Ok, so I’d originally set out to write a short, sharp little blog post about a handful of mundane but extremely important features I’d want in my dream home, but, of course, that got a little out of hand.

It’s now a long article which I’ve been able to stretch into a column – and perhaps may even be able to extend into a two-parter – which means I’m holding back on that A+ content until I’ve forced the fine readers of The Clifton Courier to endure it. This left me scrambling for something else to fill this Sunday slot.

So I’ve decided to fall back on my ultimate fallback option: an annotated tabography.

Now, tabography is a word I’ve just made up to describe a list of tabs I have open in my phone’s internet browser. I’ve Googled it to check it doesn’t have another meaning and it seems to be only used for a handful of business names. There are only three tweets with the tabography hashtag on all of Twitter, so I think it’s fair to say that I can assign a meaning to the word with wild abandon.

Essentially, you’re being treated to a look into the wild west of my world wide web, something I’ve already done in the past, in case you’re interested.

I like to open a new tab every time I use the internet on my phone. There’s no way I could operate on a one-tab basis; that would mean losing the valuable information I worked so hard to obtain in the past. I mean, you just never know when you might need this information again, you know?

My browser currently has too many tabs to count, so there’s no way I’m going to be able to go them all and maintain your attention – even if you have the will of mind to have made it to this point. But I will list the most recent ones and explain their existence to you, you lucky, lucky reader.

Here’s a glance into my internet hoarding:

A recipe for wholemeal fig and walnut bread: I made a vow earlier this year that I would bake a different kind of bread each month. I made a garlic and honey loaf in January and would have missed the deadline for February had it not been for the saving grace that is the leap year. I spent hours and hours crafting this bread which came out looking like a dried cowpat. Thankfully, rustic chic is totally in right now and so as soon as I place it on a wooden chopping board, it looks very high end.

A Google search for Enoggera dam: It came up in conversation and I’d never heard of it, even though it’s only 14 kilometres from my couch. There’s a scene on a movie I saw as a kid where these high schoolers on a road trip ask a random person on the street for directions and that random person on the street turns out not to be very helpful. One of the cool high schoolers says “hello dickhead, don’t you even know you way around the neighbourhood”, which is a line that my sisters and I quote quite often (dragging out “O” in “hello”, the “ead” in “dickhead” and the “ood” in “neighbourhood” for a stoner-ish emphasis), despite forgetting the rest of the movie. It turns out that I am the dickhead, who doesn’t know the neighbourhoooooood.

A Google search for “Hello dickhead, don’t you even know your way around the neighborhood?”: Holy shit, I found it. After all these years and several half-arsed searches, I have the answer. The movie is called National Lampoon’s Senior Trip. And now I understand why I didn’t find it before –because I was spelling “neighbourhood” the correct way, with a U. But the Americans don’t do that whole U thing and so the quote would have been misspelled. I mean, this might seem pretty underwhelming to you readers, but this is huge news in my house.

Old Toowoomba ads: This is a very important YouTube playlist that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to delete. This has ads from way back to 1993. It’s a goldmine. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have the Kip McGrath ad or that weird Christian ad where there’s all these youths in brightly-coloured t-shirts and jeans saying things like “he made you and he loves you” and “god made me, god may everything”. If anyone has a copy of that ad, I’d really appreciate a link in the comments section or a VHS tape I could pick up at a public location. Willing pay at least $2.40 for the tape.

A Google search for “those bastards in Sydney just don’t bloody get it”: When your words fail, Bob Katter’s might do the trick.

A story about the researchers recreating voice of a 3,000-year-old mummy: This is the most glorious recording I’ve ever heard. It’s so delightfully underwhelming, especially considering all the work that went into it from a bunch of intelligent experts. I mean, they recreated a damn vocal tract using 3D printing, medical scanning and an electric larynx and what they ended up with sounded like that sounds like a less-animated Scary Spice remembering her ex boyfriend, Stephen. If you haven’t heard it, I heartily recommend a listen. It’s almost as mood-enhancing as that horse dancing to Fleetwood Mac.