Legally a Midget?

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

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.

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

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

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 !

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!!!!!

"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?

xoxo nora

International playboys/girls ahoy!

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?

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!

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.

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'

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

You've been fondled.

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 CarnalBible 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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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?

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 dreadedexciting 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 heinousimportant 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

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?

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.

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.

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

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