Looky here ladies and gents, I've found remnants of my sticker collection from grade 2 (the year when my dorky sentimentallity collided with my obsessive compulsive need to have everything in row/column fashion). Isn't it beautiful? It's saddens me to think that if teachers didn't become stingy little bitches after grade 5 my collection would be huge and able to house of family of beavers or something. It's also amazing, how, with the depletion of scratch'n'sniff offerings, my motivation in absorbing information about quadratics and microclimates in arid deserts is at a terrible, terrible low compared to my enthusiasm over, well, everything in primary school. Hmmm... I think this apathy is catching and I am sending a letter to Julia Gillard and the like.

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I'd like to inhabit a really large tree house. It would have a goliath library with Jonathan Safran Foer and Cornelius Agrippa. The ceilings would be adorned with octopus chandeliers and the walls with endless framed painty rabbits. I enjoy eating by candle light and every so often demand dinner guests to "clean up, move down!". Did I mention Bill Murray was my roomie? Well, he is and his room is smothered in regurgitated party wares and exotic ladies. Every fortnight we karaoke and everyday we go elephant gun and therefore we lived happily ever after THE END!

This made my day. Dude playing piano in real time to strangers on ChatRoulette because he is super bad ass. WatchWatchWatchWatchWatch!

Okay it's working...now.

As a weekend-bike-ride enthusiast, I am a bit sad. My bike is in repair and won't be functional for what I estimate will be about a month. It wasn't a magnificent bike, in fact it was terrible: all the parts were rusted and people confused me for death on wheels due to the terrible creaking noise it made but it was mine. The other bikes available are either conjoined to a baby-seat (which I'm thinking about filling with jam donuts as it most certainly will not be seating my 2 year old troll of a brother) or are so small they'd make my knees touch my chin whilst I was peddlin. So, I will probably become a fat jolly person now. Oh well...

Dear Mr. Ryan Gosling,
you are the opposite of everything I hate in a person. One day I will acquire myself a choir of ghoulish and ghostly loverlies and you can call upon your ghoulish and ghostly lovelies and we will all re-enact sketches from Mickey Mouse Club and sing till dawn because that would make the world a better place. Shall we arrange for it to be on Friday? Please and thankyou.


Your sincerely,
Felix Curds


p.s. this was just so fucking priceless thankyou for infinity.

Everyday I wish with more gusto than the last that I was the only person in the world who did not require sleep to function like a normal human being. My non-existent sleep pattern is of medical research proportions and has been causing spontaneous karaoke outbursts of Mariah Carey which I only begin to regret after twelve minutes of having attempted it. I suppose I'm fine but I could be better, if only I had another extra 10 hours all to myself. Why, with all this extra time I could finish my Mt. Fuji of homework and make macaroons and become fluent in French and German- heck, I would be able to find out the one thing that I am better at than anybody else and change the world with it. I also think that me and Alden Penner would be better friends. Now wouldn't that just be ideal?

A compilation of swonderful things that make me smile like a mad-man.

I'm sorry, hello. How are you? Ummm, more importantly what is your chosen name? May I call you by it? You're pets- are they well? You know, I could really get to liking you...