In Soviet Russia, Car Drive You! Our Correspondent in the Field

There have been questions. Questions about jam. To shed light on the Eastern European way of doing (not to be confused with Lithuania's Eastern European Funk), zip over here.

Now, young paduan, you are ready.

In Soviet Russia, Car Drive You! Our Correspondent in the Field

Sofie, my beautiful friend and fellow adventurer when we headed South of the Border, is intrepid. She is a woman who takes no bullsh*t from anyone, and had fabulous hair. And she is going behind The Iron Curtain.

Sofie is spending five weeks in Russia, working as a counsellor at a summer camp.

Dear United Soviet Socialist Republic,

Yeah, we totally f*cking won. Ride that wave, b*tches.

Regards,

MelWuv the Capitalist

This material is too good pass up. Expect updates.

Yes, Yes - YouTube Slut. Any Other Questions?

The complete Lost. In three minutes. With Post-Its. He tells it so well I'm sort of sad I missed the phenomenon. Vaguely.

Amy G And Her Kazoo

This is not safe for work. If you're allowed this kind of material in your workplace then holy HELL! I want your job. Immediately.

Want! Need! Desire!

Oh God, who invented internet shopping? And why did they make it so easy?!

I demand that you all go here, and join me in my obsession. And trust me, it'll get pretty f*cking obsessive.

Lions And Tigers And Bears, Oh My!

Do you know what really used to scare me? I mean apart from Tony Abbott BEING ALLOWED TO BECOME THE LEADER OF ANYTHING (NB. Abbott, keep your roasaries off my ovaries, or I may fail to keep my fist off your face, you sanctimonious, big-earred tw*t), and those urban legend horror stories you used to tell at sleepovers...

Waitresses with attitude. I actually felt like I was in the wrong for asking them to faithfully copy my order to the kitchen, and then carry the plate out to me. When invited to do so, I became an apologetic patron. Excuse me, if you have a minute, if it's no trouble, please don't stress...

And then, with absolute horror, I realised that my piglet sister is that waitress. Mainly because she lives with me, and it seems that the attitude isn't left at work. Part of the attitude is the, I'll do it because I'm awesome air of weariness in the face of the petty demands of wider humanity. Demands such as, if you've finished in the kitchen, please tidy up after yourself. Such demands are met with an invitation for me to go f*ck myself for such brutality. And I find myself falling for it. Excuse me, if you have a minute, if it's no trouble, please don't stress...

And then I realised that I really shouldn't be scared. You. Are. A. Waitress. It. Is. Your. Job. It isn't rocket science, it's carrying plates so that my carbonara doesn't end up on the floor. And really, if you're so awesome, how come you're doing the fetching while I sit with friends, drinking NZ whites and having a fine time?

Waitresses, you're not scary. You're staff.

I'm Surprised

Lisa, the kick-ass female contestant on this year's series of The Biggest Loser, spent six hours on a spin bike.

She must have worn a wetsuit, which she peed in, before pulling the leg out, and wiggling it away. At this point, she was butt-f*cked by a seal.