Tuesday, 27 January 2004

Going out for a Kentucky

Owing to the fact that I foolishly declared that shopping could wait another day my fridge currently consists entirely of half a tub of butter and a thing of cream one day from going off (and not in the "FULLY SICK" sense) I suddenly became aware of the urgent need to eat something - anything - before I started having visions of my television as a sandwich.

Highlights of my fifteen minute trip were
* Seeing the world's ugliest prostitute actually picking up. Clearly she had the advantage of standing on a dark corner but you still wouldn't even if it was free.
* Buying pieces of rubbery chicken from the world's greatest fast food restuarant "Hungry Time" - which in an indication of the glamourous reputation it's starting to achieve thanks to my endorsement is currently employing an absolute STUNNER as it's Chicken Technician. Aoorgah!
* A dero on Fitzroy Street start to ask me for money but give up and change to somebody else far more sympathetic looking halfway through.
* Hearing a carload of pissed yokels driving past a nightclub and yelling "Hey ladies. Show us your tits!" in the most hopeful request in the history of western civilisation.
* Having a different carload of pissed yokels scream "Faggot!" at me as I walked back up the street stuffing my face with said chicken. I wouldn't think too many Male hookers would go around wearing a Wests Tigers jersey whilst stuffing their face with fast food and expect to turn even the smallest profit but what would I know?
* Seeing the worst bumper sticker in the world. "Einstein Was Born At Home!" So what? Doesn't mean that if you have your child at home he/she isn't going to turn out to be a whinging little goth who tries to overdose on the deadly combination of Panadol and Diet Coke when they're not allowed to go the Big Day Out. Stupid people.

Then it was over. Another classy night in the heart of the sleaze district. I love it.

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