Zoefruitcake sent me this picture of a blue bag in a tree.
The answer to yesterdays conundrum was
I found the cottage cheese in the fresh meat section. Because, yes, that is the first place you would think of looking for cottage cheese. I am obviously stupid. I will go and kill myself right away.
Its another one of those days where things don’t go as planned. I had intended on swatting up for my exam but people and things just get in the way. Which means that as I had planned a whole day swatting I will now be spending a whole half day swatting instead.
I’ve lost half a day. Damn me and my procrastination. Though I have managed to listen to the whole of Portishead’s Third album about 6 times and, further to this, managed to learn about Gauntlet, Chomsky and Adorno. None of whom will probably come up on the exam. I hate exams.
Does Gauntlett’s (1998) article about media effects mean there is no point in looking at them? Discuss
Bras eh? Mrs Gnomepants tells me she has her eyes on a sports bra to assist in her current “keep fit by doing Billy Blanks Tai Bo DVD’s” regime. Indeed, not being a completely ignorant male, I am aware that these garments cost a fair whack. What I don’t understand is why.
Undies right, I can buy a box of 5 undies for about a fiver (That’s approximately $10 in plastic money). I can make them last a good year if not longer, even by wearing a clean pair every day. Hell the pair I had on yesterday cost me about £3 in 2003. They’re still going strong and are not even threadbare. Bras, on the other hand, seem to cost an extortionate price of at least £30. Now I might be wrong, I don’t buy bras, not for myself anyway, so I’m not familiar with the pricing structure other than what has been related to me via the wife. But £30!?
So one would hope that a thirty quid tit hammock would last a goodly while, it must be made of something like Dodo fur or dragon heart string or something. Pah! How wrong! It seems that Mrs G must have bra decomposing boobies or something because I can guarantee that within a couple of months the cry of “O woe! My bra! It’s fux0r3d” fills my ears. So how come boob baskets seem to cost so bloody much? Surely this is the biggest con since razors for girls (no fucking difference to standard skin scrapers which cost us men a quid for 20). Is this some great mammary conspiracy?
Like toothpaste actually making your teeth worse to keep dentists employed; computer viruses being written by Symantec so that they can sell Anti-virus; Are bras designed to break to perpetuate the bosom support industry? Or am I just seeing patterns where there are none in order to sneak a post about tits into the blogosphere melting pot?
One for Mr Holmes, formerly of 221b Baker Street, me thinks.
Yaztromo the wizard of the Forest of Doom comes out of the screen and turns you into a basilisk for being an unbeliever.
Roll 2 dice. Accept this number of beatings from your big brother for pinching the dice from his Monopoly board game box.