Flip open a gooey stout tub of Chopped Blends wet dog food from Purina Beneful and right in the top corner is the company’s stance on the long-four legged debate: “You open. He’ll love.”
Baked right into the eBay flea market code is the surrender to the waves of Chinese wannabe/knock-off products polluting the search results with riff-raff.
“M_mng down at Saville Row” said the scrap on the ground. There, in the midst of nothing else to do, was something to rubberneck about. The A and Is missing from tears in the paper, pocked with pin pricks.
Loneliness and an empty work roster makes for the Abbott Government to sound like they want to be harsh against asylum seekers and refugees. But that's if you're riding on old money boats. Whale guts are where it's at and where they're not wanting you to look, but look.
Harpoons in one hand, moist lips pursed in the other, whistleblowing is all about the collection of articles and making away with the goods. Documents and records gathered in the fugue of lunch breaks ready to blow off the lid from that curry in the microwave. Don't get caught.
> [N]ow, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark – that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.
Quitting time is the runner-ups' cue to grab a drink and get under the table. In an advertised world of fabricated desires, squeezing out the juice from the hip pocket of the lowly consumer matters. Draining the colostomy bag as a straight chaser, the creeping debt that wraps the wallet skin begs for a reason to sink people further.
Racist epithets are the best kind of ethnic slur. Parts frothing at the mouth, a glint of mania and a whole slathering of ignorance, it's a nice chunk of overt xenophobia. On the other backhand, you have the shying away. Boycotting that cuisine. Stepping back quietly or crossing the street.
Prized for its prime parking spot clearance, the small blue sign on the inside of cars and welcoming a mat on the parking bay is a little person sitting on a bean bag looking forward to some sort of entertainment off panel. Otherwise known as the International Symbol of Access, the (intended) interpretation of the symbol supposes the circle portion of the logo to be a wheelchair.
Coming up to spoil the second third of the weekend of shut-ins and agoraphobes, as well as those who have tingles when stepping back on school grounds and other places of public congregation, the Queensland state election of 21 March.
Grenades launch green at the screens as the patrons sit down neatly in rows. Concessions flow free from the sides as the night sky provides ample cover for the machetes to run a side up from the hip to the lip. Dripping is wet and the colours from the black and white read red all over. Without subtitles mind you. Enemy of the visual outside the comprehension, and two tasks in reading at odds when the cotton swabs swab no faster than the flush.
Unremarkably, the industry for discount quality Persian rugs found discarded in shipping containers at reduced prices is a healthy one surviving merely on its own self-fulfilling endeavours.
Patrons of the white tiles and bright fluorescent lights covering floors and ceilings of supermarkets, department stores and pharmacies regularly face the option of buying products exclaimed to be "new" and "improved."
