Fair suck of the sav!
Gee I'm as Dry as a dead dingo's donger.
How's your bum for grubs
I'm as happy as a dog in a hub cap factory.'
I'm hungryer than Hungry Tyson.
I'm as dry as a pommie's bath mat.
I'm as happy as a bastard on Father's Day.
I'm as full as a catholic school.
I'm gunna shoot through like a Bondi tram.
I'm not pissing in your pocket mate! I'm giving to you straight.
I'm so hungry I'd eat a shit sandwich, only I don't like bread.
I'm so hungry, I could eat the crotch out of a dead leper's undies.
I've been busier than a one armed Sydney cab driver with the crabs.
I reckon you've had more pricks than a second hand dartboard.
That's about as funny as a kick in the head.
This is the most fun you can have with your pants on.
Well I'm off like a bride's nightie.
Ya a bloody galah!
You'd better be careful mate cos I'm built like a brick shithouse.
You've got a face like a bashed in shit can.
you've got a face like a smacked arse.
You've got less brains than a two headed Tasmanian.
You wouldn't know if a brass band was up ya unless ya got the drum!
Your as funny as a fart in an elevator.
your as welcome as a pork chop in a synagogue.
http://www.krackatinni.net.au/Aussie%20Idioms.htm
tpaine posted:who is hungry tyson
this has been bugging me all day too, i dunno
Do I get whistled at in the street (“AY MAMA!”)? Sure. But it’s no different than assholes in their first suits from Barneys in Financial District bars are thinking, so it really doesn’t matter to me.
My roommate is muscular and black, so when we walk down the street together, people assume we’re just another hip, racially mixed couple to not mess with (we’re not, he’s gay). I like to pretend we’re Lady Gaga and Usher taking a stroll, just living our lives.
Like my roommate and I, Harlem is eccentric. It’s an urban Norman Rockwell painting tucked away next to the Hudson River. Old men play chess on the sidewalks on overturned milk crates. My dry cleaning guy waves at me every morning, cheerfully sweeping his stoop in a wifebeater and tube socks.
As opposed to many other Manhattan neighborhoods, there are no women on macrobiotic diets dictating to nannies on the sidewalks. On the contrary, women in my neighborhood let their husbands have it in the middle of the street, often wearing tropical-colored get-ups.
Everyone is loony in their own charming way.
–
There’s more to my neighborhood than its diversity.
From a girlish perspective, my apartment features crown molding, exposed brick and a washer/dryer in my bathroom. From a real estate perspective, the pre-war architecture of my neighborhood is incredible, I don’t live in a shoebox and the rent is reasonable. And from a thug perspective, my address lends me a bit of street cred. The cashier at my bodega says I keep it real.
herschel posted:So, if you go into any New York neighborhood under the assumption that everyone is crazy, you will always have your guard up and your eyes forward.
Do I get whistled at in the street (“AY MAMA!”)? Sure. But it’s no different than assholes in their first suits from Barneys in Financial District bars are thinking, so it really doesn’t matter to me.
My roommate is muscular and black, so when we walk down the street together, people assume we’re just another hip, racially mixed couple to not mess with (we’re not, he’s gay). I like to pretend we’re Lady Gaga and Usher taking a stroll, just living our lives.
Like my roommate and I, Harlem is eccentric. It’s an urban Norman Rockwell painting tucked away next to the Hudson River. Old men play chess on the sidewalks on overturned milk crates. My dry cleaning guy waves at me every morning, cheerfully sweeping his stoop in a wifebeater and tube socks.
As opposed to many other Manhattan neighborhoods, there are no women on macrobiotic diets dictating to nannies on the sidewalks. On the contrary, women in my neighborhood let their husbands have it in the middle of the street, often wearing tropical-colored get-ups.
Everyone is loony in their own charming way.
–
There’s more to my neighborhood than its diversity.
From a girlish perspective, my apartment features crown molding, exposed brick and a washer/dryer in my bathroom. From a real estate perspective, the pre-war architecture of my neighborhood is incredible, I don’t live in a shoebox and the rent is reasonable. And from a thug perspective, my address lends me a bit of street cred. The cashier at my bodega says I keep it real.
its not polite to post khamseks diary
ggw posted:What percentage of New Yorkers have ever dug in their life?
I had a job up at the botanical gardens last month so moved about about 2.5 tons of mulch with a pitchfork and wheelbarrow, So dont start with that Noisy crap about the workshy yankee. NYC "The city that works" 
herschel posted:So, if you go into any New York neighborhood under the assumption that everyone is crazy, you will always have your guard up and your eyes forward.
Do I get whistled at in the street (“AY MAMA!”)? Sure. But it’s no different than assholes in their first suits from Barneys in Financial District bars are thinking, so it really doesn’t matter to me.
My roommate is muscular and black, so when we walk down the street together, people assume we’re just another hip, racially mixed couple to not mess with (we’re not, he’s gay). I like to pretend we’re Lady Gaga and Usher taking a stroll, just living our lives.
Like my roommate and I, Harlem is eccentric. It’s an urban Norman Rockwell painting tucked away next to the Hudson River. Old men play chess on the sidewalks on overturned milk crates. My dry cleaning guy waves at me every morning, cheerfully sweeping his stoop in a wifebeater and tube socks.
As opposed to many other Manhattan neighborhoods, there are no women on macrobiotic diets dictating to nannies on the sidewalks. On the contrary, women in my neighborhood let their husbands have it in the middle of the street, often wearing tropical-colored get-ups.
Everyone is loony in their own charming way.
–
There’s more to my neighborhood than its diversity.
From a girlish perspective, my apartment features crown molding, exposed brick and a washer/dryer in my bathroom. From a real estate perspective, the pre-war architecture of my neighborhood is incredible, I don’t live in a shoebox and the rent is reasonable. And from a thug perspective, my address lends me a bit of street cred. The cashier at my bodega says I keep it real.
where did you find this post? it made me mad in ways I'd forgotten i could still get mad at liberals
http://webcache.googleusercontent.com/search?q=cache:0CnqCWWw4owJ:hiremegrantland.com/?p=1446+&cd=2&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us
Keven posted:
lol
Yes, I’m a girl who stereotypically doesn’t fit the bill to live here, and I do love having girlish brunches downtown and am envious of people who live near Gramercy Park—but that doesn’t mean I can’t prevail in Harlem.
Nah mean?
gyrofry posted:
EmanuelaOrlandi posted:I've been trying to get my girlfriend to say 'im walkin here' in an angry voice for a like a month now and she won't do it, and gets really angry when I bring it up like "NEW YOHKAZ DONT SAY THAT NO NEW YOHKA EVA SEZ THAT"
same but with crikey
EmanuelaOrlandi posted:how can you hate seinfeld what is wrong with you
i find the characters objectionable and uninteresting
EmanuelaOrlandi posted:you being an englishman who is bemused by the quaint lifestyles and accents of the australians you grew up amongst, this makes a lot of sense
i'm not a fucking englishman how dare you
EmanuelaOrlandi posted:yes you are. your dad is english. it passes from male parent to male child like being gay.
