainted with someone who has BANGED David The Gay Farmer: AWESOME!! (As you wil know if you studied "The Math" in school, that means I am ONE DEGREE AWAY FROM ROOTING DTGF!)

5. I'm not drinking again until June (maybe), AWESOME!!
(clearly this is not "Actually" awesome.)

xoxo nora

mister nora and The Dude get Modern

2006-04-28T16:56:00.000+10:00

Today the Dude and I celebrate the addition of a new, special friend to our Slovenly Pit of Mutual Filth: a TOILET THAT FLUSHES!! I'm totally not exaggerating! That's right kids, we got ALL THE MOD CONS!

[NB mister nora’s legal counsel would like to make clear that “mod cons” should not be understood to include a dishwasher, freezer, functional oven, security system, VCR, DVD player, clothes dryer, electric kettle, playstation, ipod, post-1972 automobile, remote control tv, or a microwave. We say no to Progress; Progress says no to us.]

The Dude is currently lodged in the bathroom, flushing over and over again in excitement (fuck the drought! we have TECHNOLOGY!) while screaming that it’s like being in charge of Victoria Falls. “Look at me, I’m God! HAHAHAHA!” he shouts as he flushes.

It’s times like these I realise I have totally hit the Jackpot with The Dude. I’ll bet Ivana fuckin Trump never had luxury like this. As for that shabby little Danish fucker, let me just say this: Suck my Cock, Princess Mary!! HAHAHA!

xoxo nora

The Truth Will Out (Eat You)

2006-04-26T17:49:00.000+10:00

Until now, I've been kind of mysterious about the Special Training Program that has been taking up so much of my time and hair. I realise it's been a living hell for my many thousands (approximate estimate) of devoted readers , but I think that given that it's now after 6pm on a Wednesday, it could be time to relieve the inner torment and Let the Motherfucking Pussy out of the Box! (SO TO SPEAK, obviously. Like how would they get them in there anyway? Where is a fucking Physicist/Engineer/Packaging Expert when you need one? Fucking off stuffing other people's boxes is my guess, FUCKING LA-DI-DA PUSSY IN BOX STUFFERS) .

(Fuck me when did I get so motherfucking highbrow?)

(My site traffic is going to increase for sures now I have used the phrase "fucking la-di-da pussy in box stuffers"; I would like to extend a Warm Welcome to all the pornies amongst you.)

What was I saying?

(CONCENTRATE, MISTER NORA, YOU ADDLED FUCKING CUNTBRAINED HALFWIT.)

Ohhhhhh, yes. What I'm getting at is that these many months of Studying the Knowledge have all been in aid of me prancing joyously over the corpses of competitors as I dance on to win the Bluffs Run Casino World Smoked Pork Eating Championship!

Here's Me and the Dude (and also a Live Pork) enjoying my Total Victory!*

Now I'm starting intensive training to ensure triumph in the Swellin' with Melon Watermelon-Eating Championship. I don't call it a job, dudes, I call it a motherfuckin Vocation.

xoxo nora

* Under pressure from Witness Relocation Agents mister nora and The Dude have utilised Full Head and Body Rubber Masks in this photograph. Any resemblence to actual people living or dead is purely a machiavellian conspiracy which will lead to your dreams shattered and your children dead. Cheques will not be honoured.

Drink, etc.

2006-04-21T15:51:00.000+10:00

Did you ever notice that wine in a box was the best thing ever invented? (except wine in, like, a barrel might be better, but they don’t sell that shit at my local BWS).

Barrels of wine, fuck that reminds me of Asterix and Obelix, who are CLEARLY TO BLAME form my Small* Drinking Problem. Who could read that fucking collection of fine literature as a young fuck and not get the lust for the drink in the veins? NO ONE, THAT’S WHO (okay maybe other people, whatever.)

Can I just say: comedy reviewers are for shit. I haven’t been Entertained much lately but here is the news from the last two to seven months:
- Dylan Moran: if it weren’t for my love for The Dude, your apparent love for your Wife and Children, and my extreme physical unattractiveness, you and me would be totally perfect for each other, for reals man.
- Prayerbabies: You make me want to cry………when you sing that song, because when I sing it I sound like a Goat (that is being fucked) (and not in the Vagina).
- Chopper: Dude you are Fucking Crazy, and not in a Good Way, get yourself a shrink already (P.S. and don’t shoot him/her in the knees/head).
- Ross Noble: you’re Probably Very Good, let’s find out?

Sorry, fuck, my brain has totally not been to the Mechanics for some time and could probably benefit from some tinkering and maybe a new fan belt.

xoxo nora

* Not Actually Small

World Tour

2006-04-10T17:45:00.000+10:00

You know each year when the weather starts to cool and the little leaf starts to flop to the ground like a sleepy fox, I think to myself "Fuck me, mister nora, you're nearly 3,000 years old and yet there are so many things left to do in the world, GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER LADY!"

Obviously that's just crazy talk because WHAT THE FUCK? I'VE DONE EVERYTHING!

...and yet I've never visited the American Sanitary Plumbing Museum, Barney Smith's Toilet Seat Art Museum, the Sulahb Museum of Toilets, the Virtual Toilet Paper Museum, or the Museum of Menstruation.

So to cut to the chase, next week I'm taking the Pussycats and going on a Safari of Hygiene Related Museums.

xoxo nora

Tinea House, you're mine.

2006-04-09T13:21:00.000+10:00

Check it out, The Dude has found our perfect home. The description by the Estates of Realness dudes is the Best Eva, for sures:

"Archaeological Site"

15 RARE SPECIES OF MOULD, BATS, MICE AND COCKROACHES DATING BACK TO CIRCA 1910

A finer collection of early Victorian fungi, rodents and insects would be hard to find, kept safe by this controlled dark and damp environment.

The house is currently being considered for a Commonwealth vermin/fungi protection overlay which, if successful, will see the CSIRO physically removing the house from the block and reinstating it at the Royal Biological Museum in Canberra.

This offers a buyer a chance to build anew on a prime piece of Fitzroy land in the knowledge that this was once a site of great biological importance.

'Tinea House' resides on a corner allotment 5 m x 38 m between Nicholson Street and St.Georges Road opposite a lovely reserve and bike track.

How fucking much do you want to buy Tinea House?

If only I had more than $2.60 in my wallet and less than -$981359813951 on my credit card. Why is life so fucking hard? The Woe has moved into my heart, yes it has.

xoxo nora

I wear black on the outside

2006-03-22T21:51:00.000+11:00

Today I tried to be less successful. It worked! So I have crossed that off my list of things to do before death/the rapture and am now only left with:
- burning a koala
- pruning hair into the shape of a slightly confused rabbit
- bedding Tony Jones from Lateline
- publishing a book of poems about scissors, and Jesus
- appearing on Extreme Makeover, twice
- flying, like an eagle, to the sea
- working out the meaning

and some other things.

Anyway whatever, shut the fuck up, mister nora, and tell them about THE THING!

OH FUCK ME, THE THING!! HERE IS THE THING! Today I found out that I have DRUNK MARTINIS with someone who has MET MORRISSEY, and NOT INTERVIEWED HIM.

That's ONE DEGREE away from me drinking martinis with Morrissey and not interviewing him #(!#I%WOEUY FUCK I MUST NOW EXPIRE FROM EXCITEMENT.

xoxoxxoxoxox!$!%#$$#!#%! nora

Ze Germanz Muzt Be Crayzee!

2006-03-20T16:50:00.000+11:00

While I was looking for a suitable Ebola Virus to adopt I found a website where I am going to buy small children's xmas presents for the next 10 years, minimum. Check out these dudes, they fucking blow tellytubbies out of the motherfucking water:

Hallo, my name eez Grippe, und I am not a Snot! No, but I give you ze snot, ya - becoz I am ze German flu! Und I am alzo a fun green toy which eez for ze youths to learn about ze science!!

Und now you vill be meetink my friend ze ebola viruz!"

Hallo Kiddiez!! I am Ebola Virus und my website say about me zat I am 'Nur für Leute mit starken Nerven.' Zat mean I am only for zose wiz strong nerves! And a wish to die today, haha! I am just 6,99 Euros!

Now you vill be meetink my friend Schwarzer Tod, or az you like to say in ze Engleesh, 'Black Death'!

Guten Tag! I am Schwarzer Tod, und I am a total badazz! You know what your papa alwayz say: 'Don't Fuck Wiz Schwarzer Tod!!' HAHA! Don't Mezz Wiz Me! I put ze dead in half of Europe! HAHA! I am one CRAY-ZEE MOZZERFUCKER!! HAHAHAHA!

Hallo! We are HIV und Hepatitis! You fuck wizz wrong people (like Schwarzer Tod!!) or you listen to ze David Hasselhoff too much und you get uz in your snatches, for sure! Zat eez why you should only do blow jobz, or only haff sexink wiz nice peoples like Condoleeza Rice! Ya, ya, or Vladimir Putin!

Ok! We go now! We very buzy, zose snatchez won't infect zemselves you know!! HAHA!

Auf Wiedersehen!

I'm going to get me some Hepatitis like right now, if not by yesterday.

xoxox nora

Fighting for My Man (and Household Guests)

2006-03-19T23:28:00.000+11:00

I am worrying lately that my new love of Studying the Knowledge, which is very consuming with the time and the brain, is having a deleterious effect on my relationship with The Dude, the Slug, the Roach, the Spider and the Pussycats. This is of great concern as I have seen in the pages of New Weekly what happened to Jennifer Aniston when her career took over and her twin brother/husband deserted her for a woman much more in touch with her vagina/womb/tattoos; also, Julia Gillard has indicated that I will never get elected unless I have a kitchen full of Wifely Products, and I think you all know by now that I harbour quiet dreams of becoming Captain of the World and/or Gilgandra Shire Council in the not too distant future.

To prevent The Dude from leaving me to tend to MultiColoured Children with Angelina Jolie, I have come up with a fucking unbelievable plan of genius: I will adopt the animals of the world, following in the footsteps of Noah, but with less boat. This way I can show the media how much I fucking love the animal (NB not in a sex way), so when The Dude reads about my Antics in The Sun, he will see what a good woman I am.

I am trying to decide which animals to adopt and so far my shortlist includes:

1. A giraffe

2. Millions of zooplankton

3. A Fast Pigeon

4. An ebola virus

5. A two-headed lamb:

I will keep you posted on The Progress.

xoxo nora

Millions of Zooplankton, People!

2006-03-16T21:43:00.000+11:00

So today my mission was to go into the shop of horrrrrreurs to purchase some text books in aid of me totally acing my Diploma of Suicidal Inclinations (books included "How to Kill a Vermin with Another Vermin", "Cooking Tips for Copraphiliacs", "Inside John Bon Jovi Bovi", "My Cock is Bigger than an Emu, How Big is Your Vagina?" etc etc). This was all fucking good times until I went to the cash register and they demanded brutally that I give them like $195, IN MONEY.

Sure, it's exciting like a fox to be the World's Best and Most Elderly Student and that, but it does mean I have to make sacrifices. First it's cutting the throat of my firstborn son, for fucks, and now it's giving up my LONG HELD DREAM to spend that $195 on a special product that is totally close to my heart (even though it is in America, dude, how does that work?). But I have faced facts, and right now I am hardly even gouging out my own eyes about those facts, i.e. that I will never own my own Revolutionary Fishing Product: The Evening Fishing Secret!
"So Powerful It Was Banned In 2 States!"
The "Evening Secret" attracts millions of "zooplankton" like a magnet! In less than 40 minutes you will see millions of the zooplankton organisms in clumps all around your fishing spot! Can you guess what happens next?
You guessed it!
Hundreds of bait fish literally torpedo into your spot in a ravenous feeding frenzy! All of the millions of zooplankton in one spot is just impossible for them to resist! But that's not the best part...
With the hundreds of bait fish swarming your spot - feeding like mad - the game fish get extremely excited and start to move into the area to feed on the bait fish! All of the fish come to YOU!

"SUCK MY COCK, HOMEBOYS! THESE FISHES ARE EXCITED BY MY ZOOPLANKTON, FOR REALS!"

Do you see how happy this man is? (PRETTY HAPPY)

Well, dudes, I am not that happy.

xoxo nora