Hello people in newsletter land!
I forgot to send this out last night. My bad.
Air BnBs have banned parties. Have you read this story? What a strange thing to say. No more fun! Book my house and sit there quietly staring at the wall, do not make eye contact, engage with no-none, and DO NOT FOR A SECOND FEEL A CONNECTION WITH SOMEONE THAT COULD CONSTITUTE FUN WHICH COULD LEAD TO PARTYING AND IN TURN, A PARTY BECAUSE WE WILL KNOW AND WE HATE FUN AND WE HATE PEOPLE BEING HAPPY AND WE WILL KICK YOU OUT AND MAKE YOU PAY LOTS OF MONEY BECAUSE YOU ARE A SMALL PATHETIC LOSER WITH NO POWER AND WE ARE AIR BNB - A GLOBAL COMPANY THAT WILL CRUSH YOU. WE WILL CRUSH YOU. PAY US MONEY FOR A BAD PRODUCT YOU STUPID PEASANTS.
The definition of a party is: ‘a social gathering of invited guests, typically involving eating, drinking, and entertainment.’
So no extra guests, no food, forget about having a drink or any type of entertainment! From now on Air BnBs will just be a bed in a room with no windows and you have to sit there doing nothing till the day you die.
Woaah. I am in a mood today!
I’ve done nothing today. Do you ever have those types of days? I’m typing this from my bed, I’ve ignored every text message I’ve received and I haven’t left the house.
I woke up with huge plans of going to the gym, doing some work, meeting up with friends and doing stand up at night. All I’ve done is order food online, watch television and Wikipedia every single thought that’s popped into my head.
It’s disgusting!
2000 years ago that would have been the most successful day of all time.
2000 years ago if you had gotten through the day in a warm shelter, a belly full of food and stayed alive - it was the most successful a day you could have. Now if you stay inside, watch Just Shoot Me re-runs and order Uber-Eats 3 times a day your therapist will write you a prescription for Lexipro and your family will take turns checking in on you.
Home Alone:
My girlfriend is away at the moment. She’s wonderful, funny, beautiful and kind (this is actually just a test to see if she reads these).
Being home alone as an adult is not as fun as when you were a kid. When I was a child, the thought of my parents going out for the day and leaving me in charge was the most exciting thing that could happen. No more pesky parents demanding I spend time with them after they created me, fed me, and paid for everything in my perfect little world.
I was always like “rack off Mum and Dad” and would walk them to their car like Jamie Durie on Backyard Blitz (Jamie was every Mum’s hall-pass).
My parents were poor growing up. I say ‘my parents’ because I don’t wanna be lumped in with their financial situation. I was my own man! Don’t judge an 8-year-old’s financial portfolio based on in his parents’ income. I could have been rich! At the time I wasn’t legally allowed to work or buy a copy of The Barefoot Investor. Who knows what I was capable of? Don’t judge me for my parents poor financial situation.
I never realised we were poor. My parents used to tell me all the time, but I never believed them. Which is such a funny image. Just 8 year-old me ignoring my Mum being like “well well no no Mother, you must be mistaken. We simply cannot be poor! If we were poor how do you explain my school uniform hand-me-downs from my sister? Everyone at school comments at how glamorous I look in those dresses every morning…”
I just assumed they were doing the thing parents do to keep you humble and avoid an awkward vibe. Like when someone gets a haircut and no matter how it looks you have to say “Looks great!” Or when I tell a comedian they had a good set, even though they’ve silenced an entire room and no one can look them in the eye.
Just a fun little porky to get you through the day.
Mum and Dad would be like “I can’t afford this, or I can’t afford that” and I’d be convinced it was all an act and when I’d get to a certain age they’d reveal it was all a test and were actually worth billons of dollars and one day they’d throw me the keys to the private jet!
My version of the private jet was getting my own CRN number at Centrelink. Not as exciting but still very important stuff.
My best friend had a tennis court growing up and I used to think the only reason we didn’t have one was because my Dad wasn’t a fan of tennis. Not because we lived on a tiny quarter acre bloke and even though we couldn’t afford to repaint the hallway, if Dad could just sit through an entire Wimbledon final, construction on the tennis court would be starting any day.
I might have the worst case of main-character syndrome of anyone alive.
The weird thing is now when I mention I was poor growing up, my parents deny it! They’re like “we did fine, thank you! You kids never went without!”
Which is so annoying, because it’s taken my entire adult life for it to sink in, and now they’ve switched stories! The roles have reversed! Now it’s me doing the sprouting about how we were poor, and they’re the ones being like “no no remember the private jet?”
It’s all very confusing. I’m sure it’s a source of pride for them and they look back at raising their children with satisfaction, but it kinda feels like we’re both trying to gaslight each other for absolutely no reason.
POP CULTURE
Everyone In My Family Has Killed Someone - Benjamin Stevenson
Read this book! My friend Beej wrote it and and I knocked it over last week when I was touring a bad part of Queensland (called Queensland). It had me hooked from start to finish! He also gave me a free copy so I feel the need to tell people about it.
A lot of comedians write books these days. I haven’t been offered a book deal but I assume it’s around the corner. I’m thinking this for the title:
A Substack and a Dream: The Sam Taunton Story
But instead of funny comedy musings it will be weird erotic fiction based on mid 2000s Neighbours characters that have left Ramsey Street.
Oh shit, sorry I have to go, I think Penguin Publishing are calling me.
See ya!
P.S if you’ve missed any of my other newsletters and want to catch up, you can here. Follow me on Insta, here’s my podcast, and subscribe to my Youtube channel.