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Look to me in my eyeball.

November 30, 2011 by the wuc 50 Comments

Random thoughts which peppered my head today:

Love songs are like a tepid bath. They may start out warm and comforting; but really, you’re just languishing in crap.

Why is Sarah Silverman popular? I prefer silent Snoopy.

My average week is akin to Zallinger’s March of Progress, in reverse. Mondays, I’m a Darwinian dream. Come Friday, I’m hobo erectus.

If I ever make the sequel to Popeye, it’ll center around his older brother – Cockeye.

Gal Gunslinger reads and reveres serial killers. Red flag. Red flag. Stop right there! (To be said in Bourne baritone.)

I looked up ‘titillating’ in my thesaurus and the answer came back: venereal. Sounds about right.

If I were rich, I’d create an underwater movie theatre – where you’d get your dive on and watch the Life Aquatic, aquatically. There’d be a sushi snack bar, mermaids for ushers, and Usher as a mer-man (to be said like Zoolander).

I’ve decided to name my cleavage Fortitude Valley.

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Follow me or perish, sweater monkeys.

August 24, 2011 by the wuc 75 Comments

Random thoughts which peppered my head today:

I dreamt that Stephen Fry asked me to live with him, to make pale British love and give heterosexuality a red-hot go. It was a confusing time. For both of us, baby.

Why were the seventies so goddamn brown? Anyone?

I once had some dude travel an hour to my party, only to knock on my door and tell me that he wouldn’t be able to make it.

My mortality kept me awake last night.

If I were rich, I’d build a Bill Murray theme park in my backyard: with every ride a different movie and entry counting on congruent quotes. There’d be Murray mandy floss, a Ghostbusters haunted house and a Punxsutawney Pit Stop. Good times.

I hate people who say goodbye five minutes before they leave, then turn to you expectantly (like Lassie about to lead you to the well where Timmy lies) hoping for another round. Umbilical cord, much? Fuck off already.

Noah Wyle’s nostrils are simply ridiculous.

I hate it when I go to the loo and accidentally pick the stall of the chick at the sink, her flush still hanging in the air. It’s a lucky dip with a warm ass-print as my prize.

I preferred Simon Pegg when he was English. (You’ve got red on you.)

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The arsonist has oddly-shaped feet.

July 29, 2011 by the wuc 147 Comments

Random thoughts which peppered my head today:

I didn’t know it was possible to injure one’s cleavage but have discovered that, yes. If red-hot coffee is poured upon it … it will scream in pain like a thwarted gnome.

Humanity seems like a numbers game to me. Like it doesn’t matter how many of us are picked off, provided there’s someone left to procreate.

Casual Friday and my boss shows up to our management meeting in a pajama top. That, or he killed a Wiggle and is wearing its flannel flay in Hannibal homage.

Sometimes I go deaf but for an electric hum, like a radio momentarily tuned in to another frequency – the kind only dogs or aliens can hear.

I’d rather be hog-tied to William Hurt (in Puff Diddy’s crib) (listening to Kelly Osbourne sing country) than visit another fucken port-a-loo in my lifetime.

Do you ever feel like someone else is a better representation of you? Maybe that’s what celebrity is.

If I was rich, I’d design a fleet of robots to clean my house and teeth, thereby alleviating the guilt of asking another human to do so. (And I could unabashedly undie-strut in front of a robot.) Result.

Coffee Guy was dancing to the Blues Brothers this morn, epilepsy style. Little Lord Fauntleroy meets Elaine Benes, yo.

wuccalogue
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The human torch was denied a bank loan.

July 19, 2011 by the wuc 74 Comments

Random thoughts which peppered my head today:

Being a wannabe Snoop Dogg, I once said to my dad: “word to your muther, yo.” To which he replied, “come to think of it, I do need to have a word to my mother.”

Today in the lift, I missed my floor due to pondering Ryan Reynolds’ undies.

I hate food courts. It’s like McDonalds made rampant love to a retirement home and we’re expected to raise the mongrel offspring as our own. I aint down with a place where sinking waistlines and rising undies are synonymous.

Meanwhile, if you’re gonna sit beside me, how about you don’t rub your foot up against me like a mutt stacking a rubber tree?

I think my neighbour is stalking me through the wall. He always watches the same movies, one day later. I hear you, Kaczynski.

My bus driver ranted like Nick Nolte the entire trip to work today. Props for holding down a job amidst the crazy, Grandpa; and crusty congrats on finding a literally captive audience (Tony fucking Robbins of the asylum circuit, yo).

Do you ever get sick of your face? It’s like having your furniture in the same formation for a decade. I just wanna say, let’s see how my nose looks there.

Coffee Guy has cut his hair in a tragedy of running-with-scissors proportions. He looks like Little Lord Fauntleroy (which, if you’re wondering, aint a turn-on).

I fear that aging might be like going from a Rembrandt to a Monet.

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It’s frikkin freezing, Mr Bigglesworth.

June 9, 2011 by the wuc 50 Comments

Random thoughts which peppered my head today:

The first time I heard about man boobs was on DeGrassi Junior High: “Dad? Kids at school say I’ve got boy boobs!” (Crying) “It’s alright son, it’s gonna be o-kay.“

Today, I stubbornly refused to flag down a bus I actually wanted to catch. I have no explanation for this, except that I didn’t want to appear needy.

Sometimes, I wonder how good I’d be in a hostage situation. I hope I’d MacGyver myself outta that puppy but in truth, I’d probably fall apart as if hearing the news Bea Arthur was dead.

I find it odd when people announce intimate details to the room at large: “Guess what everybody? I’ve been diagnosed as clinically obese!” Good to know, fatty.

What’s with the guy who gets on the lift and spends the whole ride watching you? It’s a drive-by stalking and I won’t stand for it.

Wind makes me angry. After venturing out for lunch today, I looked like Keith Richards after an aggressive handshake.

I hate people who follow me. I don’t care if you’re going the same way. Fuck off.

Sometimes my back is so painful, it feels like it’s gonna throw a Christopher Reeve. I wonder if I could ask the chiro to give me a Jennifer Grey evaluation?

I’m training myself to stop raising my eyebrows, it’s my version of Botox.

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