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Posts Tagged ‘junior Masterchef breeds precocious brats’

To the woman on the bus that sat next to me then proceeded to make numerous calls applying for jobs on her iphone and headset:

Just because you look professional with your fancy phone and headset, doesn’t change the fact you are on a midday bus full of old people and single mums, loudly declaring your jobless status in my ear. Your unemployed. Deal with it. At home.

To the eleven year old kid perfectly pronouncing the exquisite French dishes he prepared on Junior Masterchef:

Shut the fuck up, wanker. Don’t you know that it is un-Australian to have an interest in foreign cuisine and culture? This is barely acceptable in Australian adults let alone some prepubescent rugrat that should be complaining about the pickles on his McDonalds Quarter Pounder instead of preparing God damn Le Gout De La Mer. Pull ya fuckin head in. Or some brainless beefhead in the playground is gonna punch it in.

To Lenore Skenazy who was interviewed on the Seven Thirty Report last night about her ideas on Free Range Parenting:

You would do your ideas on the need for relaxed parenting a great service, if you, you know, relaxed. Bouncing and bopping around in your seat with a demented smile stretched across your face as your voice oscillates between speeding and screeching while you pre-emptively strike out at any potential distracters’ to your ideas, kind of makes you seem like an amphetamine fuelled defensive maniac. Which is a shame, because your ideas are quite sane.

To the friend, who after 6months of silence and unreturned messages, finally contacted me, via a group email addressed to “all the dear friends that had been on her mind but that she hadn’t had time to call” (I think we formed our own special group in her address book):

Thank you, nothing makes me feel quite as thought of as receiving a depersonalised and public message sent via a faceless mode of communication. I particularly liked the way you crafted the message to seem as if I was the only person in the world that was privy to the private information you were sharing, and that you had personally both missed and had been thinking of me.

I could have easily been fooled into thinking all this effort was just for me, had you not used the expression “you all” towards the end. You gave your ‘killing a couple of birds with one stone’ game away there. Oh well. Cant wait to catch up! Shall I come over while you are on the toilet? Seems like the best option for having a chat without wasting too much time.

To the man who cornered the librarian and attempted to reveal his intellectual prowess and vast cultural knowledge by loudly and resolutely declaring that there is “a province in China known as Sichuan…”

Shut up old man. Does the woman look interested to you? Do you think you are telling her something she doesn’t know? Well guess what? We’ve all had Sichuan pepper on our plates mate.

To the woman in the carpark that was so eager to take my parking spot she stopped her car right in front of me so that I couldn’t even get out, then glared and impatiently gesticulated at me to move:

Do you have a brain? I’m just curious, or do you operate under some kind of central auto pilot control system? Either way, you need some fine tuning. Move your car out of my fucking way because I haven’t got the time to spend waiting for you to come up with some other solution without the aid of a brain. Mainly, because there isn’t one. Moron.

To the incessant, strung out, judgemental, bitter voice in my head:

Shut. Up.

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