Category: Whingegasm
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Thought Vomit #134: ft. The Milibandwagon
David Miliband’s decision to step down from “front-line” politics says nothing about his relationship with his brother, nor about their political differences. But it does speak volumes about the state of political journalism. That one of the best minds in modern politics feels he cannot be part of a much needed and effective opposition, simply…
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Thought Vomit #116: ft. 12 Daysh Of Chrishmush
I’m getting quite militant in my anti-alcohol stance, and it’s not helped by the time of the year. Perfectly nice get-togethers are going to be plagued with Sloshologues and Slurrysations. You know the thing; a half-baked ill-informed observation is bandied about by someone who can barely talk in a coherent manner, while people of equal…
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Thought Vomit #105: ft. Phone Humping
I’m pretty sure someone just phoned me by accident. My mobile is plugged into the wall, and cannot be moved more than a metre from where it sits, thus negating its entire purpose. This, combined with the fact that the electronic noises that emanate from it drive my eyeballs insane, and I have to have…
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Thought Vomit #94: ft. My Dad
I’ve been doing something all day that I realised my Dad would never do. I keep darting looks at my phone, convinced that I can hear it vibrating. He would also never stop in the middle of a supermarket and dive into his pocket wondering if his phone was buzzing. For some reason he’s never…
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Thought Vomit #93: ft. Being Mooned
For some people, their birthday is an annual marker of how time is passing them by. For some it’s the New Year and the promise of broken resolutions. But for me, there’s a more robust indicator; the moon. It’s a constant reminder in the sky that I’m never going to be an astronaut. So I…
