On April

Oh, hi there!

 

 

pic: Sartorialist.

 

Geeceeeyyyyyyy

i mith you

On Addiction

Don't be deceived by its sugary pink beauty
The addiction is not so pretty.

On Progression

From wake-up to wind-down.
The characters we play throughout the day.

On Little Rascals

Dear Darla
I hate your stinkin' guts.
You make me vomit.
You're scum between my toes.
Love, Alfalfa


p.s - do we still owe Sid money for the late return of this movie?

On Beti

Ever since i started calling my friend Shawn 'Beti',
he's been much more in touch with his feminine side

On Spot The Difference

This little rascal casually walked straight into my photo of this buggy, stopped, looked at me, giggled, and walked away. 

On Hovering

Where: Haifa city

What: Random lone hovering cloud

Why: Looks fake but isnt

How: Camera phone

On Delinquency

is not a crime

Jak and Jil

On Le Spoof

Bond calmly drank the remaining droplets in his martini and stood up to leave the table. 7 hours of intense scrabble would have left most men weary in mind and body but Bond was as alert as ever, quietly savoring the moment. The murmurs of the crowd had softened from the climatic moment when Bond, with a quiet confidence that masked his inner relief at having bested the master at his game, laid out his winning effort – Lymphadenopathy. As he made his way to the massive oak doors, he was keenly aware of the fact that he had reduced the assembled crowd, made up of some of the most powerful men in the world, to doe-eyed acolytes. Their women, though able to have anything – or anyone – at a snap of their smooth, silk-covered fingers, stared at him with a collective lust that made the air of the cooled room grow thick with desire. Bond acknowledged none of this as he made his way towards Baroness von Boonentrap. He had done his duty tonight, and she would be his prize.

Suddenly, a bony grip seized Bond’s bicep. He turned, finding himself facing the diminutive figure of Maximillian de la Douche. “Congratulations, Mr. Bond,” said de la Douche, every syllable bearing a tension between aristocratic refinement and a suppressed wrath at having lost in one game what some countries generate in a year. “Perhaps you will do me the honor of a rematch at my home club in Alpenplacen,” extending between his blue fingers a calling card letterpressed on the finest stock in a dark regal shade. At once, Bond knew this was his man. Evil only knows Helvetica.

By Naysan R.

On 1. Day. Left.

HAP

PY

NE

W

YE

ARS

E

V

E

!!!!!!

pic: the selby

Dear Ivy League Grad School Admittees,

CONGRATU-fhgkjdhg-LATIONS. 

Love, 

Nazy

pic: Paul Paper

On Friend

Ok jokes over, come back to work now. Pat needs you.  

On This Photo Is False Advertising Cos I Found It On Google Image, But...

Tonight, i created the perfect gluten and sugar-free banana bread. (Yes, im one of those, Chucas). I have become obsessed with mastering the art of baking the perfect banana bread in the healthiest form possible, and i finally got it. This is how its done:

2 large ripe bananas

2 eggs

2 cups gluten-free flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 cup crushed walnuts

Some completely random quantity of flax seed, courtesy of health freak housemate Sheila

1/2 cup of water

3/4 cup honey

Mush, mix, beat, and stir all ingredients into a slimey glob of raw goodness, pour into a loaf-shaped dish and chuck in pre-heated oven. Bake til cooked. ie not raw. ie golden on top.

Serve to Vaf, Nays, Sheila, and virtually via Skype to Sabrina and Sean whilst still piping hot, with cold butter and a glass of milk. 

Voila.

Bedtime. 

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

On Days Creeping By

Guess it's time for a walk
Just to read some license plates
What is autumn doing creeping up on me
Going on the tube to scream when the train arrives
Rubbing cress on my skin, God it smells so nice
All the same I'd think i'll go on rolling up the hill
If i'm lucky you won't see me

How days creep by
In the greying sky
How days creep by
Come and ask me why

Dear Vaf

Love, Nazy Forzhazher

 

Ps. Thank you for putting up with me everyday for 14 months. 

Good luck in the real world, aka the IVY LEAGUE WORLD!!!!! Who are you??!!

Also, i'll miss you SO. MUCH. that i dont think you understand :(

Bye, mister.

Hi, my name is food

hvasshannibal

On 3pm Dopiness

hello :) lgflg sfghsghgslgushfgks :) ksfjg skgj sgj :)

sfjd afdjk :)  sdgs'f]a]afd''/././.././/..,,,,,,

i want banananananbreasdd fkfdskfg gsfkus

On Purim

Today is Purim.There is alot of dressing up and firework-letting off involved. Sophie and i saw these little guys on the street today: an old lady, a sleepy baby/clown, a bee, and a bride. 

On Po Fiction

If you can make the coffee, i'll go and set up the DVD player.
No no, i don't want any sugar.
Remember i like my coffee strong!
Yes, i will be able to sleep still.
YES i will.
Nazy, i think i know my own body.
So, Igby? Or Shaun of the Dead?
Igby it is.
YUMMM.
Ok, hurry up.
Meet you in the living room in 2 mins?
Check if we have any grapes and bring them too.
Oi, your phone is ringing.

On heartwarmers

On Jasmin's quote

"I would rather be a superb meteor,
every atom of me in magnificent glow
than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The proper function of man
is to live
not to exist."

On Memoriez

Its 4pm on a weekday, and Po and I are home alone from school.

Me: I wish we had something yummy to eat in the house. 

Po: Oh, we have Timtams and chocolate. 

Me: What? Where?

Po: Hold on. 

*Little 8 year old Po proceeds to climb cupboards in the kitchen, stands on the stove, and reaches up to the small spice cupboards above the air vent. A gold box of belgian chocolates and a half-eaten packet of Timtams drop to the ground.* 

Po: There you go. 

pic: Mike Buishas

On Best-Friend Photography

Zu is the sweetest, she sent me a photographic snippet of Sydney, cos she's there right now, as a gift. Here it is. Our Sydney.
Venus:

Under the Harbour Bridge:
Suburbia:
Pretty Petticoat:
Night bullet:
Lava:
Newtown:
Colours:
Guli:
Glebe:
Central Station:
Anar:

On when

We will all be in the same city again

Love, Po

On ice spy with my little eye

and as a general rule: cool kids belong together

On i knew it would come to this, ja

Stefen Bruggemann's 'text pieces' installations
Dusseldorf, Germany

Reminds of me of that typical joke you make in modern art galleries
where you stare at the fire extinguisher in the corner
and whisper to your friend "marvelous, isn't it?!"