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what's new pussycat

A big, stupendous, totally biased review of What's New Pussycat? that will take you two days to read.

This is likely to be one of the least objective reviews I have ever written about anything? Why, because Shauna is a friend of mine. How much of a friend can you be with someone who couldn't even fly to see you for less than $800? Pretty close friends, amazingly enough. Especially amazing since I haven't even seen a photo of her taken in her adult life. Who knows, if she didn't live in Canberra, the capitol of Australia, we could be married by now.

Our friendship has enriched me in a multitude of ways. For instance, now I can make such authentic Australian exclamations as, "Don't just sit there like a stunned mullet," or "ooh er!" or "he's a shonky fuckwit". From her I learned the very idea of blogging, as I came across her site on the lovely, but now defunct Astounding Websites. Eventually she even came to host the tinyblog. In addition she has helped while away countless hours at my boring graveyard job with her dulcet tones.

Shauna tells stories about her life. And they are funny. Ok, they're not all funny. Sometimes they're heart rending, but more often than not, they still manage to be funny.

But Shauna doesn't want to be funny. Evidently being funny doesn't do much for winning the Nobel prize for literature or at least becoming some kind of meme-creating A-lister. I'm not sure which she would like more, but something where the lead singers of Radiohead and Gomez would come and give her hot kisses while groping her arse is the main aim, I think.

Well, funny might not be good enough for Shauna, but it's good enough for me. Unlike the other reviews I've done, I had already read Shauna's blog in its entirety before I sat down to review it. Besides, it's a sweet kinda funny, a tender kind of funny, a self-effacing kind of funny. Shauna doesn't realize that to tell a heartbreaking story like it's funny is a gift, and a rare one. She doesn't understand because she is a pretty insecure cat (read: ignored on ICQ, and step away from the site stats, missy).

Consequently, she doesn't realize that she had created quite a little body of work since May 2000, when she created her weblog. It's a fair amount to read, and I'm going to suggest that you read all of my picks. So I'm just going to leave this post up top for a few days, and you can take your time and get to know Shauna, her dog Harry, and her sister Rhiannon. While you're there, don't forget to pay homage to the evil Mr. Guestbook.

suing cadbury
supermarket epic
where I place on the foodchain
taking a roman holiday
if only life were more like ICQ
don't dis the beegees
clean your ball regularly
wank once a day
the intoxicating mix of expensive shampoo and the crappy FM radio station
dad told me that the mechanic must be "a shonky fuckwit"
advantages of having bountiful breasts
if you could talk to one person, living or dead.
then came jilly, willy, milly, dilly, lily, and willy nilly.
Nooo! Stereo!
we have to steal something!
a bunch of vacuous bitches

and last, but not least, the quintessential Pussycat Post:
ooh er, angry redhead!

Enjoy. I insist.