I speak as one of the few females heavily involved with my University's comedy society. Only in its second year, it was founded by boys, moulded by boys and immediately carried to the depths of despair by... boys.
The first, inalterable rule of dating, or as I sometimes like to call it, desperatelytryingtogetmarriedbecauseallyourfriendsare, is this: You might die alone. Read those words, and remember them. Heed them. Learn to love them.
What I find astonishing about personal number plates is how anyone - anyone at all - could ever consider them to be even the remotest bit classy. Does it speak of good taste and cool and general suavity to have forked out four figures for your initials to be set next to some random numbers?
This year's Academy Awards ceremony, at four hours long, required a similar amount of endurance as some of the heavier dramas nominated. The difference is that whilst Neil Patrick-Harris' role as compère offered welcome comic relief, the winners of the 'big four' provided little.
"Beer thieving pig gets drunk and start a fight with cow" Great headline, however I'm sure it's something that goes down in many Australian households every Friday night.
As the eldest of three boys in a single parent family, the pressure to pretend everything was okay was unbelievable. It wasn't okay, our mother was mysteriously overseas and us boys were very far away from understanding why.