In this fortnight’s column, Fight Like Apes’ MayKay ponders the wonders of Justin Bieber and magical bum-toning runners.
Following on from Pockets’ musings last fortnight, can I start by saying that one dissolvable Disprin has gotten me through a vicious post wedding hangover and no one even asked me what I needed it for. They’re dead right but about reading the label before you take any medication though. I had a friend who took a laxative by accident once when he had diarrheoa, with disastrous consequences. I’m boycotting Solpadeine in an effort to force them to rethink this new interview madness. If the whole band do this, they’ll most definitely notice the lull in sales.
Anyway, I’m furious. Every time I hear someone (who isn’t actually trying to speak French) put ‘tres’ in front of a word I get homicidal. To be honest with you, I have been accused in the past of having a short temper, but surely I’m not alone in this. It makes everyone sound like Rosie Webster, and she is a horror. Example: “Bumped into Fuinneog last night, it was TRES awkward”. Disgusting.
On another Coronation Street related point, can someone PLEASE kill off Ashley and his beor, sharpish. Absolute horrors.
I think I wish I were Justin Beiber. Like, obviously he doesn’t know he’s a knob end, but he’s got more money then 789 times me and all young birds seem to fancy him. He also looks like he has really soft skin and loads of pairs of jeans. I’d say he doesn’t even have to wash any because he always has another pair around. And even if he did need to wash a pair he almost definitely wouldn’t have to do it himself. I can’t imagine ever wanting for anything more.
In related news, I was just watching that Nanny 911 show. Never has a woman laid down ‘a carpet of stability’ with such ease as this one. Her main area of expertise apparently is getting children to go to sleep in under 60 minutes. They timed it. 55 minutes. Unreal.
Anyhow, I was going to go for a run and not put butter on my bread in an effort to become healthier, but instead I’m off to buy a pair of these Reetone runners. Apparently just putting them on tones your arse and thighs in minutes. You’d be stupid not to.
Anyway, this week’s homework is to buy dissolvable Disprin, watch Rubberbandit’s Guide to Limerick City and listen to Grand Pocket Orchestra.
PS – Also, what will I dress up as for Hallowe’en? Turns out I’m too tall to be Awesome-o from South Park so you can leave that out. Also, Pockets and I have gone as ghosts the last couple years so that won’t do either. Send in all suggestions.