The Deconstructed Corned Beef Fritter Debacle

It was a ruin; a steaming, smouldering wreck that could not be retrieved. The hot mess in front of me was supposed to be corned beef fritters. At best it was an abject failure. At worst, it would be something that anyone who’d ever strolled past the television during a cooking program might describe as ‘deconstructed’. All the ingredients were present and accounted for; all that was left was for me to pull the whole thing together. It was in this regard that I had failed and failed miserably at that. Despite my adherence to the recipe, the fritters were determined to break apart. Regardless of the effort I took and despite the abundance of caution I exercised, after mere moments in the fry pan they began to disintegrate. As the remnants sizzled in front of my eyes, all I could think was: this is a symbol of everything that has gone wrong.
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The Great Salt-N-Pepa Brain Invasion

I don’t know how it got it in there. Maybe while my back was turned, perhaps when I was sleeping. But whatever the method, fact is it’s wheedled it’s way in and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to get it out again. Like a possum in a roof cavity, it’s going to be extremely hard to evict. Sure, like anyone, I remember Salt-N-Pepa’s smash hit from 1992, ‘Shoop’. I just never expected it to show up unannounced all this time later and take up residency between my ears. I am now in the unfortunate position that the lyrics to ‘Shoop’ burst into my thinking when I least expect. It is, at the very least, distracting.
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In Search of the Shipwreck of My Youth

Looking back, it was a golden summer. At the time though, it was little more than the gap between first and second year Uni. I went with a group of friends to Merimbula on the South Coast of New South Wales. I’d been just once before with my family; a trip memorable only for the fact that it rained continuously and that we barely left the motel room. This time things would be different. We were leaving just after Christmas and the chances of sustained precipitation were about as slim as we were.
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A Farewell To Cool

So long. I barely knew you. But now’s the time to accept it’s over. For much of my life, I aspired to attain you. As King David once lusted after Bathsheba, so too you have been my heart’s desire. But it is clear to me that this passion will remain forever unrequited. I will never be cool. I will never possess coolness, nor trip over it accidentally as I make my way to the kitchen before turning the light on. It is simply not meant to be. I know that now. To precise, I knew it on Thursday of last week. For it was on that day that I finally surrendered any hope whatsoever of being even remotely cool when, for the first time, I strapped on a bum bag.
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