Enough piercings to look like you've fallen in a tackle box
NOW that I am moving closer to 50 than 18, I realise I have become a cranky old man.
Little things have started to bother me and I find myself getting more irritated than Alan Jones at an union rally.
I have narrowed it down to a few points:
Piercings - there is nothing wrong with a few piercings but, when you start to look like you have fallen in a tackle box, you might start to think maybe I have a few too many.
Tattoos - I prefer them on the type of people who live on an island and point at planes.
But unless you are riding with the Bandidos, you should to ask yourself do I really need more ink than Bic headquarters.
Two lines which I have never heard "that southern cross on your back looks awesome" or "I hired you for your great face tatt".
Justin Bieber comb overs - when did using more hair product than your missus become cool?
Or when did matching a long fringe with pink jeans get you all the ladies?
Mid-strength spirits - can anyone tell me the point of mid-strength spirits other than to keep the coppers and my wife happy?
Blokes that don't drink - no great story has ever started with "after Jim had his fifth chai latte".
Salads at hamburger joints - If I was looking to be healthy, would I be going through the drive-through to start with? Please give me something that has more calories than an Ethiopian has in a year.
Jockeys and fishing inspectors - all out to cost me money.
Everything week - Every single week now has to have a title - Septic Tank Week, Fluffy Dice Week, Long Grass Week. Enough is enough.
Cyclists - the real ones are fantastic athletes or a few blokes trying to get fit is fine.
But the ones that annoy me are the blokes, who spend $1000 on lycra and just ride to the coffee shop and back.