Things that you rate!

[wristwatcher]

2 weeks after breaking my ribs I was finally able to take the dogs for their evening walk again and it was a Golden Sunset. Sometimes it's the little things and they were pretty damn happy about it.

[mighty_tiger_79]

I rate discovering by accident that the Coodabeen Champions are doing a once only show in Melbourne on September 26.

They were/are gold. I still have their book

I had a CD of theirs from many years ago

anyone know if they still do the sunday night show on the ABC radio?

[gossipgirl]

furry testicles

[Lightning McQueen]

furry testicles

No manscaping?

[fisho mcspaz]

Making my writing deadline by the skin of my teeth. I submitted my novel for the Richell Emerging Writers Award; entries closed five minutes ago. Right now I don't care whether it's shortlisted or not - setting myself that goal meant I knuckled down and wrote like a motherf***er. Got it finished two days ago and just finished the final copyedit with 20 minutes to spare.

[Spargo]

Jason Day's first Major, after previously coming so close.
A couple of other Aussie sportsmen need to take note at this bloke's class, & humility.

[bennymacca]

Jason Day's first Major, after previously coming so close.
A couple of other Aussie sportsmen need to take note at this bloke's class, & humility.

Agree.

9 previous top 10 finishes in majors

[Booney]

Taisha Marie.

[Footy Chick]

who is she when she's at home?

[heater31]

who is she when she's at home?

Some slapper that has been banned 3 times from Instagram for posting too many videos of her shaking her jingly bits


**Thanks Google

[Pseudo]

[bennymacca]

Taisha Marie.

[Booney]

Taisha Marie.

I'm happy to help.

[cracka]

Driving out of Woolworths DC in Pooraka & seeing the grounds being mown. Love the smell of freshly cut grass at this time of the year, it means 2 things, spring is coming soon & so are footy finals. F*** yeah.

[Failed Creation]

I went to Costco for the first time today, and after trying those (or multiple) of the $2 hotdog and refillable soda deals, my wife decided to 'play the mud trumpet' in one of the aisles. I originally blamed someone else, and the other half was pretty casual about it.

The stench was so overpowering, I could swear someone had fudged their Huggies.

About 30 seconds later, she caught up to me, and whispered... "It was me".

I don't think I could be a more proud husband at this point in time...

[Spargo]

"play the mud trumpet"

[Computer Crashed]

Out comes the sun.
Out comes the BOOBS .

[heater31]

Out comes the sun.
Out comes the BOOBS .

are you calling a Tit Monday???

Tit Monday:

This put it best. I didn't write it, for those who thought I did but i'll claim it if you want me to:

"Ah, Tit Monday. It's not that far off now...

That glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.

And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.

After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.

Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...

And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday.

Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast.

And then, of course, there is Tit Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls. But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that when they're all standing outside the pub after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs. It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.

So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps.

As the poet said: one bold Northern slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make."

[Computer Crashed]

Out comes the sun.
Out comes the BOOBS .

are you calling a Tit Monday???

Tit Monday:

This put it best. I didn't write it, for those who thought I did but i'll claim it if you want me to:

"Ah, Tit Monday. It's not that far off now...

That glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.

And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.

After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.

Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...

And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday.

Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast.

And then, of course, there is Tit Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls. But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that when they're all standing outside the pub after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs. It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.

So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps.

As the poet said: one bold Northern slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make."

Tits a good day today.

[bennymacca]

Gonna rain and be cold for the rest of the week.

I feel this is a false dawn