Question without notice
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.
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.
posted by haywire at 23:56
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