Neekersneakers » random

Sometimes spam is actually pretty on-the-mark

Annik — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 07:35:41 +0000

I made a graph

Annik — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 05:08:15 +0000

I had a terrible dream last week

Annik — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 03:42:00 +0000

I had a terrible dream last week where my friend Ryan got really sick and started coughing up blood all over the carpet in our house. I was relieved when I woke up and realised it was a dream because we had the carpets cleaned quite recently and I didn’t want to go through all that bother again.

Lorikeets

Annik — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 23:50:33 +0000

Lorikeets are horrible, horrible people and should not be trusted under any circumstances.

I saw some lorikeets once when I was a child, and then I fell off my rollerblades and chipped my four front teeth.

I also have a birth mark on my leg that looks like a pimple.

: “Hey Gary, want to have anal sex?”

My favourite rice crackers flavour is salt & vinegar, but not as many brands are making it lately. I am not sure why.

Every book can be drilled down to one sentence

Annik — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 03:46:35 +0000

1. Wasted by Marya Hornbacher

“I threw up a lot.”

2. Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt

“Dad’s drunk.”

3. Diary of Anne Frank by Anne Frank

“We are so bored.”

4. Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs

“There are shapes in your poop.”

5. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

“Wank wank wank wank.”

How to ruin Christmas part 2: sabotage other people’s dinner table stories

Annik — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 01:21:04 +0000

Mum: We had this terrible incident at the hospital a few years ago… A woman who worked there part-time was going around stealing all the nurses’ purses and-

Me: Wait, hang on, the nurses’ purses?

Mum: Yeah, so?

Me: NURSES’ PURSES? That’s hilarious! It sounds like a shitty crime novel. Like, Nancy Drew and the Troubling Case of the Missing Nurses’ Purses. Haha!

Mum’s friend: So what happened then?

Me: Oh who cares. Let’s open another bottle of wine!

How to ruin Christmas part 1: add fuel to harmless family arguments until they escalate to full-blown domestic disputes

Annik — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 23:09:33 +0000

Mum: Can you open the champagne, darling?

Dad: The Chandon?

Mum: No, the Veuve. I told you to bring the Veuve!

Dad: Well I just grabbed whatever was in the fridge.

Mum: The fridge in the kitchen?

Dad: No, the fridge in the garage.

Mum: Why would you do that?

Dad: You just said ‘get the champagne from the fridge’. If you meant a specific champagne from a particular fridge, you should have said so.

Me: Yeah, Mum. The guy’s a GP, not an oracle.

Mum: I just don’t understand why you never listen to me properly. If you were unsure, you should have asked.

Me: Yeah, Dad. You went to medical school for six years but you can’t even figure out what champagne to bring to Christmas lunch?

Dad: I have worked my arse off so that you people can have champagne in the first place, and then this is how you treat me?

Me: Yeah, Mum!

Mum: Oh, right, because birthing your children and raising them into semi-respectable adults was just one big goddamn holiday for me.

Me: Yeah, Dad! Wait…what do you mean by semi?

Dad: Annik, please tell your mother that if anybody needs me, I’ll be in my study.

How to make a good TV show

Annik — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 05:31:20 +0000

The best part about Sex & the City is at the end of every episode, when two of the main characters have an ambiguous conversation and the plot gains some very clever subtext that only intelligent people notice, before Carrie does a contrived voice-over that would make for a shitty column.

For example, Miranda and Carrie might be sitting on a bench outside an authentic New York cafe, pretending to eat cupcakes, and Miranda will say, “How’s yours?” and Carrie will reply, “Pretty good, Miranda….pretty good..” with a slow, mysterious smile, and the audience is left wondering whether Carrie was referring to the cupcake or her urinary tract infection….or both.

Andre’s monologue

Annik — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 02:33:36 +0000

“Hey are you going to Big Day Out next year? I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I wouldn’t miss it if my own mother died. You should come, we’re all going. You probably don’t want to hang around me too much though because I’m kind of embarrassing. You know how at every festival, there’s that one dude who’s taken acid and dingoes and smoked a spliff, and he’s lurching around the dance floor, leaning on strangers, and everyone’s all DUDE, ARE YOU OKAY? because he’s turned completely grey and can’t speak and looks like he died three days ago? That’s me. I’m that guy. Pass me the ashtray?”

You can read more about Andre at ilivewithcrazypeople

Tales from Kuwait

Annik — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 02:29:10 +0000

I once lived with a guy who grew up in Kuwait and would talk about his childhood late at night when he was drunk.

One evening, a few of us gathered as he described a horrifying incident in which his father had beaten him severely for leaving a smudge on his black Mercedes.

“I don’t understand, why did he hit you?” I asked, shocked by the scale of such a beating.

“Well I had to clean his cars every week, and if they weren’t spotless by dinner, I got into big trouble,” he replied.

“That’s awful,” I commented.

“It’s okay, I got him back,” he said with a smile.

“What did you do?” my friend asked, “Did you scratch his car or something?”

“No,” he said, glancing around the room mischievously. “I killed his dog.”

Roughly eight seconds of complete silence passed, before I cleared my throat and asked, “How?”

“Well,” my housemate continued, “I waited until he went to work, and then I locked his dog inside the Merc. By the time my dad finished his shift, that dog was swollen up like a motherfucking beach ball!!”

Then he roared with laughter. My friend, an avid lover of animals, picked up her bag and left immediately, while I busied myself clearing away our empty glasses.