101 REASONS WHY I HATE EXISTENCE

2006-07-06T12:55:00.000+09:30

101: THE LAST DAY

"So here my journal begins, on a Tuesday nite when it's quiet at work. This day is dragging, like some kind of psychadelic iguana, dragging it's lazy carcass over some neon rock"

With these auspicious words, so began my one hundred and one reasons why I hate existence, just over a full year ago.

Psychadelic drug references not withstanding, it was a fairly ordinary entry by a disgruntled worker who just wanted to go home.

I've often thought about the final entry in this journal, and the words it would contain. I also expected to be a different person, a more evolved man sitting by the keyboard scratching his head, thinking of something funny to say.

A man profoundly moved and changed by his experiences over the course of a year. He would be older, wiser and have a fully stocked bar at home.

But before I continue down this path, lets recap for those of you just joining us...

My name's Jim. I'm a man looking at the world through dark glasses and a kaleidescope.

For the last year, I've used this blog to record my thoughts on the distorted reality I see around me every day. Some of it has been quirky and funny, some of it has not.

So far, I've faced threatening teenage girls with neon claws, tried to quit smoking once, squared off against Bea Arthur in a scissor fight, worn some cranky pants, seen the ghost of Gwen Stefani, been mauled by Jesus, bought a new phone, found a comfy chair, been afraid of Ikea, contemplated the meaninglessness of relationships and my own existence and even found the time to stalk Kelly Clarkson.

So it's been a wild ride. A wild, painful, emotional, exhilirating, nauseating, glorious ride.

This last post also coincides with my last day at Foxtel, the job I have been at for the better part of two years. In essence, my family.

Yesterday was a tremendous day, filled with vast quantities of confectionery and many heartfelt goodbyes. Still I cant bring myself to come to terms with the loss. To quite completely fathom the end of that place.

So right now, I'm caught in constant flashback mode, my memories of the last twelve months forming a giant collage in my head. A collage of random memories and fleeting moments when I understand what it is to be human. Waking up next to a loved one, a comfortable silence with a dear friend, hollowing out a pumpkin for my very first Halloween.

I'll take that collage and put it in a macaroni frame. I'll hang it on my wall and look at it whenever the sky gets dark or the walls start closing in too much.

Merely another time in my life when one chapter ends, and another begins.

So now I look at the man who sits typing this entry at lightning speed. Who is he? Where has he been? How has he been changed? All questions that come to me at the end of this journey, on the last page of this book.

Is a man changed by his experiences? Does he learn from them? Will he ever surrender?

I'm astounded at how, fundamentally, I have changed so little. I'm still a spikey haired loser. Still just as confused about my place in the world as the rest of y'all. Still not allowed to use any kitchen appliances without adult supervision.

Maybe I've just learned to accept these things more.

I wish I could write a proper ending to this story, preferably a happy one. I wish I could write an action packed ending with a car chase and some explosions and lots of bikini clad waitresses pouring condiments over hot dogs.

I wish I could close this book and never want to revisit it again. Have no regrets. But life isnt like that, and while we always take the most important lessons with us on our journey, we often leave others behind.

So this is goodbye to all that. I'm bravely off to to try and walk the road, and maybe someday it will take me back here. I'm not sure. I've accepted a job as a courier, so if you ever wondering what I'm doing (and lets face it - you will), know that I'll be immersed in the fast paced world of package delivery, wearing nothing but a crooked smile and a baseball cap.

Thank you to all of my friends and loved ones who have been a part of my life in some form or another over the last year. Without you, my blog would be like a story with no characters (even though I'm pretty much a one man show most days anyway!)

Thank you to all of you who have been reading over the last year.

It's meant a lot to me that you've tuned in week after week. I hope I had the chance to make you laugh, and maybe, if only a couple of times, make you think. Stick with me, I'll be back soon.

I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing.

Peace on your journeys, and remember to stay off the west side.

Yours Sincerely,
Jim

(Custodian / Caretaker)

2006-07-02T16:41:00.001+09:30

100: PSYCHO BITCH MAGNET

I'm gonna start this story by telling you all about my favourite Star Trek alien, the Gorn.

The Gorn is a large reptilian predator who once tried to kill Captain Kirk on planet Cestus III. He also has cropped up in the Mirror Universe where he tried to eat Scott Bakula.

But that's another story altogether.

You see, I have so much love for the Gorn (pictured), because I feel we're like blood brothers. If Gorns were real, I'd own one, chained up in my back yard and starved of food, just enough to keep him bloodthirsty enough to eat all my enemies at work.

Or better still he'd be my homie, and we'd ride around in my pimped up Mitsubishi, wearing an entire mint in bling, and telling everyone that crossed our bejewelled path that "they don't even know who they be steppin to!".

Back to the Gorn.

Yes. I love the Gorn because we're alike. The ferocious, bloodthirsty caveman is never far from the surface of my personality. I do what I feel like it - when I feel like it. And most times I like to be left alone, especially when I'm wearing that really 'intense face'.

So flash back a couple of nights with me. It's about 2:00am in the morning and I'm at the gym, punishing myself for half a packet of crispy M & Ms I had eaten earlier in the day.

I'm in the 'zone', meaning maximum pain and maximum endorphins. I'm like a wild man with weights as the sweat beads down my primitive brow.

It's during this time I notice a girl. Just an ordinary girl. I've seen many before. Except this one is on the Ab-tronic Pain-o-Tron, and she's doing it all wrong.

In my infinite wisdom, I decide to offer some frendly advice.

"It's a common misconception that crunches yeild better results. A complete sit-up will get your muscles moving more dynamically"

I said, reciting almost verbaitim what I had once read on the wrapper of my Protein Max bar...or what it Protein Blast? Either way - there was a considerable amount of protein involved.

"Thanks" she smiled back at me.

"Ah..." I thought.

I was stunned. Then relieved to think that I had helped someone and she had, quite wisely, chosen to take my advice.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER...

"My boyfriend's really handsome, you know he kinda reminds me of you, except he's better looking...Ugh!...So what kind of car do you drive? I drive a Ford. But I used to drive a Mazda, it was far too small. Not nearly enough room for my kids...Ugh!...yeah that's right - I have kids, a little girl named Skye...Ugh! You wouldnt think so huh, I mean to look at me...Ugh!...We're practically the same age!!"

This girl, whose name I have since forced myself to forget, continued to rant just about anything and everything as she stalked me around the gym, suddenly proclaiming we were now 'gym buddies'.

Now initially I felt some rapport with this girl, after all she was at the gym on a Friday night, so she probably had the same sort of social life I did. But as she ranted, unabated by the lack of oxygen to her brain, I began to regret playing the part of handsome, helpful stranger.

She would punctuate each thought with an exhasperated "Ugh!" and a flourish of her hand (with flourescent pink nailpolish) babbling at breakneck speed. It was like being stuck in an elevator with Kathy Griffin.

"My dog's anme is Callie, she's a German Shepherd...Ugh!...The're such beautiful dogs, I always try to..."

So yet again God has decided to smite me for being helpful.

"...a leave in conditioner is just essential, especially for coloured hair...Ugh!..."

God has decided to send an annoying, avenging angel in retaliation for helping a stranger work out her abs.

"...so I said 'Dylan, if you dont put that down, I'm gonna give you such a beating when we get home!!' and just like that he put down the knife...Ugh!...Kids just need to be disciplined more, dont you think?"

I should have just thought of the Gorn, predatory and stoic. And above all else, silent.

"...so my friends ditched me tonight...Ugh!...such bitches!....Ugh!...so where do you like to hang out? You know you really should get out more. Go out and have fun. Meet someone pretty like me...Ugh! Of course I'm taken, but I'm very flattered that you're interested..."

Right. I think I need a new Gym.

the end.

2006-06-28T18:55:00.000+09:30

GIRL WE GOT SOME X

Yup, this is still fucken funny. I've also included a message from Whitney herself.
If you would like to know more, go and see America's Greatest Christian www.bettybowers.com

"Bitches messed up on crack is a cause close to my heart. Are those Reese's
peanut butter cups?

Oh, and I have been very busy during the past year
raising Christian crackwhore awareness. Dig?

I want to take this moment to thank God Almighty for
making me His special messanger -- Hey Bobby! I got
you something special right here, baby!

[Lifts up her already too-short skirt]

Yeah, it ain't all you can eat, it's all you care to eat!
Yeah, you know that right, baby!

Anyway, what I was saying is that I try to be real Christlike and sh-t. Dig?
Hey, Bobby, was that that Porsche I buy you at the
bottom of the pool this morning, baby? Anyway, what was I saying?"

-- Whitney Houston

2006-06-26T15:37:00.000+09:30

099: TECHNO FEAR

Observe the following conversation I had with my washing machine the other day:

"Good morning washing machine! How's your shit?"

"Good bro, what up dawg?"

"Ah you know… I got a whole bunch of dirty clothes here that I've been sleeping on. They were getting kinda funky, so I thought I'd bring em in"

"Dude that last bunch of stuff you brought in was rank. Haven't you ever heard of Kleenex?"

"Don't judge me. You know how it is".

"Still, you could at least try and pick something white".

"Errr…could we not talk about this?"

"Sure, whatever man. If you're gonna be all Dawsons Creek about it. Just gimme your damn clothes, I'll sort em out".

"Thanks mate"

"You're going to die"

"What?!"

"Nothing. Nothing dude, sorry. Just talking to myself again. Don’t mind me".

"Nah, dude! You totally said something to me! Are you threatening me? Am I being threatened by a whitegood?!"

"No! No! It's all good"

"Right. Well maybe next time you decide to put the hard word on me, you'll remember who controls the electricity round here, eh?'"

"No worries boss. Will do..."

(I start to walk out the door)

"…Cause I live to wash up your coffee stains! And your dirty socks, and fuck knows what else you get on your clothes you filthy little scrote!"

"Oh! Oh! I so totally heard that!" You were whispering under your breath, but I fucken heard that!! You bastard!! You utter bastard!!"

"Well whaddaya expect, dumbass!? I'm stuck in this dead end job washing your sweaty gym jocks all day. Gotta have something to amuse me. Things just haven't been the same since Lois left me"

"Who's Lois?"

"My Wife".

"Dude, you have a wife?"

"Yeah. She filed for divorce three weeks ago. Rotten bitch has my kids, too".

"Che?"

"Yeah - their names are Napisan and wonder white"

"Ha ha. Everyone's a fucken comedian. If you're done being sarcastic, maybe you can get some fucken washing done?"

"Yeah, yeah no problems…"

(I start to head out the door again)

"Can I touch your hand?"

"Dude, are you coming onto me?"

the end.

2006-06-21T18:49:00.000+09:30

098: ROBOT MASTURBATION SESSION

In which our hero's privacy is invaded by a robotic peeping tom.

Come with me, if you will, on an odyssey into my room. Where action figures are at the top of the food chain and piles of dirty socks and jocks form gently sloping hills over my crumb encrusted floor.

It is here, my friends, that I retreat to ever night. Hoping to escape the hectic pace of my rampant social life and the drudgery of my mindless soul destroying job.

So imagine my surprise the other night, when I learned that my once impregnable room has fallen victim to a spy.

I speak of course, of Gort - mechanical man given to me as a heartfelt gift. Granted I adore having this vintage momento the The Day The Earth Stood Still standing proudly in my room, however this mechanoid has since illicited my suspicions.

On many a night I have observed him moving on his own accord. He frequently changes places in the room while I am at work, and his visor mysteriously opens when I have porn on the television.

Which brings me to my segue about an intriguing episode which took place a couple of nights ago. Lets set the scene...

It was cold outside, and I was tucked away in my warm toasty bed. The rustling leaves brushing against my window made a soothing noise. With my episode of Red Dwarf coming to an end soon, I decided to do what most teenage boys do when they're cosily tucked in their beds.

That's right - I went there.

Anyway, I was almost finished with my copy of Swinger when I made a startling revelation - Gort was watching me. Perched up on his shelf, he had a direct line of sight to where I was in my bed.

His visor was open, and I could see a voyeuristic gleam in his eye. Well…I spose he doesn’t have eyes, but he was leering at me like that naked guy at the bus stop does.

So here we are in a day and age where robots watch me masturbate (See how much I share with you?). Yet another episode in my life where I tell people and they respond with a quizzical look, usually followed by a swift

"What the fuck?"

Now this was the last thing I needed after suffering a splitting headache and a wave of euphoria after being haunted by the images from Muse's Supermassive Black Hole video.

It's also fuelled my mistrust of robots of all kinds.

When I was 18, the vending machine at my workplace launched a world wide manhunt for me in an attempt to steal my DNA. I was forced to go underground and wear a black turtleneck for several weeks.

So just remember - you read it here. It's forever etched in cyberspace. My robot remains unpunished, and from this day forward I'll just use the cubicles at work like everyone else.

the end

PS: Crack is Whack!

2006-06-18T21:15:00.000+09:30

I'm sorry, but this is still so fucken funny!

2006-06-14T19:44:00.000+09:30

097: THE PARAGON OF ANIMALS

I often daydream about being able to command the loyalty of animals.

It started recently when I read about these Swedish genetic engineers who created a 25 foot carnivorous Starfish that would rotate and sweep the ocean floor clean, consuming all the fish and other edible things around it.

The animal world is one that fascinates me. Sea creatures in particular. They live in another universe, deep dark and blue (sometimes black) breathing salty water like I breathe in the contaminated air from my cigarettes.

Ever since I was a kid, I have loved animals (despite a track record of animal cruelty that would make Ed Gein blush). Doctor Doolittle managed to talk with them somehow. I don’t ever believe he attended any sort of medical school, and don’t care to speculate on his motives for all that time spent with animals. My suspicion was further aroused a few years ago when said Doctor became Eddie Murphy.

That aside, a few days ago, I was attempting to telepathically communicate with my dog. He does not yet respond to verbal commands, and only ever pays attention to me when I threaten him with the hockey stick that Angry Nick gave me.

As I gazed into his pathetic hazel eyes, we shared a moment of synchronicity. A milleseond of understanding. Granted, only moments later he resumed his four hour yapping session, but I still got through.

I recalled my childhood dream of having en entire army of animals at my disposal. I would enslave them in my basement by means of electrocution.

There would be the super intelligent Baboon, who would sit in shackles, doing all my homework. At night he would work in the Asian sweatshop in my attic.

The overworked Pelican that would swim around all day and clean my pool.

And of course the Albino Howling Monkey that would remain at the front of my house and ward off any unwanted salesman or Jehovah's Witnesses with it's constant, ear piercing screaming.

There was also a drug addicted Sloth who would lie motionless on my rug each day, eating all my ketchup. Even as a small child I was wise enough to know that there would be no future for this mooching Sloth and eventually it would have to be put down by lethal injection.

This army of slaves would of course be spearheaded by a giant Squid, who would travel via a series of underground canals that my construction team would design. These water filled canals would be outfitted with electrodes to ensure obedience.

Motivated by fear of electric shock, my giant Squid would swim the canals of the city, doing my bidding. It would smite my enemies. Block up traffic. Bring home food for the other animals.

It would return to my house at night time with the Mars Bars, Comics and Action Figures that I wanted.

The moon would rise and they would all congregate in a specially build shed (except for the Baboon - he has to go to work).

Yeah, I was kind of a messed up kid...

the end

2006-06-14T16:27:00.000+09:30

REVULSION

The fetid stench of death hangs in the air.

Wave after wave of automatons bombard me with idiotic enquiries. Slow and inbred, their stupidity abounds. A sea of bad grammar and broken English. The air is stale, and rife with frustration that hangs like a silent mist around everyone here.

Somnambulant faces surround me, slowly deadened by the constant grind of these mindless, repetitive tasks

Close by, a shrivelled up sasquatch of a female sits motionless. Shifting her bulbous mass, she epitomises the death of human creativity. I try to remember that she was once a person. A fully fledged human, not some godawful corpse rotting in this house of death.

That divine spark which so often brings a smile to my face is buried here in a shallow grave amidst statistics, numbers and silent resignations.

Colourful streamers are meant to placate the masses. What fitting solution to those faithful few who stand on the deck of this burning vessel.

I'm like a whore, elegantly dressed, laying down my flesh for men with appetites to unseemly to mention. I'll stay quiet and endure until it is over. Close my eyes and avert my ears from the ugliness. Subvert. Repent. Deny.

Like a woman brutally murdered, her skin still warm. Callously snatched in the dead of night. Her heart still beating. Her eyes close and she is gone. No good can come from this. Where soul and spirit are so casually imprisoned.

I really hate this job.

(Sorry to throw all this darkness your way kids, I just had to vent. I wrote this at work today. Counting down the days until I can get me a new job and get my fine lil arse on outta here!!)

2006-06-12T18:02:00.000+09:30

096: FORCING THE END

I have been loud and pretentious,
I have been utterly threatened.

I've gotten candy for my self interest
A sexy treadmill capitalist.

- Alanis Morissette "One"

Revelations are funny things.

They come to you in the middle of the night. Like the final piece of the puzzle finally sliding into place forming a whole picture that you can stand back and see properly.

Well aware that the current phase of my life is fast coming to an end, my eyes have been opened to exactly what has been going wrong over the last couple of years. Why I've been so restless and unhappy. Why I've been having no fun. Probably why this very blog exists.

You see I've been selling out. Selling out pretty hard in fact, denying my true nature.

This truth landed in my lap with ferocity a couple of weeks ago, thanks to a conversation with Mr Anderson while stuck in my car for five hours in a Mitcham car park. You really helped me sort my shit out that night, so once again, I'm in debt to you (what else is new, huh?)

Flash back to two thousand and four. Many Jim-Historians recall this as one of the darkest years of my life. Death, debt, losing jobs, getting evicted amongst other modern day horrors. Now in retrospect - I remember it as the happiest time of my life.

Only because things were so bad, I was forced to simplify. Forced to focus on what and who mattered. As I have mentioned to many, I dyed my hair blue because I was so comfortable with myself. Not imprisoned in the buttoned down pseudo corporate purgatory that I currently find myself in.

I was happy then, focusing on the essentials. Sure my poverty and drug dependence was a factor, but I still think it was the only time in my life when I "got it right", when I was happy with life.

More than any other time, I played to my strengths. My energy and youth. My devil-may care attitude towards dental hygiene. The fun that I used to have doing the simplest things (red wine and connect four make a great Wednesday night activity).

Since those days came to an abrupt end, I have done nothing but further complicate my life with each new turn, and sell myself out, focusing on fulfilling everyone else's expectations and ignoring my own. I have lost touch with what I am, and am now almost a product of what everyone else expects of me.

So as I enter what will no doubt turn out to be the final few weeks of this job, I am renewed with a sense of hope.

A need to seek out that man I abandoned years ago. That man who was comfortable enough with himself to display his blue hair with arrogant defiance.

I'm so profoundly saddened at what ha been done to me, how much I have conformed. How much I have been missing out on for the sake of other people. It truly has proven to be quite a thankless role to take, and ultimately has not furthered me in any way.

I'm looking at some new jobs at the moment which will hopefully grant me some more of the bohemian freedom that will allow my true colours to shine through like they used to.

I'm starting off on a path with no bitterness. A path with honesty and no lies. I'm starting off on a path where I play to my strengths, instead of suppressing them all.

And maybe some blue hair.

the end

2006-06-01T19:08:00.000+09:30

095: MEMORY BOX

Concealed in the depths of my deepest closet in my bedroom there is a small blue box. I call it my Memory Box.

It contains a vast array of otherwise pointless artefacts. Each one of them is priceless to me.

You see the thing is with the Memory Box, that every item in there is attached to a memory. A significant event. A loved one. Dear friends who have since become casualties or names I fondly remember.

New items are continually added to the box.

The other night, I was compelled to rifle through every item in the Memory Box and was struck at what a positive experience it was. Going through those items always helps me remember why I'm in this world, and that my life is a journey with a beginning, middle and end.

The trinkets contained in the box serve as proof. Proof that I existed, and that I lived.
Some of these items are somewhat nonsensical, others rather more poignant.

A Bindi that was awarded to me by a stripper after my very first live performance singing with my band.

Jumper leads, stolen from my school physics lab by my best mate in high school Marc (stolen for "unspecified purposes")

Paper planes made by my high school crush. Saucy letters from more than one person, including one from my long time ex, given to me at work years ago.

There are many 'firsts' in the Memory Box. Like my very first hash pipe (that I managed to break quite easily), the tickets to the very first concert I went to (Robbie Williams) and the results from my driving test, which, three years ago set me on my way to becoming the angry motorist you see before you.

Some of these items are more bittersweet.

My grandmother's wedding ring that she wanted me to have after she died.

A Christmas card from a loved one, that for some reason a few years ago brought a tear to my eye.

A dance card from my high school dance. I met my first girlfriend that night. She came to a bad end, eventually succumbing to her many problems and putting a bullet in her head.

Photos of my parents, and their parents before them.

A beer bottle cap with "01/01/2006" etched into it. A reminder of new years day, what I was doing, and who I was with.

Going through all of this made me feel loved. These are things that I can see and touch, and hold preciously in my hand. It helps to connect me to the journey and lifts me up when I feel down.

In a strange way, these items often assist in me making peace with my past and those who have shared it with me. Each item, no matter how trivial, is an affirmation of my life.

the end.

Okay…

Hate to get shamelessly self promoting here, but with the impending end of this blog, and public demand at an all time high - I've decided to start a new blog. This one's a little different.
I cant reveal the title yet, but it will be online soon.

It's kind of an 'Ask Jim' concept where I invite all of you to send me your problems via e-mail. Your e-mails will then be published (and suitably edited for spelling and length) along with a humorous and undoubtedly sarcastic response.

So start now! Send your problems to:

your-pants@hotmail.com

2006-05-31T14:22:00.000+09:30

Remember Kids:

CRACK IS WHACK!

Sorry I just thought this picture was hi-larious!

2006-05-23T19:28:00.000+09:30

094: DOMESTIC DISPUTE

So my parents are getting divorced.

That's really the crux of this blog entry. But before I delve into any more detail, here's a transcript of the other night. It involves my parents and my sister. Names have been omitted to protect the innocent (and those who could care less).

It all starts on Saturday night as my sister is leaving to go to a party. As per usual, she is in fine form, dressed to the nines. Her hair is immaculate and she is wearing a trendy white overcoat, a black mini and tan coloured fish net stockings. She walks past the living room as she is leaving where my parents sit, engrossed in Walker: Texas Ranger.

Mum: Bye hun, have a good time tonight. Call us if you need anything.

My sister: See ya.

My dad shifts his weight in his seat before chiming in.

Dad: If something happens to you dressed like that, don’t call me. I aint coming!

My sister: What?

Dad: Look at the way you're dressed!!

I can see the rage building in my sister. She's a tiny little chick, but god damn she's feisty and I've been on the receiving end of her wrath many times.

My sister: What the fuck dad!?!?

My father turns his attack onto my mother who is intensely observing this clash of the titans.

Dad: And you! What kind of mother are you letting your daughter out of the house practically dressed like a whore!!?

My mother carefully prepares her response, but is cut off by more of my Dad's ranting. She starts bawling uncontrollably. Dad gets up off his chair and storms into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. My sister follows and tries to open the door, only to find that it is locked. She starts to pound on the door.

My Dad: Get out!! This is my room and this is my space and I wont let you invade it!!

My sister: God dammit!! What the hell is wrong with you!?!? Let me in here this instant!!

Mum continues to sob, muttering something about how much she hates us all. My sister continues to pound on the door, screaming.

My sister: If you have something to say about me, just say it to my face!

My Dad: Leave me alone, go out to your party for God's sake!!

Let's stop here.

You see usually at this point, I just close the door, or just crank up my stereo to drown them out. But for some reason this time I couldn’t help but quietly watch and listen (from a safe distance of course - no need to get caught in the crossfire).

As I watched the three of them rip into each other, it all seemed so familiar. So homely. My mum's emotional nature. My dad's immaturity. My sister's brutal honesty.

All three of them were like a car crash, with passengers and children flying through windscreens every which way. All I could think about was Vince, the imaginary crash dummy that sits in my passenger seat. He would wether this storm with much more dignity.

Families are a strange thing. Random people are put together through a fluke of genetics and suddenly you have four people trapped together in a small brick box, struggling to deal with each other. I long ago detached myself from their dastardly games, preferring to quietly retreat into the delicious safety and neon lights of my bedroom.

Nowadays I'm simply not home enough to get embroiled in these disputes. My family show very little interest in my movements. It's a good thing. I tend to keep them at arms length. Its' been that way for the last six years, ever since they reacted horribly to my coming out.

But that aside, this is why I wasn’t that surprised or hurt by their decision to get a divorce. I talked with my sister about it last night, huddled in front of the heater eating low fat yoghurt. We both decided that they would undoubtedly be happier. And now that we're both relatively grown up, it wont impact us as much.

I suppose the most surprising thing for me here is that it doesn’t bother me. I love my family, but I've never been close to them. They have no understanding of the man that I am, and I rarely understand them. It’s just the way things are. I'm certainly not sad about it, I've learned to accept it.

So here passes another chapter in the life of my dysfunctional folks. I'm still often ashamed to be genetically linked to them, but I have to accept them, for the flawed human beings they are.

The next few months will no doubt be harrowing for them, so I'll stand ready with a sympathetic smile, a sarcastic remark and a full assortment of rums, both spiced and regular.

the end.

2006-05-18T19:02:00.000+09:30

093: SKULL FUCKED

May 18th marks the beginning of the Mongolian School Holidays

FUN FACT OF THE DAY

Today's blog title comes from a term I frequently use after hearing a beloved work colleague (who shall remain nameless) threaten to fuck someone in the eye. Apparently a Full Metal Jacket reference.

"I'm gonna skull fuck you if you're not careful!!"

he raved while shaking his fists in the air with caffeine fuelled rage.

I have since started using the term to describe a difficult situation, or in today's case, just a busy day at the office.

So I'm back at work after being away for six days and the sensation is always the same. I always seem to think that if people don’t see me for a few days, they automatically assume that I have resigned or been killed in a random hovercraft accident (one of my worst fears).

I always feel like I need to re-acquaint myself with my workspace and the people in it because they have forgotten about me. Observe a conversation I had today with a random acquaintance at the workplace:

"Aren't you that guy??"

they ask as they rub their chins trying to remember my name or one of my many quirky attributes.

"You're that guy who eats all that mustard, right?"

I dig my nails into my jeans.

"It's Ketchup!! Jim eats Ketchup!!!"

I fume indignantly as I storm off into the elevators to hide, arms flailing with adolescent anger.

It's this in-built fear that I have that If I don’t lift my game, or am not constantly around, I will be 'recast'. Like some awful soap opera where an actor leaves because of a pay dispute and they simply recast him with a younger, sexier version of himself.

Remember Beau Brady in Days of Our Lives? (Don't judge me, I was a bored teenager and used to skip school to go home and watch it).

Which brings me to my next point about being away for a few days. Tremendous things happen. And I miss them. Granted we are currently being Skull Fucked at work, but yesterday we were monumentally busier! I feel guilty for not having been there to bear the brunt of the workload with my fellow disgruntled colleagues.

And then there's Lollie and her bombshell - her engagement to her boyfriend.

Wow! That news hit me like a one ton truck full of chickens on the Eastern freeway. I'm ecstatically happy for the both of them, but this is just another reminder that most people around me are actively 'doing things' with their lives. I seem to be stick in a holding pattern at the moment. More on that later.

It just scares me cause I'm slowly ageing and I can feel life starting to pass me by. Those huge life decisions (kids, a nicer car, maybe a house and a well trained Dingo) are merely a few years away.

I got dealt the loser cards, but I'm fairly certain it's time I used my arrogance (and not-so-obvious greatness) to turn the tables.

But right now, I guess I'll play the stupid guy just a little longer.

the end.

2006-05-16T17:50:00.000+09:30

092: TALES OF INTEREST!

In which our hero has to stay home from work due to a spinal injury.

The croutons have arrived! You know, those crunchy things you eat with soup? They also appear in ceasar salad. Anyway, I've been demanding that certain individuals supply me croutons from the cafe they work at. Under duress, this individual has complied. In my boredon, I've been snacking on these golden salty treasures. I've relished each oversalted mouthful.

Now that I think of it, I've been house bound for the last few days and I've started getting adventurous with my food.

I microwaved my (medicinal) Mars Bar just before and ate it with the sharpest knife I could find. I sat there with my melted chocolate, blade in hand and three feet away from my television.

I bet that's what Angelina Jolie does when no one is around.

Being on painkillers I seem to sway in and out of lucidity, interrupted by increments of 15 minutes in which I inexplixcably fall asleep. I find myself questioning why I've never gotten drunk in the shower, and if that dangerous red headed woman (who appears every time I'm stoned) really exists.

I've been swimming a lot because the Witch Doctor says it's good for my back. So night after night, I climb into my tiny blue speedos and swallow a couple of litres of chlorine.

That is until those no good kids bother me and insist that I play 'underwater torture' with them (?). Of course this is in between avoiding instances of hairy older men striking up a coversation with me, only to have it go down the "So...What are you doing later tonight?" direction.

* SIGH *

So it's been an eventful few days, even though due to my spinal injury, I've done very little. South Park. Mars Bars. Cereal. I even ventured out to the supermarket to go get some cereal.

"I'm a big man, and I need a big cereal!"

That's me, in my hazy state, trying to explain myself to the staff at my local Safeway.

Oh yes, and I encountered a drunken shovel weilding farmer on the outskirts of Melbourne. And the old lady next door beat me violently me with her handbag when I commented on what a nice day it was as I retrieved the mail. Think the ol' bitch is on more drugs than me!

The brightest spot in this whole extended episode has been hearing the new single from my favourite band - Muse. It's called "Supermassive Black Hole" and it's the first single from their new album out July 3rd.

Wow, what can I say? Britney's "Do Something" meets The Scissor Sisters on speed in a creepy disco run by Charleton Heston. Truly amazing stuff - a supermassive thumbs up from me. You can download it from their official website www.muse.mu.

Fuck knows if the actual CD Single will be released here. For those of us familiar with Australia's piss poor music industry, dont hold your breath. Just remember everyone:

Muse.

July 3rd.

Thank you all for contributing to my "Which woman do you wanna bash?" blog. Ive heard many interesting results. I love that my little journal can be such a forum for intelligent exchange. Seems like everyone wants to belt the same person though. I vote Martha Stewart.

Anyways, I'm off for a swim. I'll see y'all in a few short days.

Farewell from TV land.

"You Watched it!! You Cant Un-Watch it!!"

the end.

2006-05-11T12:56:00.000+09:30

I FULLY ENDORSE THIS
PRODUCT OR SERVICE

The Hills Have Eyes: Unrated

Okay I have to say this movie really, really scared me. And not just because of the amount of blood spilled. Visceral. Blunt. This film seemed to cross a line with me, and I liked it.

It's out on DVD in the US on June 26th. I've included the cover art for the unrated version of the film (12 minutes were cut to placate censors) for your viewing pleasure.

2006-05-09T16:17:00.000+09:30

091: MAN HATING WOMAN

You know this blog may actually sort of be the complete and total antithesis of my last post. And it's probably extraordinarily chauvinistic, but here goes anyway.

Someone once told me

"Son, there are certain women in this world who will only learn if they are given a damn good beating!"

Anyways, despite this person's advice, I've managed to treat women with the respect they deserve. I mean I have to work and live with them, I'm often motivated by fear to be nice to them. But there are times, lord forgive me, when I'm forced to agree with this chauvinistic perspective.

Most times it's women. Only because instead of brute force, they often use more subversive (bitchy) tactics to undermine and insult. There are certain men who I would like to belt with a two by four, but really, it's kind of acceptable (both men in said scenario being full of testosterone). Hence the temptation to give some lucky gal a wallop - it's forbidden.

Before you read any further and form an opinion (Mel) I just wanna say that I'm not condoning this behaviour, rather commenting on how tempting it is sometimes merely because it's so deliciously forbidden. As a stupid, stupid guy, I have little or no recourse against a venomous woman spewing forth her wrath.

In high school me and my best mate used to spend our time drawing a comic strip called "Woody and Frankie". Woody was a gun slinging cowboy, and Frankie was a giant murderous penis. I know I know.

Anyway, these two characters blazed a trail across the city bashing prostitutes and then loading them into their pick up truck.

The prostitutes were then driven back to their abandoned warehouse where their bodies where their corpses were ground up and made into soap.

So you can see this temptation has been there for quite some time, manifesting itself in one form or another.

So I invite you one and all to add to my list of people I would like to give a black eye to:
I'll start things off by listing several people who simply need a good, solid fist to the face.

- Delta Goodrem
- Tina Arena
- Antonia Kidman

The balls in your court now kids!

the end

2006-04-11T19:24:00.000+09:30

090: COUNTDOWN

A chill runs down my spine. I can feel the air around me slowly getting colder. I remain perfectly still. Fearful that if I move too quickly I may be injured. I don’t speak. My words, though sincere, may cause offence. I'm scared. My skin is clammy and I can feel myself begin to sweat.

"Business days!! Ten business days!! In how many languages do I need to explain this to you!?!?"

You see Lollie is in a mood. Not just any mood, one of her rage filled, man hating, destroy everything in her path moods. Being a red head and a Scorpio, I'm always particularly weary. Angry Nick and I know to run for cover, running from a gathering storm of oestrogen fuelled by the songs of the Spice Girl and a century of male oppression.

What is it about women when they get angry?

They strike fear in my heart so much easier than a man can. I mean, with a man, I'm safe in the knowledge that if the argument gets too heated, I can simply take a swing at him. But not a woman. There's just no right way to hit one.

I think it's because I fear their venomous tongues. Their ability to strip the veneer of my shiny personality and plunge their daggers deep beneath the surface. I don’t hate women at all, but I have to admit, I've learned not to fuck with them.

I blame my mother. And my increasingly spiteful sister. Both of them incredibly empowered people. But at some point they reached overkill.

Without sparking up a debate, this I feel, was one of the inherent problems with the feminist movement. It scared us men. It scared us too much.

But I digress. The point of this blog was not to butch about women. Not at all. Merely to say hell hath no fury like a women scorned. And I'm very afraid.

And where is that boy with my ketchup??

the end.

2006-04-06T17:27:00.000+09:30

089: RESIST AND MULTIPLY!

"I hate Jack Black. I want him to die!!!"
- Me. About an hour ago. In a fit of rage.

I reckon George Romero should make a film about people who work in offices.

Today has been somewhat trying with me losing my cool until someone would give me some god damn string or bring me my Ovaltine.

The last few hours have felt like a scene from Dawn of the Dead.

Couple that with the exciting prospect of some major changes at my workplace (like changing teams to be closer to Angry Nick) and the near corpse-like nature of certain people I work with and I'm developing a piercing headache starting at the base of my skull.

I mean really, it's like some people have one foot in the grave. I seem positively hyper active compared to them. It's probably cause I spend most of the day pumped full of sugar, bludging with my mates and using the internal mail system to tell people they are gay.

"Oh I hate this job more than I hate broccoli!"

That was Aaron. He sits next to me for the latter half of the week and complains. A lot. I'm thinking about stabbing him with a hat pin.

Anyway, back to the point I was trying to make!

I cant understand workers who come into work looking as if they've merely stumbled out of a morgue and slapped on a floral dress. They are the living dead. Some days I feel like I'm the extent of human content in this place. The only spark of sarcasm in an otherwise barren wasteland of hate.

Still I don’t let it bother me. Some days I can feel the cynicism creeping in, but most times I'm brave. I'm buoyed by the hope of the next smoke break and the prospect of purchasing new action figures with the money I'm making.

So the moral of my little rant is simply 'resist and multiply'. Think for yourself and don’t let others tell you how the world is.

If you buy into their cheap reheated propaganda, you'll end up like them. Floral dress. Nasty hairpiece. Flaking skin. And not a shred of humanity left in you!!

*shakes fist*

the end

2006-03-22T15:44:00.000+09:30

088: SPIKEY IRISH SHENANIGANS (Part 2)

Joe's Garage, located at the heart of Brunswick street's bohemian district, offers moderately attractive waitresses and great affordable food.

We arrived at the peak of the street's St Paddy's day festivities - the streets closed off by coppers responding to drunken folk dancing in the street. I was filled with regret as we walked past the cavalcade of cop cars, wishing I had seized my chance to dance in the street.

Champagne cocktails ensued, along with another stop for food. Lincoln piked and was hastily shoed away by a bitch faced waitress as he tried to sleep. We left Joes as most of the guys started heading home, but Hrisanthi and I had gotten ourselves into some deep conversation. Lincoln was seconded to the car for a snooze while we headed to the Old Bar.

Now the Old Bar is sorta what its like inside my head. Dusty, disorganised and unattractive. The bar wench wreaks of beer and pretzled bread as she shifts her bulbous mass around fixing drinks and just generally being surly.

There are abandoned pinball machines. Some sort of Islamic rifle game. Broken couches and miss matched glasses.

Ahhh…I was home.

Round this point of the night, I looked over at Hrisanthi who suddenly appeared extremely blurry. I knew it was time to stop drinking.

Ten minutes later I was sprawled over a fluffy white couch at Cue Bar. Serene chill out music played, and in my weary head, I slowly began to analyse the collective works of Charles Dickens. The last beer I had drank was like the final torpedo which does all the damage. Hrisanthi and I, like the two warriors left standing after a battle, melted into the couches and remained very, very still.

Thus ends my tale of marathon drunkenness. Twelve hours is certainly a record I'm gonna have to try and break next year. If all goes to plan, I'll be a no good student in March of next year, so I should have no trouble.

In closing, congratulations are in order to my mate Lincoln whose brother tied the know on the weekend!

And ten points awarded to Hoda who made a special effort to throw rocks at her ex as he was moving house last weekend!

So to all of you I wish a (belated) St Patrick's Day. I hope it brought you all many treasured (trashed) memories. At the very least I hope to god you did something fun!

the end.

2006-03-22T15:35:00.000+09:30

087: SPIKEY IRISH SHENANIGANS (Part 1)

"Ha ch-ch-cha cha-cha!!!"
-Drunken Irish Leprechaun from The Simpsons

Twelve hours. Twelve fucken hours I drank for this St Patrick's day. It's officially a record!

To me St Paddy's day is not just an excuse to get legless, but it's my name day. And any day named after me warrants raucous celebration.

The plan: To endure hour after hour of senseless drinking, starting in the afternoon and making my way through to the wee hours of the morning like some sort of drunken… errr… person.

Anyway, I decided to get a jump on things, starting at 1:30pm. A chilly afternoon unfolded as Lincoln and I began our quest at Comfy Chair where we met several random sluts (one of which claimed to be a leprechaun). Very Weird.

We then proceeded to a nearby café for food. It was apparent at that point that food would be needed if I was to last the distance.

While Lincoln managed to scare the teenage waitress we were joined by his increasingly superior woman Hrisanthi.

Proceeding to Essendon, we headed to a traditional Irish pub, complete with Guinness tattoos and face painting! (Five days later I still cant get those damn tattoos off!)

In a wire enclosure that extended out onto the street, the Guinness flowed. Angry Nick and Lollie made their appearances and the alcoholica continued until I lost most of my motor control and smoked close to two whole packs of smokes.

After a conversation with my mate Adam, I seriously began to consider a new job as a high rise window cleaner. In my drunken state, being suspended thirty floors above the ground seemed like an awesome idea. It still kinda does. More on this later I guess.

We were joined by Stu and his missus as I tried to hit the brakes with my drinking. I wanted to last longer than 10pm!

Next stop: Brunswick street. Lollie couldn’t join us cause she "had to work" the next day. Still I'm not bitter. On our way there Adam lifted me above his head and spun me round until my belt broke. Not cool. But all in the name of drunken shenanigans!

to be continued.

2006-03-21T12:39:00.000+09:30

086: THINGS TO MAKE AND DO

To others, I seem irritatingly comfortable with my own mortality. I dunno - it's always seemed fairly cut n dry to me. I'm alive now, and one day I wont be. Simple as that. With this in mind I feel it important to make a list of things to do before I die. I've divided these things into the following categories:

THINGS DO DO:

- Swim with Hammerhead Sharks.
- Wear Speedos to a job interview.
- Become a Private Investigator.
- Be the boss of my own company.
- Attend a fancy dress party in a Klu Klux Clan Outfit.
- Adopt a kid and call him Hot Rod.
- Bring back cancelled TV Shows (Angel, Millennium, Futurama)

THINGS TO OWN:

- A Chainsaw
- A Crash Test Dummy
- Some sort of handgun
- A leather trench coat.
- Some sort of Dingo.
- A Tuxedo.
- Every single Muse CD ever made.
- A big huge Jesus beard.
- Pecs.
- A house in North Fitzroy.
- A 57' Chevy

THINGS TO HAVE DONE TO ME:

- More piercings
- More tattoos
- Champagne Enema (don’t judge me)
- A decent haircut.
- Get possessed by a Demon while on holiday.

LETS TALK ABOUT SEX:

- Dude with the red pubes (need I say more)
- Fisting (once again, don’t judge me!)

And as a special feature I've Included today's list of humorous words as compiled by Lollie and myself who were both extraordinarily bored at work.

01. Bum
02. Rigorous
03. Dementia
04. Genitals
05. Apple
06. Frankston
07. Boobies
08. Underpants
09. Flammable
10. Discombobulated
11. Bolivia
12. Placenta

the end.

2006-03-14T15:26:00.000+09:30

085: REDEMPTION

"The thing about redemption is, you never run out of chances"

- Angel

I often consider myself a person who needs to be forgiven. At the core of my existence, I desperately want it. Ever since I was a little tyke, I've been plagued by guilt and self loathing. A large part of my life has been devoted to seeking redemption for the person I have been.
Everybody does terrible things, and I'm often able to justify the things I do, just like everyone else.

But then there's the guilt. The guilt that lasts for years and years and grips me like a heart attack in the middle of the night as I lie awake staring at the ceiling.

But the other day I had a revelation. Well it was a revelation to me. I'm only trying to forgive myself. To find a way to swallow all the self hatred I feel. Maybe the key lies in forgiving others?

This isn't an old idea. In fact it's one of the key precepts for more than one set of religious beliefs. But the notion rings true, and it seems to me forgiveness can bring symmetry.

When I was a kid, my grandmother (a devout Catholic) used to say to me "You should always pray for your enemies". What a concept! To pray for those who have essentially fucked me over?
Who are responsible for such damage?

How do I resist the urge to run certain people down with my car?

Wouldn’t clinging to the tasty need for vengeance make me feel a whole lot better?
Ultimately - no.

I guess as I get older, vengeance seems less appealing. Often doing nothing (and by default appearing to have the moral high ground) seems much more appealing. Firing at shot at your enemy after the fighting has ceased seems somehow dishonourable to me. Plus I don’t gain anything from it, do I?

Don’t get me wrong - I'm by no means a pacifist.

I relish a damn good fight. I've just begun to realise that carrying all this bitterness around with me cant be good. It's sort of like walking to the shop down the street and taking five or six suitcases. I only really need my handy man-bag. It has only the essentials.

So maybe the point I'm trying to make (when I finally get to it) is that I've decided to carry with me only grudges that are completely essential and relevant. If they're a few years old, or for minor misdemeanours (like burning my toast) I spose I can let em go.

This way I can forgive those who have wronged me in the past, and actively try and forgive those who still continually wrong me and burn my toast intentionally.

In a nutshell, I spose what I'm trying to say is that I feel I can start to forgive myself by forgiving others. The challenge with my philosophy lies in those people who are the guiltiest of them all. Who I still revile with a passion. I have to work at forgiving them and wishing them cool runnings on their journey.

Its not going to be easy. And maybe my redemption will work itself out.

Guess I have the rest of my life to work on this one.

the end.

2006-03-11T17:37:00.001+09:30

084: TEENAGE GIRLS WITH NEON CLAWS

Welcome to the never ending rant that has been my life for the past nine months. Today I'll be ranting about me attracting the wrong kind of people, most notably - teenage girls.

Boiling point was last nite at a strange place called Q Bar. Tucked away in the concrete jungle of the northern suburbs, Q bar boasts something like 30 pool tables and the bustiest barmaids this side of Bell Street Station.

Our night had begun like many others - a logistical nightmare. Getting my ever expanding click to meet at one place was becoming increasingly difficult (more on this in a later blog). Once inside I basked in the smokey atmosphere and admired the local grease balls around me as they absent mindedly played pool.

"Just how flammable is hair product?"

I pondered, remembering an unfortunate incident from school involving my heavily gelled hair and an open flame.

And then it happened - the looks, the stares the remarks. Suddenly I could feel the same kind of gut wrenching fear I felt a few weeks back in my new bouncing job. I spent the night harassed by a group of girls who sent me fleeing behind the bar (SEE: Entry 79)

Hoda alerted me to the situation. I feigned surprise (I often do this), and tried to think of something else. I turned my attention to the two middle eastern pimps who had come out looking to find a bride. Good luck with that.

Teenage girls still looking. The largest of the group, who resembled a leather clad walrus kept batting her eyelids at me. She shifted in her seat. All of her jiggled. Then her posse of whores returned from the bar, martinis in hand.

"Oh god…"

I tried to hide in my jacket, but those venomous women had seen me and are already undressing my tiny little body with their eyes. This is bad.

Just then, Trip sat up. He started talking. My terror blocked out what he had said. I finally tuned in. Turns out he's ready to leave.

"All right!!!"

Slowly making my my through a sea of tables and abandoned glasses, we headed for the exit. Sweet, sweet salvation. Hoda behind me, no doubt giving any woman who looked at me a death glare. God bless her protective nature. I tried to think good thoughts. For some reasons all I could come up with was Waffles. I love Waffles so much. We finally made it outside.

"I can see the stars!!"

I pictured those teenage girls, all of them scantily clad and bathed in sweat and second hand smoke. Flanking their gargantuan leader in the leather. Jabba the hut never looked more appealing. I was out and I had escaped their neon claws once again. I always do. But still there was, and always will be that one day they will accost me at the jukebox or by the mens room!

I strolled with the gang for a little bit and said my farewells. Hoda and I walked to my car, and deep down I knew that it wasn’t over. Not yet. I simply have 'teenage girl appeal'.

I'll never find anyone of my own because I'll be too busy struggling to breathe, buried under a mountain of cellulite and boob tubes. A shiver ran down my spine as I drove off into the stark, Thomastown night.

Pray for me.

the end.

2006-03-08T18:09:00.000+09:30

083: EVERYTHING I'M NOT

"Sometimes it's easier to believe the lie…"

- Dana Scully

Today at work I got to thinking about the nature of my individuality.

I know it's a fairly big subject to tackle, but I've begun to wonder if there are as many pitfalls to being unique as there are advantages.

It all started at my soul draining job today, looking at the people around me. Seemingly happy, normal and (sometimes) well dressed. They're all dressed for success and walking with obvious purpose.

Me, well I dress differently. I have this stupid haircut going on, yet I'm sometimes painfully intelligent. I rarely walk with purpose. I've been told that I often walk like the T100 (from Terminator 2). Most days though, I opt for my distinctive shuffle.

I've been defiantly different my whole life, but there have been many moments where I would have given anything to be one of the crowd. To talk, dress and act like them. To be socially acceptable, and to do the things they do.

Meanwhile I've managed to make my own way, a parallel path. Leading a motley crew, and sticking to my own morals, I've always strived to be an individual. To rile against the establishment. It's been a fight that's not been without it's casualties. But most importantly, the fight has been worthwhile. Until now.

Today was the day I finally considered the price of being unique.

It can mean a life of loneliness. Being and feeling left out. It never pays to go against the grain, no matter how righteous my cause my be, no matter how much I think I wanna change the world.

Being a smart kid, my adult life is truly beginning to mirror my time at primary school. Feeling so isolated an unable to connect with anyone because I was so different. Yet now at 22, my unique personality is reviled as much as it is supported by the people around me.

So it poses the question. Dare I trade in all that I have built in order to conform? Will simply being one of the collective ultimately make me happier? Am I destined to forever be the dude in the funny t-shirts and the stupid hair? Trapped in this awkward phase between boy and man until I die!?!

It's individuality versus conformity.

I'm still not sure. And I'm terrified that there's no payoff at the end. Granted, being the person I am is reward enough.

But it would be so much easier to lay down my arms, laugh at a Chris Rock movie and finally, truly fit in. That would be so nice.

the end.

2006-02-27T18:09:00.001+09:30

082: MARY POPPINS & KURT COBAIN

There's nothing worse than being miserable when everyone else around you is happy.

This is the challenge I faced today, especially with my perennial sidekick Lollie who was bursting at the seams with the newfound joy she feels for no apparent reason. It makes me sick, to know that others are happy when I'm not. Who allows a world like this to exist?

So today Lollie and I are out on one of our patented smokos when she reveals she's feeling like Mary Poppins. Great. She's this close to some sort of awful animated bird landing on her handbag to sing to her.

Here's me visualising the bird in a cage.

And me replacing its water supply with methylated spirits. Excellent.
Observe the following exchange:

Lollie: I'm having a great day today. In fact my life is great right now. I'm looking good, I'm getting noticed by guys. I'm just great!

Slim: why?

Lollie: I dunno. I feel like Mary Poppins today. I had such a great sleep in my new bed sheets last night.

I flash back to my restless night and the four hours sleep I've had. Also the nightmare I woke up from in which me and Angry Nick went to a bar in Geelong filled with terrifying midgets.

Slim: Well if you're fuckin Mary Poppins, I'm Kurt Cobain today. I'll be moody and go home and play angry chords on my guitar until after dinner when I blow my head off in the driveway with my daddy's shotgun.

This is the point where I'm thinkin about Kurt Cobain accosting Mary Poppins in a secluded New England street and threatening her with a knife.

Kurt: Gimme all ur money bitch, or I'll cut yer a new smile!!!

He holds the knife to her throat, Mary recoils and her eyes widen with fear.

Mary: Well goodness! That's no way to talk to a lady young man! I've a good mind to call the Police!!

And with that Kurt plunges his knife straight into her heart and dies very quickly and quietly. And he steals her umbrella.

…and suddenly there I am, daydreaming, cigarette in hand. And all is right with the world.

I'm still angry though.

the end.

2006-02-25T20:06:00.000+09:30

It's not out till May 2007, but it's still a cool poster.

http://www.imdb.com/gallery/ss/0413300/Ss/0413300/Comp_31rev2.jpg?path=gallery&path_key=0413300

2006-02-21T16:47:00.000+09:30

081: SMACKDOWN

Lunch at work is always called 'Smackdown'. I'm not really sure why but it's just one of those obscure traditions that seems to have evolved over time.

It's not uncommon for Lollie to saunter up to my desk and ask

"What time is Smackdown today?"

Gets me thinking about traditions and things that we do because they have somehow become tradition to us. Traditions are always a good thing to maintain. Some are passed down from family, while some are established brand new and shiny by the ones you love.

For example it's always tradition to eat crappy take away food the first night in a new house. This harkens back to being poor after moving into my last apartment and only being able to afford greasy KFC.

It's tradition for me to (at some point) see the Christmas windows at Myer each year, only cause I've never missed one year in my life. I can remember seeing those whimsical windows from my pram. Now at 22, I don't get the same thrill out of em (in fact I'm fiercely anti-Christmas) but I'll be damned if I'll miss a year!

It's now tradition for me and Lollie to attend a 'de-brief' at least once a week after work. This usually consists of me and her sitting in one of our cars, cigarettes in hand, sharing gossip and spilling the beans on our non-existent love lives or weekly family drama.

New traditions make me smile. They let us all know that we are connected to the world and the people around us. And even though we are all destined to walk very different paths, and our clicks, groups and teams will all disband - we will always have that tradition.

In related news, Lollie says she has blogged for the first time in a couple of months. Might be worth your while heading over to Sex, Drugs & Call Centers - if only to peruse her man status board.

the end.

2006-02-20T18:09:00.000+09:30

080: IN VALEN'S NAME

The sci-fi community is in mourning at the passing of a true legend, Andreas Katsulas, better known as Ambassador G'Kar from Babylon 5.

Andreas distinguished himself over five years of the Hugo Award winning series as a multi faceted performer, bestowing upon G'Kar great pathos and tremendous dignity. Without a doubt my favourite character in the entire show, we saw a man with the soul of a poet and the heart of a warrior.

A genre actor, he also appeared in Star Trek Enterprise, Millennium, The Fugitive and made several appearances on Star Trek The Next Generation.

Along with Richard Biggs (Dr Stephen Franklin), he represents another irreplaceable piece of the B5 universe and will be sorely missed.

Andreas died of lung cancer on February 13th at the age of 59. Rest In Peace.

the end.

2006-02-20T17:07:00.000+09:30

SECOND HAND SMOKE

Okay, this quiz was just too good to pass up. Here I was desperately hoping to be a part of the Deep Space Nine crew (Damn you Simon!!) and wear them funky uniforms. But guess I'll have to settle for fighting sewer monsters and fighting super soldiers (that look like Adam Baldwin).

And really, who wants to be part of the Enterprise D crew!?! ZZZZZZZZZ

You scored as FBI's X-Files Division (The X-Files)

You are part of a super secret section of the FBI. You also have the very cool status of “Special Agent”. You believe in many conspiracies and know the government is covering up way too much. Now if only you could the Cigarette Smoking Man to stop providing you with the second-hand smoke.

FBI's X-Files Division (The X-Files) 100%
Enterprise D (Star Trek) 88%
Moya (Farscape) 75%
Galactica (Battlestar: Galactica) 75%
Babylon 5 (Babylon 5) 75%
Deep Space Nine (Star Trek) 75%
SG-1 (Stargate) 75%
Andromeda Ascendant (Andromeda) 50%
Millennium Falcon (Star Wars) 50%
Serenity (Firefly) 50%
Nebuchadnezzar (The Matrix) 38%
Bebop (Cowboy Bebop) 0%

Take the damn quiz - bitch!
Your Ultimate Sci-Fi Profile II: which sci-fi crew would you best fit in? (pics)

2006-02-13T15:48:00.000+09:30

079: PREDATORY ADVANCES

My bones ache after what ended up being something like a sixteen hour day on Saturday working at the bar as bouncer/door bitch/security guard/barman…oh yes…and keeper of the spider.

I had an amazing time though. Working as part of a moderately attractive team, being behind the bar.

Then hiding behind the bar to fend off the predatory advances of the troupe of teenage strumpets who had set their sights on me. I felt like a hunted animal. My mate Pete was there, but even he could offer only limited protection.

It was probably the most entertaining Saturday night I've had in months, and it's truly given me a new respect for all the underlings who work their fingers to the bone in hospitality every day.

I mean, how often do we spare a thought for the underpaid security guard, or the overworked bartender who has to be home in time to stop her kids from watching the Naked News?

If you're anything like me - probably never. I just want my damn crossaint!

They're there long after the drunken party guests have shoved their bloated corpses into taxis and gone.

Now if I could only go to the gym more and buy an ultra tight black t-shirt, I'd be set for what looks like a possible new career path for me (along with Private Investigator, Police Officer, Musician, Stuntman and Mailboy).

the end.

2006-02-11T15:05:00.000+09:30

078: BOUNCER-SLASH-DOOR BITCH

A mere twenty four hours after deciding I needed a second job - it appears that I already have one. I've nobly sacrificed my Saturday night (I'd probably just spend it brooding anyway) to work as a bouncer-slash-door bitch.

It's a fine line really. Am I expected to simply cross of names from a list? Or should I start a punch-on with the local muzzas? I feel I should select an appropriate sidearm for my very first foray into this new field. I already have a couple picked out.

In many ways it's probably the first job that really speaks to my strengths as a person…or at least I think it is. I'll be utilising many of my skills including:

- Fighting.
- Dishing out abuse.
- General threatening behaviour.
- Crossing out names with a pen.

With some luck, this could be an ongoing gig. I can hardly turn down the cash in hand that I'll be getting, plus an oppurtunity to mingle (or threaten) all manner of partygoers tonight.

So think of me tonight. All dressed in black from head to toe. Possibly armed to the teeth.

God I hope I don’t have to get stitches!

the end

2006-02-10T15:03:00.000+09:30

077: DAMAGE

Dont let the world pass you by,
Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold,
Remember why you came and why you're alive,
Experience the warmth before you grow old.
- Incubus "The Warmth"

Crouched down on the road at 4am yesterday morning with my digital camera, I couldn’t help but think that this was a familiar feeling. Taking photos of the gaping hole that mere minutes ago was the front of my car.

Some idiot smashed into the front of my parked car yesterday morning leaving a huge gash and about $1500.00 in damages for me to take care of.

Yup, that’s fitting.

Seriously, I think this car is cursed or something. Let's recap. Over the last fortnight:

- I've had my wallet and phone stolen from the car.
- had the car's rear vision mirrors ripped off by a wayward cyclist.
- had a gaping hole put in the front of my car in some random accident.

I've been thinking that I simply don’t make enough money to pay for all the awful things that keep happening to me. So I'm on the hunt for a second job. Hopefully I can finally make some progress with my money instead of constantly paying for damage control.

So my beautiful car (White Sox) goes into the shop next week, sort of like a ship being in dry-dock. I haven't even had this car for a full year and it's already half demolished!

So this year has well and truly started on quite a bad note. Not even half way through February and I already have so much rebuilding to do. So much healing to do. It's challenging. I get exhausted just thinking about it!

So here begins the search for another job. I'm sure there are plenty of things I can be good at!

The most annoying thing is that the road to recovery is always so long. Whether it's emotional or financial recovery - it still takes so much time for things to be 'okay' again. I think that's what I'm looking forward to.

That's what I'm working towards now.

It seems impossibly difficult, but still it's kinda nice to have my work cut out for me.

the end

2006-02-06T16:46:00.000+09:30

076: UNSPECIFIED GREIVANCES

Last week was bad.

FIRST I had my wallet and phone stolen by a gang of bike riding young teens while pumping my tires at the service station. So I've spent the better part of a week reordering credit cards and ID. My new drivers licence looks good. My sister Bec says I look "mug-shot-hot". Yup, totally what I was going for.

THEN someone runs into one of my rear vision mirrors and smashes the whole thing off.

AND THEN I realise that I'm boring myself in my own dreams. I dreamt I went to some boring book signing for some boring Tom Clancy-type author and was so bored - I woke up. I think it's a bad sign when your subconscious is boring you. Clearly I need to be out there and having more fun.

Having said this, I am resolved to get wasted tomorrow night - I'll let y'all know how it goes.

Or maybe I wont.

the end.

2006-01-31T12:36:00.000+09:30

075: THE HULK WITHIN

Why am I not surprised?

I even have a really tiny pair of shorts at home and a shirt that I once ripped open in a fit of rage. This was during my brief stint as a mail boy.

Here are the results below. I'm ever so pissed. I wanted to be Superman!!! And what do they mean Seventy Five percent Supergirl!?!?

This is about my Madonna CDs, isnt it?

100% Spider-Man
95% Iron Man
95% Superman
80% Green Lantern
80% Batman
75% Supergirl
65% The Flash
65% Robin
60% Catwoman

You are a wanderer with amazing strength.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

2006-01-29T16:23:00.000+09:30

074: MISTER RESPONSIBILITY

I have a mate at work called Mister Fun. He's called Mister Fun because he's constantly wreaking havoc in our office. He has a Nerf ball and a water pistol and this other pistol which shoots flying discs at Lollie (much to her displeasure).

I'd be Mister Responsibility. At least I have been for the last couple of months. The change has come as a result of a secondment at work. Being a Team manager and looking after the troops.

My hat goes off to all my managers at work who seem to make this job look so stress free and effortless. It's like having 46 tiny little jobs, instead of just one. It's my job to stare thoughtfully at pie graphs (huh?), conduct training and counsel staff when they have their mental meltdowns (which seem to occur with alarming regularity).

One day I counted 19 seconds from the time the elevator doors opened to the time in which people were calling my name, asking for assistance or wanting me to wipe their noses.

Dont get me wrong, the job has it's fun parts. And it's great to be given the responsibility, but I'm looking forward to wrapping up. I mean when did I of all people become 'Mister Responsibility'? Somedays I can barely tie my own shoes!

My best mate Lincoln, constantly riling against authority, gave me the following instructions:

"Grab a pen, and a piece of paper and write Dear Satan - I want my soul back"

Today is the beginning of my last week as team leader and I'll be stoked to sit at my poster laden, Angel encrusted old desk where I can tune out and do my job with a minimum of independent thought.

So here's to a stress free, uneventful week filled with unchallenging circumstances and great hair days. Cheers.

the end

2006-01-29T16:02:00.000+09:30

073: FOR THE LOVE OF THINGS

I'm constantly fascinated by the human need to acquire material posessions. No matter what personality type, everyone collects something or eagerly anticipates a new purchase.

Whether it be DVDs, clothes - I buy into it. I'm like the ultimate capitalist - happy to contribute to the world's economy (and not burn CDs so artists get paid for their art!).

Check out my latest acquisition. It's Miles O'Brien from the Deep Space Nine episode 'Trials and Tribble-ations', courtesy of Mr. Anderson who knows just how much enjoyment I get out of receiving new things. Especially Star Trek things (I found your Muse CD by the way).

I'm only thinking about this cause I went shopping today in an attempt to shake off the monster hangover I obtained after Aaron's birthday shindig last night. In short - very very drunk. I stupidly decided to mix Whiskey with Bacardi and several types of beer. I also managed to swipe several lighters from people (I'm so SICK of people taking my fucking lighters and not giving them back!!!). So the way I see it, it's smoker's Karma.

My red headed bombshell of a mate Lollie was right there with me, although as usual garnering more than her fair share of attention. This is why I've been going to the gym.

It was great to not have to be ferrying a car load full of cranky, drunken (and sometimes vomiting) partygoers all to their respective homes. This is often my responsibility.

So after reverting to my 17 year old state for a night, and a hangover that felt like an ice pick through my skull, shopping ensued to ease my troubled soul. I walked from store to store in the searing heat, making a rare visit to the city.

"I have to buy something. I mean I drove all this way, right?"

So of course I surrendered to the salty goodness of a purchase and found me a Gorillaz DVD.

What can I say - the Australian dollar would be nothing without people like me around.

the end

2006-01-14T21:26:00.000+09:30

072: STAPLER INCIDENT

If I didnt have a stapler - I wouldnt have a problem.

This is what I've been thinking all week. Every time someone takes my stapler I'm pretty much ready to impale someone in the throat. Or stab them through the heart with my car keys. This is apparently why I'm not allowed to have a letter opener for so called "safety reasons".

This is how I am at work.

Once again folks "Jimtitis - the absolute inability to deal with every day circumstances without having a panic attack or lapsing into a catatonic state". This is the serious medical condition I've been dealing with for the past 12 months. It can be both hilarious and debilitating.

So one person in particular (who shall remain nameless) continually takes my stapler without giving it back. Without even asking!

Despite regular threats of violence, this individual continues to remove the stapler from my desk. I have had to pursue other avenues at work, like employing others to guard the stapler, or even watch this person and report on his stapler-stealing movements.

In an attempt to deter the theif, I have updated my infamous 'enemies list' twice in full view of everyone at work.

Stay tuned guys. 2006 looks to be a return to form for me, with my violent urges bubbling to the surface - and my pettiness at an all time high. I'm in the right mood to lock someone in the basement if they take my stapler again.

I hope you're reading this.

2006-01-07T12:35:00.000+09:30

071: ALL NEW EPISODES!

For the first time ever I arrived at work at 7am (only so I could get it over and done with and get out early).

There's a Star Trek marathon on TV, so I've spent a sizeable portion of the day watching Riker and Data and Deanna.

I'm still quite taken with the whole concept of the morning - to me the world doesn’t exist before 11am, and even then it's fairly blurry.

To update y'all, new years eve was quite restrained. I ended up on the beach, in my boxers, a beer in one hand and a smoke in the other. The balmy night and the fireworks created an unforgettable atmosphere. I've retained a chewed up beer cap as a memento.

Xmas passed with just as much trauma and depression that I had anticipated. And my bank balance is slowly recovering from the belting it took in the last weeks of December.

So here we are at the start of a new year. I find myself wondering where I'll be in twelve months time. You never end up staying in the same place as you began.

Things change and twist and slowly get convoluted into their new shape - and there you are - twelve months down the road. 365 all new episodes (as in mental episodes!)

And I more than likely wont get to blog about it either!! What with less than 30 blog entries left, this could well be over soon. Who am I going to whinge to in cyberspace now??

Anyways, I hope everyone had a great holiday season, some more than others (you know who you are - trashbag!).

the end.

2005-12-28T15:56:00.000+09:30

070: STRANGE DAYS

This time of year is always kind of strange.

It's like being lost in limbo. Some kind of neon-light-filled purgatory in which there is a week between Xmas and the end of the year.

Work seems like a house with all the children gone. Everyone is still on leave, away with their families, boyfriends and girlfriends doing more entertaining things than I can possibly even think of right now. And having lots of sex.

It's as if at this point, no one really gives a damn.

Everyone slacks off - and rightfully so.

We're all just holding our breath, waiting to cross that finish line.

Speaking of which I still have no concrete new years plans. Definetly keeping it a low-key affair though.

Once I finish my current team leading assignment midway through next month, I'm thinking of taking some time off. Kind unprecedented for me. The concept of a holiday is kinda lost on me. And I don’t really have anyone to go with.

So the concept of a solo escape is kind of unappealing (although earlier this year, such a venture proved invaluable)

Scored some excellent Xmas gifts, all of which I will report on before the year is through.

My Xmas four day break consisted of lots of DVD viewing (Red Dwarf Series 7), drinking (got stuck into that fine, fine Whiskey) and eating. So much eating.

Detox begins right here.

the end.

2005-12-26T16:52:00.000+09:30

Yes, It's definetly time to detox after gorging myself with all that Xmas food and booze.
And while sitting in my underwear at the computer - I found this.

2005-12-23T08:31:00.000+09:30

MERRY FREAKIN' XMAS EVERYONE!

I hope you all bask in the the capitalist glory that is Xmas in the 21st century.

Stay safe. Play nice. Take photos.

2005-12-22T17:33:00.000+09:30

069:MENS ROOM MUSING

My Pre-Xmas week is fast running out, and the frantic pace of it has taking it's toll on me. I'm tired, but still choc-full of coffee, nicotine and red frogs.

Mel just commented on my blog, and strangely it echoed earlier thoughts I was having in the mens room. A mere handful of days from the end of this year and I'm surviving.

Embattled. Betrayed. Alive.

It's more than what I could say at this time last year, barely crossing the finish line in tact, clinging to the last remaining shreds of dignity and resolve I had left.

I'm leaving this year strong. Established.

...and safe in the knowledge that I'm better looking than Moby.

I got to see all my favourite people once again this week, including Lincoln and his increasingly superior girlfriend Hrisanthi.

Two people compelling enough to hold my attention for several hours, with nothing but their intricate personalities and quick wittedness. I'm so grateful for people like that in my life, who are so willing and able to lift me out of the boredom of my every-day-average.

Updating the XMAS BOOTY LIST, here are some new gifts from Hrisanthi, Lincoln and Trip respectively:

- Flying Superman
Nail this guy to the roof and he flies around in circles, or plug him to his base and he strikes a mighty pose.

- A disc of porn
My favourite pastime.

- An 80s CD

- A Pair of fighting gloves
In which I will finally be able to smite all my enemies!

- A coffee mug with various sluts on it
Guys, I've been obsessed with this mug for so long, it's not funny

- A bottle of Irish Whiskey
If whiskey flowed from a waterfall in the forest, it would be this whiskey and there would be drunken Irish people everywhere

So there we have it, and probably the last journal entry prior to Xmas.

So I'd like to wish my loyal readership a moderately happy Xmas, filled with giving, sharing and spending (whether it be your time or money).

Stand for peace.

2005-12-20T11:36:00.000+09:30

068: ELEVEN DAYS

It occurs to me that there are only a handful of days left in this year. What a frightening thought, to suddenly be in the last couple of weeks of a year that has seemed like such an extensive journey.

I've been getting kinda reflective as I do towards this end of the year. Thinking about what kind of year it has been.

I think of my years as chapters in a book.

Each chapter has it's own distinctive flavour and feel. Each one with it's own themes and characters which come and go, live and die.

2005 has been a year of great achievements and devastating losses for me. When I tally it all up, they all seem to even themselves out.

I'm sure I've taken an emotional beating, but I've also gotten myself a stable job in which I'm moderately successful.

It's all been about the status quo, maintaining stability following the disastrous events of last year. I'm thankful for the boredom sometimes.

The last few days of this year will undoubtedly prove strange and bittersweet as this rollercoaster of a year brings itself to a (surprising) conclusion.

the end

2005-12-19T16:57:00.000+09:30

067: CHRI$TMA$

What day of Xmas is it?

I mean according to the song, the 12 Days Of Xmas. Which number is it?

Is it the one with the pidgeons laying, or the mooses braying. I'm sure there was a golden ring in there somewhere.

Trust the greedy bitch who wrote that song to include the bling in the last verse. This way her no- good boyfriend knew that no matter how many french hens he bought his missus, he would still have to shell out on a real present - jewellry.

Mel was keeping count on her blog, I know (discounting today) that there are only 4 days remaining.

I have a week filled with last minute rendezvous to see all my favourite people and give them their various Xmas gifts. I guess I've realised I love giving stuff to people. Especially things I know they really want.

Therein lies the joy of Xmas - in purchasing things and having other people purchase things for me.

As a self confessed capitalist, this is the event of the year. Religion and family aside, I love what the holiday season does for our economy.

How I get positively wet with excitement at buying things for other people, knowing that they too have gone out and spent their hard earned cash on me.

Last night I got my first Xmas gifts from Hoda and Olivia respectively.

I plan to include all my Xmas gifts here on my blog like a little kid, so I can revel in their excellence! Here begins my list:

- Chevy Impala twelve inch model
My dream car. Either this or a 57 Chevy. How did you know?
- The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Special Shiny Edition with Shiny cover
Without a doubt, this seminal 1974 classic has to be up there with my favourite films.
- Astro Boy: the action figure
A whole lot of leg spreading, flying-round-the-room action coming to my workplace soon!

And that's only round one! A week away from Xmas and I've already cleaned up!!

Loathing any sort of surprise, I can pretty much identify what each present is under the tree for me. Usually by their size, shape and smell.

The one thing I cannot identify is a battle damaged Spike action figure from the episode 'Grave'.

Or Hungry Hungry Hippos. That's been on my list for years.

Damn you Santa. You awful red demon. Damn you!!!

the end

2005-12-12T15:41:00.000+09:30

066: COURAGE IN NUMBERS,

COWARDS ALONE

I woke up to the news today positively disgusted at what I was seeing. Not since the tragic events of 9/11 have I been so horrified at what I was watching. It was like I was seeing it, but not believing it.

For those Australians reading this, you'd already be well aware of the race riots that occurred yesterday in New South Wales.

Approximately 5000 people formed a mob and raged through the streets, damaging cars and assaulting anyone with 'middle eastern' looking features.

The situation escalated, with riot police subduing an angry, violent crowd with capsicum spray and batons.

The paper today is plastered with photos of these people, and the cops trying to restrain a violent drunken mob.

There were two stabbings and 25 people injured. 40 cars were vandalised while the Australian flag was burned.

This happened in the country I live in.
This happened in Australia.

What a dark day it is for my country.

As I read the news, horrified, I saw the photos of the shirtless hooligans parading through the street. Every one of them with a beer bottle in their hands.

Look at our patriots in action, I say. Watch as the heroes of our country rush in to take action. Defending us from those foreign devils, with an arrogant chant in their voices, and a drink in one hand. Courage in numbers, cowards alone.

This is a national disgrace.

Tell me how a group of people who are the descendants of British criminals can claim racial superiority?

How are they any better than Islamic terrorists who walk into a bank with explosives strapped to their bodies?

Today I feel so ashamed to be Australian.

After seeing this type of mob rule, this type of drunken xenophobia take flight, I truly believe this country will never be the same again.

50 years ago, on the Night of The Long Knives, the same ball was set in motion with the persecution of the Jews.

This could be a slippery slope and we seem to be sliding down it pretty fuckin' fast.

You'd think that after the death of six million innocents (and countless other instances of racially motivated murders) we would have learned a lesson. And it's a simple lesson that a fragile old woman explained to me a few years back.

I had been talking with her for some time, asking about the markings on her arm. She took my hand in hers. I marvelled at how worn and gnarled her fingers were. They reflected a life of suffering.

This woman was a holocaust survivor.

And she said to me "We are all the same".

the end

2005-12-10T16:49:00.000+09:30

065: LESS BAD

I choose for today to be a good day.

I made this decision this morning as I woke up to the sounds of the crazy screaming woman who lives next door to me.

"My Baby!!!! Oh God no!! What have you done with my baby!?!? Aagagagaahhhh!!!!"

Yesterday was just generally crappy cause I was so tired. I blame myself though. Stayed out way too late the night before with Hoda and Trip. So in my zombie-fied state, generally bad things seem twice as bad, and all I want to do is sleep.

24 hours later I'm much more awake and ready to deal with all the terminally boring things the world has to throw at me.

Tomorrow, I hope to accomplish the impossible.

Despite my protestations, I'm expected to purchase thoughtful Xmas gifts for my family and significant friends.

This is of course the only obligatory component of Christmas.com in which I partake…only cause I look like a cheapskate if I don’t get them anything

So the Xmas shopping must conclude tomorrow.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have joined forces with Mister Fun and we are about to launch a senseless attack on Lollie in retaliation for her brutalising my Spogebob soft toy.

the end

2005-12-05T18:06:00.000+09:30

064: A PUMPKIN-ESQUE EXPERIENCE

Out on a smoko just now, obsessing yet again about the looming threat of Christmas.com.

I've advised Lollie of my intention to be a vegetable today. A turnip, or some sort of pumpkin. I'm going to remain orange and motionless. Turns out my horoscope supports my vegetable intentions, check it out:

Charm and grace will get you everything you want today so you don't need to struggle too hard by using arguments or any other clever facts. Simply be yourself and let that charm work for you.

In short: I'm great.

This is kinda good to hear following a socially disastrous weekend choc full of 'meh'. You see I've been struck by inspiration, and I may have just found a way out of this sea of boredom I've been sailing for the last year or so.

I'm fairly certain I'm fast approaching the end of this incarnation of me.

I guess that sounds kinda abstract. But you know when people change in their lives, it often happens suddenly, appearing as though they have morphed into an amalgam of what they were, and what they are now.

It's a feeling of having mastered a skill or an art form. Being able to do it without even thinking. Sort of like driving. You're still thinking when you're on the road, but it's not a self conscious 'hands gripping the steering wheel' type of thinking.

Having said that, my life feels the same way. Some may even use the word 'complacent' or 'comfortable'. These are two things which have always proven quite damaging to my life. They're like blood on brain tissue!

Being this guy isn't easy, but I think I've done all I can do. It's sort of like a character in a story who eventually runs out of stories (Anyone remember poor ol' Kes from Star Trek Voyager?).

So obviously you have to take your character and force him in a new direction, and into an environment which will allow for interesting plotlines, danger, excitement, exotic recurring characters and sex.

So that's me right there. And the good news is I have an idea. An idea that I'm thinking about thinking. And something I'm not quite ready to talk about yet.

But I have an idea.

the end

2005-12-03T22:07:00.000+09:30

063: A YEAR AGO TODAY

Caught off guard by a bout of 'everything is going wrong!!!' I thought I'd take a few moments to reflect on what I was doing a year ago today.

Not knowing exactly what I was doing on December 3rd, 2004, I can only venture a guess.

I was working in what has now taken the cake as my worst job ever. Primus. A telecommunications company. I use the term lightly.

Grateful to be granted reprieve from my prestigious box-assembling job, I took the position at Primus without really thinking about what I was getting into. That, and I needed the money.

Faces encrusted mens rooms, bland boring people who listen to too much Linkin Park and are always 'about to break'.

More foreigners and non-english speaking employees than you can shake an empty boat at.

The only positive side effect of this job have ended up being Trip and Hoda, two of my closet allies who have now earned a place in my heart, and my dysfunctional extended family.

But not only that, I had very few friends, a rocky yet rewarding relationship, and my very first car, Sox. That blue 1991 Ford Falcon streaked a course of adventure across this city in the year and a half I had it.

So when I think of those things, those problems that I had back then, I remember them seeming like the biggest issues in the world. Gargantuan obstacles set before me that I had to overcome. Little did I know what awaited me.

Oobviously, logic prevails, and my brain tells me that the problems of the day always seem like the biggest, nastiest ones.

The thing is - I miss last years problems.

They were like some sort of hemmoraging wound that felt so deliciously good. Sort of like losing blood. Initially, it's very painful, but after the first litre or so, you begin to relax and enjoy the eerie calm that washes over your body.

I almost get misty eyed thinking about a particular fight, or the $800.00 alternator in my car that I had to replace on the hottest day of the year.

What were the rest of y'all doing round this time last year?

2005-11-29T18:27:00.000+09:30

062: XMAS DREAD

I hate Christmas.

So much.

I freak out a little. I still cant put my finger on why it upsets me so much.

Could it be that I resent having to spend possibly hundreds of dollars on gifts for people?

Could it be the part where I have to spend time with my family, and no doubt end up doing the bulk of their Christmas shopping?

Could it be the last five or six Christmases sucked arse (not in the good way) and made me really depressed or so angry I vomited?
Possibly all of the above?

I was having a (brief) e-mail chat with the ever wise Mel who shed some light on the subject. Evryone has their own ideas on what Christmas (or Xmas, as I prefer) should be like.

But it's still very difficult not to buy into a season teeming with

commercialism, and, to an extent - child exploitation.
(who the fuck do you think makes those Nikes?)

I cannot condone the merging of the birth of Christ with the Coca Cola corporation. Or the sharing of Xmas lunch, then the solitude of credit card debt afterwards.

People buy into it more and more every year - with the need to spend more. Hoards of ravenous high heeled shoppers fighting over that last Xmas ham, lying in a bargain bin.

Coupled with the looming threat of an imminent terrorist attack - this isnt my idea of celebration (I'm feeling extremely threatened right now!!)

Xmas day is usually spent with my genetic family, which (while dearly loved in their own way) are not necessarily the closest people to me. If Xmas day is meant to be about togetherness, why not be together with those who have contributed. Those who have stood by me, and at times foolishly defended me (while drunk).

Namely - my friends. My allies who seem to contribute to and enrich my life more and more with each passing day.

Lollie, Angry Nick, Trip, Lincoln, Hrisanthi, Hoda, Pete, Leanne, Dirty Nick, Manny, Elise (Swan!!), George, Mel, Simon, Andy, Billy, Dom, Marc, Kylie, Luke, Shane and possibly even Irish Nina.

I love you all. Especially Angry Nick.

So this year, once I manage to get over feeling threatened, I'm going to try and make myself an Xmas that I actually want.

And if ANY of you send me a Christmas card - I will come to your house and cut you.
(presents are acceptable)

the end

2005-11-24T18:13:00.000+09:30

061: MINIMUM BLUDGING

I've had no time to bludge today, so I'm taking time out to write this blog.

Uusually I have at least thirty to forty minutes in a day in which I'm not expected to do anything, or be anywhere. Not so today.

Its a busy time at work and the bosses have left me in charge for the night shift.

Which means most of my time is spent answering questions, rendering assistance and frantically attending to important office-type things.

Dont get me wrong, I relish the opportunity to be given a chance to use my brain at work.

Neurons and synapses have been blazing for the last few hours. I've just been this human blur (appropriately outfitted in a Space Invaders t-shirt - probably my new favourite).

So here I am with the last few minutes of work, trickling away. The prospect of not being here until tomorrow is like a warm fireplace of content that I seem to go to every day.

But I like my job.

Seemingly a lot more than most people I encounter. Most people are one step away from a bathtub and some razor blades

(SEE: Monotone Matt).

Oh and I saw Wolf Creek last night and it bored me to tears. In fact I'm bored just thinking about it now! But this isnt the time or the place for one of my perfectly executed rants.

I havent seen a movie at the cinemas that I have thoroughly enjoyed in years.

Really.

Years.

That's probably why I'll never go on my own accord now. Serenity was fantastic, but I spose that doesnt count cause I knew I was going to love it (despite the body count).

Well the time draws near for me to go home and do all those 'after work' things. I'm really looking forward to taking my shoes off.

the end.

2005-11-23T13:22:00.000+09:30

060: THE USER FRIENDLY
DANNY POWER GLOSSARY
(Volume 1)

A large segment of my vocabulary is comprised of words that are completely made up, or stolen from other people as they enter my life (or leave it). Most of them have made their way into everyday conversation. The trouble is, most people have no idea what I'm talking about, hence the need for this user-friendly glossary.

More words are being added to this already lengthy list every day. No doubt there will be a Volume 2 sometime in the near future.

Un-Hungry
Origin: The Boy
Meaning: Used to describe a state in which one's hunger subsides after eating vegetarian pizza. This can often lead to a feeling of being full when more food is consumed.
"I think that pizza made me un-hungry"

Egzachary
Origin: Anthony
Meaning: An excited, sugar filled way of saying the word 'exactly'. Often used in everyday conversation.

Punjab
Origin: Nina
Meaning: Used to describe a selfish, uncouth person, often one who will not lend you money or buy you a drink at a bar. Punjabs are notorious for doing favours for no-one and generally being useless.
"Stop being a Punjab and give me some money to buy bourbon!!"

Shady
Origin: Unknown
Meaning: Used to describe an act which is secretive and stealthy. Also can be used to describe an act which is ultimately dishonest, but cleverly executed.
EG: Hiding drugs from your housemate who goes through your bedroom every day.

Gun
Origin: My old housemate Alex
Meaning: One of the highest terms of endearment. This word is used to describe anyone who has gone out of their way assist. It also denotes a grudging respect.
EG: My boss is a gun for not busting my arse when I'm late for work.

Manky
Origin: Angry Nick
Meaning: Fetid, putrid and encrusted with bacteria. This term is used to describe particularly unsanitary conditions in the home or workplace. A good example is some of the desks (and rotting food) left on the desk at my workplace. Also the urine soaked mens room at my last job.

Trampin'
Origin: Julia (ex fag-hag)
Meaning: Used to describe an event attended soley for the purpose of picking up guys. If one is going out to a bar to meet attractive yong men, one is said to be 'Trampin'"

Bitch
Origin: Spike from 'Buffy'
Meaning: Used at the end of a sentence, this word punctuates defiantly. Often used when dealing with women. Eg: "Out for a walk. Bitch"

Nana
Origin: Hit Magazine
Meaning: Used to describe anything mudane or boring. Sort of like the feeling you get while listening to Andrea Bocelli or Micheal Bolton. Another good example is former Savage Garden frontman Darren Hayes.
"The curtains in this apartment are a bit Nana"

Burged

Origin: Curly haired dude in the mailroom at my first job.

Meaning: Stolen. Comes from the word 'Burgled'. "I burged your stapler."

Guff

Origin: Lollie

Meaning: Rubbish. This word is usually used when someone is talking crap or procrastinating.

"I aint taking none of that guff!!"

Shiny
Origin: Firefly / Serenity
Meaning: Used to describe an overwhelming feeling of emotional or financial joy. Like getting paid every fortnight. Or waking up next to someone extremely attractive.

Cut
Origin: Lollie / Simple Plan / Family Guy
Meaning: Usually used in the literal sense "I'll come to your house and cut you!!". This word is used when there is a genuine intention to inflict pain upon another person. This can be because they're irritating you or they havent blogged for over a week, and you're getting sick and tired of their excuses.

Allright
Origin: Angry Nick / Angry Hockey Players
Meaning: Combined with the traditional hand movement (the universal symbol of excellence), this word is often used to indicate pleasure or success and yelled "Allriiiiiiiiiight!!!". It is appropriate in any situation, but not while wearing a shirt and tie. That'd just be stupid.

Chesty
Origin: Fast Forward
Meaning: An affectionate term used to decribe a big breasted woman. Typically this woman will have red hair and a fiery personality.

the end.

2005-11-17T19:47:00.000+09:30

Simply for the benefit of everyone concerned, I've decided to give y'all a look at the Serenity DVD artwork. Kinda funky, eh? River looks like a porn star.

The US release date is December 20th. Fuck knows when we'll get it here in Australia. I'll just have to eBay this one. Enjoy!

You can check out a larger version of this and read all the specs here at DVD Answers

http://www.dvdanswers.com/index.php?r=0&s=1&c=8055&n=1&k=serenity&burl=r%3D0%26g%3Dinfo%26s%3D1%26k%3Dserenity%26x%3D10%26y%3D6

Who's the man?

2005-11-17T11:33:00.000+09:30

059: DESTRUCTION, TRANSITION, REDEFINITION

"…all I see are six billion lunatics trying to find the fastest way out!"

- Glory (Buffy "Weight of the World")

This guy's life is one complicated deal.

But I think I may have cracked the formula. A recurring theme that seems to take place over the span of a few years.

It goes destruction, transition and then finally redefinition.

Destruction is the state in which this guy has all the things around him systematically removed. It can be friends, or material possessions or even a job.

He is knocked out of his comfort zone and spends countless hours brooding by himself, trying to find away out of the damage. 2004 was most definetly a year spent in this phase.

Transition occurs when anger sets in. He will empower himself and begin the slow arduous process of changing into the next phase of what he is to become. The transitional phase is often a painful one, where the previous persona is shrugged off in favour of a new one.

Brooding will slowly, but eventually subside. Habits and thought processes are modified. Often strange behaviour and cravings will ensue. He will feel the urge to fight.

Redefinition is the final stage of this process, in which he completes his transformation. He will undoubtedly have left behind many people along the way.

Drastic, and seemingly unnecessary changes may have been made along the way. However these changes will now appear completely warranted. The cycle is complete.

On most occasions, all three phases can take a year or two. Sometimes the process is accelerated and condensed to a matter of months.

Right now, I would say I'm in the Transition phase, possibly three quarters through it.

Careful mapping of these phases will assist in dealing with bad moods, paranoia and a general bad disposition.

the end

2005-11-15T15:52:00.000+09:30

058: CITY

I'm very attached to the city in which I live. I mean the actual city centre. It still feels like home to me, as it was as a young kid given 50 bucks to get out of his parents hair.

I'm not sure what it is, but the air tastes different in the city. The energy flows differently. Even when it is empty, it's pulsating lights and dirty streets serve as a reminder of the hundreds of people who occupied that space only a few hours before.

Naturally attracted to blinking lights, and 'shiny things', the cityscape has a soothing effect on me. The lights all blink in unison, singing some sort of luminescent song that only I can hear with my ear close to the ground.

Everything is alive in some way, mechanical or not. I sit on the floor at federation square, feeling the trains in the subway beneath me, rushing off to their next train station. Tonnes of steel and plastic racing off from the platform, like some sort of horrible electronic beast. Enslaved by it's human ,masters, it lives only to serve, ferrying passengers to and fro.

My favourite thing about my city would have to be the neon lights. They come alive at night, like owls remaining dormant throughout the day, unnoticed by the hoardes of people. When the sun sets, they burn so brightly, forcing you to acknowledge whatever it is they are advertising. They're like gigantic nightlight, acting like a sedative for my overactive mind.

The people in the city remain separated, yet united. As if merely existing in the city makes them a part of something bigger. Tiny little pieces of bacteria inhabiting a larger, concrete life form.

Most importantly, the thing that makes the city so significant for me, it that it bears witness. Like some sort of guardian, or mother, it's been there all my life. Witnessing all my heartache, my victories. Watching each dilemma unfold. Watching my life twist and turn and morph into the awkward man-child I see in the mirror each morning.

The city has seen me drunk, it's seen me start fights, it's seen me make out in public places, it's seen me naked. It's seen me eat, and drink, and watch movies and forge new friendships. All under the watchful eye of steel and glass.

Every street corner, every building and store drenched in the memories of things past. People who have come and gone. Lost loves and new ones, and adventures involving the police that seemed like they'd never end.

Try as I might - I can never bring myself to say goodbye to the city, at least not in my heart. I know I'm never truly going to be able to. It's spirit walks with me wherever I go.

the end.

2005-11-09T18:17:00.000+09:30

057: CELINE DION
IS THE ANTI-CHRIST!

I had a dream a few nights ago about Celine Dion.

She rose to world power and became the president of Canada. Then, using her charming demeanour and sparkling personality, seduced all the world leaders. She managed to subdue to the United Nations by bewitching them with song.

After a brutal military campaign which lasted five years, she began rounding up all the Jews and banished them to the island of Madagascar.

Her Third Reich tactics sparked furore all over the world, but Celine Dion had gained too much power and had allies everywhere. Listening devices were planted in the mens room at work.

Knowing that action must be taken, I formed a resistance cell and stormed her Canadian headquarters in a stolen panzer tank. As a hellish rainstorm of fire and debris rained down on my foolhardy comrades, I contemplated my death at the hands of Celine Dion.

As a shell from a Canadian soldier pierced my sternum, I fell to the ground, doubled over in agony. I never thought I would find myself in combat, fighting a noble cause, and battling someone I now knew was indeed, the Anti-Christ.

Let this be a warning to you all.

the end.

2005-11-09T17:45:00.000+09:30

056: CARNIVORE

Well I'm now like the rest of you carnivores. Grinding up pieces of plants and dead animals and forcing it down into a pit of digestive acid to survive.

Eating is so disgusting when you think about it, huh?

Anyways, my Doctor (the proper one, not the Witch Doctor) has diagnosed me with exhaustion. Just another symptom of my lifestyle.

Don't eat enough. Don't sleep enough. And I stress way too much. Sometimes it seems as if my chest is like a huge cannon, which will one day explode with all the rage and stress I feel, leaving friends and co-workers covered with my bloody entrails.

Part of the problem is my vegetarian diet, to which I've adhered to for two years or so. That all came to an end today.

I dont have any issues with eating animals. In fact I couldn't care more about cows and chickens and other barnyard staples (I certainly couldnt care less).

It's simply the taste - I can taste the blood.

Hell, even McNuggets taste like blood!! Granted on many occasions I've publicly stated I quite enjoy the taste of blood, but it's still unsettling. My body will have to take some time to adjust I guess. I still feel sick. I sorta feel like I've eaten a small Albanian refugee girl.

I started the ball rolling today with Subway - without a doubt one of the greatest institutions of the modern age.

the end

2005-11-07T17:39:00.000+09:30

055: I STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND

What is the purpose of a partner? A girlfriend. Boyfriend. What are they supposed to be and what are they supposed to do?

Disclaimer: This isn't about you!! Cant a troubled young man express his feelings in cyberspace without having everyone think that I've written this about them!!?!?

Right - now that we're over the pleasantries.

Unfortunately for me recent years seem to have warped the concept of a relationship so much, that I fear I may have lost track of what one is supposed to feel like.

It's only because each one is so wildly different, with it's own set of rules and rewards. In jokes and familiar places. Different things that you share with your other. Then one day you find that your partner is a completely different person. I mean this in the literal sense of course.

You start a new relationship and the rules change again. Ground rules and boundaries are laid down. And in each person's head, expectations are secretly forming.

In a completely analytical way, I question the function and value of having someone else to think about. To worry about. To grovel to. The rules are continually changing and you have to adapt to a new person's moods. Their likes and dislikes. Their ill advised wardrobe choices.

Maybe the whole thing is just going over my head? But the fact remains that in my relatively short life, I have yet to reap the benefits of being in a relationship.

Maybe in some way, this line of thinking indicates how far I have to go in regards to understanding the anatomy of a relationship. Further education on this subject would undoubtedly go a long way to ensuring most of my relationships don’t have a 24 hour turnaround time.

It's difficult to broach this subject without seeming incredibly jaded and cynical. If there's any misery in the words I write, it's only the subtle sadness of missing out on something that's supposedly pretty good.

Granted some of my exes are quite worthy of every ounce of spite and malice I have to muster. I sit at my desk day after day visualising pick axes through their windshield. Or the gleeful jig I would do on their front lawn as I burned their houses to the ground.

But for every bad one, there's been a good one, and I'm still somewhat grateful for that. Even if this blog makes me sound like whining little bitch!

the end

2005-11-01T12:50:00.000+09:30

054: THIS PERSPECTIVE

I've been feeling pretty down lately. Some specific things I guess affecting me. Some non-specific things. The looming threat of Xmas and my birthday in January often send me into freak out mode.

Part of this has to do with my hatred of Christmas. In recent years, it has been unfailingly ruined by certain people. Christmas day is often ridden with fighting, trauma and recriminations.

But last night I was slowly spacing out at my favourite haunt Comfy Chair. Waiting for Trip, with my feet merrily dangling out the front window, I enjoyed the Monday night ambience. Summer is starting in my home town, as it always does this time of year.

The warm weather seems to bring out the playful elements in people, including myself. Also, people wear less in summer.

So I'm sitting there thinking about something that's crossed my mind several times: what a complete failure the last four years of my life have been. How little I have managed to accomplish since leaving school.

I know it' kind of melodramatic. And once again for the sake of all the people who come and try to 'counsel' me, I'm not writing this from a bathtub with razors to my wrists. There's the disclaimer.

Anyways, I got to thinking about the actual events that have formed the months and days which have slowly become the last four years. I'm sure it's a vast tapestry. While I itemised the supposedly tragic events of the last few years - I had a revelation. So here it is.

In the last four years:

I've lived in Brunswick with the bohemians and faux-hemians and laid back street culture. Also there's a great CD store there.

I've fallen in love. Twice.

I've been a supervisor at a multinational evil corporation.

I drive I shiny white car around the city whenever I want, and go wherever I please.

I've been a singer in a rock band, and played to a packed venue full of screaming punters.

I've been a model who gets airbrushed and socialises with other models.

And I've lived in a swanky apartment in St Kilda by the beach and enjoyed the camp pretentiousness that the coastline has to offer.

So while I may not have any of the above right now, I can hardly say that the last few years have been uneventful or unaccomplished. It's all a matter of perspective. At least I've lived.

Which is more than I can say for some of the people I'm surrounded with.

I realise that when it comes to cheesiness, this entry is like an 8 or 9 on the richter scale, but it's not very often that I feel positive about my past.

And all it took was some coffee, some friends, some good weather and a comfortable chair.

the end.

2005-10-29T19:18:00.000+09:30

053: 101 REASONS OF RANDOM

Just for the hell of it, I decided to list 101 things about me. They're not in any order. Most of them arent even important. But other than dating me for two and a half years, there's no way you'd ever know all this stuff!! Consider this my gift...

...and if you tell anyone, I will come to your house and cut you!!

1. I'm a vegetarian.
2. I have green eyes. They're somehow greener in the morning.
3. I'm 21 years old, yet mentally somewhere between 12 and 14
4. I don’t drink any carbonated soft drinks.
5. I'm often concerned with the status of my digestive tract.
6. I need a nemesis.
7. I look stupid in a suit and tie.
8. I really hate McDonald's. Cant even stand the smell of it.
9. My left arm is held together with metal pins.
8. I've broken bones twice in my life (my left arm and kneecap)
9. I havent thrown up this year.
10. I often read junk mail while in the toilet.
11. I'm better looking than Moby.
12. I live for the human interaction.
13. I'm so proud of the young lady my little sister is growing up to become.
14. I use a red pen at work cause I have trouble seeing the blue and black.
15. I'm a 'night' person. I'm at my best at night and have the most energy. I have a hard time going to sleep before 1am.
16. For the first time this year, I feel like I'm 'enough'.
17. I believe that religion can often provide people with an excuse to be really crappy to one another.
18. I spend a lot of time with my friends. I have a close inner circle.
19. My room contains many weapons including a hockey stick, a machete and a sword.
20. My favourite breakfast in scrambled eggs and toast.
21. I know I look great in speedos.
22. I'm afraid I'd be disappointed if I had a daughter one day, instead of a son.
23. My favourite band is Muse.
24. I think traffic lights are pretty. They shimmer, they shine, then they change.
25. I love being scratched in the morning. And I mean anywhere.
26. James Dean was and still is an idol of mine.
27. As a no-good teenager, I've broken into a car, broken car windows and stolen wallets.
28. I think I'm a good leader.
29. I'm fiercely Anti-American.
30. I think hair product is grossly overpriced.
31. The last real holiday I had was three years ago. I spent most of the time either naked or drunk.
32. If there were a movie ever made about my life, I'd want an ageing David Boreanaz to play 'Older Me'.
33. I really liked Madonna's version of American Pie.
34. I require a lot of attention (and sometimes constant supervision).
35. I'm often envious of people in happy, stable relationships. That envy usually turns to rage.
36. I love eating Ketchup.
37. Last year I changed the steering pump in my car all by myself. It was quite a feat of manliness!
37. I'm often lonely.
38. I've been a singer in a band. One of the best times of my life.
39. I truly believe there is nothing worth my attention on free to air television.
40. My real hair colour is still somewhat of a mystery, even to me.
41. I think the most boring thing in the world is listening to people talk about books they've read.
42. I loathe having my photo taken.
43. My shoe size is 12.
44. I think the Muppets are like a metaphor for modern day living.
45. I secretly wanna be a private detective one day. With a trenchcoat and an attractive secretary.
46. My imaginary friend as a kid was a time travelling, top hat wearing man who lived behind my fridge. He once told me that he was from the year 2025.
47. When I finish work, I like to left alone for a little bit.
48. I really hope that I'm 'loveable'.
49. I feel the cold very accutely. I love being kept warm. Preferably in a sleeping bag with someone who's naked. Also I'm naked in the sleeping bag with them.
50. One of my aims in life is to smash all the stereotypes that are contunally being perpetuated by narrow minded fools.
51. I have a really short attention span.
52. I've come to see mobile phones as a 'status symbol'.
53. I have a distinctive walk. It's determined. Well it's not really a walk, more of a shuffle.
54. I have a distinctive shuffle.
55. I love Guinness. Nothing like it.
56. My favourite subject at school was psychology, even though our teacher could be a hard arse.
57. I'm a man who can appreciate the beauty of a finely crafted weapon.
58. I abhore office politics, but I always seem to get embroiled in them.
59. I'm totally in love with Fry from Futurama. That's probably pretty obvious to you now.
60. I wear boxers, not briefs. I think it's the freedom of movement that I enjoy.
61. I have over 1300 CDs. I'm passionate about music and 100% against dowloading. As long as you pay for it, it's fine.
62. I never talk about my problems to anyone. Not really anyway.
63. I'm never, ever lazy. I pride myself on my 'get up and go'.
64. Long hair just doesn’t suit me. It's been a painful realisation.
65. My intake of red cordial is carefully regulated by my mother. I have a hyperactivity problem.
66. I'd probably never admit this in the real world, but I love to flirt with people.
67. My favourite article of clothing is my leather jacket. I hope I die in it.
68. I may have ruined a chance to find true love with someone. It's a scary thought at my age.
69. I rarely get to watch more than an hour of TV each night.
70. I love the taste of human blood.
71. I really hate surprises of any kind.
72. I don’t appreciate sarcasm all the time. I think it has to be used wisely and sparingly.
73. Rock music flows through my veins.
74. I'm not really awake until I've had my second cup of coffee.
75. I'm still largely confused about my own sexuality. It doesn’t bother me though.
76. I really want a dog. Preferably some kind of dingo. Or something that looks like a dingo.
77. I'm saddened that I don’t get more joy out of eating. People seem to take great pleasure in food, whereas I just cant seem to get excited about it.
78. I love to cuddle and be cuddled.
79. I've never worn women's clothing. Hand to god!
80. I'm a good swimmer. In high school I won a medal.
81. I once peed on someone who insulted my partner at the time.
82. I can never sit still or use a chair properly. I always have to sit in some weird position.
83. I think I'm incredibly difficult to impress.
84. Someone recently told me they thought I was 'more manly than GI Joe'. Not sure if I agree with that assessment, but still it was a nice compliment.
85. I believe that in our society there is no excuse for being unemployed.
86. I get a kick out of entertaining people, whether they're laughing at me or with me.
87. When I was a kid I went to a fancy dress party dressed as a Klu Klux Klan.
88. I've never had a lover that's been able to keep up with my sexual appetites.
89. I love the city that I live in. I know that one day soon I'll leave it, and it will always be home.
90. I hate it when people touch my stuff without asking. Makes me want to burn them.
91. My friend Lollie says I'm attracted to the 'skinny-white-loser type'. I think she may be right.
92. I love teasing Canadians. Dunno why. I blame South Park.
93. I hate having conversations over the phone. I wont do it. I wont!
94. Not a day goes by that I'm not thankful that I was born a guy. The freedom to pee standing up is mine!!
95. I rarely watch mainstream films. Matrix Reloaded was the straw that broke the camel's back.
96. I've been a male model.
97. I despise my godfather. I've never met a more dishonest, dishonourable man.
98. I think the people who run this country are far two old and conservative to ever represent the best interests of the people.
99. I love hearing a good story from someone. There's nothing like getting swept up in the narrative.
100. You'll never see me wearing anything coloured Yellow or White. The former makes me nervous, the later makes me look too dark.
101. Nobody knows me.

the end.

2005-10-28T18:46:00.000+09:30

052: NEMESIS

"Dad! Spaghetti is not supposed to be grey!!"
-Angry Nick talks candidly about his father's culinary skills.

It's come to my attention that in the midst of my nice-ness that I seem to be lacking something.

A nemesis.

Someone that I can call an enemy.

Sure there's that dude with the wig at the office.

We wear similar clothes, have similar hair and both own perfect teeth. We're secretly competing for the coveted title of 'hottest guy in the office'. I was validated today when my faux-abs and mini-pecs won our team $300.00. Go me!!

Anyway - back to my need for a nemesis!!

I've been scouring all our new staff for someone to hate, but they're all so deliciously nice and easy going. One of our new guys shared in the shame today and even wore an afro wig (it was a team thing - morale building and such, you know the deal).

A nemesis helps me sharpen my skills. Forces me to think on my feet. I'm always at my best when faced with a challenge, when working with a gun to my head or an impossible deadline. It's the hallmark of a good leader. And every good leader needs a nemesis. Someone of equal skill, strength and ability.

Unfortunately , most of the potential candidates over the last few years have proven too weak, too easy to break, or simply unworthy. For example, around ten months ago, a friend of mine betrayed me in the most unbelievable way. Instead of this person slowly morphing into my perfect enemy, I broke his spirit with several crushing remarks over a slice of cheesecake and half a bottle of red wine.

Guess for now I'll just have to settle for that dude at the office who wears the wig. After being objectified by an angry mob of fellow employees today - let's see you follow that one!

the end.

2005-10-26T16:55:00.000+09:30

051: OXYGEN DEPRIVED

"Existing is basically all I do!!"
- Fry, Futurama

Sorry for the brief period of neglect. I think I have hay fever (or something far more sinister). It's all because of getting caught in a pollen storm while having a civilised lunch on Sunday. If you ask me it's a vast conspiracy engineered by my local fire brigade after my medical records were "mysteriously stolen" from St Vincent's Hospital.

Since then I've been unable to breathe or see or form coherent sentences. This is why I'm writing. Everyone seems like they're in a prickly mood today. So I'm slightly reassured that I'm not the only one.

I'm so angry at my body for getting sick. I exercise it. Wash and groom it. Eat a ridiculous amount of broccoli and that hydroponic tomato. Plus I have this stupid haircut. So you think all of that would earn me some good health for a little bit. My body begs to differ.

I just got sent down to retrieve some cardboard boxes. We're decorating our team at work at we need to make cut outs and stand ups. So I was dispatched to flirt with the keeper of the boxes. A mere twelve minutes later (I timed it!) I was back at my desk, triumphant. My scrawny arms buckling under the weight of my cardboard bounty.

For some reason I'm having a Frank Sinatra week. I was seduced by a sale at my local music store. 46 Classic Sinatra hits on 2 CDs for a mere $17.99. A pittance!! It's been the twisted soundtrack to my wild mood swings this week.

While I'm feeling all oxygen deprived, I'll take a second to remember those around me who are less fortunate or just more cranky than me.

Firstly I'm told that Mel is under the weather - so I'm gonna try and send her some of my powerful immune system during my next break. Lollie is sleep deprived and still reeling from house sitting a feline infested apartment.

Also she killed a mexican fighting fish (or something) My heart goes out to you both.

I have Pez to eat, and medication to take! It seems I will spend the next few hours of work on a sugar high, making Ilyria do dirty, dirty things.

the end.

2005-10-18T12:48:00.000+09:30

50: TOO MUCH PEZ

"Oh My God! I'm coming down!!"
- Dr Zoidberg, Futurama

I think I've eaten too much Pez. You know those little candies that come in those hand held dispensers. I have the Spiderman one sitting on my desk at work, along with all the Pez I could want.

I start eating the Pez at the start of my shift, and by 3pm - I'm coming down. This is usually followed by forty five minutes of me with my head in my hands yelling "When will I learn!?!?" Ahh, the remorse of the sugar junkie.

In other news, Mel has given the gift of Wash, bringing completion to my life. Yes that's right folks - now I can happily die. In case you haven't cottoned on, I'm referring to the Serenity comics, the Wash cover for issue 3. So great to have a comic reading, Joss Whedon lovin' chick around. I'm sending you grooves of gratitude Mel. You can expect them in four to six weeks.

My other Serenity acquisitions are providing hours of priceless entertainment in the form of my Jayne and Reaver action figures. Especially the Reaver. So so cool!! Thanks mum!!

Right now I'm peaking. On the Pez. Fast typing, fast talking and listening to Madonna's "Vogue". Makes for an interesting combination.

Had a great night last night at Comfy Chair. Stayed till closing time yet again. Trip, Lollie and Angry Nick came along. Angry Nick was surprisingly placid. I think Lollie is vying for his hard earned status as 'angriest man in the office'. Nick will have to lift his game and bring a gun into work or something.

It's such a sunny day outside and it makes me remember the joy of summer. It just seems so utterly inappropriate to be depressed in summer. Good weather seems to put (mostly) everyone in a good mood. I've been frequently flashback-ing to training, ten months ago. Starting this job, being happy being single, meeting my friends. All by the sunny backdrop of my awesome new job.

Needless to say some of the shiny-ness has worn off since that time. But I'm still relatively content. I've certainly been in worse spots in my life. Like that time when Barbara Streisand stole all my CDs. Yup, that was pretty bad.

I have to go and wash the sunscreen from my arms. Trying to avoid the dreaded 'driver's arm' this year. Wish me luck!

the end.

2005-10-13T17:30:00.000+09:30

049: THE MANIPULATED LIVING

For those of you who aren’t fans, the title of today’s entry is a Donnie Darko reference. The term is from the fictional book in the film called The Philosophy of Time Travel and it's used to describe living people who exist in Donnie's tangent universe.

I choose to use the term in a different way here. To describe myself and many others like me.

It's when one person blatantly takes advantage of another person because of that persons attributes. This seems most prevalent when talking about stupid people. We live in a society overrun with stupidity and obviously stupid people. There are days when I consider myself to be one of them.

So I say to you, why should a stupid person be taken advantage of? Why should they be manipulated into doing something or feeling something they don’t necessarily want to?

My conscience won’t allow me to commit such an act.

For example, if I want my stupid mate to give me a lift into work tomorrow, I know that I can use guilt and a convincing argument to make him do exactly what I want.
It's a form of manipulation. But there's some part of my brain that prohibits me from doing this. Once again - the pitfalls of being a 'nice' guy.

Maybe intelligence = corruption?

Or those more intelligent than me are able to easily manipulate my feelings without remorse, without thinking about the moral or ethical ramifications.

An every day example of this is the guilt trip.

How many of you have been guilt tripped by mothers, partners, siblings and friends.
Just the other day I was guilt tripped expertly by a local midget.

So I've decided to form a resistance. A resistance of stupidity. It starts with one man and his ski jacket, right here, right now. I refuse to be easily manipulated! And I vow to be aware of it when someone is trying to do it to me. It's just downright unfair!!

Well that's my reason to hate existence for the day. Think I'll go find a place to lie down now.

You can destroy a man, but you cannot destroy an idea. The resistance lives on!

the end.

2005-10-11T14:53:00.000+09:30

048: MISTER NICE GUY

FINISHES LAST

Time for me to switch to serious mode here. I feel I've identified a fundamental flaw in the way I live my life. It's something that I've been thinking about for months now, and I feel it's time to address it.

I'd like to preface this with a disclaimer. This isn't me in a pessimistic mood, or feeling down, or drunk. I'm in a completely objective place.

See, several years ago, I resolved to be 'a nice guy', meaning I would be good and honest and always strive to do what I considered to be the right thing.

This wasn’t always the case.

I used to be one bad mother fucker. I never killed anyone (at least I don’t think I did!) but for all intents and purposes my soul was black.

I betrayed people, used them for all they were worth. I revelled in my almost pathological need to lie and be good at it. I drank heavily and dabbled in all manner of extra illegal activities. And I slept around with reckless abandon. It's wonder I didn’t die of an overdose or some sexually transmitted disease. Lord knows I came close on a few occasions.

In short - I had everything. Women. Men. Booze and a smorgasboard of so-called friends. I was the epitome of success, never alone, never wanting for anything. Unimaginably popular.

Until one day I decided that I was kinda worried about my soul.

So I resolved to be mister nice guy, and it's been that way ever since.

This doesn’t meant that I'm a model citizen by any means, but I try to make amends for all the awful things I've done in the past. In my eyes, every day is an opportunity for atonement. That's probably how the rest of my life is going to be. I'm okay with that. But is it all worth it?

When you're nice to people - are they ever nice back? Are they ever honest back to you? Are you more successful in work and relationships because you rely on the strength of your character, rather than the extent of what you can manipulate and subvert.

Nothing seems to pay off. The nicer and more willing to compromise you are, the more people walk all over you and take advantage. Suddenly you're sitting at home on a Friday night making love to a magazine. A few years later, no one calls me and I wear a red ski jacket to work.

This brings me to my point. Trying to live my life as a 'good person' benefits only my soul, but certainly doesn’t help me in any other areas of my life, least of all the relationship arena.

I'm now faced with the prospect of becoming the evil person I once was in order to secure myself s

ome success. From where I'm sitting, it seems like the only way to win.

the end.

2005-10-11T11:48:00.000+09:30

047: STALKING KELLY CLARKSON

I'm seeing Kelly Clarkson later this year with Mister Anderson (have you got tickets yet?) In the words of Dana Scully "Don't think - just make it happen!"

I've enlisted the help of Lollie in stalking Kelly Clarkson so that she can autograph everything I own. And also my nipple.

Lollie's reputation preceeds her - her encounters with the lads from Simple Plan are well documented. In fact just this weekend she accosted them in a hotel lobby. Photos were taken. Innocence was lost. I'll let her explain the rest.

So that's it, just wanted to tell y'all that I'll be trailing Ms Clarkson when she comes to Australia later this year.

the end.

2005-10-05T15:03:00.000+09:30

046: A NUISANCE TO AIRPORT SECURITY

What is it about the airport?

Seeing Hoda off on her one month excursion to Egypt last night, I experienced a strange combination of emotions.

Trip simply describes the airport as 'creepy', but I think it's more than that. It' such an antiseptic environment. People go in and seemingly never return. It's a place where the air is filled with fearful anticipation.

All around me last night, lovers saying tearful goodbyes. Large ethnic families congregating to welcome a distant relative. A troupe of jailbait hockey players excitedly return from their trip to Canada.

People coming and going, Trip and I could only do our best to bask in the atmosphere, wandering around and making a nuisance of ourselves with airport security. By the way, did you know you can only take one cigarette lighter through security? Who knew?

After a total of nine (!) coffees, I was ready to take flight myself. It's like you can feel the nervous energy in the air all around you, like a field of electricity, hanging there. Omnipresent.

Plus we made our way through several stirring renditions of Sinatra's Come Fly With Me. At was enjoyed by the saucy baggage handlers.

In recent years with our changing world, the airport has fast become a gateway for so-called terrorists. I don’t mind one bit being scanned and searched at every entrance if it's going to protect my home soil. It's a very small price to pay. In fact we both agreed that it was great to see the huge security/police presence (despite the fact we got tailed by the cops for half an hour).

Word of warning: Don't say the word 'Jihad' too loud at the airport.

At the stroke of midnight, we wished Hoda an emotional goodbye. I think she was more emotional than we were. I banned her from crying. I'm sure she'll have a rockin time. I asked her bring me back an evil eye and a photo of the Sphinx.

So there you have it, the story of my airport visit. I'll more than likely be back there when she returns in a month.

At least I have the toothbrush that I got from the men's room bathroom to keep as a momento of my visit.

the end.

2005-10-04T17:58:00.000+09:30

045: UNCULTURED SWINE

I consider myself a fairly simple man. A man who has very little time for pretence and ceremony. Never before have I regarded myself as uncultured or unsophisticated. Maybe I am, and perhaps it's not such a bad thing.

Most nights I spend my time hanging out/throw rugging somewhere comfortable in front of a television or at Comfy Chair. I'm a man who likes to be among people who are not worried about the image they project. I like wearing clothes that are easy to move it and flatter my butt.

So having said that, I'm not necessarily in my element at a poncy five star restaurant at Crown, which is where I ended up Sunday night.

I despise Crown and all it stands for. It's like a shining beacon for all things conservative and vanilla. A nice safe place for the overweight bougoise to wander around and bask in their own complacence. A complex full of boring stores made for boring people who live lives that are so boring they'd do us all a favour by taking a razor to their wrists!!!

To begin with, I have a problem with anyone who calls me 'Mister' and uses my last name to address me. I work for a living just like everyone else. I loathe the notion of being 'served' by anyone. Especially when it comes to food. I can get my own food.

So imagine my disgust when this so called five star waiter casually pours my Guinness into a glass. I'm sorry, but pouring Guinness is an art. You can't just open the bottle and dump it in!!

Oh the humanity!!

Surrounded by a virtual army of waiters ready and waiting to attend to our every whim we ate. My sister Bec, revelling in being pampered so much. Personally I find it degrading, for me and them!

Which brings me to my point…

Both Bec and my Dad seem to thrive in this environment. Being served. I'm used to getting my own food. They enjoy having a meal with several courses. I'd be happy with a meal at all. My Dad says that it's because I've grown up with so-called 'Australian' values. Values that obviously don't include wearing a suit to dinner. The ceremony of it all. I find the whole exercise pretentious and wrong.

Don't misunderstand.

I've been raised with excellent table manners. I can wear a suit and tie and look sophisticated. I know the difference between wines and cigars and that bullshit stuff. I even own brill cream. But I hate it. I choose to embody the antithesis of that.

Maybe uncultured Australian values have been instilled in me. But at the end of the day, I'm just an average guy trying to earn a crust and be an honest man.

All that pretending seems like such a waste of time. I guess it makes sense when you consider what kind of person I am. So you can keep an eye out for me in line at your local take away joint.

That's where I'll be.

the end

2005-10-04T14:38:00.000+09:30

044: CONTENTS OF A SHINY WEEKEND

All rolled into forty eight hours...

Spent time with Lollie traipsing round Ballarat. I bought a Blink 182 block mounted poster. All three of em in their jocks. Just what I want in my room. Bet mum's gonna love that one. She already hates the array of Predators. Says they're 'unsettling'

I shared a bus ride with two VERY talkative children who would make songs out of every street sign we passed. While on the bus (staring at the Duff beer can I bought) Lincoln texts me to tell me his woman is dancing nekkid in front of him. Go Linx!! Ten points!! After all - your team needs all the good players it can get!!

Didn’t quite need that much information though. Thanks.

Got to see Serenity - probably my most anticipated film of the year - on Saturday night. Expect to hear more about this later on.

I've given the film three starts out of a possible five. It would have earned four, except one of my favourite characters died. Damn you Joss Whedon, always killing!! First, Anya and Spike. Cordy and Wesley. When will the bloodshed end?

Still trying to hunt down my Jayne action figure (complete with an arsenal of weapons and a cigar), I may have to chase it up on eBay.

Sat in the sun and watched muscular women walk on by.

Ate my favourite meal (scrambled eggs and toast - I'm a simple man), drank six beers.

Yesterday afternoon me and Trip dangled out the windows of Comfortable Chair, basking in the sun and the attention we were getting from passing motorists. Trip also brought with him two more pornos (we have a nice little arrangement going now - seven bucks a pop!!) and Premiers Symptomes - the last Air CD that I need to complete my collection.

So in short, it was a weekend that was badly needed. A weekend following a stressful week at work. We were all under the gun to work harder, faster and longer.

I got to do all my favourite things. Saw all my favourite people, and then drank some beer. Oh and it was my sister's 18th birthday on Saturday (she got well trashed!) and mum's birthday today! Happy birthday mum!!

the end.

2005-09-29T13:57:00.000+09:30

043: DRAINING MY SOUL

As I write this entry, I'm on hold to Telstra. One of the most evil corporations known to man.

Nine minutes. I'm watching the clock.

Frankly, it's draining my soul. I've listened to the same piece of hold music 14 times. Bach.
At least they have good taste. Even Bach gets annoying after a while. What I wouldn’t give for a little Linkin Park right now.

But that would be like pouring gasoline all over the neon flame which is brining in my chest. I call this flame rage, and it burns brightly whenever I have to deal with people who are too stupid to take responsibility for a job they are being paid to do.

Thirteen minutes.

To start with, a woman answers the phone. Her name is utterly unpronounceable. After three or four tries (in the most diplomatic tone I can muster) I settle on a compromise. Say what you hear, Jim. So her name is Shahalalia (Pronounced SHA-HA-LA-LITHA).

Sixteen minutes.

I explain my problem. Give her the details. She has all but a basic grasp of English, so I have to explain things slowly, stressing all the important words. Sort of like talking to my little nephew (and even he seems to have more cognitive abilities than this stupid ape). I explain my story twice, until I am so tired from saying the same thing over and over again. I start speaking in 'point' form. She puts me on hold (after a lot of incoherent mubling) and here I am now.

Twenty Two minutes.

The ape returns. She has an answer for me. But the thing is, by this point I really don’t give a damn! I'm just so full of rage at being kept on hold for so long without even so much as her telling me that she's still on the case. Telling me that I'm still being looked after.

As someone who has worked in the industry for a number of years - I know that this is piss poor customer service.

So after having my soul drained considerably by that overpaid imbecile, I'm now taking the deep breaths. You know the kind that pregnant women do when they go into labour?

I once heard that a happy customer will tell two people about their good customer experience.

An unhappy soul-drained customer will tell ten to fifteen people!!

Well here it is, on the internet. Out there in cyberspace for all to see.
Go yell it from the rooftops!!!

the end

2005-09-27T17:31:00.000+09:30

042: FIVE THINGS...

It seems another challenge has been issued by Melly, so here goes. Had a little trouble with the Celebrity Crushes section, a couple of them are dearly departed. I didnt let that stop me!

Five things I plan to do before I die
1. Go and buy CDs from HMV in London.
2. Read Hitler's "Mein Kampf"
3. Get a dog. A red heeler named Gary Luis Santiago
4. Get at least five more tattoos. Preferably one with someone's name and a flaming skull.
5. Score with someone who has naturally red pubes. I dunno, this has been on the list since I was 12 years old. Not particularly fussed about the gender

Five things I can do
1. Look fantastic in a tuxedo with a cigar.
2. Drink more than my best mate.
3. Touch my toes with relative ease and a minimum of noise.
4. Lift moderately sized weights at the gym.
5. Locate and purchase interesting t-shirts on a regular basis

Five things I cannot do
1. Remain still for more than a few minutes.
2. Cook anything other than toast.
3. Resist the temptation of white chocolate.
4. First dates. I hate them.
5. Wear anything made out of flannel

Five things that attract me to.... errr... the same sex
1. Down to earthedness (as in a lack of bullshit)
2. Spikey hair and a goofy smile (any resemblance to Fry)
3. Conviction and passion.
4. An overtly sexual/sensual disposition
5. Immaturity.

Five things I say most often
1. Jailbait.
2. I'm So Angry I Could Vomit
3. Oh My Various Gods!!
4. Shady.
5. Seizure.

Five celebrity crushes
1. Fry (Futurama)
2. Billy Joe (from Green Day)
3. Sid Vicious (RIP)
4. Chester Bennington
5. Glenn Quinn (RIP)

Five people I want to do this next
1. Lollie (If you don't, I'll lose all respect for you and punch you)
2. Izchan
3. Mocushie
4. Denny
5. Lincoln (where the hell is your blog!?!?!?)

Ladies & Gentlemen, thank you for your attention.

the end.

2005-09-27T15:07:00.000+09:30

041: IN WHICH BREAKFAST
IS A HIGHLIGHT

I'm not a morning person.

Many of you who have seen me in the morning can attest to the fact that I look like someone who's just emerged from a four year coma. The morning is such a traumatic time for my body.

It's sort of like being born, being forced through some awful birth canal into the harsh light of consciousness.

To start with, I need to stretch. I need to itch in a manly fashion. Then there's the big yawn (which may even become a squeal). I stumble out of my bed, wrestle my way into some clothes and begin the arduous task of preparing breakfast. This usually consists of coffee and cereal most days of the week.

This morning I really wanted breakfast. I mean I was ravenous for some reason. And as I gingerly carried my coco pops to the TV for my morning Futurama fix, all I could think was

"Oh my God! I love breakfast cereal!! I love breakfast! Could this possibly be the best day of my life!?!?"

And that was a good time to sashay into the Futurama theme song!!

I've been trying once again to remember to reconnect once in a while. I think it's important to not be in concrete and glass surroundings all the time. Sometimes I get caught up in the minutiae of every day. Existing but not really living.

My last break at work I sat alone in the glorious sun, transfixed by a bee trying to impregnate a flower (or whatever it is they do to flowers).

I sat there for a whole ten minutes, remembering that I lived in a world in which grass and trees grow and animals are always trying to fuck.

the end.

2005-09-26T18:16:00.000+09:30

040: TRANSCENDING SPACE & TIME

Music Video Appreciation with Danny Power

You know, it occurs to me, working for a pay TV company that I sit all days in front of a television watching music videos. The TVs usually on Music Max, basically cause they have the best variety, and spend the most time showing actual music videos.

Unlike MTV. I mean, when they're not busy with Pimp My Ride or The Osbournes, they cram every spare second with those god awful jamster ringtone ads.

Anyway, it got me thinking about how the music video has to be one of my favourite genres. It appeals to someone such as myself who has a notoriously short attention span. You have three or four minutes to say what you've gotta say, then get out.

Originally the music video was conceived as a promotional tool, a piece of 'visual candy' to go along with the single. They have since evolved into an art form of their own. I've been reflecting on some of my favourites. They're my favourites for good reason too. They're smart, dynamic, punchy and are a treat to watch while stoned!!

Let's start with Push It, by Garbage. Where do I start with this one?? People with light bulbs instead of heads waltzing through the supermarket. Fluro people who are all scribbled out. This was one of Garbage's finest moments, along with the raw energy of Why Do You Love Me and the spaced out stoner-ism of You Look So Fine. Definitely a band who churn out one great music video after another. Their latest Sex is Not The Enemy is a bit of a worry though.

Moving on we have Butterflies & Hurricanes by Muse. Aside from the fact that it's the clip to my favourite song in all of existence, forever and ever amen, it's a high energy live romp. Matt and co play live to an arena audience while psychedelic buildings 'grow' out of the ground all around them. It's a fast paced clip which comes with a slightly remixed version of the song (with added ballsy guitars). Gotta love the CGU snow as well.

Dipping into my 80s education (presided over my Primus Nick - see entry number 38 for a complete list of Nicks) we have Relax by Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Controversial at the time of release because of it's sexual…errr…politics, the video sees a bar full of leather clad gay bikies force our intrepid front man to fight a tiger. All the while a fat man is shaving. And this has to do with gay sex how??

No account of my favourite music videos is complete without a nod to her Madgesty, Madonna. The stun gun in What It Feels Like For a Girl, the fucked up dream imagery in Bedtime Stories and the powerful image of a refugee child getting run over by a humvee in the banned American Life video. She truly has pioneered this genre. Without a doubt my favourite would have to be the equally controversial Like A Prayer video. Madonna sings against a backdrop of burning crucifixes, then makes out with a negro Jesus on a church altar!!

Now that's good blasphemy!!!

Last but certainly not least we have Russian faux lesbian TATU with 30 Minutes. Lena gets insanely jealous of Julia who's getting all hot and heavy with *shock!* a guy on the merry go round at the local carnival. So she steals away to the ladies room and constructs a bomb inside a Mickey mouse backpack!! Just as we see a hint of Julia's titty, Lena blows the whole amusement park apart, with severed limbs and all flying everywhere!!

Well that's about it from me ranting about film clips. In the time it's taken me to write this blog, I've consumed three cups of coffee!! I have to leave now and go stick up more photos of myself on my desk!!!

the end.

2005-09-23T18:26:00.000+09:30

039: LETS SHARE IN THE SHAME

Okay.

Challenged by Melly, I'm about to list my five most Shameful Shags. That is the five people I'm sort of ashamed to admit that I'd like to take to bed with a crusty ol' porno mag and an industrial strength bottle of lube. It's bound to be an unusual list so here goes.

1) FRY from FUTURAMA

As many of you know, Fry is probably the most desirable man in my little world. He has red spikey hair, he can't dress and his best friend is a robot. As childish and downright stupid as he can be sometimes, I love his thoughtfulness and loyalty. My life's work will now be to find Fry's flesh and blood equivalent in the real world. I have a fear that I'm irresistible attracted to the 'tall, dark & stupid' type.

2) CHESTER BENNINGTON from LINKIN PARK

What's not to like here? He's skinny and pasty. He likes his music. He's a Madonna fan. Best of all he's the angry young man who fronts a multi-million selling band. Oh and I love all the tattoos as well. And his pasty complexion too. Are we catching onto the formula yet?

3) BOBA FETT from STAR WARS

Is it the fact that he's a ruthless sci fi bounty hunter? Is it the body armour? Or that fact that I can't see his face. Like I've said before - don't judge me. I seem to have a taste for the exotic. Who knows what he is underneath that helmet (if anyone knows - don’t tell me!!!) he could be a scaly green alien, a disfigured human or even a demon.

4) DOYLE from ANGEL

Speaking of Demons, here's my favourite one. Strangely I dint think he Combining both the 'Exotic' factor and the 'Loser' factor we have Doyle, who I have affectionately dubbed Angel's leprechaun. In his utterly adorable quest to win Cordelia's heart, the lousy drunk exhibited oodles of drunken Irish charm. Plus the bad poly-blends. I've been looking for a jacket like his for months. He likes to drink too, bonus points. Maybe not a shag, but definitely an extended cuddle.

5) MY EXACT DUPLICATE

I know I know. I'm truly ashamed of this. But other than a handful of misguided high school crushes that are unworthy of mention, this is it. And I realise I'm opening myself to people telling me to 'go fuck myself', but I merely wanna see 'how I am' if that makes any sense. I can never tell if good feedback in the bedroom is sincere or just ego stroking. He He! Stroking :-)

So there they are. I realise they don’t exactly conform to what society says is beautiful or even sexy. But these five will top my list any day.

the end

2005-09-19T16:32:00.000+09:30

038: IN SEARCH OF A COMFORTABLE CHAIR

I had the most perfect Sunday night.

I spent it at the Comfy Chair. It's a bar/lounge/place filled with nana-couches that me and my mates have fast become regulars of.

It's been one of my objectives this year to find a new hang out. My last place of regular drunkenness, Bar Nothing, was quickly taken over by men in stripey shirts who danced with other men back in 2003.

Having lost it's 'secret' appeal, Bar Nothing was quickly dropped. What followed afterwards was a pointless abyss of random bars and pubs, some of which almost cut the mustard. 303 in Northcote came a very close second in the search for a new hang out.

But Comfy Chair, with it's sexy ambience and pseudo-alternative clientele really impressed me a few months ago when I first walked through it's veritable sea of old couches.

So back to last night…

Me and Primus Nick*, both in a fairly mellow mood, decided to spend our evening there. Leisurely consuming all manner of coffee and tea. Making small talk with Moderately Attractive Barman and Very Attractive Bar Lady (called Ana). Still quite shaken from my Ikea experience last week, this was the perfect way for me to unwind.

Seeing as we're regular's I ended up booking the whole place out for my birthday next year in January. To my surprise it's relatively cheap, and the owner (Uncle Mike) gave us both key chains denoting our VIP status as barflies. I sorta feel like a wealthy foreign investor.

So we ended out our night knee deep in profound conversation, sprawled over two very comfortable couches near an over indulgent, glowing gas heater. All we needed were a pair of blankets and we could have drifted off to sleep.

Of course after I dropped Nick off, my night concluded with some rockin new porn.

It's nice to have a place in which I can do nothing. I don’t really need an excuse to be there. Be it coffee, piss up, catch up or comedy night. I can sit there and read the paper, read a book, smoke a smoke or just enjoy the woollen goodness of the largest collection of old couches I've seen in my brief little life.

the end.

*There are many Nicks in the story of my life, so I feel the need to attach a prefix to each one of their names to differentiate between them, the following Nicks may be referenced in future blogs.

AN IDIOT'S GUIDE TO NICK

Trip (aka: Primus Nick) - Spikey haired music fan. Noisy and festive. Likes his women. I used to work at Primus with this dude, yet I've dubbed him Trip cause they're the only four letters in his last name that I can pronounce.

Angry Nick - One of my best mates in and of work, Angry Nick likes his hardcore music and events. He also wears very distracting tight jeans. He has a legion of gay men after him.

Dirty Nick - Not really dirty. Used to go to school with this jolly fellow. He has a mortgage and works with retarded people. Don’t see him too often, but the boy likes to drink.

Cleavage Nick - Was renamed from Clean Nick after he developed big wussy man-boobs. I broke his nose a few years back outside Greater Union Cinema after he had unprotected sex with a close friend of mine. He cried.

No Shirt Nick - Many have speculated on the very existence of this dashing young man. Suffice it so say, he's a Uni student who never wears a shirt.

2005-09-15T16:59:00.000+09:30

037: FEAR OF IKEA

Don't laugh - but I think I've developed a new fear.

As many of you would know from your dealings with me in the real world, I am a man who lives in fear of many things.

I have no 'conventional' fears, like heights or spiders. These things have never really bothered me. I've always been scared by things that most people consider mundane.

My top fears are (in this order)

- Clowns
- Starfish
- Toucans
- Kevin Bacon

I think this past weekend I've uncovered a new one. In search of a new shelf for my room, I bravely ventured out to Ikea. This was of course following the 'unpleasantness' with that awful lady at Fantastic Furniture.

Anyway, I had never been there alone. I had usually been there with someone who would protect me, and who genuinely enjoyed looking at low quality Swedish furniture (missed you Mister Anderson). This time I was alone. Adrift in a sea of lampshades and poorly constructed cd racks. Plastic bedside tables that look like they belong on the set of Playschool, coupled with oddly shaped shelves with stupid Swedish names like 'Gunter' and 'Billy'.

After getting lost in the showroom (it was all so confusing), I decided that I wanted to buy a lamp for my room. My earlier attempts had been thwarted expertly, but that's another story. I finally arrive at the lighting section where I am confronted with approximately 14 billion different kinds of lamps. Small lamps, big lamps, wall mounted lamps. Some stupid fucked up lamp that was made out of coasters.

See, I have a problem with choice. I'm not by any means indecisive, but I'm often paralysed when too many choices are put before me. Sorta like going to Baskin & Robins. It takes me 20 minutes to decide what ice cream I want. Then I leave, filled with regret, thinking I should have gotten the butter pecan, rather than the choc orange which tastes as bitter as ashes.

It's only the little things that I react this way to. Big decisions in life - money, relationships, career - I'm okay with. I rule with an iron fist and set out determined on a mission.

So here I am, this meagre little man in a leather jacket feeling dwarfed by the complexity of Ikea and the agonising amount of choices available to me. Just what kind of lamp do I see myself with??

Suddenly I start hyperventilating. Feeling disoriented and alone. I cant be in this place. Alone with this multitude of lamps!!! Agh!! AND I got lost in the showroom. And I mean lost for like 40 minutes!! Not a soul would help me!

So yeah, I think I've developed a new fear. Don’t get me wrong.

I like Ikea, I just don’t think I can be there alone again.

the end.

2005-09-06T16:29:00.000+09:30

036: FATHERS DAY & MY NICOTINE STARVED FRENZY

"Help! I can't swim in jelly as far as I know!"
- Fry "The Sting"

Day 8 of my quit smoking campaign once again has been frought with rage. I made a mad dash to the chemist to replenish my supply of nictone gum on my first break at work. I think I almost knocked over two kindly old ladies in my nictone-starved frenzy.

The people who make my coffee are now the most valuable people in the world to me. I even have a Starbucks card pre-loaded with money! How's that for convenience!

And my poor co-workers putting up with my wildly alternating moods all day. From hyperactive to murderous.

Then back to hyperactive.

Then sleepy.

Then horny.

A little hungry.

Anyways, on to a more irritating subject matter...

Father's day lunch with my family. For most people a perfectly normal opportunity to gather together with the folks. For my family, a treacherous ordeal. A challenge for us to be civil to each other for five minutes without resorting to sarcastic or snide remarks.

All in all it wasnt that bad. And I really dont spend that much time with my family. In fact before Sunday I cant remember the last time we all sat around the same table and shared a meal. Being the black sheep of the family, I usually try to avoid these events.

Then, once in a while, my parents do something that surprises me...

Like spend two and a half hours under the hood of my car on saturday night trying to replace a busted steering fluid tube cause he's worried I'll crash my car (thanks, Dad)

Or volunteering to buy me the next Star Trek DVD when it comes out next week just cause she has a new credit card with a ridiculous limit (thanks Mum)

So despite the unattractive picture of my folks I often paint, they're not all bad, and are often prone to random acts of kindness and generosity. Hell I even sometimes go out of my way to be nice to them. Not too far out of my way mind you, but far enough.

I guess as I get older I realise that while my family may never understand me, I do have a certain amount of reluctant affection for them.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have someone's arse to kick at bowling.
If my evening is triumphant, you'll hear all about it. If not, we'll never speak of this again.

the end.

2005-09-01T15:28:00.000+09:30

035: THE RAGE IN DANNY POWER

Not even one week into my efforts to quit smoking, I have started to notice more money in my wallet! Definetey a plus.

I've decided to route this money to coffee, my new vice. I mean, I have to have at least one!

But only three days in, the rage has started to kick in. Getting inexplicably irritated at the simplest things. For example I went off the deep end today cause the mail didnt come on time.

I mean, where are the sale books that I usually take into the men's room with me? How will I be able to ogle whitegoods and beds that I clearly have no intention of purchasing. How am I gonna know what DVDs are on sale!! Come on ezydvd! You've really let the team down here!

Oh, and work was a trial for a little bit this afternoon, getting antsey with everyone. Regretting not bringing one of my many blades into the office.

Why cant people simply just do what I tell them!?!?!?

Ahhhh....but I digress (as I reach for the rage inducing Nicorette gum)

At least my American Pie is supporting my efforts, and a few select others. Still the utter disdain remains from some people. I'm determined to show them and buy aftershave that could easily pay for a child's education.

So keep the comments, hugs and support coming. I really appreciate them, believe me. And if I threaten to come to your house and cut you, I probably don't really mean it.

The muffin basket is in the mail.

I gotta go get me some more gum now. Rock Star INXS is on now at work and I loathe reality TV. Feeling the rage...think I'll go for a drive.

the end

2005-08-31T18:02:00.000+09:30

034: COMPLETE & TOTAL LACK OF SUPPORT FROM EVERYONE WHILE I QUIT MY FILTHY DESPICABLE HABIT

or

THE STORY OF ME QUITTING SMOKING YET AGAIN.

So clearly I've been neglecting the blog.

Sorry, I've been busy being the actual character I seem to play outside cyberspace. Still no excuse.

Today I'll be shaking my fisr at the sky about smoking.
Yep - I'm on that ol' chestnut again, mainly cause I'm trying to quit for the fourth time in two and a half years.

What astounds me first off is the lack of support. When I tell people that I'm quitting they usually give me this knowing stare as if you say "Yeah, wonder how long that'll last"

One of my so called friends told me he "gave me five minutes"

Now see I aint flying the flag for determined smokers here. Admittedly I have tried to quit before and come up with perfectly goo reasons to start again. A stressful job. A poorly maintained relationship wrought with arguments. But I have to get it right sometime!

What kind of magnificent specimen of manhood would I be if I didnt have the willpower to stop this simple habit?

Not a very good one, that's for damn sure. I'm barely a teenager as it is!

So I've come up with a battle plan.

1. Surround myself with distractions. I have quite a few at the moment, some of which are very....errr... distracting.
2. Go to the gym twixce as much and put myself through unbelieveable amounts of agony. I'm also inspired by the people at the gym who spend hours there, scoffing protein bars and steroids and wearing uncecessarily tight clothing
(for more information on this topic SEE: Package, The; Freaky Jelly Butt Lady, The)

The brutal, blood curdling cough I seem to have contracted also seems to be quite an effective deterrant.

Oh yeah - and I also wanna buy the most expensive aftreshave I can find. I plan on paying for it with a ridiculous wad of cash.

Purely cause I can wear it and it will stay.

And I will smell great.

And I'll come into work to a thunderous applause cause I smell great.

Prepare to to put your hands together folks.

the end.

2005-08-23T19:12:00.000+09:30

033: MINUS POINTS FOR PERSONALITY

"Good news everyone! Report to my bedroom for a private exhibition!"
- Professor Hubert Farnsworth

So I'm eating my breakfast cereal in front of the television this morning, as I do most mornings. Byt my house is an ice box at the moment (us being in the middle o' winter and all). So I decide to watch the free to air TV in my room.

Here in this pay TV-less environment I was exposed the oversized cranium and hairpiece known as Kerrie-Anne.

Who put this prehistoric creature on television?? I mean she has zero personality and minus zero tact. She often cuts off her interviewees mid sentence, butting in with her ill-informed questions. Seriously - I thought she was dead.

For those of you that know me, I'm probably not telling you anything new. I've long had a problem with the Australian public's willingness to accept and even embrace the blandest of TV personalities. Without this vanilla mentality, people like Rove McManus and Darryl Somers would be working in a job like mine.

I love TV. I have had a life long love affair with television. In the absence of fulfilling relationships and family bonds, it's been a beacon of light. A babysitter, friend…. Secret lover :-)

But to get to the point where I'd rather turn that old witch off and eat my rice bubbles in complete silence, is unbelievable.

Maybe tomorrow I'll watch Bert.

the end.

2005-08-22T19:04:00.000+09:30

032: AS BUSY AS A PIG IN HEAT

Oh my God. There are TVs everywhere in my office. Felicity is on FOX8. I loathe that show. They should have called it "Ditzy little pube-haired girl constantly whingeing".

Anyways, after last week's series of unfortunate events, I got to wind down Saturday night with my best mate Lincoln. The ol' bastard turned 30 last week, but I tell you he doesnt look a day over 29. Happy Birthday my bitch!!

I own you (and all related trademarks). From now until death. Don't forget it.

So downed three or four tumblers of alcohol. Vodka, Midori among other things. Had no idea what it was. To quote Scotty "Its.... It's.... It's Green".

Drank too much. Ate an excessive amount of crispy M&Ms and basked in the trashiness of Hrisanthi's skanky (yet alarmingly Britney-esque) outfit. As she put it, she was the only one who had the (metaphorical) balls to dress outside her comfort zone. I feel Hrisanthi really went all out with her outfit and truly put Britters to shame. We made sure we sent her to fetch drinks, ash trays and such, just to see her saunter around. Eat your heart out K-Fed.

Lincoln initiated a game of celebrity head (a new experience for me) which was stacks of fun whilst wasted. Try as I might to ask logical questions, all I could think of was "Am I a transexual?". Real good.

Sorta like a drunken game of trivial pursuit I played last year with a bunch of equally drunk uni students. Appearently I'd jump up excitedly with the answer to the question with "Cunt!!". It made sense to me. It still does.

In other news, I've ripped a whole bunch of my skin with my toes. I was itching my foor with my jeans on until I realised that an entire layer of skin had come off. A pink, bloody layer of my toe was exposed. Twenty four hour's later it's healing but it's sorta looking like an appendage belonging to Leatherface. See what I share with you guys??

My weekend ended last night with Mister Anderson, and excellent pizza, my favourite bar (The Comfortable Chair, yet again) and a whole lotta Dingo love.

Well we've been as busy as a pig in heat today, so I'm looking forward to hanging out with my mate Nickolai this evening. I used to call him Primus Nick, simply to differentiate between the various Nick's that I know, but he tels me he prefers Nickolai

There's Dirty Nick, Angry Nick, Clean Nick (renamed cleavage Nick by me cause he got big wussy man-boobs) and No Shirt Nick. Someone give that guy a gift certificate or something!!

Anyways, felicity is gonna give me a seizure if I dont hit the road soon. Until next time...

the end.

2005-08-19T20:29:00.000+09:30

031: EIGHT HOURS OF TRAUMA IN JUST UNDER 30 SECONDS!

Well it's been one hell of a day.

At the risk of this turning into one of those "I had the worst day at work" entries, I'll give you the abridged version. This is the radio edit, a distilled version of my day. Read ahead and live through 8 hours of trauma in just a few seconds! Now that's efficiency.
What a world we live in :-)

Woke up.
Fuse blown
Alarm system fucked.
Activation of toaster triggers alarm.
Activation of microwave triggers alarm.
Activation of anything fucken electrical triggers alarm.
The alarm is very loud and near my bedroom door.
I wish I was dead.

Police arrive. More police arrive.
All before 9am.
No breakfast.
No smokes.
Extremely fucken unhappy.

Get to work.
Drive angrily.
Emphatic hand gestures.

Arrive on time.
Just a minute to spare.
Ticket machine not working.
It takes all my money.
I have no more change.
My umbrella also breaks.
I'm wet and also hungry.

Move desks at work.
Strange and unfamiliar.
Closer to Lollie.
Hilarity ensues.

My day is over.
Need to smoke.
And spend some money.
On a new pair of jeans.

Hopefully I'm feeling more coherent next week, when I can compose an entertaining narrative about my one-day weekend. Catcha on the flip side!

the end.

2005-08-16T18:04:00.000+09:30

030: THE GHOST OF GWEN STEFANI

In response to threatening texts from certain parties I have decided to blog.

Wow, thirty entries. Typically my fliration with these types of sites usually doesnt last beyond the three day honeymoon period, but here we are. Thirty reasons why I hate existence later.

Today's update: A long drawn out day at work, that wasnt bad or good, but simply "Meh".
This is a term I frequently use to decribe extreme indifference. Lollie is having a crappy day and wants to castrate someone, Nick is in good sorts and I'm having a fantastic hair day.

Got to see my American Pie (Melly Feline) today. It was brief, but good. Great hair. She promised she'd blog about the seedy underbelly of her relationship soon. I'm breathless with antici - pation (Rocky Horror style).

I also had a strange dream last night. I aint gonna go into too much detail (because frankly it's one of those things I'd like to keep to myself). But suffice it to say I had some trouble with the masturbation-police. Apparently it's illegal (in my dream anyway). Well lock me up and serve me 8 or 9 consecutive life sentences!

Coincidentally, my best mate Lincoln turns 30 this Thursday. The party's gonna be on Saturday and I'm expected to attend in costume. This is something that I was informed of this a mere few days ago. So now I face the arduous task of finding a costume. It's not paying for it, or even looking for it that bothers me - it's the costume itself.

I mean which costume is 'me'?

A giant panda?

A cowboy?

A pirate?

A Starfleet officer?

A vampire?

A ghost?

A Backstreet Boy

An Egyptian Pharoah?

A World War II fighter pilot?

You see how much I am paralysed by choice? I put it out to you - any suggestions would totally be appreciated. I promise there'll be photos up here as soon as I have em.

I'm leaning towards something halloween-ish. Something scary. If I'm gonna come as a ghost, maybe I'll come as the ghost of Gwen Stefani. At least she'll have a little colour.
Note to self: lose forty three kilos and completely eliminate stomach.

So you see my dilemma. Lincoln will undoubtedly come as a samurai warrior. It suits him in an uncanny and sinister type of way.

Maybe this weekend would be a good opportunity to break out my flourescent green lycra t-shirt with the giant question mark. I haven't had the testicular fortitude to wear that since the turn of the milennium. And it still fits!!

Once again, thank you stairmaster.

the end

2005-08-15T11:35:00.000+09:30

029: MAULED BY JESUS

Like I just told Lollie, I feel like I've been mauled by Jesus. Lollie herself is still recovering from a nocturnal stairmaster attack, so she is displaying similar injuries.

It's all cause of our laser war on Saturday night. It was Lollie's bro's birthday, and after a whistlestop tour of Melbourne. I tried to do the impossible, and sorta got away with it.

After finishing work @ 8:00pm, I headed into the city to my mate Andy's farewell. He's leaving work cause he's going overseas, damn I'm gonna miss that guy. Now who am I going to harass at work? At least now with Andy gone, I no longer need to have an inferiority complex about my sideburns.

So after that, I brave the Punt Road traffic and head down to the corner hotel. I'm sorry, but it was all about Behind Crimson Eyes, a band Nick got me onto. They're sort of half way bewteen emo and hardcore. Maybe what Good Charlotte would be like if their balls finally dropped. Mind you, thought I was gonna get knifed, wearing a white hoodie in a sea of black.
Note to self: Wear only black to hardcore events.

So after that, it's just past midnite. I head on down to Fun City for Lollie's brother's birthday. Laser wars. It's ten past one by the time I get there (in Sunshine) and the constant Police presence compells me to lock my car. There's a huge clown mural in the mens room, but other than that, a pretty cool place. Smoking is allowed.

The Laser war itself was awesome! Got to run around like a maniac and pretend I was Corporal Hicks from Aliens. There was even a sideways jump while shooting. I tried my hardest to do it in slow motion. In our second game we got smart. Our team banded together to form a coalition against the red team. I guess I should call it a 'coalition of the willing'. I felt like I had joined the french resistance (something I've always wanted to do).

So bringing us back to now, yes, I feel like I've been mauled by Jesus, and he's used all his powers to beat me senseless and leave my lying by the curb. You know all those bits in the Bible about smiting your enemies?? Well consider me well and truly smoten.

Meanwhile next week brings us some interesting DVD releases, the least of which is the Special Edition of Alien Vs Predator. Damn you!!! Make me pay again for a DVD I bought now six months ago!!! I'm so angry I could vomit (yet strangely seduced by a second disc of special features).

I'm outta here. I'm starving. I'm going to eat. As Nick would say:

"I'm so hungry I could eat the arse off a low flying duck"

I think he wanted to eat the arse...

the end.