Everywhere I go, I see a nude Miley Cyrus. Not that I’m searching for such images. She seems to pop out of every screen I get near.
We have had some of our most enjoyable days on the first Tuesday in November. The laughs never end. And yes, cool drinks are had.
Why was this performance so special? Remember, I’ve been watching them jump and twirl since they came up to my knee.
We didn’t get it. Why would a young bloke leave a pub full of cool drinks, to play with fire trucks and big hoses?
It’s called Surfers Paradise. Officially, the greatest traffic bunfight in the history of motorised vehicles.
Growing up, the view from my window was an outside dunny. And the orange tree, of course.
When she arrived in this world, it was with a quiet cry. Nothing like the ear-splitting scream her big sister let out a few years earlier.
My recent piece on being unable to get a decent sleep, hit a weary, eye-drooping nerve.
I was a kid, with little idea about anything. Somehow, they still befriended me.
There are those out there willing to take advantage of the innocent. Tech-savvy types, ready to make fun of the unaware. They’re called daughters.
I’m on a mission for blokes to drop their daks. I want to hear the clang of belt buckles on the floor.