Reasons include:
1. books along the lines of:
- “Become a Boring Arsehole with Concrete Hair and Frightening Teeth Just Like Me in Five Easy Steps!” (Step 1: Lobotomy)
- “How to Get Rich, Retired and Fat on the Backs of Poor Little Tinted Folk Conveniently Located Elsewhere!”
- “Girls, Unless You Follow My Rigid Relationship Manifesto, Your Partner Will Cheat on You FOR SURE (Because You Are Totally Undeserving Of Love)!”
2. Capri pants.
You may wear these if you are 17 years old, you are holidaying in Rome and your name is Audrey Hepburn. You may not wear them if you are middle aged and dumpy and are teaming them with your new gold sandals from Speeds. TAKE THEM OFF. I MEAN IT.
3. Bernard Fanning.
Dude, have a look at your birth certificate. Your name is Bernard Fanning. This in itself means your were Not Destined for Rock n Roll. Your constant attempts to fiddle with the fate dealt out to you by the Powerful Forces of Nature/Your Parents are messing with the great harmony of the universe. Please desist.
4. Anything that happens before 11am.
Except rootin.
xoxox nora
PS dear mister nora,
don’t blog drunk while listening to gram. if you must, please first perform a brief but thorough schmaltzectomy.
kind regards,
mister nora
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