I wear black on the outside

Today I tried to be less successful. It worked! So I have crossed that off my list of things to do before death/the rapture and am now only left with:
- burning a koala
- pruning hair into the shape of a slightly confused rabbit
- bedding Tony Jones from Lateline
- publishing a book of poems about scissors, and Jesus
- appearing on Extreme Makeover, twice
- flying, like an eagle, to the sea
- working out the meaning

and some other things.

Anyway whatever, shut the fuck up, mister nora, and tell them about THE THING!

OH FUCK ME, THE THING!! HERE IS THE THING! Today I found out that I have DRUNK MARTINIS with someone who has MET MORRISSEY, and NOT INTERVIEWED HIM.

That's ONE DEGREE away from me drinking martinis with Morrissey and not interviewing him #(!#I%WOEUY FUCK I MUST NOW EXPIRE FROM EXCITEMENT.

xoxoxxoxoxox!$!%#$$#!#%! nora

Ze Germanz Muzt Be Crayzee!

While I was looking for a suitable Ebola Virus to adopt I found a website where I am going to buy small children's xmas presents for the next 10 years, minimum. Check out these dudes, they fucking blow tellytubbies out of the motherfucking water:


Hallo, my name eez Grippe, und I am not a Snot! No, but I give you ze snot, ya - becoz I am ze German flu! Und I am alzo a fun green toy which eez for ze youths to learn about ze science!!

Und now you vill be meetink my friend ze ebola viruz!"




Hallo Kiddiez!! I am Ebola Virus und my website say about me zat I am 'Nur für Leute mit starken Nerven.' Zat mean I am only for zose wiz strong nerves! And a wish to die today, haha! I am just 6,99 Euros!

Now you vill be meetink my friend Schwarzer Tod, or az you like to say in ze Engleesh, 'Black Death'!










Guten Tag! I am Schwarzer Tod, und I am a total badazz! You know what your papa alwayz say: 'Don't Fuck Wiz Schwarzer Tod!!' HAHA! Don't Mezz Wiz Me! I put ze dead in half of Europe! HAHA! I am one CRAY-ZEE MOZZERFUCKER!! HAHAHAHA!














Hallo! We are HIV und Hepatitis! You fuck wizz wrong people (like Schwarzer Tod!!) or you listen to ze David Hasselhoff too much und you get uz in your snatches, for sure! Zat eez why you should only do blow jobz, or only haff sexink wiz nice peoples like Condoleeza Rice! Ya, ya, or Vladimir Putin!

Ok! We go now! We very buzy, zose snatchez won't infect zemselves you know!! HAHA!


Auf Wiedersehen!



I'm going to get me some Hepatitis like right now, if not by yesterday.

xoxox nora

Fighting for My Man (and Household Guests)

I am worrying lately that my new love of Studying the Knowledge, which is very consuming with the time and the brain, is having a deleterious effect on my relationship with The Dude, the Slug, the Roach, the Spider and the Pussycats. This is of great concern as I have seen in the pages of New Weekly what happened to Jennifer Aniston when her career took over and her twin brother/husband deserted her for a woman much more in touch with her vagina/womb/tattoos; also, Julia Gillard has indicated that I will never get elected unless I have a kitchen full of Wifely Products, and I think you all know by now that I harbour quiet dreams of becoming Captain of the World and/or Gilgandra Shire Council in the not too distant future.

To prevent The Dude from leaving me to tend to MultiColoured Children with Angelina Jolie, I have come up with a fucking unbelievable plan of genius: I will adopt the animals of the world, following in the footsteps of Noah, but with less boat. This way I can show the media how much I fucking love the animal (NB not in a sex way), so when The Dude reads about my Antics in The Sun, he will see what a good woman I am.

I am trying to decide which animals to adopt and so far my shortlist includes:

1. A giraffe

2. Millions of zooplankton

3. A Fast Pigeon

4. An ebola virus

5. A two-headed lamb:














I will keep you posted on The Progress.

xoxo nora

Millions of Zooplankton, People!

So today my mission was to go into the shop of horrrrrreurs to purchase some text books in aid of me totally acing my Diploma of Suicidal Inclinations (books included "How to Kill a Vermin with Another Vermin", "Cooking Tips for Copraphiliacs", "Inside John Bon Jovi Bovi", "My Cock is Bigger than an Emu, How Big is Your Vagina?" etc etc). This was all fucking good times until I went to the cash register and they demanded brutally that I give them like $195, IN MONEY.

Sure, it's exciting like a fox to be the World's Best and Most Elderly Student and that, but it does mean I have to make sacrifices. First it's cutting the throat of my firstborn son, for fucks, and now it's giving up my LONG HELD DREAM to spend that $195 on a special product that is totally close to my heart (even though it is in America, dude, how does that work?). But I have faced facts, and right now I am hardly even gouging out my own eyes about those facts, i.e. that I will never own my own Revolutionary Fishing Product: The Evening Fishing Secret!

"So Powerful It Was Banned In 2 States!"

The "Evening Secret" attracts millions of "zooplankton" like a magnet! In less than 40 minutes you will see millions of the zooplankton organisms in clumps all around your fishing spot! Can you guess what happens next?

You guessed it!

Hundreds of bait fish literally torpedo into your spot in a ravenous feeding frenzy! All of the millions of zooplankton in one spot is just impossible for them to resist! But that's not the best part...

With the hundreds of bait fish swarming your spot - feeding like mad - the game fish get extremely excited and start to move into the area to feed on the bait fish! All of the fish come to YOU!

"SUCK MY COCK, HOMEBOYS! THESE FISHES ARE EXCITED BY MY ZOOPLANKTON, FOR REALS!"

Do you see how happy this man is? (PRETTY HAPPY)

Well, dudes, I am not that happy.

xoxo nora

Do the Right Thing.

Woman lawyer commits suicide

A dejected young woman lawyer committed suicide by hanging herself at her hostel in Egmore this morning.

...

Police said the reason behind the suicide was not known immediately.

It is also suspected that love failure would have driven the woman to take the extreme step.


LOVE FAILURE MY ARSE.

Exhibit A:

"...as to the manner in which and means whereby, in a unit trust established in Australia, an oversease trust in a tax haven country might be a beneficiary and how the income derived in Australia might be distributed to such a trust so that such income was for the purposes of the Income Tax Acts interest subject only to withoding tax under s. 128B and s. 128D of the income Tax Acts."

I PUT IT TO YOU, my learned friends, that if YOU had to read that shit for a living, you too would be strapping yourself to the ceiling/battering and deep frying your tender, juicy frontal lobe/glugging down Domestos like it was sweet nectar from heaven, IN A MATTER OF MILLISECONDS. IF NOT, LIKE, SOONER THAN THAT.

xoxo nora

The best thing since wrestling.

I'm back in town. Fuck, I love Melbourne, where the air is crisp and the crocodiles are only human. I missed Melbourne like the Dolphin misses the Warthog, like the Ke misses the Bab, like 9AM with David and Kim misses The Point.

I'm crazy busy now I'm home though, preparing the house for the impending arrival of Claudie (she was meant to hang out with me in Regional Australia, but she ditched me early on for a gig performing Carpenters covers on a P&O cruise liner. Fucking bitch.), The Dude, and Monsieur Octavo who has been loitering in toilets all over Europe, visiting his relatives and trying to catch the eye of George Michael (and maybe live down the whole "leaking stately secrets to the press" incident WHICH HE STILL DENIES).

Also am "working" a bit in my Fucking Top Notch High Paid Professional "Job", and am about to embark on a Course of Studies designed Especially for the Suicidally Inclined. If I make it to September alive it will be a Miracle of the highest order and they will have to re-write not just the Holy Bible, but also the Koran, the Book of the Dead (and the not so dead), Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Women Are From Venus Men Are From Mars, Steve Waugh's Ashes Diaries, the Little Book of Poo, and so on &c., in order to capture the Total Pious Amazingness of the whole turn of events. I'm telling you it will be a Revolution in Literature (and God) served up on a plate, for your dinner. It will rock your pants, for sures.


Did I mention that FUCK I'm glad to be back in Melbourne?

xoxox nora

Bring me the Head of Elton John!

Being vegetarian is a political gesture, so it can't fail to affect your life. By becoming vegetarian you are rejecting a dominant, macho, wife-beating, throat-slitting lifestyle. Vegetarians are also often disliked because they cause so many people to do what they'd rather not do: think. Also, vegetarians, by the nature of their existence, are telling flesh-eaters that what they, the carnivores, are doing, is wrong – and nobody likes to be told this. In a basic sense, I can't bring myself to sit at any table where flesh is served or eaten – unless, of course, it's human flesh. - Morrissey

(read further rants here)


xoxox nora

Excuse me, waiter, I have eaten your children. Could I please see the dessert menu?

mister nora's department of defence
quarterly round up:

war on cigarettes - winning

war on alcohol - losing (very losing)

war on Larry Emdur - losing

war on lard - losing

war on capri pants - winning

war on the Maldives - losing

war on Sigrid Thornton - winning

war on Jessica Simpson - winning

war on underpants - losing

war on fruit - winning

war on electricity - losing

war on Easy Off Bam! - winning

war on teeth - losing

war on a stick - winning (a lot)

war on carpet call - marginal

war on hairdressers - winning

war on sloth - losing

war on style - winning

war on warren - ha ha

war on squirrels - negotiating a truce

war on pecans - winning

war on war - losing


Please dial # after the tone.

xoxo nora

Because the spider is complaining...

Googlism Poetry #3

monsieur is basically a fancy name for grilled ham and cheese monsieur is one ill cut as well monsieur is a belgian arms trafficker monsieur is thinking of a blacksmith monsieur is made of sandwich bread monsieur is committed to your health and wellbeing monsieur is so mystified monsieur is about to be married; his nuptials must be magnificent monsieur is short on temper and patience and exhibits a violent contempt for anything that is other than gallic monsieur is an unknown entity monsieur is in prison monsieur is well acquainted with england monsieur is a refined masculine fragrance monsieur is a poignant tale of love in adversity monsieur is a nice quick snack for hungry ones monsieur is sitting on his own now monsieur is tökéletesen tisztában monsieur is the abyss monsieur is our university president monsieur is sick and the house is thrown into chaos monsieur is a fresh and citrus composition based on amber and musk which symbolizes classic elegance monsieur is bald monsieur is dreadful; but monsieur is satisfied.

xoxo nora

Lullaby

We've only just begun to live,

White lace and promises

A kiss for luck and we're on our way.

We've just begun.

Before the rising sun we fly,

So many roads to choose

We start out walking and learn to run.

And yes,

We've just begun.

Sharing horizons that are new to us,

Watching the signs along the way,

Talking it over just the two of us,

Working together day to day

Together.

And when the evening comes we smile,

So much of life ahead

We'll find a place where there's room to grow,

And yes,

We've just begun.

xoxox nora

PS The first thing I thought when seeing this picture was: "My word, Mrs H, I do like your frock."

Does this mean:
a) I am crazy like a fox
b) I am in denial like a horse (who believes its paintings resemble those of Jackson Pollack)
c) I am deceitful like a bourgeois antfarmer
d) Mrs H's frock IS ACTUALLY QUITE NICE

I feel confused and guilty, almost like that time I laughed when someone said:
Why did the lebo cross the road?
To bash the fucken chicken.

There should be a helpline for this sort of shit.

Fuck.

Today's Front Page Story in the Local Paper:

Check my Masterpieces, Dudes, I'm a Motherfucken Artiste!


Here's a sample of Rumba's artwork.

That's all.

xoxo nora

Googlism Poetry

Googlism poetry #1

nora is his little lark nora is dissipating nora is three years old nora is left to worry about practical matters nora is a failure and not even a heroic one nora is a personal vision of what a restaurant should be nora is no longer a hurricane nora is also a mixed performance nora is a grand character and fully believable nora is already on her way from florida nora is a dangerous role model nora is a prototype for these kinds of initiatives nora is alive nora is hamstrung by contradictions that mitigate against an unqualified success nora is filled with trepidation at louisa’s strange decision to convert to judaism and live in a country whose scars are still too fresh nora is torvald's little doll nora is horrified by mary’s burning of protestant heretics nora is an 0 nora is the type of person that has been in the kitchen for too long nora is not a place to go for dinner nora is nora is still reeling from the revelation that nemesis lindsay was the one who tampered with bo's fertility test results at the end of 1998 nora is forced to see herself through nora is located near the center of nuckolls county nora is frightful and tries to explain that she can try and try and try but she doesn't have any say over the matter nora is the largest longitudinal research database of osteoporosis risk factors in postmenopausal women ever created nora is again contacted by sancho panza nora is forced to forge nora is in jim and laurie's backyard nora is finding a motive.


Googlism poetry #2

the dude is still riding the dude is back oh yeah and so is dude the dude is a normal iguana the dude is being forced into the bathroom before having his head shoved into the toilet the dude is above all the dude is the one on the court when day to day responsibilities yell "i just don't have time" the dude is your best friend the dude is repeatedly knocked unconscious the dude is stoned that doesn't mean he's stupid the dude is not in the dude is dead already the dude is nonplussed the dude is a somewhat bizarre character the dude is all about comfort the dude is into this so much that i even used my real email the dude is the all knowing lover of all music that doesn't make me vomit all over my computer the dude is history embodied the dude is zen the dude is the last true irish lad in the family the dude is believed to date from the earliest days of the society the dude is an ignorantly eccentric man of few morals the dude is nodding excitedly the dude is like "didn't you see the news?? ahhhh the dude is modified for tightness the dude is an ultra rare truck made by dodge in 1970 & 1971 only the dude is a metaphor for the american dream gone bad the dude is not taken into account the dude is made from a recycled fibre tube which is frost proofed in a terracotta grit the dude is recalled to the mansion the dude is the dude.


xoxo nora