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Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Has anyone been watching Torvill and Dean's Dancing on Ice? Hello? Hello?

*crickets chirping*

Not that I watch it either, really, but I every now and then I catch a few moments. Okay, sometimes I watch it with my mother, but only because she's addicted to bad reality television. Like, making me go to a Lee Harding concert, etc.? Ugh. But yes. I have watched it with enough regularity (yes, it's a word) to notice a disturbing trend: why is it that whenever a male celebrity is interviewed, they always make some lame joke regarding their masculinity? This is especially regarding the likes of Karl Stefanovic and Jules Lund. My God, get over it already! Like, we all know you are in a skating compeition. A skating competition that you voluntarily signed up to help beef out your dying careers. Your audience is aware that skating frequently requires flamboyant costumes and sparkles. But you are dancing with women, and no one really cares, so stop referring to how unmanly you are, or how you're such a fag for doing this show. And anyway, if I were to apologise for being feminine, I would start with your blond highlights and overplucked eyebrows, JULES. And for that matter, what sort of manly name is "Jules", anyway? Ugh.

But speaking of masculine: I changed a tyre! And not just a piddly little tyre on a sedan. But I was driving my dad's 4WD on the M1, and one of the tyres burst. Not just a little deflation mind you, but a full on explosion! It even ripped off part of the bumper! Anyhoo, I had to pull off at Logan and change it. My God, I'm so manly. I didn't even have any problems unwinding those... metal things. Bolts? That hide behind the hubcap? Anyway, I noticed no one stopped to help me though, hmmph. I had a brief fantasy that a hot young rich dude would pull up in like, a Porche, and would sweep me back to the city in safety and luxury. But no. But anyway, I had fun. I didn't even call RACQ! God, I'm so, like, butch now. Working out my muscles on the wheels really inspired me, and I've decided to join a gym. Like, seriously this time! I even bought my gym outfit, so you know I'm super determined.

But just between you and me: with all my bravado, I'm quite glad that I didn't go spinning out towards my death, sandwiched between a semi-trailer and a Naughty But Nice.