The Day Taylor Hanson Finally Got To Meet Me
Hi Marion. Dad says “down with Bruce, Hanson forever”.
Taylor Hanson touching me |
A very flattering photo of me in a Hanson sandwich |
The Four Reasons Bogans Are Happier Than You Are
Let's Talk About Sex, Baby.
- Racism is a thing
- Sometimes slave owners raped their female slaves to produce baby slaves. This was done with the aid of a clever raping contraption – a board with shackles nailed to it for holding lady slaves in place
- Lynching is the practice by which black people were dragged through the town naked, beaten and then killed – then, quite often, hung from trees. All to the glee of the white town folk
- Scary shit as per the above makes baby Maz feel not very good inside
The Things Nick Says To Me: Part 5
On his confusion at the "selfie" craze.
Nick: The only time I take a photo of myself is when I'm checking to see if I have boogers.
Maz Reviews Bruce Springsteen's Ass
Figure 1: My Dad's enthusiastic response to the news I had acquired sold-out Bruce Springsteen tickets for both he and my Mum |
Truth From Strangers Is Fiction
The Things Nick Says To Me: Part 4
Nick: People wrote all over their pencil cases, it was the thing to do. Once you'd put your name in the little plastic slot, you'd write your favourite bands all over your pencil case. I wrote Brad Collins on mine.
Twenty Thirpeen: The Year of the Dickhead
Scents and Sensibilities
I often think about how naïve and young I was when I left home. I would go for days without eating anything other than mushroom cup-a-soups (which I kept on my bedside table with a kettle beside my bed to make without having to get up). I can’t think of a single time I washed my sheets, only having had a dryer and no washing machine. And I’m pretty sure that once I left macaroni cheese in the sink for about three months.
There is one incident however, that I think truly illustrates how NOT ready I was to have moved out of home. My street smarts were obviously lacking, which became alarmingly apparent one mid-summer’s afternoon.
I lived with a friend of mine – a boy – who was the same age, although he had lived overseas and out of home for a long time, so was much worldlier than I was. One day, I was brushing my teeth when I noticed this smooth, shiny crystal lying on the bathroom sink. I spat out my toothpaste and picked up the short, stubby stone. It was heavy and cool but I couldn’t figure out what it was, so I lifted it to my face and smelt it. It had no odour; still I was perplexed as to what it was. Having run through all the senses I had at my disposal; it smelt of nothing, looked and felt like nothing in particular and sure as hell didn’t SOUND like anything, I figured the only logical course of action was to lick it. Seven years later, I still consider this one of the least sensible decisions I’ve ever made – It was tingly on my tongue and slightly acrid.
Cue my roommate coming in and asking me what I was doing licking his crystal deodorant. (This is actually a thing, in case you don’t believe me see proof here)
Apparently that’s a thing. I’ve kept my tongue to myself ever since. Practically licking your friend’s armpit will have that effect on you.