What the hell happened to Hotdogs from The Uplate Game Show (with Hotdogs)? They've dropped the (with Hotdogs) from the logo and now there is some new nobody hosting it. I don't miss Hotdogs (HELLY NO!), but if something terribly embarrassing has happened to the former Big Brother housemate then I think I should know about it.
While we're on housemates, I spotted one named Melanie sitting next to a footballer at the Brownlow tonight. I really only mentioned that because it was a nice way to seg to my next topic: the Brownlow.
Tonight I found a new way to fail. Last week I optimistically entered a comp at work. You had to pick the best player from each club and the top three across each the AFL. Naively (yes, I'll admit that) I thought that not knowing anything about football would help. I did some research on Friday morning and compiled what I thought would be a kick arse list... WRONG. I came last out of 20 people... and not a respectable last either. Hell no. I am last by a margin of, oh, a good 30 points. Man, if I cared about football and would so T O'd.
Well, it's my uncle's funeral tomorrow so I better get some rest. He died on Friday morning and I'm feeling pretty bad about not feeling bad. I didn't really know him - and what little I did know, I didn't like. I'm hoping tomorrow I'll hear some things about him that change my mind a little. God knows death is great for your PR. You can be a real (avert your eyes Nanna) cunt while you're living and still be one of the NICEST PEOPLE JUST ABOUT EVER once you're in a box. Of course, there were people who loved my uncle (my aunt, for one) so he can't have been all bad.
I never really lost anyone I've been close to, so I'm dreading the day. Anyway - this turned into a longer post than planned.
WAR OUT, SISTA.