For Her
29 August, 2012

Seriously, Bic?  I know the biro was invented by a bloke – but it’s hard to understand what the smurf the people… well, I say people but I think we can safely assume that they’re men of a certain age… at Bic were thinking.  This is the sort of crap that leads to this:

and this:

and then this:

And, ultimately, this is why women still fail to recieve equal pay for equal work.  The same sort of mindset – admittedly at several removes – is directly linked to idiocy like Representative Todd Akin and ‘legitimate rape’ .

I’ve never been so glad my kids are both boys.  As much as I revile the facts and wish things were different, they’ve got a better chance of achieving their goals than their friends who are girls.  Not because they’re smarter or stronger or morally superior, but because their dangly toilet parts put them first in the queue.

Over the last few days I’ve admired the merciless lampooning dished out to this product by comedy sites such as Regretsy and some of the Cheezburger offshoots – but the funniest material are the “product reviews”  submitted by thousands of pro-feminist well-wishers. Make sure your Depends – and let’s hope they’re floral pink, ladies! – are in place, follow the link – if your soft, girly ladybrain can coordinate clicking your mouse (it’s the little pointy thing) – and enjoy comedy gold:


Valley of the Shadowy Pee
16 September, 2011

Steampunk Urinal: somebody is taking the piss

It seems that Brisbane’s favourite nightclub and random glassing by inebriated strangers precinct has a wee problem:

People are going out, going hard and then… well, just going wherever they feel like it. A Mr Mergard said the problem was so bad that “There is a toilet in which people urinate outside and people inside get urinated on.” Don’t worry too much about that one, Mr Mergard –  I think it’s in The Beat, and the patrons actually like it that way.

Other instances of public tinkling are non-consensual, however, and it’s a bigger problem than you might think. Up to 30 people a day are being fined under a Police public nuisance blitz. 30 a day? Makes you wonder how many caught-short scoff-laws are whizzing undetected.

Not to worry, though, I’ve come up with some workable solutions:

The Garden Bed 

Just pop bunches of these little beauties, in a circular formation, at regular intervals down the Brunswick street mall.  No need to weed!
Heritage Pissing
These are a personal favourite. Shame that ‘Monastery’ is now closed, but there are still a number of operational and converted churches in the Valley that would be enhanced by an open-air installation of gargoyle pissoirs. I’d also like to see several rows of them against the flats they built on the old Cathedral site, in memory of the Vatican pinching all the money raised for building on that block.
Go-Go Glowsticks
An idea derived by this charming invention for those caught short on the golf course. Just increase the volume and, erm, calibre of the average glowstick, include a screw-on lid, and voila! Rave on, hipsters.

Telstra handbook Chapter 2: Consolidate the Inconvenience
24 May, 2011

A 'pre-inconvenienced' member of the public (PIMP) is like copper wire: malleable and well worth recycling

Turns out they have the Internet in the Seychelles.

Through a complicated comms system,  involving encoded SCUBA and many, many bribes I have cleared the following excerpt with my legal team. Oh, and Justin? You can run, but you can’t hide.

So here’s another excerpt from the telstra handbook:

When dealing with a PIMP, incremental increases in inconvenience may be applied. In no time, they’ll be making you a cup of tea – unless, of course, your workmates cut their electricity supply &/or damage the water main.

Case Study:

The illustrations for this section of the workbook come from the logbooks of a master inconveniencer, now sadly lost to the front lines owing to a secondment to the Department of Transport and Main Roads.

“Simmo” was so skilful in the application of incremental inconvenience in this case, that he ended up sleeping in the master bedroom of the residence pictured during the work week, with full board and beer on a slab/shift pro rata supplied.


A Ditch Witch should be:

  1. unloaded just prior to the commencment of earthworks
  2. on site whenever – it’s tough and hard to hotwire
  3. parked on a solid footing – driveway mouths are optimal
  4. tested by ducking or Trial By Fire.

Where to park a ditch witch: a handbook for Telstra employees
19 May, 2011

Ensure maximal incovenience to members of the public (MOPs) at all times.

Just call me Madam Assange.

A top-secret in-service training document, issued only to Telstra employees, was leaked to me yesterday in the cereal aisle at Woolies.

There are entire chapters devoted to causing noise pollution and service disruption, and a customer service chapter called “The customer is always right? No, mate – we’re with Telstra”.

More to come, once our lawyer gets back from the Seychelles.

Growing Old Gloriously
24 March, 2011

Helen B. Staudinger, role model

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be old. No, that’s phrased poorly – I don’t give a damn how old I am, as long as I can look after myself while retaining enough mental faculties to refrain from stripping off in the supermarket dairy aisle. Having visited many nursing homes, I’d rather chrome a carton of HopStop than wither  in a puddle of my own urine, mumbling around my dentures about how marvellous things were in the 80s and whatever happened to that nice young man, Sting from the Police while waiting for my kerosene bath.

But now that I’ve read about the exploits of one lass, 92 year old Helen B. Staudinger, I’m  feeling much more relaxed about my twilight years. Hell, I’m looking forward to them.

Helen is currently languishing in a Florida jail, facing charges of aggravated assault with a firearm and shooting into an occupied dwelling. If she can raise $15,000 in bail, she’ll still have to stay more than 150 m away from her next-door neighbour, 53 year old Dwight Bettner.

What happened? According to Helen, Dwight is a smooth-talking liar who doesn’t pay his share when they dine out. When he moved to the neighbourhood she’d cook for him and he’d kiss her, but she tired of the stream of girlfriends through his next-door house.

Dwight says Helen cursed at him and the only time they’ve ever eaten out was once, after purchasing a part for her stove. He says – and this is the crucial bit of evidence that incriminates this young scoundrel as a heart-breaking gigolo – Helen once cooked him “dinner or breakfast” and he kissed her on the cheek by way of thanks. “Dinner or breakfast”, hey Dwight? The only men I’ve cooked breakfast for – other than family – have earned their bacon the night before, in the traditional way. Busted!

On one occasion, Helen tried to strangle a woman she thought was Dwight’s girlfriend. He didn’t involve the police, though, until one day she refused to leave his house until he gave her a kiss. An argument ensued, Helen stormed out and returned with an adjudicator – her .380 semiautomatic handgun – firing four shots into Dwight’s house. One shot came close, breaking the window of his bedroom, but three others thudded harmlessly into the side of the house.

I’m sure we’re all on Helen’s side and I’m looking into starting a fund to help pay her bail. I’ve emailed Julian Assange for some pointers, and as soon as he gets back to me I’ll post the link.

Meanwhile, its been a long time since we’ve had such a good news story. Damn, if I can make my 90s with the energy to chase after men four decades my junior and the moxie to exact payback when they cheat on me, then maybe old age won’t be so bad after all.

I just hope the Goddess grants me better aim than Helen.

Sensitivity Spray
2 May, 2010

Check this out:

Scientists… bless those quirky labcoats, our world would be a drab and far less amusing place if scientists weren’t constantly conducting stranger-than-fiction research and development… have come up with a nasal spray that makes men more “emotionally empathic”.

What I want to know is – how exactly is this supposed to work? Have a snort in the car on the way to date night, perhaps.

Or – does anyone remember the old Palmolive Gold commercials?:

Bruce “Bloody sheilas and your stupid whining about feelings”

Sheila gives a ‘silly Bruce being a sexist caveman again’ smirk and throws Bruce an oxytocin nasal spray

Theme music blares “Don’t wait ’till you’re gray – you need Sensitivity Spray!”

Total Control
16 March, 2010

There’s been hoo haa on the interwebz and crusty media overnight about this little number, a “novelty” marketed by one of the big seppo chain stores that’s been devouring our local book shops. My initial thought was, “Well, it gives the wankers who’d but something like that something new to play with – geez, their tiny little appendages will be relieved.”, closely followed by “It’s good, in that they’ll waste $15 on it that might otherwise have been spent on home-brewed crystal meth”.

But then I reconsidered. I wouldn’t mind having a man remote, but the buttons wouldn’t be wasted on trivia like beer and stripping. Who wouldn’t love a “Your career is just as important as mine, so I’ll stay home with the kids” function, or perhaps you could amp up “Who cares about the footy? I’d rather have family time.”

If you could remote control your partner, which button would get the most wear?

The Green Fairy Ladies Lounge
3 January, 2010

A faff all you like forum for the discussion of bad, bad men. Come on in, all ladies who’ve been done wrong – or the lucky few unscathed who’d like to learn from our mistakes.

There’s plenty of absinthe on the bar. I’ll just pop some Billie Holiday on and fetch the sugar cubes.