Why?

...do sushi takeaway places insist on only giving you a single soy sauce sachet and one eensy wasabi packet even if you've ordered a shitload of sushi?

...do people buy bags of pre torn-up lettuce?

...do TV shows these days comprise 10 minutes of actual show, 20 minutes of ads and 30 minutes of boring filler/thinking time/"flashbacks"/shit we don't want to see?

...do some people say "bought" when they mean "brought"?

...is Jennifer Connolly considered pretty?

...are people who order decaf soy lattes think they're better than the poor shmuck who orders a long black?

...aren't chip packets full to the top anymore?

...are school secretaries among the scariest people I've ever had to deal with?

...do childless people need more than half an hour to get ready in the morning?

...are the hideous '80s fluoro colours being called "nu-rave" and touted as the Next Big Thing in fashion?

...hasn't Child Services picked up Bindi Irwin yet?

If you know, tell me. I'm confused.

Zig a zag aaahhhh

OK. Confession time.

I may not have too much respect for people who can't spell, arrogant arseholes or talentless wenches but I'll always make an exception for one woman.

Posh Spice.

No, no, stay there. I do have a rational explanation...I think.

Victoria Beckham -- or "Posh Spice" to the readers of countless tragic women's mags -- is truly awesome.

It intrigues me how a woman like her -- ie. one with no discernable talent, a husband who has been cowering in the closet for decades and a body that resembles a wire coathanger with two whoopie cushions pinned to the front -- can be so damn successful.

Let's face it - she mimed and pouted her way through her Spice Girl days, she snagged a hot bloke and by most reports, an even hotter pre-nup and now spends her days doing...well, nothing.

Which is a helluva lot more impressive that all those cookie-cutter Hollywood stars like Jessica Alba, Reece Witherspoon and Jennifer Aniston who, y'know, work out all the time and switch loser boyfriends and publicise every coin they give to charity.

Posh doesn't work out -- she just doesn't eat. And give money to charity? Hell no, every last cent is donated to the Make Me Look Faaaaaaabulous Fund.

While all the other celebs are trying hard not to look like the talentless, self-absorbed brats they are, dear Posh has embraced it.

And look at her now -- she's even conquered America (which is more than can be said for my other favourite Brit Robbie Williams...sorry, Rob).

Posh, you may not ever receive a Nobel Peace Prize, an Ivor Novello Award or even a BMI that verges on a human weight but you've done a remarkable service to all the witless cows out there.

Bravo.

Are you allowed to throw a tantrum if you're not?

Are you smaaaaaarter than a fifth graaaader?

Does anyone have high hopes for this show?

I have to admit, the promos initially grabbed me. What does HTML stand for? (Hackneyed Television Made for Losers? I can't remember.)

But now, I just feel sad.

Sad, because I know that in 10 years' time, these Fifth Graders will end up on a hideous Where Are They Now show where they'll bitch about Rove exploiting all their glorious 10-year-old potential.

And somehow, somewhere, I'll feel compelled to watch it.

And another thing -- the term 'Fifth Grader' is so American. Can't we at least half-sing, half-whine "Are you smaaaaarter than a kid who's in Year Fiiiiiiive?"

P.S. Does it make me smarter than a kid in Year Five if I'm over the fact the cool girl never let anyone else role-play the Pink Power Ranger on the school oval at lunchtime? Hmm...

Would you like Inner Turmoil with that?

So maybe it’s a snob thing, but I don’t expect to be thrown a mental challenge when I go through a KFC drive-thru.

At the pub? Happens all the time.

In a supermarket checkout? *shrug* Possibly.

But a KFC drive-thru??

Looking back, I should’ve known it would be a crap idea to go there in the first place.

But what can a girl do? The hunger pains were there and the urge to wait ten minutes for a nice café lady to prepare me a wholesome meal wasn’t -- so there I was, inching up the KFC drive-thru during my lunch break.

“Two Piece Feed, thanks,” I chirp to the Window Girl.

WG: “That’s $6.95.”

Scraping through my bag, I find a five dollar note and an altogether appropriate accompaniment – a two dollar coin. Seven dollars. Great.

Then…

WG: “Do you want your 5c change with that?”

Do I want my change with that?

Eeek!

Suddenly sustain an icecream headache despite the fact I’m not even within sniffing distance of an Original Magnum.

My first impulse is to respond, “Yes, of course I do Why are you asking?”

But then, I wonder…

Take 2: “Wait a minute. It’s five cents. Will she think I’m stingy if I say I want it?”

Take 3: “But it’s my five cents, dammit!”

Take 4: “But am I really going to want that coin jangling at the bottom of my bag along with the $67 worth of other coins I have there?”

Take 5: “Change is not sweet chilli sauce – it is NOT optional!”

(In fact, if you ask me, sweet chilli sauce is NEVER optional. It’s just nasty. But I digress.)

Meanwhile, Window Girl looked on - complete with bored, slack-jawed expression - as though she’d asked the most ordinary question in the world.

My thought process just couldn’t handle a Take 6 - so I took it. The change, that is.

And put it into the next Guide Dog charity box I spotted, all the way reminding myself that a nice cafe lady would never have been so evil.