Friday, February 29, 2008

Mysterious host suffers unfortunate frontal spotting

Fantasy Island, somewhere in the Pacific (I think); Mr Roarke, enigmatic Latino mastermind of the mystical "Fantasy Island" today suffered a urinary mishap when he failed to shake the last couple of drops free before returning his impressive manhood to his pants.

The sultry-voiced MC of the misnamed Fantasy Island—an island whose fantasies were not actual fantasies as such but rather provided solutions to problems that led you to spend presumably tens of thousands of dollars on a fantasy escape instead of confronting the actual issues at hand (which the magical isle then solved for you even though you hadn't asked it to)— who wears a trademark white suit failed to then notice that his choice of garment made it apparent to those nearby that the misfortune had occurred.

Mr Roarke was fortunately alerted to the problem by his diminutive assistant "Tattoo".

'A stain! A stain!' had cried the small Frenchman pointing at Mr Roarke's crotch.

'My goodness you are correct my tiny friend. It appears I have not shaken my penis as well as I could have. Excuse me,' had responded Mr Roarke who was later seen balancing on a chair under a hot air hand blower in the gents just off the marina.

Postscript: On a side note today I wore my light pants. Fortunately as a generously ampled person who wears their shirts un-tucked, the problem was not readily apparent.

Dodged a bullet

When a new boss+ comes into an area they like to stamp their presence across it. One way is moving people out of jobs and into other jobs and so forth.

W is a big lovely bloke. Unfortunately for him he lacks a killer instinct so his rank is lower than the average for his means of entry into the org. Which makes him vulnerable to stamping themed moves.

So today he got moved. He was clearly pissed off about it and fair enough since he'd had no input whatsoever.

I was going to have a staffing meeting today with the boss so I bought it forward to attend an off site meeting. Knowing W had been moved I feared the worst.

But no, I simply report to the next layer down (so boss-) from now on and have been given some extra work to do.

So I really dodged a bullet esp since as a specialist skill type the type of report writing I do is often greatly undervalued as bosses struggle to see why they are produced. There's a process of I guess re-educating them when they come in to justify why you exist.

Somehow boss did that on my behalf and I live to fight another day. W doesn't. He goes from a job he enjoyed, and working with people he liked, to a job he probably won't and people he doesn't know. I wish him all the best and hope that his job seeking elsewhere bears fruits.

Unfortunately his going means a chunk of work he did for me comes back to me. Which will suck.

Anyway I have survivor's guilt. You know, you're happy for yourself and feel bad for feeling happy when others did not get to be so happy.

I hate work re-orgs. Especially the stampy kind. Still probably should have known it was coming given Boss+ said 'duty statements are worthless' and 'I can move anyone anywhere whenever I want and they can just do new work' even though such arbitrary movement A) pissed people off and B) they typically walk and take all their knowledge with them.

But as long as that new authority has been stamped on the area then well no problem.

Area man taps wrong part of head to indicate his "intelligence"

I was at a farewell lunch today. Anyway, at some point I said some sort of self promoting thing like 'see, I'm a thinker'. Only I didn't tap my forehead, I tapped my nose. Thus undercutting completely the point that I was a thinker.

Good one mimmo.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Area gambling official embarrasses colleagues at lotto draw

Channel 9 Studios, Sydney; Area gambling official, Tony Vastarkis today embarrassed his two other officials assembled as a panel of three to oversee that night's draw by actually demanding to see and feel the balls to be put in play.

'Can you fucking believe it?!' said Christine Moon, fellow panelist to other fellow panelist Mark. 'He's actually trying to provide oversight.'

Vastarkis had bought scales with him and, using notes obtained from the manufacturer of lotto balls, weighed each ball to ensure they were not overweighted and therefore more likely to settle at the bottom and be picked up by the scoop.

'We're just supposed to look at the machine, nod, and maybe sign a piece of paper. Not handle each and every ball, holding up to the light like a chicken breeder checks eggs. We look like fucksticks.'

Vastarkis is also the sort of person who at the end of a hour long brief where everyone is itching to leave the meeting asks follow on questions in an effort to show his intelligence as opposed to actually elicit a genuine response of information sought.

The lotto draw was held up by 23 minutes as Vastarkis repeated the weigh to ensure accurate measurements before adding his authorisation to allow the ball picking to go ahead, annoying the spangly dress woman who has like six words to say while gleaming at punters with her enormous teeth above dress straining breasts and the elaborately coiffed fuckstick in a suit who reads out the numbers that appear and tries to come up with interesting facts like 'seven, a lucky number that' or 'thirteen, considered unlucky by some' or 'Forty seven, the number of fucking chromosomes I have.'

Area blogger Harrangueman also said he found lotto draws to be a complete waste of space time and that he will never get those moments back.

Nice one boss plus

Boss plus's interference in my job knows no limits. Fresh from demanding final say in what went into my reports (then deciding it was too late to do it even though I gave her two fucking weeks to have a say) I discovered she'd been emailing senior people, claiming it was 'her report', and not including me in the chain of correspondence. The person who actually does all the work.

Yay for when upper management takes an interest...

Post brief worries

Today I stepped in at work to give a brief to new starters about basic admin stuff. Normally a subject matter expert gives it. So to that effect where the notes said 'offer to take questions' I said I wouldn't.

The brief went well. I wasn't that nervous - though I confess to having practiced in the shower the last couple of nights (though getting the powerpoint slides in was a bitch) - and even managed to throw in a few jokes that weren't painful dad/Christmas cracker groaners.

Although I did ad-lib a few times and went off message.

Now, like post interview, I am having cringy flashbacks to what I said as being perhaps incredibly inappropriate. No one came up to me afterwards and said 'um ... that was a tad dodgy' however. Most said it was good.

Anyway, there was this bit about security stuff - to whit don't leave a key in a cabinet when you're not going to be at your desk cause people may take a look at your stuff. It was at that point I remembered that I had left a key in my cabinet. So naturally I told the entire audience.

Good one fuckstick.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

♫ ♪ ♫ All by myself ♫ ♪ ♫

When discussing the week's events with your absent partner don't be telling them about how you encountered a cat's lung sausage at 3 am because then she will demand you change the sheets.

I'm ... detecting from you e-ladies (and some lads) that I probably should have done that anyway. In my defence it was one of the hard sausages not the liquidy ones.

Anyway I agreed. And I have successfully changed the king sized doona. Yes, I know, it's most lame to brag about basic bed clothing application but you see previous attempts at doona into doona cover have resulted in much swearing and frustration. This is the first time it was half way decent. Mid way through I was like 'Could it be? Have I ... succeeded? No HM - don't jinx it.'

And then I did. True story.

Now that's a fvcked morning

This morning I ate some toast. Nothing extraordinary in that - a perfectly sane food to eat. I ate the crust (aka the heel).

Only last year I had stomach surgery.

Sharp shards of toast meet injury.

The end results was it was stuck on my esophagus. It could not be shifted. The pain was intense and last about 40 minutes. I threw up great globs of spitty half digested toast about five or six times in different parts of the house. I'd cough and up it would come. I was about a minute off calling the ambos when I found a comfortable position, on my knees, head tilted up at the skylight above the great white phone.

Suffice to say it was fucked up. I cried, mostly whimpering, at the pain. That will teach me to push the eating envelope.

Eventually it passed and I was able to go to work. Except it took 20 minutes to find a park. I was already keyed up from painful vomiting so I found myself driving the backstreets - all with signs of no parking - screaming abuse at my organisation for managing to have fucked in the head parking policy that made it next to impossible to find legal parking after 930 am. Really screaming it out - fuck this, fuck that, fuck all the senior fucking executives with their fucking parking spots who have no fucking idea what it is to try and find a fucking park you fucks.

I sounded like Harvey Keitel in the Bad Lieutenant. Actually my groaning in pain sounded a lot like his effort in the church.

Good movie. Check it out.

PS One of HM's earlier photoshop efforts.

Monday, February 25, 2008

All of Australia awaits with baited breath for those that died so our Heath makes an appearance

Here it is...!

Wait maybe not ... did he die in Jan? I forget.

No, there he was, right at the end.

Poor fucker. I got a little teary. Stupid emotionally fraught death montages.

Jack Nicholson

Why the fuck does he wear thick black sunglasses when in the audience, but normal glasses when on stage?

Take that world!

Thus far I have managed to have only supporting actress ruined for me, courtesy of the fucking ABC news radio I had in my car. I have been sans news now since about 2.15 pm which is the longest I have gone without a news dose since I got broadband.

This will not be ruined for me.

Though I couldn't give a shit if I didn't like the host, who I believe is the delightful Jon Stewart again.

Bring on the red carpet!

Of course that statement could equally be applied to the annual ginge minge awards which are being held concurrently.

Fuck me that was a funny thing to say. You see, that's what I do. I sit on the intertubes thinking of funny shit.

hahahahahah - fuck ya's*

UPDATE: Fucking Richard "Don't you know who I am" Wilkins is on my fucking TV polluting it with his Dorian Gray esq unaging. Will you please fuck off and age you complete waste of organs?!

UPDATE 2: He is embarrassing Australia with his celeb interview crapness. Also Cameron Diaz laughs like Dr Evil.

UPDATE 3: John Travolta has short hair. Wilkins' question/statement? 'You've had a haircut.' Fucking hell why is this man still gainfully employed? A lobotomized ape creature of the Indus could do a better job.

*Channeling Rodney Rude - who may well be the chosen comedian of panel van driving mullet clad bogans but he's still a funny, funny man.

She's back (dunt dunt dunt dunt) she's back!

Magic Bellybutton has re-entered the e-building.

About fucking time.

Area man has bad dream—but gets revenge

Last night I had an evil clown dream. Like Pennywise breaking through my bedroom window and hissing at me before attempting to grab me.

Needless to say as far as night terrors go the evil clown smashing through the very window that you sleep next to would have to be up there in the top ten(after carnies).

However in this dream that's not where I woke up. Instead I was still in my room and the moment Pennywise-esque the clown fronted in my window I then twatted him with a big fuck off glass in a sock.

PW then piss bolted. I took the opportunity to chase after him, hop in my car, then drive around looking for the fucker, waving my now broken glass in a sock cosh out the window as I drove the streets one handed. I then saw him down a road, turned, and followed him into a car park where I proceeded to run him down. I think, if I remember correctly, I then got out of the car and repeatedly and with much pleasure lacerated the fuck out of his evil white painted features with the glass sock cosh as he moaned piteously.

Take that you red nosed c*nt.

PS Above image created using Photoshop, with a double layered broken window image, claws from the movie poster, and the PW image I think from a still. Thank you Google image search

Seagal hurt by Belushi comparison

Hollywood, California: All round martial artist actor, spiritualist, singer-songwriter and mafiosi aficionado, Steven Seagal, had his feelings hurt when a well meaning autograph hunter mistook the aging combat orientated thespian for fellow entertainer Jim Belushi.

'It started well,' said shelf stacker Timmy, who did not provide his last name for fear of Seagal henchmen coming to kill him for witnessing the unpleasantness.

'This woman approached Seagal in the fruit and veg section and asked him for his signature. The black clad Seagal beaming as he took her pad and pen.'

'It was then the bad thing happened.'

The woman apparently then said she really enjoyed his work on 'According to Jim', alongside that 'delightful Courtney-Thorne Smith whose really come into her own since her time on Melrose.'

Left: Seagal ... Belushi

The 7th dan blackbelt in Aikido then carefully put down his basket of avocados and lyches and asked the woman to repeat what she said. Which, according to Timmy, she foolishly did.

Seagal then proceeded to flick his basket into the air, and as the fruits spun lazily upward side kicked an avocado into the woman's mouth preventing any more Jim Belushi-Steven Seagal comparisons.

The multi genre mastering polymath followed this by dropping to the ground in a splits manuever to sweep the woman's legs out from under her, proceeding to then drop his own leg into her stomach, causing her to whoosh into a sitting position, her eyes bulging, before he poked them into her skull.

'Jim Belushi,' snarled Seagal at the now sightless avocado stuffed celebrity botherer. 'John I could understand. He was funny. Jim I do not, for he is not.'

The woman's screams were drowned out by the lodged fruit enabling Seagal to perform more misery on her person for her heartless and very insulting mistake.

Timmy said staff and customers both knew from Mr Seagal's movies that they'd best remove themselves from the circle of death about to be unleashed and that almost certainly the last one from the store would exit instead through the plate glass window as Mr Seagal went on a mission to ensure the mistake would not occur again.

'We knew the police were no help,' said Timmy. 'For Mr Seagal would simply elbow them in their stomachs and take their guns. We had no choice but to helicopter in ... him.'

Ten minutes later the Norris copter arrived, with Chuck hanging on that bit, you know the part that hangs under the helicopter (yes, I know that part), the beard covering another fist even bigger action star then dropping not onto the roof but through it to combat the icily enraged 'I'm just the cook' leather clad menace.

'They've been fighting in there for four hours now,' said Timmy from behind a barricade as scientists attempted to lower a kinetic energy absorbing dome over the store so as to contain the martial arts fury that is already distorting the space time continuum.

Where HM says something dumb

I had to have a catscan today. Weeee. Fortunately I didn't have to go into the tube one. Just the big circle donut one. Suffice to say it wasn't comfortable. You can't move at all. Which is precisely when your nose starts sting-itching.

Anyway, for one series of photos I had to be on my stomach, my chin resting on foam. So naturally I said 'it looks like I'm about to be spit roasted'.

Except, in the language of the kids today, spit roasted has a whole other meaning...

Errrggghhhh ... I just looked at that wiki! That was unnecessarily graphic.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Where HM realises he is a schmuck

I finally met my next door neighbour today when he came over and asked to borrow the mower. He's the one with the dogs and who had the rusting CRT monitor on the lawn.

I wrote our name all over the mower then took it around. He said he'd use it and be right back.

I have to admit I thought I'd have to go after it.

Nup, he came back the moment he finished with it. Furthermore he bought his whipper snipper - which he had volunteered by way of return - and kindly snippered my fence clear of grass.

What a nice guy.

So here I have been snidely slagging off my neighbours as some kind of car house e-bogans and couldn't be more wrong. He stayed for a long chat, outside the house for about an hour (he clearly loves to talk), a free ranging effort about his injuries (he's on disability), his wife, hobbies etc.

I feel much better for having met them and feel ashamed of myself for thinking stereotypical thoughts based solely on the front of his yard and the dogs that he keeps.

BBQ next weekend apparently and we're invited. Will probably go.

Death of a President

Finally saw it.


Intense film. Have to say the actors that portray the interviewed officials were just brilliant. They had the whole cadence, rhythm of speech, body language of someone being interviewed for a doco down pat.

Also, two of the four trailers with the DVD (Copying Beethoven and Driving Lessons) both make me want to see those films.

All in all, most excellent.

A horse's head moment

I was trying to get to sleep. Then I felt something cold and disgusting. I turned on the light. It was a small lump of what looked like cookie dough.

Then I found the rest of it.

One of the cats had laid a lung sausage in the bed.

It was disgusting.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Refreshing TV

I'm watching Penn & Teller: Bullshit where they take on popular conspiracies. It's laugh out loud funny where they have the kooks solemnly give their evidence then Penn and Teller make fun of them and call their theories bullshit.

Great stuff. More! More!

Not proud of myself

Yesterday, following a meeting, I sent the participants a list of tasks that arose from the meeting.

I headed the task list 'Action Items.'

I have become everything I despise.

You know you're up late ..

... when the Rage top 100 count down has started.

I can remember the first time I watched the Rage countdown all the way to the end. It was at one of those rare school parties I got invited to that was without a doubt the best school party I ever went to.

Simon K, if you're out there, thanks.

Top billing of the night would have to go to the séance where the dad gave me a luminous skull mask. Half way through the event I stuck my head around the corner. One of the girls screamed violently then instinctively gripped the arm of the guy next to her.

She had long nails.

Great stuff.

She later had one of those Corey Delaney style 'my parents are away parties' where her house got royally trashed and she lived at a motel for a few days until she felt it safe to go home.

The one time I had a parents away party a friend helicoptered all over my toilet. I actually had to run a hose into the house and spray off the ceiling.

That explains everything!

Now that's a dress!

Check out Sarah and Gam's wedding part 2 post. Sarah's dress is just fucking awesome!.

Kudos to both the dress maker and the person who made the filling.

Gam, on behalf of dudes, you suck.

More Guy Rundle goodness

From today's Crikey US election watch;

So it goes, so it goes. At a 9am press conference in reply to the charges this morning, McCain sounded tired, and tried to take the high ground, labeling the investigation by the Times as "disappointing" and denying any horizontal confrontations with the attractive Ms Iseman, of whom the paper published a photo from some ball – looking so shiny you could have set fire to an ant-farm just by angling her at the sun. She's about 8.5 out of a possible 10 on the Gillard scale, and bears more than a passing resemblance to the current Mrs McCain when young, which I reckon is pretty much always the smoking s-x pistol.

Cindy McCain spoke briefly to the media. She's been at her husband's side throughout the whole campaign, and if there's a vote they're trying to get from her appearances, it appears to be located entirely in the S and M subculture. Favouring scarlet leather jackets over black turtlenecks, with her bottle blonde hair scraped back so hard you fear her head may slingshot off at any moment, it always looks like McCain has borrowed one of Qaddafi's female bodyguards for the duration.

"I'm very grateful for the continued support of my ruthless henchwoman, who knows 30 ways to kill..."

An Arizona beer princess, she's the source of McCain's standing in the Phoenix aristocracy, and widely judged as an asset. She could turn out key demographics for McCain, but only if they put front-and-centre the one they tip-toe around – her painkiller addiction in the 90s, a jones so fierce she would steal pills from her own medical charity. Given that prescription drug abuse seems to have replaced basketball as American youth's number one sport, that seems to me the Republicans' only conduit to the 18-25s.

"Hey kids – I treated an international medical charity like it was Aunt Flossie's bathroom cabinet. I'm clean now, but I really liked those pink ones. Will someone put on some Cat Power?"

Fucking hell that's funny. I really hope Crikey bundle these up and sell em as a collection.

Michael Bay should be put on trial for crimes against humanity

I just noticed this in the wiki for The Island in the trivia section.

Scarlett Johansson wanted to go nude during the sex scene between her character and Ewan McGregor's. Director Michael Bay decided against it, thus Scarlett is shown wearing a bra during the scene.

Fuck you Michael Bay. I don't give a flying fuck that you have slow mo shot choppers at sunset in almost every film you have ever made, or the fact you cram your MiseEnScene with an unbelievable amount of product placement, but to deny the world a nudie SJ is just evil.

Pardon my French, but you're an asshole!

PS Apologies to the ladies for such a stereotypical male response. In my defence I am male.

PPS Speaking of

Hi time

Today in the basement I ran into our semi-regular IT dude. So we gave each other a loud hi. Five minutes later I spotted him in the foyer. No hi's were given.

What's the expected duration of a work hi? Is it 24 hours? I think it is. Otherwise you'd be hi'ing left, right and centre. Is this a universal time thing? Are all cultures on a 24 hour hi?

Friday, February 22, 2008

Doubled up wardrobe

My boss and I have in our regular work wardrobes shirts that look effectively identical. A short sleeved maroon number.

Today, as unluck would have it, we were in sync.

Normally it's not a problem since he's in an office and I am in a slave station except today he and I were in the same meeting, sitting across a corner from each other. He's older with glasses in reasonable condition. I'm younger with glasses in an unreasonable condition. I looked like his 'the tuna that John West rejects' clone had turned up from the lab like a subnormal copy due for incineration fromThe Island or something.

Also, unlike the boss, I suffer from dandruff. It was only after the meeting I noticed fairly evident dusting static clinging to my shirt.


Fecal mad ear

Canberra, Australia: Area blogger Harrangueman today attempted light flirting with hottie receptionist at doctors with somewhat disastrous results.

'I'd had a polyp removed from my ear, which was swimming in a vial of solution and left on the counter when I went to pay the bill. This lead to idle chatting about medical stuff in general. Finally I told her about how when I was a kid on work experience I spent a day in a pathology lab where 'we did tests on shits.'

This discussion of testing 'on shits' noticeably cooled the conversation.

'A definite tumbleweed moment,' confessed HM.


On my way back from the Doctors I was listening the ABC news radio. They played a snatch of Madness' Our House, a seminal 80's classic. Why? By way of intro to a story on rapidly increasing rents as the market crunch hits - increases which one interviewed victim described as "madness". What a clever intro. Nearly as clever as when discussing money in a story backing the action with the opening riff from the Pink Floyd's classic, which is also called Money.


So the ear thing. As punters know I recently discovered I have a perforated ear, and likely have had it in that condition for around 18 months. Finally saw the specialist. He was somewhat horrified at the duration it had taken me to present myself. In my defence I just assumed my left ear was naturally waxy, not realising it was not just wax but a upsized combo of wax and pus. Turns out you can have a localised infection that is pus producing in your ear area for a long, long time, doing steady damage to the surrounding tissue and ear business.

This means I have to have a catscan - weeeeeee - to see if the bone near by has become infected. If it has it means an operation to scrape out the infection. If I do have a bone infection, and it's not done cleaned out soon enough, there is a chance the infection will spread to my brain.

So I got that going for me.

I also experienced an ear toilet - at least that's what the name of the procedure was. It was basically a suction pump threaded into my ear then turned on to drain the pus out. It was rather uncomfortable - not painful - just very loud and unpleasant as you could feel the pus coming out accompanied by a loud screaming gurgling noise. Think three year old having a tantrum inside a vacuum cleaner pressed to your head.

During the procedure that's when the polyp was removed. I really do have it in a vial and have to go lodge it with pathology for testing. I also have to have hearing tests.

Needless to say I am just thrilled by that.

UPDATE: Fuck...

I guess you had to be there

Tonight the subject of 80's TV came up. There used to be a show on the ABC, a BBC import I believe, called Metal Mickey. Which was about a giant robot that came to life when it ate atomic cheezles or something. Only when I mentioned it I got confused and said Proton Energy pills. This error was quickly pointed out since PPEP's are from Roger Ramjet, also an shown in the 80's ABC TV product.

To which I responded 'I seem to have conflated the magic pills of our childhood.'

I put money down I am the first person alive to have said those words in that order.


BTW Was Ramjet using performance enhancing drugs? What kind of message is that for the kids?

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Area russian babe undermines ad with silly hat

Crap mobile phone ad that pollutes my TV, Russia; Late night slavic sirens today lashed out at team member Anka for undermining the sexiness of their ad by her wearing a stupid hat.

'Vat is this hat you are wearink?' said Tatania of Anka, whose choice of head gear was a soft brown velvet number with what appeared to be felt moose horns hanging off it. 'Is not sexy, is stupid.'

The ladies, who are featured in various sexy group poses where they idly fondle each other whilst clad in bikinis, said that Anka's hat was an affront and mockery of their idly fondling each other whilst clad in bikinis industry.

'Please, her hat is so ridiculous,' said Natasha. 'With it's floppy horns hanging down. Man wants to watch our bottoms and our boobies. Not silly hat with floppy horns. What if hat remind them of flaccid schram? Then where will we be? $4.95 a minute less rich that's where.'

Anka defended her hat saying it highlighted her large 'doe eyes'.

'I do sexy head wiggle with my big eyes staring at screen. Man lose self in eyes. Hat merely direction indicator with points of horns providing inverted triangle centred on face with eyes at centre of said geometrical formation. Is both sexy and is fun. He then more want to come in to room where we are and idly fondle us as we fondle each other.'

'... whilst wearing bikinis,' she added unnecessarily.

'They is merely jealous of my fabulous deer like pupils and my eye accentuating head wear.'

The other girls have threatened to morph their fondling to fighting at the next shoot if the floppy horn hat makes a future appearance, a threat the crew has taken seriously.

'These women are artists. We will of course take their sexy suggestions on board and see if we can help them work out their differences,' said Director Ivon Dasredich.

Dasredich was later heard telling Anka to both wear the hat and also to 'please be extra greased for lenses ... yes, the lenses.'

Go Grods!

Is that the second time it's happened? Love the backing music. Does it imply Craig both delivers pizzas and cleans pools professionally?


Last night, after the Fred Shipman doco I think, there was an infomercial on Biomagnetics - the bed laced magnet system that is allegedly the equiv of getting a deep tissue massage every night.

They had unpaid testimonials of the product users on the ad.

So it got me to thinking. Are there products out there that you love so much that you would give an unpaid testimonial for?


Diet coke (preferences are glass bottle then cans; not plastic bottles) and Green Lid Dare Iced Coffee. I'd spruik for them in a second. Even though my Drs have repeatedly told me to give up the former.

Reminds me of those old cig commercials that actually had doctors spruiking their favourite brand of cigs.

How the fuck they got away with that is beyond me. Oh wait, that's why - because back then it was an unfettered free market. I guess that's why the Vic young libs want the ban on smoking ads to be lifted - not because they think smoking is not unhealthy but because it's a nail in the coffin of the sacred and holy free market.

Boo regulations that stifle entrepreneurs, boo.

You know you are a land that time forgot geek when ...

... before you go to work you fire up Warlords II, a game released in around 1994, on your computer because for some reason if you leave the game idle it goes super fast for about half the time you left it for, so when you get home you can play it in the faster mode.

I usually play dark blue. And you?

An open letter

Dear ute driver,

I am so sorry that I was in your lane forcing you to tail gate me. I am glad you managed to weave past me in the end thus saving valuable seconds on your journey. I also hope that the experience of weaving gave you a chub thus making you more attractive to the ladies in the manner that a stripper does when he gets a semi and puts on a cock ring before a show thus to appear marginally larger.

I am sure of course you don't need to since by driving a ute in the city you are automatically a massive cock anyway.



Massive Caffeine high

Thanks to drinking I think close to 1.2 litres of Green Lid Dare Iced Coffee I suffered a caffeine high today. You know where you run around blathering and energetically doing large slabs of work but switch from one project to the next like a pollen seeking bee?

I love that coffee!


Mind you the end result is I will probably be up until 1 am watching question time again. Fuck me I am a nerd.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Canberra Airport shits me

Two stand outs from today. The ticket receiving machine was out of order forcing me to back my car up and try for the next one. You'd think some sort of fucking sign could have been put up. The second was the cylinder ashtray near one of the exits that was on fire and absolutely no airport staff in any move to go and extinguish it. Foul acrid smoke was everywhere. I shudder to think what would have happened if it had triggered a smoke alarm.


My new very lame phone has three ring volume settings; Silent - Discrete - Loud.

Wouldn't it be awesome if it could let you know when you were unzipped?

Diva demand goodness

Michael Jackson was reportedly axed from the Grammy Awards after making a series of "diva-like" demands.

The 49-year-old singer - who was scheduled to appear at the ceremony earlier this month for a tribute marking the 25th anniversary of his album Thriller - allegedly infuriated event bosses by insisting the whole evening be dedicated to his career.

Jackson is believed to have asked the show's presenters to refer to him as 'The King of Pop' at least 30 times throughout the night.

He also wanted a new award to be created just for him and presented to him by an honouree of his choice, according to the New York Post newspaper.

From the smh (and for the rest of the article) - see here

Remember that time Jacko heard Britters call him the artist of the millennium at the 2002 MTV awards by way of introducing the one gloved thrill rocker prior to his getting a birthday cake and then he thanked everyone for nominating him that august title, including launching into a long winded thank you speech? My guess is his lust for such an honour had not dimmed, hence the diva-esq demand.

My favourite Jacko themed story bar none is when Jackson dangled his baby over the balcony to his adoring fans and many in the media were outraged. Asked to defend Jackson's antics good buddy Uri Geller actually said he did not believe Jackson would do such a thing and a possible answer was that it was an animatronic baby. I shit you not.

But then Uri Geller drives around in a Cadillac with thousands of spoons glued to it so I am guessing as far as selecting character witnesses goes he would be down a bit on the list.

Don't f-f-f-f-uck with me, I'm the f-f-f-uckin' undead

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Vamp Bishop?

Vamp Noodle!

A new conservative force

Moves are afoot to merge the nats and libs in QLD into a joint single conservative party.

Please, please, please be called the Conservative United National Team.

UPDATE: They need a logo. Here lads, have one on me.


Over at Mr L's place... featuring his special righty guest star RA...

Mick, you can fire the majority of the public service excepting police and military and we wouldn't feel a thing. Honest.

It actually happend in the US in the 90's. Congress was fighting with Clinton so they had to close the government save a few departments. There was concern in the administration that if it went too long, people would begin to realize just how unnecessary big government was and how their lives were little affected by the closing.

I say we try it for 6 months, only as a test run and see if the public likes it. What do you say....?

We can always hire them back as they're not exactly going anywhere fast.

Great stuff. Normally it takes chemicals to become this deluded.

Fecalfeliacs and Golden Shower enthusiasts join forces to release sexy new song

♫ ♪ ♫ I was made for lovin' poo baby ♫ ♪ ♫
♫ ♪ ♫ You were made for lovin' wee ♫ ♪ ♫
♫ ♪ ♫ And I can't get enough of poo baby ♫ ♪ ♫
♫ ♪ ♫ Can you get enough of wee ♫ ♪ ♫

♫ ♪ ♫ Up, up in the air in my beautiful, my beautiful f-f-f-f-f-uckin balloon ♫ ♪ ♫

Oporto designs burger whose price is in flux

I was on the bus home and saw some inner bus advertising for an Oporto chicken and egg burger, which proudly answered the age old riddle of which was first by saying 'both'.

Ho, ho. What a bunch of clever fuckers.

Anyway the burger retails for $3.98.



Which means when you pay for it, it's actually $4 if by cash since it's rounded up. If it had been $3.95 to $3.97 you would have got the five cents back.

Well done Oporto for advertising a burger for less than four dollars but in reality is in fact four dollars.

Did someone get a promotion for that little tricky number?

Monday, February 18, 2008

J-a-a-a-a-a-i-l Break

'Cos he made it out ... with a nugget in his nap.

Six months old!

Entire Geology class planning something against nutbar

In the flotsam of yet another mass shooter's life that washes up in the media in the weeks after a rampage, until that is another one happens, we usually get hints as to why and how they got guns. Typically mentally ill reasons (ya think?) for the former and legally obtained for the latter.

Anyway, according to the SMH Kazmierczak, the latest spree killer, bought two guns for home security.

Because I suppose one wasn't enough (esp if he wanted to have one in each hand like that last fuckwit).

I know he was off his meds, and those guns were likely talking to him in the manner that Willie's tractor encouraged Bart to run into the rear of Superintendent Chalmers, but it seems psycho killer Qu'est-ce que c'est decided the greatest threat to his personal safety was 170 geology students.

I can see that. Those igneous spotting schemers with their conglomerates and tors and so forth.

Guns and America. How can such an awesome country get it so fundamentally wrong when it comes to gun control? It it because there are just so many guns, more than one gun per person I believe, that even if they did change the laws there is no way in hell of being able to enforce them? Was the fear that the Brits would come back really so great that even as technology improved from a musket that took many seconds to load to weapons that could empty 30 bullets into a body in two seconds that they couldn't step back away from the poorly phrased gun rights amendment?

God bless America. As ever the loved ones of those left behind in the wake of yet another spree shooting are in the thoughts of everyone. Except it seems the NRA, survivalists, most Republicans, etc.

Area wife should start up Dial-a-hubby franchise

Allen keying up major furniture items, putting up blinds, now fixing door handles. She's amazing. I'm all like 'meh, let's just get someone in.' But no, in she goes fix, fix, fix.

I wonder if you have to be a dude to be a Dial-a-Hubby?

WorkChoices pamphlets get pulped

Awesome stuff. Suck shit Liberals.

From today's Crikey - Clive Hamilton Vs The Oz

The Australian: 'We didn’t mean it. Really'

Clive Hamilton writes:

After serving enthusiastically as the leading organ of John Howard’s culture wars, the advent of a Labor Government has seen The Australian desperately searching for a means of retaining some credibility and influence in the new dispensation.

For those who experienced the vituperation of the newspaper’s phalanx of right-wing commentators and editorialists, the contortions and back-flips of the Murdoch flagship have provided daily entertainment. The admixture of amusement and wonder at the newspaper’s predicament peaked with Saturday’s editorial in the Weekend Australian which moved seamlessly from sinking the boot into the left to calling for more civility in public debate.

The leader laid out the new political strategy designed to rewrite eleven years of right-wing dogmatism by the paper that dubs itself “The Heart of the Nation” (and which others have taken to calling “The A-se of the Nation”).

The strategy has two contradictory elements. From the moment it became plain that Labor would win the election, The Australian began to argue that a Rudd victory is in fact a victory for Howard. Rudd is not only a fiscal conservative, the paper maintains, but a “church-going, family-values social conservative”. He has so much in common with Howard that, despite appearances, the victory of Rudd is another defeat for the left.

Rudd Labor’s dramatic early breaks from Howard over Kyoto and the apology are, in the plastic minds of The Australian ’s editors, no grounds for celebration because they are mere symbols within broader moderate policies that eschew the demands of the left. Being moderate and reasonable itself, the newspaper can endorse these sensible moves.

Of course, to endorse Kyoto and the apology, which they violently opposed under Howard, the editors have each had to swallow a forgetfulness potion. But no matter; for a paper that takes itself so seriously, The Australian ’s hypocrisy has always had a special pungency.

In their hearts, however, the newspaper’s ideological warriors do not believe the story they tell their readers, which necessitates the second element of the strategy ─ a call for a new spirit of reconciliation and the restoration of civility to the national discourse.

In this, they are reminiscent of a group of bovver boys with steel-capped boots covered in blood who, after their victim pulls a gun, say “hey, let’s be reasonable and talk it through”. After years of vilifying those they deem enemies, The Australian ’s editors now declare that they can “respect our opponents even when we disagree with their ideas”.

Among their enemies, the editors of The Australian reserve a special loathing for Robert Manne. When they talk about “the left” they are usually thinking of the former editor of Quadrant . Much of the blood on their boots is his. Manne is all the more infuriating because he has never been cowed by them. Unlike others who have understandably withered under the newspaper’s sledging, Australia’s foremost public intellectual has never mentally disintegrated.

The explanation for The Australian ’s Manne-hating is not hard to divine: his mode of public discourse is everything the newspaper’s is not – reasoned rather than dogmatic, eloquent rather than rancorous, urbane rather than cruel. In short, his moral integrity enrages the bovver boys at The Australian because it makes them feel ashamed.

After all, they were once young journalists with ideals.

Humbled by the new spirit of reconciliation, The Australian in its leader admitted, with masterful understatement, “we have not been above the odd ad hominem attack ourselves”.

Perhaps they were thinking of Mick Dodson who had dared to have a different opinion on Aboriginal housing policy. In September 2005, The Australian ran a front-page picture of his Canberra house claiming that he wanted to deny other Aborigines the chance to live the comfortable life he enjoys. Dodson said he feared for the safety of his children.

The “odd ad hominem attack” has taken the form of defamatory accusations designed to destroy reputations. When Howard ruled, The Australian ’s editorial team could bray about their latest foray into character assassination. Rudd now rules but, hey, we can all forgive and forget, can’t we?

Glenloch Interchange

How incredibly fucking shitful is trying to get onto the fucking parkway through that interchange? I moronically tried to do it during rush hour. Took me fifteen minutes to move 300m.

Bah! I hate fucking roadworks!

Stink Waft

Don't you just hate it when, after you fart, you manage to walk through your own stink waft? Like I just did then. Not only that, I bent through it as I farted before I opened the fridge to get a decaf diet coke from the bottom shelf.

Also don't you hate it when you fart before you get in a lift but you don't leave enough of a pants osmosis window and the fucking waft only escapes its textile prison after you've entered so everyone knows its you?

I really have to stop taking the lift up one flight. I'm just asking for trouble with the amount of IBS fueled farting I do.

UPDATE: I do not believe this. About two minutes ago I powered one out the back of my Dr Evil chair, then I
foolishly just leaned backwards ... straight into a lingering waft!

Is it me? Do mine just lurk around?

Schadenfreude goodness

Is it me or was that Four Corners just fucking awesome?!

If I could eat a big bowl of butter popcorn movie enhancement style I would have done.

Actually fuck being guilty about the suffering of others I openly enjoyed it. What's the German for that?

Das Einen Sucken da Shitten turdbergin Liberalkunts?

BAAAAAARRRRPPP - Let me f-f-f-f-fuckin' drive

Underbelly - a short review by HM

(note some spoilers)

Not as short as Roger Rogerson whose review for News Ltd as I understand it consisted of the words 'great tits'.

Watched it today (taped for later).

Impressed. Good production values, excellent dialogue, and Carl Williams comes across as a combo of Ralph Wiggam meets Joe Pesci from Goodfellas. The scenes featuring the freaked out sisters were esp good. I really, really thought they were going to get clipped.

Looking forward to the next ep. Kudos prog makers - a fine effort thus far. You have me hooked.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Tubby smoker rows across Atlantic

An overweight chain-smoker and aquaphobic has beat an infection and the competition to be the first solo Australian to row across the Atlantic - a 76-day journey across 5500km of open seas.

Stick that in you pipe and smoke it skinny tut-tutettes in tabloid TV.

For some reason all I could think of was Lucky Grills.

Area man conceals suggestion for sex beneath mashup of Irishcockney

Canberra, Australia: Area Man, Todd Sanden, tonight concealed a sex suggestion under a comedic brogue to one Meredith Hapsley, a long time female friend and last non flatmate up at a party's conclusion.

When asked by Meredith, a slender dark haired woman that Todd repeatedly used as wank fuel, 'what you going to do now?' by way of easing into the whole 'better take off' conversation Todd responded with the mashup.

'Well young missy, we could be makin' the sweet sweet love,' said Todd in a terrible near falsetto Leprechaun lite style accent.

'Apples and pears,' he added after a moment's hesitation, in tortured Cockney.

Meredith's response was merely to laugh at the jest and then launched into 'well it's late so I had better take off.'

'Neither of us was drunk enough to just lean in and go the pash and see what happened,' said Todd after Meredith left. 'But I wasn't emotionally strong enough to simply come out and just say baby I dig you the most. Because I am a whiny fucking coward who has no right to live on this earth.'

Todd said that by adopting the vague hint of UKness and camouflaging the desire for intercourse with Meredith he'd potentially laid the ground work for a future attempt. However unfortunately for Todd this possibility had already been unknowingly wiped out as in a previous forgotten drunken encounter with Meredith he had confessed his fancy to her then promptly vomited on her pants.

Friday, February 15, 2008

And as Christmas elves!

The Australian Organisation for the Prevention of Groinal Cruelty have repeated their demands that The Veronicas just do it, adding that when they do do "it" at long last that it is done so whilst wearing Christmas elf hats.

Left: Artist's impression

'For far too long these sisters have teased us with the potentiality of downstairs there activity between them,' said spokesman Clinton Funt. 'So as added punishment they should dress up as sexy elves and demand any watching male that he come and stuff their stockings.'

'And or stoke their chimney,' added Mr Funt, making an 'O' with his thumb and forefinger then gesticulating rapidly within the circle with his other forefinger. 'Because you just know that Christmas elves like these are clearly in the naughty part of Santa's book.'

'Obviously watching male is singular and should not include another dude because, well, if you swing that way fine, but if you don't, like me, you don't need anything confusing the issue.'

Mr Funt said the sisters should also include name tags in their elfy ensemble lest he say the wrong name when servicing one of the sisters while suggesting courses of action she may take in regards to her sibling and/or parts thereof.

'Because the last thing I'd want is to mentally fuzz on a name whilst enjoying fuzz action and scream out poke her, poke her then be handed an implement designed to assist in the re-arrangement of burning wood.'

Mr Funt added that there will be many disappointed users of google likely directed to this blog post and he suspected the average time on site counter will read 0:00.

(For MB)

Shirley MacLaine

Is it my imagination or has she been in a bad mood for forty years?

Awesome ad

Pride and Prejudiced

How many fucking times are they going to remake this fucking movie/book?

Besides, we all know it begins and ends with Colin Firth getting all steamily wet, don't we men-preferred-sexually people?

I'm prejudiced ... against remakes of this movie.


It's no surprise that hetro guys, and indeed I'd say those that prefer women, enjoy GOG action (aka Girl on Girl). What is it exactly that does it for us? I don't know. Maybe it's the whole being potentially invited in and not having to see another man's schram.

Anyhoo, GOG can be further distilled to twin on twin action. Like we all want the Veronicas to be like.

Anyway, it got me to wondering. To those out there that enjoy the man scene, is the idea of sculpted twin beefcakes going each other hot or not?

Me? I just threw up in my mouth a little even contemplating it, though I fully believe in their right to incestuous same sex for men. But I'm curious if the twin tastes cross the erotic boundaries from XY to XX?

A very supernatural Christmas

A short review of the taped Supernatural Xmas special what I just watched.

This may be the banana liquor and decaffeinated diet coke but I was thrilled to watch that episode.

Hollywood sign site of unintentional fight scene

Hollywood, Los Angeles; The iconic Hollywood sign, a standard location marker for films set in the region, today was the site of a fight scene of a different kind, when directors for rival movies queued up to shoot scenes at the locality accused each other of ripping the other off.

‘Frankie Taylor, Director for ‘Dreams will die’, a searing post modern look at the cancer that is the Hollywood system, was shooting a poignant scene where the two protagonists had climbed an O and were trying to see the stars from it, only the stars were washed out by the light pollution from the valley below when Dickey Anderson, Director for ‘Reach for the Stars’, a searing post modern look at the cancer that is the Hollywood system, came running over and crash tackled Taylor, claiming that dialogue was his,’ said witness Grando “Grindy” Grendan.

The crew for Reach for the Stars were waiting their turn for use of the location when the fight broke out, causing teamsters from both productions to circle the combatants and shout ‘fight, fight, fight’. Producers from both Dreams will Die and Reach attempted to break the barricade to separate the directors but were no match for the wall of blubbery muscle.

‘Meanwhile those poor actors, who were wired into safety harnesses up the top of the O have been left dangling, cause their wire teams joined the teamsters in crowding to watch the action,’ added “Grindy”.

The directors battled for about a minute, each claiming the central thrust of sign sitting and star gazing belonged to their movie, or previous scripts they’d worked on, until Taylor blinded Anderson with a handful of dirt, which as irony would have it would prevent any kind of gazing or indeed seeing until his eyes were flushed by a health professional.

‘Frankly this has set back the entire searing post modern look at the cancer that is the Hollywood system genre by a good couple of years,’ said industry insider Smythe Sindbar whilst doing lines off his fetching assistant’s frilly panty clad bottom.

‘No one’s going to want to see a searing post modern look at the cancer that is the Hollywood system movie if those movies are comprised by the very elements it is fighting against like directors feuding over archetypal concepts like stars and not being able to see them. The searing post modern look at the cancer that is the Hollywood system genre is about sensitive souls dreaming for the unobtainable and discovering that the cruel reality of Hollywood is such that those dreams are impossible to achieve, with at least the female protagonist committing suicide in a sexy manner, preferably in the bath with artful cuts on the arms and sodden see through clothes clinging to her youthful now wasted body, ensuring a hint of puckered nip, while the other one turns their back on Hollywood, returning home to resume their interrupted life perhaps a little wiser but determined to fight for their dream in a different way by helping street kids in Africa make movies or some shit.’

Several accounts of fight footage, taken by both mobile phones and video, were uploaded onto youtube within 12 minutes.

Dodgy things to yell while stall bound

I was bog watching today, as you do, ensuring my leavings had left, when with some panic I noticed the whirl power was ebbing and the leaving still had to go.

Without thinking I yelled out 'go you big brown bastard' just as it was sucked away.

I shudder to think what people outside thought.

Definitely a 'Who does number two work for' kind of moment.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Guess who helped US banks fvck the economy over?

Why, George Bush!

Who would have thought it?

So, so sad

Mum dies after saving baby.

I ache for her partner.

Ozzer Righty Goodness

As discussed at Grods, Sophie Mirabella, who didn't attend yesterday's ceremony because she said it was divisive and claimed that the exact wording on the sorry should have been debated long and hard before finally agreed on.

What a fucking pearler. I'm she she will go far.

More righty goodness

Laura Ingraham is a radio host in the states. She's your typical cookie-cutter righty who beats her chest about the elite liberals, family values and so forth.

When she was starting out as a proto-righty she was apparently the editor of The Prospect, a magazine put out by the Concerned Alumni of Princeton.

So I followed the link. Apparently the organisation was set up by misogynists to prevent the numbers of women attending their manly halls from rising.

Interesting isn't it? That a woman worked for an organisation that saw women as lesser. It reminds me of that other psycho blondie ratbag on the right, Anne Coulter, who famously said that giving the women the vote was bad for America (the inference being that they tended to vote Democrat).

How are these people reaching such conclusions? What happened in their lives for them to think these things?

Was it the money? Is it fear? Ignorance? Combo?

Smoky Dawson

Apparently he was Australia's "first cowboy", according to Channel 10.

What the? Really? The first one? How do they know?

Anyway, my parents have a Smoky Dawson chair. It rawks.

The Republican Noise Machine

Interesting article over at media matters about how ultra right media is now slamming the Republicans.

Here's a taste...

After years of watching Limbaugh and his various band of midnight riders within the Republican Noise Machine launch countless, hateful crusades against liberals and Democrats, it's extraordinarily satisfying to watch the Republican Party leadership discover what it feels like when Limbaugh sets his venomous, factually challenged sights on their own front-runner.

Righty radio listeners manage to work out how a phone works

Check out the parade of fuckwits that wanked on their fave medium, talkback radio, about the Aborigines getting a sorry.


"There's no Valentine's night." (sneer, sneer)


John Howard did more for indigenous people than any other prime minister, opposition frontbencher Tony Abbott says.

Mr Howard was the only living former prime minister absent from yesterday's parliamentary apology to Australia's indigenous peoples.

He refused to say sorry to the stolen generations while in office between 1996 and 2007.

Mr Rudd described all his predecessors, except Mr Howard, as great friends of the Aboriginal people.

Mr Abbott, the opposition's indigenous affairs spokesman, said it was appropriate for Mr Howard to be taking some time off rather than witness the apology.

"He was a great prime minister, a great leader and he changed Australia dramatically for the better," Mr Abbott told reporters in Canberra.

"I believe no Australian prime minister has done more for Aboriginal people, in practical terms, than John Howard.

"After 11-and-a-half very difficult years as prime minister, I think the guy's entitled to a bit of time out."

Comment of the week

RE Dirty Sexy Money

"This may be the caffeine but I'm thrilled to be watching this show"

Kudos to The Voice of Today's Apathetic Youth

For getting their post blogspotted in yesterday's Crikey (sorry lads only just saw it)

Area knight undermines rescue with trolley

Fantastica, the kingdoms; Area knight Sir Loin undermined a maiden's rescue today with use of a trolley in which he placed the recovered damsel, onlookers saying that it really spoiled the atmos of a good old fashioned princess carrying.

'When the knight has vanquished the foe and emerges victorious from the den of the evil one the princess should be held in his arms, not towed behind him in a trolley,' said local peasant Denis.

Sir Loin said that he'd recently done his back when trying to take off a metal plated boot and his chiro said to take it easy on the heavy lifting for a while.

'Look I'm already pushing the healing friendship by clanking around in the armour,' said the knight. 'So I'm hardly going to add another 105 to 120 lbs for a maiden am I? This way she gets rescued from the evil and I preserve my back. It's win, win.'

When asked why the princess couldn't simply walk out under her own steam the knight said that in his experience maidens were often mobility imparied, whether by a surprisingly common ankle injury, comatose state that is only recovered from outside the evil den, weight of excessive hair, or in one case twin club feet. So being prepared with a shopping trolley was simply good knightly sense.

However this did not explain the traffic cone.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Twatwatch rolls forth for 08

It's been a while, but this one is richly deserved. The Hon Chris Pearce.

The Hon is of course applied to his having done time on the executive council, as opposed to actual honourable activity.

This from today's Crikey by Editor of The National Indigenous Times Chris Graham.

Unfortunately, Chris Pearce, the Member for Aston, wasn't so forgiving. Pearce sat and casually flipped through a magazine throughout Rudd's entire speech. At the part where Rudd was talking about the tragedy of infant mortality ­ the "little ones" in Rudd's words,­ Pearce was cracking a joke to the rather uncomfortable looking member of parliament sitting next to him.

In fact, Pearce was so against an apology, that he also sat and read through his own leader's entire speech. When Rudd finished and received a standing ovation, Pearce was the only member of parliament to remain seated. It begs the question, why did he even show up?

Unbelievable. He did the parliament proud. At the very least if he didn't want to apologise why didn't he just fuck off like Tuckey?

More toilet talk

Yesterday it was bucketing down at work. During this somewhat intense storm I went to the toilet. I was using a stall.

Someone at a urinal broke into "Singing in the Rain". Absolutely belted it out, the song echoing off the tiles.

While he was urinating.

That's some odd urinating side activity.

Venn Shellwhiff

What an awesome name for a character.

Shell whiff

Urinal technology has moved on from the simple days of a bit of sheet metal backing a communal trough. For the most part it seems in buildings the urinals are the individual shell affair, lightly screened to prevent cursory cock checking.

So from a privacy viewpoint I am up for some shell affair.

The trouble is the urine is closer to the nose, since the shell is at about upper thigh level.
On occasion I have come in and used the shell after someone that clearly has some olfactory production issues in their wee-town.

Maybe they're chewing on asparagus stalks like farmers or something between pisses.

Anyway, it's gross, and reminds me there's a reason why nine out of ten I'm a stall boy for the stand ups.

Venn Diagrams

Is it me, or do they seem a little ... well ... vaggy?

Had a discussion with a fem-friend today about vag-sign. I said there were lots of things in the world at large that were vaggy (witness the Grods lads spotting earlier). She said that vaggy things simply didn't leap out at her as being vaggy. Then she pointed out that for the most part girls don't be seeing the vag cause it's in a hard to see spot. Where-as the lads, who for the most part enjoy a good vag, are always on vag look out and often have ready vag viewing access.

She may be right.

She also claimed that she did not think the flaming eye in LOTR looked vaggy.

Come off it. That's completely vaggy.

Sorry day

Glad someone finally said sorry. Glad it got the level of attention it deserved. Wish compensation arrangements were possible. Hope Aboriginal Australians got something out of it and feel like things are more able to move forward.

And to those that sneer and fuss and huff that it's nothing but pure symbology, I counter with this. What the fuck do you think Anzac day is if not raw symbology. Yet reverently we revere it.


The YT of Rudd

... and some fuckwit commenting on the YT of Rudd.


Return of the Jedi

Is it me, or does the Generator Commander on Endor fully seem gay?


WARNING: Work unfriendly

When I drink citrus themed drinks my saliva gets all thick and bubbly. Indeed I could readily blow bubbles with my spit. Not launch them out of my mouth like Thomson and Thompson when they ate the oil sabotage pills in Land of Black Gold, but definite disgusting bubbleage nonetheless. They're all slimy looking with froth sliding across the bubble surface.

Anyway, it got me to wondering. As you do. For those that intake of the baby froth... do they blow sp3rm bubbles?

Do such things even exist?

Let's google!


Tuesday, February 12, 2008


Did you know that there is a shoulder launched surface to air missile system called MANPADS? Neither did I until trawling through the intertubes. It would have to be hands down the worst acronym I have come across. They sound like they should be sold from the over-lit hygiene aisle at the supermarket.

I wouldn't be surprised if this guy's had to leave battles in the past with a jacket tied around his waist.

And so it goes

Today I had my first sit down with boss+.

It did not go well.

Previous efforts to date had no praise and 'things can be done better' was launched straight into. Meeting ended with boss+ demanding full list of report items so they could determine what would go into final report instead of me, the person that's done it for the last five years. I had to go through the entire list and spell out why including the item was needed.

I have never had a micro-manager boss before and I have one now.

Turns out, being micro-managed shits me. Boss+ wouldn't know where to begin to fucking do my job yet there they were telling me how I was doing it wrong and intimating they knew best.

Management. They think they're good but they're not.


Monday, February 11, 2008

Ye gawds

That whole East Timor thing that happened today, with the rebel dude taken out in a twinned assassination attempt on Horta and Gusmao, was pretty freaky.

Hope Horta pulls through. SMH has an update here. Because that's what East Timor needs. Another round of shit to deal with.

Steve Irwin holed by giant stingray

The Sea Shepherd, recently re badged Steve Irwin, "pirate" vessel funded by donations to shadow the Japanese whaling fleet and prevent the slaughter of whales, has somewhat ironically been holed by a giant version of the same animal that took out the khaki clad Crikey extolling super ozzer of the same name.

'Can you believe it?' said bedraggled and rescued John Butler esq hippy Franco Melnaco. 'Right out of the sea, whack, straight into the bow of the ship.'

The giant mutant stingray, whose existence had been theorised but never proven by marine biologists and salty sea salts that hang around in dim nautically themed drinking establishments, often missing an eye taken by a squid or such, was apparently swimming peacefully along and when the vessel pulled along side so various hippies could dance on deck whilst crooning to it through bongo drums with it the animal struck, powering its stinger fair into the Irwin.

'Crikey,' said the entire crew in unison as the stinger retracted.

Emergency patching of the hull took place as the entire marine resources of the country were employed to save the stricken celeb named after death boat but it was to no avail, with the Irwin sinking a few minutes later.

Fortunately the bongo drums proved to be surprisingly useful as ad-hoc flotation devices, despite the face clearly printed on the underside was a warning that they were not a life-saving device, only spiritually saving.

Unfortunately the freezing antarctic waters claimed most of the crew after ten minutes.

All bongo drums were safely rescued.