We're nearly one-twelfth of the way into 2010, but if you're averse to new year's resolutions it takes that long to make them
I don't do new year resolutions. I find them depressing. There is little that is worse than cleaning out a drawer to find a rumpled piece of paper bearing promises made to yourself five years before in the vein of, I will walk to work everyday, I will floss my teeth every night, I will be nicer to the drop-kicks I come across stealing disability car parks at the mall.
What to do about the perennial Christmas gift problem? Sorry, no answers provided here—unless you're in the market for a cupcake car
Oh, dear. December begins next week, the shops are laden in their Christmas finery and the new-look Whitcoull's Santa is peering over activities at the intersection of Queen and Victoria St West.
Time to panic about presents.
Octomom Nadya Suleman has made a new documentary—once again stirring a hornet's nest of contempt and condemnation. Diss her if you like, but think of the kids
I have to admit, this is one cheesy British "documentary" that I really want to see.
Mummy blogging is so yesterday—now new parents are posting their birth videos online
Days after the Herald revealed, somewhat behind the eight ball, bless them, that New Zealand mothers are getting in on the international mummy blogger trend, the San Francisco Chronicle reports that American mothers have
Brian Tamaki convinced 700 men to "pledge allegiance" to him at a Destiny Church conference. Makes the tithing and chastity rings look pretty harmless, doncha think?
It's not often that I read one of Garth George's columns from start to finish, but I was riveted by his account of Brian Tamaki's latest step towards evangelical superstardom.<
Another bottle of wine leaves Pundit HQ
Congratulations to new member Peter Martin, winner of the Pundit First Birthday wine draw. A bottle of fine French Madiran wine is in the post.
Here we go again—property prices are on the rise and all sense and order has flown out the window
As the successful bidder ducked his head and stepped into a glass-fronted room to seal the deal, people in the packed auction room applauded. It was a heartfelt moment during a dreary event, the sale of mortgagee properties.
Who wants to sit around and talk about nappies and gripe water anyway?
Mini-mister is six months old. He can roll, squeal like a dolphin for 40 minutes at a time and blow raspberries, he has two teeth and a wonderfully silly sense of humour and he likes to play with his feet. In the time he has made these great strides in becoming a more fully functioning person, his mother has bombed out of two coffee groups.
Sarah Palin's memoir is rushed to print and another of Bill Clinton's ladies, oops aides, writes a tell-all
Only 49 sleeps till Sarah Palin's book is released in the US, y'all!
Sex that could kill you: how a Mormon housewife makes $70 million a year on vampire stories
I love stories about ordinary people who are showered with crazy good fortune, especially when they take a hand in creating it for themselves. Even more so when they do it by spending thousands of hours alone in front of a computer screen, sending their thoughts out into the ether in the hope that someone else actually cares to read what they write.
