Controversial Post

This is gonna be a bit controversial, but what the hell.. you women have had your own way on this blog for the last few days..

You are sitting watching football, minding your own business, beer in hand.
You wife/girlfriend comes out of the kitchen, moans at you and goes back in. Ten minutes later she comes out again, has another moan and returns to the kitchen. Throughout the game this happens about 5 times.

What have you done wrong?


Continue reading

Hello, Tasha!

[Time-warp edit: Original link no longer available]

OK, the observant ones among you might have noticed that I didn’t write that last post.

I’m gonna be going away for a few days at the end of the week, and Tasha (from not so girlie) has kindly offered to come dust and clean the site in my absense.

She’s told me that she is going to share with you four short but very funny stories about her and a variety of garden tools, a satyrical piece about the current global economical crises, and a transcript of her first job interview for an editorial posting with the magazine ‘Gardening Tools Monthly’.

Hope you are looking forward to it as much as I am.

Welcome aboard Tasha.

Women’s Three Rules

For all the guys who, like me, just can’t work women out, here’s a handy guide in the form of just two rules:

Rule 1 : The woman is always right.
Rule 2 : On the very rare occasion that the woman happens to be wrong, please read Rule 1.

Follow these and you shouldn’t go too far wrong.

And she’ll love ya’ for it.

Experiments In Human Cloning?

I was going to arrange a press release for the following news, but felt that after the fiasco that ensued when the Raelians came out with the news that they had cloned the first human, I thought I’d keep it low-key.

About a year ago I set off into the field of stem sell research. My research didn’t last too long however, when it was pointed out to me that nobody actually wanted to buy flowers that had had their heads and leaves removed (if you gotta think about that one, move on..).

Continue reading