This is the trailer for a downcoming short film titled ‘LOBSTER DAD’.

*title pending*  *also contents pending*  *release pending*

I didn’t want to wait, for my life to get older. 

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When I bought it today it was a lampshade but when I opened the box it was the secret blueprints to Dr . Manhattan’s moon palace.

Patootie Schnitzel

Posted: May 6, 2014 by simonbosco in Uncategorized
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If I ever have kids, not that it’s likely as I opt for nightly chemical castration administered by Doctor Bong, but if I did I sincerely hope that it is ugly as all the world’s fuck because trying to discipline the cute (as pictured above) is not exactly going according to anyone’s idea of efficient parenting.  Cobra attacks and arm bleeds should not be met with guffawing at how much of a patootie she is. My kitty is not picking up on my covert passive aggression and as much as that requires remediation for now her shitty behavior will be met with a road block made of fairy farts and neglectful patriarchy.

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“….and we cross live to Wentworthville where an anonymous person has chosen to air their grievances using Typo coffee mugs. Will the message be received by it’s intended audience? Will the culprit be put to justice? Will the typo staff change the arrangement of the mugs BEFORE ITS TOO LATE? The answer to this and other questions no one remembers asking tonight on A Current Affair”

More or lessons.

Posted: April 29, 2014 by simonbosco in Uncategorized
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I washed my dad’s car every weekend. This taught me the value of paying someone else to do it, “just the outside thanks I’m not a fucken oil sheik. Am I even wearing robes right now?”, every time my car gets so dirty that the windshield smudgers just can’t shimmy past the toxic wasteland on my driver’s vision panel.

My mum made me help with the dishes every night directly after dinner. This taught me the value of tossing sauce stained napkins on top of a three-bag bin pile because wishing for a dishwasher doesn’t make the shit covered shaq high stack of porcelain and glass clattering up your cooking room to the point where you’ll just dip a flacid meat tube into a sauce glob on a tissue because you can’t make mi goreng on the floor of your laundry.

Courtship

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Heavy Petting

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… and then everything went white

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Pictured below is the carpet of a hotel in Sydney.  A hotel in the sense that it serves up half spilt goblets of imbibing aqueous and not in the sense that it houses people on vacation or people looking to do the horizontal frog dance with someone other than their significant other. 

The carpet caught my attention in the way that only a thousand pairs of labia minoras and majoras hiding in a magic-eye book styled flooring can catch someone’s attention. However maybe I’m obsexsed, maybe I’m there’s no salmon canyons to be found here. Maybe I instantly regret using the term Salmon canyon. Either ways, this blog ain’t changing your nanny’s nappies. Have a good day bone diggers. 

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I saw this at Coles.

I took a photo of it.

This is what transpired. 

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