| Everyone is allocated a personal fly |
| Thursday, March 01, 2007 |
This is another theory from the bizarre (but strangely attractive. Ok, who am I kidding?) mind of Twyford.
You know how a fly can follow you around? It lands on your face, you swish it away, it comes back and lands on your face. Even when I'm riding my bike at some speed a fly can keep up. Well that's because you get allocated a fly at birth. If you kill that fly then another one is automatically allocated from God's personal fly machine.
I've named mine. It's called Bob.Labels: my weird theories |
posted by Cleo Twyford @ 9:05 AM   |
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| The natural law of boasting |
| Monday, February 05, 2007 |
The natural law of boasting is that if you boast about a thing, something immediately goes wrong with the thing you boasted about.
Case in point - The other day I was boasting about a dress I have had for ten years that people still comment on when I wear it. Only then, of course, I tore a small hole at the back. Not so bad, thinks I, I will sew it up (I'm not much of a sewer but I'll do anything to save a good dress) But I didn't get the needle out quick enough, and now the dress has several ladders in every direction - no amount of professional sewing can save that, let alone my dodgy needlework.Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 3:03 PM |
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| True reality television |
| Thursday, January 25, 2007 |
| It occurs to me that true reality television is actually people sitting on the couch watching a television show that is reality television, which is a show about people sitting on the couch watching reality television ... Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 9:43 AM |
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| Your dancing style gets stuck in a time warp |
| Wednesday, January 03, 2007 |
Yes, I had a holiday season revelation (as opposed to resolutions, which have already bitten the dust) while dancing at the Night Cat in Fitzroy. I think my dancing style is stuck in a 90s time warp ... and I'm not talking about the 'jump to the left, take a step to the Ri-i-i-ight, put your hands on your hips, and pull your knees in tight' type Time Warp (Although I was rather good at that one in the eighties - I completely mastered pulling my knees in tight while rollerskating at Carribbean Rollerama).
So while the Night Cat has wonderful red half light great for hiding mid-thirties wrinkles, it's impossible to hide my age since my 90s dance style was out loud and proud for everyone to see.Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 9:32 AM |
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| My new dodgy music theory |
| Tuesday, September 12, 2006 |
Australian/American Idol is the new-millennium equivalent of eighties music producer trio Stock, Aitken and Waterman. They both discover unknown singers and empower them to release pop-out-of-a-packet music.
(This flash of inspiration (cough) occurred to me while I was at the gym watching a 'retro' music clip of Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give You Up. At the time it came out in the eighties I had a small crush on him that lasted about as long as his flash-in-the-plan music career - Now, I'm wondering why I didn't see that he looks more than a bit uncomfortable dancing in that video clip, and subsequently looks a bit like someone's dad dancing at a wedding. And don't get me started on his trousers.)Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 5:06 PM |
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| My latest theory - The Ditsy Effect |
| Tuesday, June 13, 2006 |
The Ditsy Effect:
Once you have been ditsy in front of a person, every time you see that person again you will be ditsy.
It's true. It's inescapable.
A working example:
Take the much-MUCH-younger-than-me-but-quite-handsome trainer at the gym. So far, when he is around I have lost my keys, tripped over, left my drink bottle at one of the machines (and later have to retrieve it from his desk) dropped a really heavy weight (which made a v. loud, attention-grabbing bang) and managed to drop my towel while running on a treadmill, which made me trip and almost bang my head on the machine. The worst thing is, I think he thinks I like him, but I don't, really, despite my ditsiness making me look nervous. It's just the Ditsy Effect.Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 12:05 PM |
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| How jelly beans help you find 'the one' |
| Friday, March 24, 2006 |
Herewith, my very important jelly bean theory.
The jelly bean theory is that people can basically be split into two categories: red people and green people. The theory is based on what colour/flavour jelly bean they take from the bag first.
Red people are the most common then green, and then there is the rare black contingent.
Anyway your perfect partner is the opposite of you - If you like green, then your perfect partner is a red jelly bean person. It means sharing a bag of jelly beans is a perfect harmonious experience (which is quite obviously a metaphor for how your entire relationship will be)
Although there is a slight risk that you can reduce the whole choice of a partner down to jelly bean preference ... a bit like Barbie only wanting Ken for a seat-warmer in the Barbie car. Let's face it Ken is only an accessory and I'd be surprised if he'd even have a jelly bean preference.
How handbags help you find 'the one'Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 11:04 AM |
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| What does your food scale say about you? |
| Friday, March 17, 2006 |
Everyone has a food scale. For example, it might be sprouts (worst) to steak (best). Now this is quite a normal food scale, so that reflects a normal person. But a weird food scale (like my own) reflects a somewhat abnormal person -
My food scale runs from a toss up between rice pudding (rice is a main meal!) and sea cucumber (the reason why I couldn't live in Fiji full-time) to a toss up between green grapes and hommous.
Perhaps that's why I sometimes indulge in a plain sweet potato or a single parsnip for lunch. (both quite high on the food scale, actually)
If you want to know more of my innocuous food thoughts, stay tuned for my jelly bean theory (oooh the excitement)Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 9:09 AM |
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| My Sean Connery theory |
| Monday, August 15, 2005 |
Yes, quite obviously I had far too much time to think on the weekend, since I was sick and stuck at home. Yet I didn't spend time solving the world's problems, no no. I spent time thinking about why Sean Connery talks the way he does - You know, quite often there's a 'sh' where a mere 's' sound should be. Yes, it's sexy, but it deserves an explanation really.
Anyway it all started when he was a boy - So there's little Seany, just learning to read and write but he's quite obviously a little confused. His name is S-e-a-n but everyone pronounces it 'Shorn'. So it's clearly a pronunciation confusion that has engrained itself in his verbal communication.Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 9:50 AM |
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| The importance of the handbag in finding a life partner |
| Friday, July 01, 2005 |
Yesterday I had a very profound head bada bing about human relationships and how some couples find each other (because obviously armpit secretion matching isn't working all that well if you look at some relationships.)
So my discovery is that the handbag (or purse for those of you who reside in the land of Queen Oprah) is vitally important in matching man to woman. Now I already hear the scoffs and feel the mountains of ridicule that will be piled upon me, but hell, I'm just going to push on anyhoo.
This discovery is also very valuable in removing the ridicule directed at women in relation to the amount of guff, stuff and other important bits and bobs in their handbags. Because, as I am about to prove, the male actually needs it. In fact, subconsciously he seeks out the perfect female handbag and once he finds it, there he finds his perfect life partner.
Okay, so how often have you been out at a restaurant or a cafe and you see a man hand over his wallet and keys for his partner to put in her bag? Well, firstly that female needs to have enough room in her bag for that man's particular personal effects. Eh, eh?!
I've heard several male halves of relationships ask their female counterpart why they need to carry so much around in their handbag, but then in the next breath ask for a tissue or a mint or comb or er hammer or some such. So as well as having enough room, the perfect female also needs to have the perfect handbag contents. Da da, perfect partner.
Jeez the amount of rubbish that comes out of my mouth. It's just phenomenal.Labels: my weird theories |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 9:44 AM |
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