Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

I want it. Lots of it and I want it now.

I had some last night and it was just wonderful.

But now I want some more and there isn't anyone here to give it to me.

I want some chocolate. Actually, I want lots of chocolate. I want to have a chocolate frenzy. I think it would help me get over the shock of being invited to enter that special place, that Inner Sanctum - a bloke's kitchen.

Not only did I have permission to enter the Hallowed area, I was allowed to touch the tackle, grasp a gadget... I was allowed to use the Sacred Slicer! But wait, there's still more! I was also allowed to stir the onions AND wash the dishes.

And I did it all without cutting myself.

Damn, I am good.

I was gonna say something else but I've forgotten it now...

That's right... mashed potatoes. I quite like nice fluffy mashed potatoes but I hardly ever make them. By the time you peel the spuds and cook the spuds and mash the spuds... hardly seems worth the effort to me. But in a bloke's kitchen, waiting is a thing of the past. The genuine Kitchen Bitch2003 has a bit of monkey cunning built in and knows all about things like instant mashed potatoes AND how to prepare them. Just 30 seconds and a bit of a stir (the stirring part comes in a sachet marked "Raw Talent", just add a splash of water and give a little wind up), and voila - fluffy, squishy taties (reprise: "Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew...")

Yum. Nice with a fat pork chop, veg and garlic bread.

You know, blokes are starting to rise in my estimation, they're not just good only for sex and lifting heavy stuff after all. Some can be trusted with root vegetables.

Shagadelic, Baby.

~~ I don't mind a hairy back, it's the knuckles dragging on the ground that turns me off. ~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

It's Rugby World Cup time again.... and the All Blacks are off expending large doses of testosterone and machissmo on the paddock in an attempt to prove their superiority again, seeing as how they could only do it once before. And whilst New Zealand Rugby fans would love to see them cream the Poms and grind the Sth Africans into dust, the urge to anihiliate the Australians is something we drink in with our mother's milk.

So even though I don't have any particular beef with Australians and have no use for rugby as a game, I feel it's fitting to drop a good Kiwi rugby joke into my ramblings, especially as the Pope is down to three words per audience and sinking...

Gone Fishing
On a tour of NZ, the Pope took a few days off to visit the coast for some sightseeing. He was cruising along the beach in the Pope-mobile when there was a frantic commotion just off shore.

A helpless man, wearing an AUSTRALIAN rugby jersey, was struggling frantically to free himself from the jaws of a 25 foot shark.

As the Pope watched in horror, a speedboat pulled up with three men wearing ALL BLACK rugby jerseys.

One quickly fired a harpoon into the sharks side while the other two reached out and pulled the blue semiconscious AUSSIE fan from the water. Then, using the long clubs, the three beat the shark to death and hauled it into the boat.

Immediately the Pope shouted and summoned them to him. "I give you my blessing for your brave actions. I heard that there were some bitter hatreds between Australian and NZ rugby fans, but now I have seen with my own eyes that this is not true."

As the Pope drove off, the harpooner asked his buddies, "who was that?"

"It was the Pope" one replied. "He is in direct contact with God and has access to all of God's wisdom."

"Well" the harpooner said, "he may have access to God and His wisdom, but he doesn't know shit about shark fishing. Is the bait holding up OK or do we need to get another one?

~~ "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you!"~~

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