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Friday, April 29, 2016

W, X, Y and Z

I’m pretty sure that kid is drunk.

That’s what I sound like when I’m drunk, anyway, like a baby who can’t talk proper.

So guys, in typical Pinky Poinker fashion, I have failed to complete the April A-Z challenge of writing a post every day and have condensed W, X, Y and Z into one post because… well, what’s going to happen? It’s not like I’ll be arrested or sued or anything. *

Besides, it means instead of annoying you for four days in a row it’s only once.


W stands for Weird.

I think it’s very weird that “The letter ‘I’ comes before ‘E’ except after C”, except in the fudging word ‘weird’. What the hell? It’s very cruel for immigrants and new English speakers that they can’t even know how to spell ‘weird’ properly because of the stupid rules they’ve learned.

X is for why don’t more words start with X? It’s bloody racism that’s what it is. It’s Xenephobia, actually.

Y is for Yuk.

I felt yuk today when I watched my German Shepherd spew in the garden then return to his recently regurgitated chunks of Meaty Bites minutes later and gobble them down. What the actual yuk? Who eats their own vomit? Sometimes I hate my dogs.

Z is for Zealots

I hate zealots. Those annoying people who tell you how to live your life.

I was teaching a drama lesson today and the kids had to mime out a scene in a particular nominated room in a house.

I told one group of ten year olds to act out a scene in a dining room.

“What’s a dining room?” asked one rough-haired individual.

“It’s where you eat dinner,” I replied.

“You mean the lounge room?” he asked, eyeing me in confusion.

I felt no Judgy McJudgement outrage when he said it, more relief really. My kids spent most of their family dinners hunched around a coffee table, slurping up their dinner watching Seinfeld, so I’m in no position to sit on my high horse.

Personally, I think family dinner table time is hugely overrated. My memories include being in trouble for slouching like a leper, being chastised for feeding the poodle my brussel sprouts and gagging on the cold choko when everyone else had left the table and I was being forced to finish my dinner.

There was never any “catching up on our day in a civilised and jovial fashion” happening.

It’s all bullshit. Family dinners at the table are a formidable experience.

What do you think?

· If I am to be sued this was written by Pinky Smith.