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Bent My Wookie
Bland Canyon
Face Hunter
Fruit Loops and Porn
Gay Sky Hooker
Go Fug Yourself
Inhibitory Links
Intergalactic Hussy
John Howard: PM
Ms Hairy Legs
Much Ado About Sumthin
Momo Freaks Out
Not a Turtle
Queer Penguin
Sheets and Blankets
Style Police
The Fash Mag Slag
The Line of Contempt
The Pen15 Club
The Spin Starts Here
The Superficial
Treading Water 101
Victim of Narcissism


Black People Love Us
Elijah Wood is Very, Very Gay
Sexy Losers
Sin Fest
Television Without Pity
Tomato Nation
Three Way Action
White Ninja Comics




Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Shut up, Michael Caton. Everybody knows you haven't had an original idea or role since The Castle (although I must be the only Australian to find this film to be the most idiotic, embarrassing, lame movie to come out of our cultural abyss). To be sassed by Rob Schneider is such a burn. It's like being outrun by a 'tard, or realising that Studly McSixpack isn't impressed with you, but rather favours your less gifted, uglier friend who just has nicer eyelashes and might be just a fraction taller than you but it shouldn't matter because you are the hotter person and can totally be better company both sexually and intellectually and I'm getting slightly off-track. Ahem. And anyway, Caton, you totally stole the idea of Strange Bedfellows from that French film Le Placard, so don't start acting all high and mighty now. Nobody wants to picture you and Paul Hogan as "strange bedfellows", as that mental image rapidly leads to pondering which of you two, saggy white-chest-haired old men would be the bottom. You'd probably both just rub bums, occasionally soliciting help from a mammoth double-ended dildo.

But that's beside the point.

Just shut up, and go back to Hot Property. Actually, why don't you help John Wood advertise those retirement homes? His dignity sure does need the help.