If this isn’t a sign from God, we don’t know what is.
Our friend is halfway across the world, settling into a mixed 12-person hostel dorm in Spain. She kicks back on her bottom bunk and, like all modern travellers, blindly exchanges handles with the twink above. The pair unlock a common connection: they follow the same blog.
“Have you heard the good news?” the twink says. “They’re making a comeback.”
Sup, hookers. That pleasant Spanish exchange actually occurred in two years ago in September 2024, but alas, the twink was correct. We are back. But why? Where have we been? And who the fuck are we, anyway?
Like the most precious metals in the world, our friendship was forged in the primordial flames (of high school). The embers of our passions (porn, AIDs media, shopping, and how our limbs perfectly aligned) sparked a creative wildfire between our brains that has been burning ever since.
A friendship like this leaves a legacy. We threw around words like ‘empire’ and ‘world domination’. How do we get there? A big question for two skinny little lambs imprisoned by the Queensland curriculum. We knew we had something to say, and our best friend once told us she could read a nameless pile of words and recognise our voices, but we didn’t know where, or how, to say it.
Flash forward to 2018. The Gap, Brisbane. It’s a hot and humid night. Beads of sweat trickle down our spines as we mill around our friend’s backyard. Her sister and then-boyfriend fiddle with a rental microphone as they prepare to commence birthday speeches. Everyone is looking at them. Our minds, as always, are on ourselves. As what’s-his-name stumbled through a speech that went from bad to worse, our fingers hovered over a little button on our phones that read ‘PUBLISH’.
A blog was born.
But just as things started to stick, we ran out of teflon. A certain Murdoch newspaper tried to silence us, oceans divided us, and for a little while there, we lost ourselves to Big Corp.
Now we’re back in the same hood and our minds are like the Somerset Dam after La Niña … ready to gush all over you with our relentless stream of consciousness, firmly believing that every thought we have should be published.
These days, people have to use AI to do what we do. But us? We pumped this out on a half-drunken afternoon at the Great Northern Hotel. And we’re gonna keep doing it.
We know we’ve been edging you since your teens. And no, we’re not going to stop. So grab the tissues, baby. Because this is going to be the biggest splooge of your life.
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