Me Lose Brain? Uh oh!

2002-09-27 at 5:18 p.m.

Mr Bunnsy's Manly Jam and Chicken Rissoles

One day, when he was naughty, Mr Bunnsy looked over the hedge into Farmer Fred�s field and it was full of fresh green lettuces. Mr Bunnsy, however, was not full of lettuces. This did not seem fair.

- From Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure

Today, while sitting in the caf�, one of my friends made a comment on how unhealthy the eucalyptus drops (eucalyptus flavoured lollies, or for you Americans, candies) were. �There�s 85 grams of pure sugar in them!� he said. �Would you want to eat 85 grams of sugar?�

�Oh, come on!� said another friend. �What do you think jam is made of, then? Jam?�

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Chicken Bloody Rissoles.

I have been eating almost nothing but chicken rissoles for a few days now. For those of you (mainly the non-Aussies who read this thing, or to put it another way, no one) who don�t know what a rissole is, a rissole is a big hunk �o minced meat mixed up with flour, shaved carrot, bread, offal, cat entrails, butcher�s fingers, and anything else that happens to be on hand, and made into large balls. These are then grilled or fried. Now that�s good eating! In this case, �Chicken� rissoles is perhaps a rather misleading term, considering how much chicken they actually contain (ie not freakin� much). I found a nice bulk pack of them on special this week when doing my grocery shopping, and ever since then, I�ve been eating them in every possible way and combination- chicken rissole sandwiches, chicken rissoles with rice and soy sauce, chicken rissole pasta, Chicken Rissole A L�Orange, chicken rissole with chicken rissole, and so on. Thankfully, I finished the last of them the other night. Now to start on the bulk pack of sausages�

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I think I was a man in a past life.

I was talking to several of my friends in the caf� today (an all too common experience) and one of them mentioned that she had to go to a lesson that she was unprepared for. �Time to turn on the waterworks� she said. �That always gets me out of it�.

I, on the other hand, am completely unable to use my �feminine weaknesses� to weasel out of anything, which got me thinking, �maybe I really was a man in a past life. I have a lot in common with them, after all.� Thankfully, a penis is not one of those things, but there are enough other things to get me wondering. Read the following, and then decide for yourself.

Was Michelle A Man In A Past Life?

Case For

-As previously mentioned, unable to use �feminine weakness� to get away with anything. I can�t spontaneously cry, my �wounded puppy-dog face� is nonexistent, and I am totally unable to look sweet and demure without puking.

-High heels. I just can�t wear �em.

-Dresses. Again, not a garment I feel particularly comfortable in, unless a) the dress is ankle length, or b) the dress is worn over pants. I tend to sit with my legs wide open, which results in some unfortunate views for all concerned when I wear a short dress.

-I drink milk directly from the carton.

-I can pound a beer with the best of �em.

-I tend to scratch in public.

-I am unable to use my cleavage, ample as it is, to get me out of anything.

-I�ve never been able to do alluring glances. Every time I bat my eyes seductively at someone, they always say �Got something in your eye there, Michelle?�

-I believe that Meg Ryan movies are the root of all evil.

-I refuse to carry a purse.

Case Against

-Sport. I just don�t get it.

So, what do you think?

Coming soon- in conjunction with Michelle�s Lounge, I present for your enjoyment- a review of the book I believe to be the literary equivalent of syphilis! Warning- may contain graphic depictions of kittens.

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