Toddies and bacon: the manflu struggle is real
By the time you read this I will have manflu.
John Birmingham writes regular columns for Fairfax Media.
By the time you read this I will have manflu.
If giant manbabies are crying for the waaaaamblance then all is good with the world. And yesterday they cried a river.
I'm guessing the workers at the brewery no longer get a freebie six-pack at the end of a shift.
I've inhaled the double cheeseburger at Miss Kay's, gotta Getta Burger, breakfasted on Ben's, and been to 5 Boroughs in both boroughs.
He was born to the working class in a time when that meant knowing your place and never rising above it. He rose above it.
So, I made a mistake. You could even say I was wr… wro… less right than usual.
He speaks, or rather walks and carefully minds what's left of his beer, for all of us who are pretty much over this.
The last time I watched a new series of Twin Peaks I lived in a share house in Darlinghurst.
So, I deleted all the social media apps from my phone. I think my life is better without them. Before you protest, "But JB, I just saw that photograph of a black cat dressed as Darth Vader that you shared," I didn't delete my accounts. Just the apps on my phone and, for good measure, my iPad. Having done so, I feel a lot less stressed and I'd like to talk to you about why.
I've renamed my mortgage "good debt" and I feel richer already.
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