Sunday, February 18, 2007

The Girl With The Golden Toering

Your first mission, 007, is to play the Bond theme in your head. Sets the right kind of mood for this post.

Your next mission is to offer me your resignation. Because Bond Girl's taking over. Yes, you heard me. This show now belongs to me. Sorry, it wasn't personal.

Bond's trademark is no longer the gun. So cliche, so dated. We have now developed the Golden Toering. 24 karat perfection, armed with a tiny diode laser device that ionizes air as it lases. The R&D wing of MIX developed the Ionazer in the year 2006, one of our most closely guarded secrets. When the Toering is armed, it sets up conduction pathways capable of delivering fatal electric shocks of up to 10,000 volts over a 100 metre range. It can also be used to deliver smaller shocks, enough to stun an average sized human being without causing fatality. Best of all, it goes perfectly well with any style of clothing or footwear.

MIX has secretly been running a school. A Bond Girl training school.

Potential Bond Girls are taught every skill they need in order to become top notch spies. These girls eventually find highly successful careers in international espionage, and very often, will end up in rival agencies. Best friends today might plot evil, but ingeniously clever ways to outwit/outsmart/kill each other in the future. They're prepared for this, they are ruthless. They're brooding intellectuals one minute and smoking hot sex goddesses the next. They can fly planes and make explosives out of paper clips and a cigarette lighter. They speak fluent Russian and Chinese, and that's not all they do with those tongues. The best part? They don't whine when hormonal, they simply blow you to smithereens.

And only one Girl gets to be Bond Girl. That girl is now me.

Agent Raindrop reporting, over and out.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Woman On Top (Well, almost)

How annoying is it to climb ONLY 35.7 feet of a 36 ft wall because that last hold is just not stable?

On the one hand, the cute guy you're with is cheering you on from below. On the other, your roommate who has a thing for him is your belayer and therefore, effectively holds your life in her hands.

And you know she's hormonal right now.

So considering I'm in one piece, I suppose my day wasn't so bad after all.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

If I were an advice columnist in a trashy mag.

Today, I shall attempt to answer a question that women have been asking themselves ever since men stopped beating them over the head with clubs and then dragging them off to their caves to the sounds of cheering crowds pronouncing them cavemen and wife.

So would you rather be hit over the head and dragged kicking and screaming into your man's cave, or are you the patient sort who prefers to wait until he pops the question? If you'd rather he knocked you unconscious and claimed you as his, then you're just the sensible kind of reader we hope to attract in this magazine. If you think you'd rather wait, then make sure you think up a few dozen cat names while you're at it, for all the cats that are going to keep you company in your miserably lonely old age.

Don't just take my word for it. Cosmo's with me on this one. So are the authors of 'He's just not that into you'. At least, I think they're with me anyway, since I haven't ever read the book. But like most books, I imagine that you can judge what's in it based on the cover.

I used the incredibly scientific method of averaging some random numbers that popped into my head to come up with how long a guy should take to propose to you before you tell him to go screw himself (politely, of course). It's 1.1932333333333(rounded off) years.

If you've been seeing him for even an instant longer than 1.19323333333333 years, then it's time to call it quits. Go ahead now, make excuses for him, tell me he can't help it, he's a commitmentphobe.

My response to that would be:

As my mom would say, my foot. My grandmother didn't let her use words like ass.

He's only a commitmentphobe because he's not sure he wants to be with YOU. Find yourself another boy. This one's not worth keeping.

P.S. I have proved on my other blog that men are cavemen.

Click here to read it.

Men are cavemen.