Thoughts About War.

So today I had lunch with some relatives of The Dude, apparently two of them spawned him at one point. They were pretty chill, obviously they are totally stoked about me and The Dude being drinking buddies and common law wives.

(At least, they are stoked to our faces, it's possible that after we leave they throw eachother appalled glances and cry out "What IS he DOING with that DREADFUL WOMAN?", but whatevs, while I'm there they're all like "mister nora you fucking rock," and I'm all like "Shucks, you guys, you almost make me wish I had parents of my own," and they're all like "We'll adopt you, babycakes" and I'm all like "that's such a fucking awesome idea, except, like, when me and The Dude bang it will be against nature" and they're all like "..." and then I'm like "anyway to be honest I have already agreed to be adopted by Bert and Patty Newton," and then things are awkward for a while but eventually we all have a martini and like, everything is sweet.)

(I love how you can make things italic; did Italians invent that? If so, where can I book tickets to Boldy? Because I also love how you can make things bold, I never get to be so fucking bold in my actual life...although I do like to say "that's a bold claim" in an arch tone of voice to people who say things like "Sanda Sully is so yesterday's news(reader)" or "man, did I ever tell you how much I love goats". From now on I am going to add "that's an italic claim" to my list of pat responses to comments to which I would otherwise have no response.)

Anyway, the point was, at lunch today there was a Lady who lives in India, who has 598 servants or some shit, she was regaling us with tales of how terribly annoying it is when the cook arrives at 7am and then thinks they can leave by 4pm ["It means I have to cook the dinner and it is a terrible burden, you know, because I just don't like to cook"]. At one point I think she actually said "Oh yes, yes, it's awfully hard to get good help these days, very difficult to find someone who is going to work around the clock and not ask too much of us."

So, basically what I'm getting at is that I think me and The Dude need to hire some servants to do things like watch Neighbours for me when I can't make it home by 6.30pm and maybe go to parties for me when I don't feel up to mixing with Other People and also endure hangovers for me when I've had ten too many beams and cokes. It should be wayyyy easier to get good help nowadays since those new IR laws came in...so long as we only get 99 employees/luft baloons, we are fucking set.

See, right now it would be good if I had a servant to go to bed for me. But as it is, I'LL JUST HAVE TO DO IT MYSELF.

xoxo nora

pablo picasso was never called an asshole

Be honest with me, now.
Should I throw it all in to pursue a career in the arts?














xoxo nora

Giraffe v Fox

VS












I LOVE YOU BOTH, FOXY AND 'RAFFY. I LOVE YOU BOTH THE SAME.

xoxo nora

Are you there, God? It's me, nora.

Mr Jesus Christ
Son, Christianity Pty Ltd
Heaven, Mystical Universe, 2006


Dear Mr Christ,

Once in a lifetime business opportunity!

Today is your lucky day! Because today, mister nora enterprises (mne) invites you, in your capacity as the representative of one of the world’s leading deities, to participate in a unique investment opportunity open to a very select group of spiritual beings.

mister nora enterprises is a respected local company which has been meeting the needs of Victorian consumers for over 27 years. To adjust to growing demand for our services, mne is currently reorganising its corporate structure and as a result, we are now offering a very limited investor group the opportunity to become involved in our expanding business.

The process? Auction by tender.

The participants? Yourself, Satan, Buddha, Krishna (et al), Allah, Tom Cruise.

The prize? MISTER NORA’S MORTAL SOUL!

This never-before-seen opportunity is a once in a lifetime event. You could be the major shareholder in one of the most talked about mortal souls in the greater Darebin area. Just in the last four months, ever since the first rumours of this upcoming takeover opportunity set tongues wagging in switched-on churches, mosques and latrines across town, we’ve had positive reviews from most major daily publications, a number of trade journals, and assorted radio commentators from Victoria and beyond.

Here’s just a small taste of what people have being saying about mister nora’s mortal soul:

Business Review Weekly: “mister nora’s mortal soul might seem at first glance to be merely one more fetid reminder of all that’s wrong with humanity, but with recent moves to cleanse and gentrify, our analysts say that this hot property is sure to increase in value over the coming six months.”*

Financial Review: “Yo, What Up Bitch?”

Alan Jones: “…mister nora’s soul has recently been subject to some scathing attacks by the so-called ‘intelligensia’, the so-called ‘elite’, those ABC, SBS, ACRONYM bludgers living off our tax dollars and growing hair from their eyeballs, those lefty creeps who wouldn’t know their arses from their asses… well, today I just want to say, don’t believe the haters, people. Don’t believe the haters. Also, what’s with them towel heads?”

So, Mr Christ, what are you waiting for? To take part in this unbelievable opportunity to acquire one of the most sought after souls since the last apocalypse, simply state in 100 words or less why your deity deserves the rights to mister nora’s soul and what you are prepared to offer mne in return for said property. Your tender must be received by mne by close of business on 6 August 2006. The successful applicant will be announced shortly afterwards.**

Further queries regarding the selection process should be directed towards mister nora personally on the email address supplied. We wish you all the best in preparing your application, and look forward to hearing from you over the coming week.

Kind Regards,

mister nora
CEO, mister nora enterprises

* Increase in value not guaranteed.

**the successful applicant will be required to sign a form confirming that they agree to accept mister nora’s soul in its current condition, including all rust, tearing, wind damage and tendency to commit deadly sins. Applicant accepts risk of future sins.

When you've seen how big the world is, how can you make do with this?

I know I get a bit tiresome what with the career crisis x 21309123 shit I go on with, but if only there were a job which involved sitting in a bar drinking martinis and shooting the shit 9(pm) – 5(am)>I would be hired straight off for sure; my resume is so fucking suited to such a profession.

And why do position descriptions never come up with such shit as “1. Staying up late watching Big Brother; 2. Calling in sick; 3. Drinking wine from a cask; 4. Pretending employee has serious plans to write a novel; 5. Wishing employee were dead.” I could totally pull that shit off if I put my slushy little brain to work. (HELLO, slushy brain, WHY DON’T YOU DO SOMETHING WORTHWHILE FOR A CHANGE).

I need help.

MISTER NORA CRIES FOR HELP MULTIPLE CHOICE QUIZ!

(a) HELP!

(b) Dear psychiatrists/astrologers/Courtney Love:

I was wondering yesterday why I have spent like totally 6 million years working like a super ambitious fox wasting the best years of my life to get qualified for a job I have always known I would never do. PLEASE EXPLAIN.

Also, I am now 5 weeks off getting said unwanted qualification and am kind of thinking of “dropping out of degree” for the THIRD TIME (gun me down, blow me up, melt me, whatever, I am the terminator of law school and I’ll always be back), HOW ROCK AND ROLL WOULD THAT BE? (“not very” – Courtney Love).

(c) Hello, bonjour, yo wassup bitch, etc, How are you? Incidentally could you please direct me to the nearest bath full of gin. Kthnxbye.


Do you select (a) (b) (c) or “mister nora would you please just leave us the fuck alone.”

xxo nora

I've fallen in love, I've fallen in love for the first time...

As anyone who's seen me drink the dregs from someone else's tinny of Fosters will attest, I'm something of a gutterslut when it comes to alcohol.

Last week, however, something happened which maybe, maybe has finally cracked my hardened, whoring heart.






Hello there, you handsome devil.






Martinis from Ginger. This time I know it's for real.

xoxo nora

If I had my way...

Matthew McConaughey would be kidnapped by a fan who would express their undying love for him by sawing his testicles off with a small cheese knife and then sewing them into his eye sockets. After kissing him passionately, the fan would then sigh and murmur "if you love someone, Frederick, you must set them free", and proceed to let Matthew loose in a deserted area of Albania so that he could stumble around blind and bleeding until he tripped into a sewer full of cantankerous wasps. He would survive their vicious stings for weeks and think himself saved by a passing Albanian farmer, only to die moments later of sudden infant death syndrome.







Jessica Alba would be thrown into the depths of depression after boyfriend Cash Warren admits cheating on her with Queen Latifah. Little Jess turns to beer and meat pies for comfort, stacking on 293kg within 3-6 weeks, and in the midst of her wobbly grief she forms a strong friendship with Britney Spears and K-Fed which involves wild nights of drunken pingpong and regrettable group sex leaving them each feeling sore and vaguely embarrassed in the morning. Jess then turns to God and briefly finds fame as an evangelical preacher on an obscure and soon-to-be-bankrupt cable network, before she is convicted of fraud, embezzlement, and gross indecency in a public place and subsequently imprisoned for 16 years in a low security Florida jail.

Due to the threat of international terrorism, government rationing leaves Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman deprived of all mirrors, dental floss and hair products for an indefinite period or until the coming of the great apocalypse. Intensifying their woes, in the same week both Who Weekly and New Idea feature front page photos of the pair with captions including “Stars with Cellulite!” “Hollywood’s Faux Marriages Exposed!” and “Aussies? Like, sooooo three seasons ago”. They spend the next 4 years doing bi-annual interviews on Rove Live where they swear their love for eachother is true, then fade away into obscurity until in 2019 they again make the news when Nicole is charged with slaughtering and eating Keith in the manner of a German cannibal.

That's all for now.

xoxo nora

workin hard to make a living

mister nora's not dead, she's just partying like it's 1999...

...that is, like it's 1999 and she's got a major credit card debt and 2 low paying jobs and a thesis to write and like, 10 million job interviews requiring dress-ups in suits and poorly feigned interest in writing briefing papers and making life easier for The Man. And if her brain was called "New Orleans" this cold she's packing would be widely referred to as "Hurricane Kitty Kat Katrina", like there is quite a lot of flooding in the streets and looting in the supermarkets if you know what I'm getting at, and tonight she's suppose to go watch flamenco (FLAMENCO!) but she were up til 3am last night and really mister nora would rather a nice quiet night spent dead under a bridge. But like the bible says, man, you can't always get what you wa-a-ant.

But I still love the blog, oh yes. Will get on with it. Any time now.

xoxo nora

Machines of Love

Is there anything nicer than a big motherfucking crane?

OF COURSE NOT!

(“Not even a tractor?”)

(No, not even a tractor. I think you’ll find the CORRECT answer is that NOTHING, I SAID NOTHING, IS NICER THAN A BIG MOTHERFUCKING CRANE.)

If I could live in a crane, that would be like the most awesomest thing ever. I would have a hammock, and a hard hat, and a fluorescent vest, and a packed lunch, and a thermos full of hot coffee.

LIFE WOULD BE SO FUCKING SWEET.


But you know I’ve made some enquiries and “The Man” has totally put the hex on my whole crane-house fantasy, citing “miscellaneous bylaws and regulations” and “occupational health and safety concerns”.

“DOWN WITH THE MAN!”


Sometimes I find life too disappointing for words.

xoxo nora