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The Bedroom Philosopher
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I'm So Postmodern
I'm so postmodern that I just don't talk anymore, I wear different coloured t-shirts according to my mood.
I'm so postmodern that I work from home as a surf life saving consumer hotline.
I'm so postmodern all my clothes are made out of sleeping bags, I don't need pockets, I'm a pocket myself.
I'm so postmodern I go to parties I'm not invited to and locate the vegemite and write my name on everyone.
I'm so postmodern that I write reviews for funerals, and heckle at weddings from inside a suitcase.
I'm so postmodern I'm going to adopt a child, and teach him how to knit, and call him Adolf Diggler.
I'm so postmodern that I break dance in waiting rooms, play Yahtzee in nightclubs, at three in the afternoon.
I'm so postmodern I only go on dates that last thirteen minutes, via walky talky, while hiding under the bed.
I'm so postmodern I invite strangers to my house, and put on a slide show of other people's Nans.
I'm so postmodern I went home and typed up everything you said and printed it out in wingdings and gave it back to you.
I'm so postmodern I held an art exhibition - a Chuppa Chup stuck to a swimming cap, and no one was invited.
I'm so postmodern I make alphabet soup, and dye it purple, and pour it on the lawn.
I'm so postmodern I request Hey Mona on karaoke, then sing my life story to the tune of My Sharona.
I'm so postmodern I only think in palindromic haikus – 'Madam, I, Glenelg, I'm Adam!'
I'm so postmodern that I sit down to wee, and stand up to poo, at job interviews.
I'm so postmodern that I dress up as Santa, in the middle of August, and haunt golf courses.
I'm so postmodern that I cut off all my hair, and knitted it into a beanie, and threw it off a bridge.
I'm so postmodern that I stole everyone's mail, and cut them up into a ransom note and hid it in a thermos.
I'm so postmodern I take my lego to the supermarket and build my own shopping trolley, and only buy one nut.
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I'm so postmodern I wrote a letter to the council - .I think it was 'M.'
I'm so postmodern I bought a round the world plane ticket, and stuffed my clothes with eggplant and pretended it was me.
I'm so postmodern I've got a tattoo of my pin number in hieroglyphics on my neighbour's guide
dog.
I'm so postmodern I fought my way into parliament and made a law banning Nuttelex, and then moved to Spain.
I'm so postmodern that I iron all my lettuce leaves, put my shirts in the crisper - they're real crisp.
I'm so postmodern I give live mice to buskers, dirty tea towels to the Mormons, and pavlova to crabs.
I'm so postmodern that I live in a tent, on a platform of skateboards that's tied to a tram.
I'm so postmodern I write four thousand-word essays on the cultural significance of party pies.
I'm so postmodern I recite Shakespeare at KFC drive thru, through a megaphone, in sign language.
I'm so postmodern I'm going to watch the Olympics on a black & white TV, with the sound down.
I'm so postmodern I go to the gym after hours, push up against the door, then cry myself to sleep.
I'm so postmodern I wrote a trilogy of novels from the perspective of a possum that Jesus patted once.
I'm so postmodern that I marry all my friends, soak myself in metho, and tell them that they've changed.
I'm so postmodern I bought every book written in 1963 as a reading challenge, and clogged up a waterslide.
I'm so postmodern I think I might be a god in my undies rolling in sugar, in the carpark of a rodeo.
I'm so postmodern I prerecorded this song, and laced a message subliminally telling Shane Porteous to buy a smock.
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