Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Today, wanting a snacky tea, I decided to improvise, adapt, and overcome something from the cupboard. Clix. Not sure how old they are, but I wanted to use them somehow. And cheese.
So ... tonight's meal was ... cheese melted over clix (one minute) with Cole's coleslaw.
I call it 'the big C' meal.
'Cos Biggie C, Biggie C, Biggie C starts with C ... er B ... or, well, T.
I saw Clinton on the Daily Show explaining why it happened. Basically the US financial system was awash with cash post cold war, plunged it into dot coms and when those failed to bear fruit went into bricks and mortar. Cheap credit, McMansions, Ninja loans etc all boiled and bubbled to form a cauldron of economic crap.
The US basically gave up making stuff. Governments were entranced by the Reagan dictum that smaller government was best and stopped creating the infrastructure that supports tech development. Bridges, roads, rail, power - all these things left to fade and fail without investing in replenishment. The concept of a good paying union protected blue collar job died in the US and the US became more about managing money than producing things and tech to make money.
Finally the real estate bubble burst, coating everyone in shit.
Clinton on the Daily Show said that what should have happened, and if a certain butterfly ballot in Florida had not been designed it could well have been the case had Gore been Charles in Charge, is that America should have directed its cash not into stupidly large overpriced homes but into Green tech. To move the information age into the environmental age. Imagine that? Imagine if all that money had gone into Solar, Wind, Geothermal - hell even sequestration. Image if the electric car had not been killed? Imagine if Bush and their corporate cronies had not come in with their no regulation needed, corporate criminals designing government policy mantra?
Man the world would have been a better place.
Fuck sliding doors. This is in my mind the greatest 'what if' that has happened in my lifetime. What if Gore had won? Would we be here now?
I seriously doubt it.
One of the greatest presidents we never had. I pray and hope whoever wins the election in November begs and pleads with Gore to have a role in re-tooling America for the fourth age of business - where we can have our carbon neutral cake and eat it too.
So maybe, just maybe, the next administration will nudge the US economy towards innovation and infrastructure once more. Treat their public schools like palaces instead of adhering to the demands of braying bloated talking heads with flag lapel pins wanting home schooling for inbred patriots.
But, nonetheless, I loved those movies. To me they seemed like real stories. Like not even movies. I can't explain it but for some reason these old movie efforts were more able to suspend my disbelief than modern fare. Or maybe it was just because I was younger and everything seemed more magical.
Remember, no friends.
Anyway, one Saturday this frankly weird movie was on called Rogue Male. I think it was Peter O'Toole as the lead. The plot was set in WW2 and featured some dude being hunted by a Nazi agent. In the end he built himself a badger den in the woods and hid in it but was then besieged by the Nazi agent, who he then successfully tricked into lending him a fountain pen where upon he used a makeshift slingshot to shoot it through his badger den breathing hole and into the Nazi's eye/brain.
Yeah, I told you it was weird.
Last night Ole' big lefty came off. Some of you may recall I ripped out my big toe nail a couple of years back - even blogged a pic (do a search for nail if you want to see it). It eventually grew back but it became a dead nail. It was all puckered and lifted with a cavity between the nail and the nail bed. So last night off it popped.
I played with it for a while, admiring my work, then rested it on the bookshelf for a later look.
Today, while theNoo and theWife were in the room, I went to get it to chuck it in the bin. Since theNoo has a penchant for toes he might try and go it.
I couldn't find it.
As I searched frantically for it I screamed out 'Rogue Nail! Rogue Nail' We have a Rogue Nail!'
Fortunately I found it. TheWife wouldn't look at it as I threw it out.
See. I'm my own Saturday movie.
However the bin is here. With old now dried used tissues in it.
So ... I just re-used one of those. Is that a guy thing? Or is it just gross?
Lads, ladies, make your vote.
Monday, September 29, 2008
For example, Babies enjoy airplane rides. Babies also drool. If you give them an airplane ride, and drool occurs, try and move your mouth out of the way.
Otherwise a day later you will feel like shit because the drool you drank was laced with badness.
Co-worker and I often have long rambling leftist tinged conversations. Typically American politics themed. As in 'what the fuck?!' when it comes to the Republicans and the shenanigans they get up to.
I read about this bumper sticker in the states that says 'If Jesus came back, would he really buy a gun and vote Republican?'
The Jesus I know from my church going youth sure as fuck wouldn't. So we chatted amiably about why the fuck prosperity Christians exist given all the Jesus said about poverty and being rich when new neighbour came over to join in.
The dude is like six foot eight. Both of us are puny shortos.
Around his neck, and I only noticed this for the first time in light of our chat, was a WWJD lanyard.
Fortunately we had not slagged off J.C. Just fucktards that apparently worship in his name but hate gays and love money.
Uber tall WWJD Lanyard wearing new neighbour then said 'hey, I know what you mean. A couple of years ago I read the bible through for the first time. You're right. Half these people who say they're Christian don't act Christian and have never taken on his message.'
Fox Po averted. Thank fuck I noticed the WWJD lanyard when he turned up and steered the conversation back to 'the central message of Christ - love one another - is kewl. It's just the fucked up people that distort it that shit me.'
Thursday, September 25, 2008
See the link here.
It was only a matter of time. So much store is put on physical appearance and unfortunately in a civilization awash with mega portions, sedentary activities, fear of peddos in the bushes in the local park, and a whole host of other crap, being fat is easy to achieve. In fact you have to work at it not to be fat.
Supermodel wannabees is on now and that mustache clad witch is flailing at the beautiful teens screaming about who wants to be a supermodel. Shows like this distortion, I want to say abortion, feed into the while anorexic reaction.
Being fat is to be a failure. I should know. I've been fat all my life. People judge you as less worthy for having a bigger waistline. That you lack self discipline. That you're weak. Greedy. Lazy. Most of the seven deadly sins in fact.
Especially beautiful people. Probably because they have so many people after them they can afford to be sniffy at the fat. The fat don't matter. Fat guys are the same as gay guys pretty much in the safety stakes. Seriously. Chicks in school would talk about sex etc in front of me because I was safe. I was basically a gay to them because I was fat. Continued on at uni. Safe because I was fat.
Being fat sucks arse. So is it any wonder that some go to any means not to be reviled?
Of course not. Frankly I'm surprised the problem isn't worse.
Skinny nistas. You have no concept of what it is like to be this way. I hope if reincarnation is real you come back as a inner thigh boil on a fat person.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
No, what was unusual was, and I presume because his stream was so powerful, that he was arching his back. He wasn't making any noise though. Anyway, odd. Never seen someone arch their back at a urinal.
On a side note, once I was at the pub and my older brother burst into the stall I was using and demanded a 'sword fight', where upon he crossed streams with me. I was so shocked I went along with it.
Also, another time at a urinal, some tall guy looked down at me and said 'Fuck ... you got a small cock.'
I hate tall people. Think they're so good with their height and large pork wands.
'Oh,' I said. 'Just get one from X. She's a good egg.'
Then, as is my want, I felt I should add more.
'... um only she's away. So I guess that means she's a vacant egg.'
That sounds vaguely insulting.
Monday, September 22, 2008
The challenger is some weird young dude whose surname escapes me. First name is Zed. Zed has to me a weird staccato speaking style - and is dull, dull, dull. I certainly would not want to see him in his underpants.
According to the Canberra blog, the Riot Act, Zed launched into a speech on education. Only it seems he flogged the choice inspirational lines from President Bartlett of the West Wing.
Lol. Being caught plagiarising is one thing. Plagiarising a speech about education is especially embarrassing.
Having done a 40 min to and from shop walk earlier today, I needed to get my hour up, so I decided to rawk out to old faithful. Despite hurty feet, I was feeling good, and powered along in the rain singing along to some tasty Spinal Tap.
I shaved three minutes off my time.
Go me and my gippy fucked up walkin' feet!
That ... sounds like a really shit Country Music album.
When lodging your fortnightly form, and bastard luck I had the day where they closed early so I had to be there by 1 pm, you had to lodge at least two places you looked for work. I'll be honest and say that looking for work in a smallish regional town was disheartening. So I didn't do it a lot of the time. Typically I'd put Coles, K-Mart, and Woolies since they were the bigger stores and less likely to be checked by the poor schmuck behind the counter. But, you can't just put those places down or they will eventually add you to the job club list.
So I'd mix it up, alternating one of the big three with something else. I'd be stumped for inspiration until one day I used someone from my shop-a-docket since chances are there was a phone number with it. Genius!
Except that one day when being a smart arse I put down a 0055 Clairvoyant's number. I got job clubbed I think four weeks later.
I noticed on the shop-a-docket I got today there's an ad for some sort of nasally delivered stay hard cream. So unemployed, I'd recommend against using them as a place you looked for work. Because it's just different enough from the norm to warrant closer attention ... and not of the boner in your pants.
That is all.
Ever had a corrupted ear worm? Where you sing the wrong lyrics constantly because that's what you thought they were or because your social circle corrupted them and even if you hear the line you can't help but blurt out the one as you know it.
The winner takes it all, by ABBA. The chorus. I can't help it. I know it's wrong. But when I sing it, then it becomes 'the winner takes it up the arse.'
And now, like me, you have been corrupted. Take that Michelle!
But ... I am working from home ... and Abba is blaring. Which makes it better. Aw, Abba.
30 Rock got the emmys for best comedy show, and best lead actor and actress. Deservedly so. It's Arrested Development good.
Yes, it's that good.
When Gov. Sarah Palin flew home to Alaska for the first time since being named the Republican vice presidential nominee, she brought along at least half a dozen new advisers to conduct briefings, stage-manage her first television interview and help her prepare for a critical debate next month.
And virtually every member of the team shared a common credential: years of service to President Bush.
For the rest go here.
With theWife away, with theNoo, the house as been silent. I used to have TVs on in every room until Al Gore smacked me with a nun ruler. So basically I just have the computer on, and maybe a light, along with the must runs like the fridge.
It's eerily quiet.
TheWife suggested at least having the radio on. It's typically tuned to classic FM. Yesterday classic FM were hosting some sort of organ recital from Newcastle. It wasn't kewl organ music. It was creepy mood organ music. The sort that plays just above silence level in psycho thrillers. So instead of making the house less eerie, it made it more so. So, I turned it off.
My mum rang to see how I was. I told her the house was too quiet. 'Oh,' she said. 'Just turn on the TV. I usually have classic FM on but they're playing some sort of ghastly unsettling organ music.'
Great minds. And genetically linked too!
I know, it's fucked up.
I am concerned however about infection. I don't want to lose my feet to some horrible septic wound. So when I shower I try and wash them thoroughly. This is difficult. I have a crook back, and a big gut. So while I have a Jesus bar in the shower, courtesy of the crippled old mate who had the house before us, I still have to perform an awkward swan lake style manuever to get my foot up then run a bar of soap across it then massage cleanser into the cracks, sores, between the toes and the like.
Then it hit me. Shampoo is soap. TheWife's combo shampoo/conditioner is a pump pack. A handful of squeezed into the palm goodness is easier to rub in than using a bar.
As usual, it took a guy to work it out.
UPDATE: I suppose I could take the pump pack of liquid soap from the bathroom sink into the shower with me instead of using the shampoo and conditioner pump pack, but it's like a lot of extra work for the same result...
UPDATE 2: I had a walk to Coles. I thought, fuck it, why not get an additional pump pack ... for the shower shampoo rack. Genius!
UPDATE 3: When I was a poor arts student living in a share house (sort of - I was living by myself in my flatmate's mum's house while she was OS and he was staying at the girlfriend's most nights and I was paying rent to my old place because he was still on the lease and his ex flatmates didn't want to get another person in), spending some of my $130 a week money on things like hygiene products was, alas, a secondary consideration. So for six weeks the shampoo I used was a thumbnail squirt every few days from a sample pack from a ladies magazine. In fact I was so poor I can remember once toasting a piece of moldy bread then cutting away the mold, consuming the okay bits, for dinner. I know, shoebox in middle o' road.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Best before 19 JUN09 ... 03.44 E
I'm assuming the later means it expires at quarter to four in the morning.
Wow, that's specific. Maybe it explodes or something?
With fuel prices high of course more people are walking to the shops instead of driving. Like me - yes coming from a position where in the past I'd likely drive to the other side of the road if I discovered I'd parked on the wrong side of a place I was visiting - I know that's quite hilarious. But I walk now. And surly rat's tail don't like it. His attention flickers to me for a second, then he sees my purposeful stride and the fact I am walking along the path and not from a car, and gives me a flinty look before scoping out for actual customers.
As I left surly rat's tail was downing a tallie of V as bulbous was industriously working away at the little triangle effort on the back window of a car. I think that's his specialty. The pair of them looked like a stereotypical Hollywood depiction of the short slim brainiac and the dimwitted oafish assistant - like Pinky and the Brain or Ren and Stimpy.
Later, as I went down the walking path, I was passed by an overly energetic jogging couple with their twin jogging prams.
Surly rat's tail and bulbous would hate them too I bet.
She's away at the mo with theNoo so it was just me at home. I couldn't fit in all the cheese, so I saved it for later. It's now the next morning and I just had a cold slice of fried Halloumi. It was impregnated with delicious pattie meat juices.
Yes, it's almost pure fat with a heady hint of extra fat, but, oh lordy, koom-by-yummy.
I know Sarah with her nutritionist hat on would be spinster sister with a ruler frowning at me about now.
Check out this graphic with a link to an opinion piece.
Now like with Fairfax pubs by and large I try not to read the righties. Why? Because they shit me. One dose of Henderson or Devine and I am seething with rage at their fucktardery and the fact they get given space in a national daily to spew forth their righty dribble bickies.
But ... I had to know. I had to know on what fucking planet Krauthammer is on where he thinks Bush was right. You can see for yourself here.
I have to admit I didn't read the whole thing. It made me too mad to read every bit of it. Statements like 'the 911 attacks literally came out of the blue'. Correct use of literal in the sense that planes were flying in clear skies then used as living missiles. Incorrect in the figurative sense in the fact that intelligence for some time was predicting mass casualty attacks and/or the possibility of fucking planes being used as fucking living fucking missiles. Only twats like Bush et al were too busy focussed on Missile Defense than actual defending the fucking nation. Check out the 911 commission findings. The same commission Kraumie's precious Mr Bush tried to cock block and strangle at inception. Yes, I know cock block and strangle is a humorous mixed metaphor.
Like many shithouse writers Kraumie has gone all 'atmosphere', describing the mood of Bush in his office of fun. So that shits me too. Then, the gall of saying because no other terrorists slipped in and blew people to shit Bush should get the credit? Really? Wow? Because he repaired damage he helped cause? Or is this a vague hint that torture successfully defended the nation because they sent in fucking Sutherland to waterboard rag heads or some shit? (righties keep suggesting that's the case - never actually provided any proof that torture produced actionable ticking bomb intelligence).
The purple prose of neocon opinionists knows no fucking bounds. Makes sense. All that effort they spent rejecting facts based reality and substituting their own. Like their doing in the election currently when, called out on a lie, instead of moderating their message ... they keep repeating it. Because conservatives apparently are more likely to vote for a candidate when they feel they are being called a liar. Not because they are actually lying.
How did the right wing get so popular? It's a mystery.
At any rate, I am praying the Palin bounce is actually starting to ebb - and I believe it is as America discovers that Gilfy is basically a right wing whack job who boosted cronies and high school mates into top jobs - including some woman as an agricultural director because she had a love of cows - and that she's basically unfit to even be a mayor of a 5k town let alone a malignant melanoma from the top fucking job.
That Reverend Wright was almost right. Not God Damn America. But rather God Damn, America?!
As in what the fuck are you thinking?
I attended a recent lecture in Canberra on Afghanistan. Here's an interesting tidbit for you to note. Afghanistan has a largely illiterate population. But they listen to the radio. They listen to BBC and other informative shortwave radio programs. Apparently 70% of them listen to the radio once a day at least. The average afghani is, according to the Professor who gave the lecture, more worldly literate than the average American.
God damn, America.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Even though I am a Labor member, I am always curious to see what the opposition has to say, so I took the pamphlet offered and read it on the way to the door.
In said pamphlet, there was a section on ...
... you guessed it, mainstream values.
Mainstream values. The hoary old 'pssst, watch out, non white people about' chestnut the Liberals love to bring out time and time again.
In case you've forgotten, let's have a trip down memory lane to the Fed election where they tried it on.
Today at work, it was about 4.30pm. I had the ear phones in and I was cruising the web in the post work wind down. I was wishing it was later. Then I looked at the clock after what I thought was a couple of minutes.
It was 5.37.
I asked co-worker bud if I just sat there not blinking. He said I was a bit quiet. It was fully weird. I have no recall of an entire hour going like that.
As Peter Costello autographed copies of his book that he'd just launched, and the vanquished Brendan Nelson sat quietly on the backbench beside Philip Ruddock, who back in the days of the Tampa was a Liberal hero himself, Wayne Swan fired the first shots.
For some reason this was the mental pic I had.
I thought I'd let my co-worker know I was off to the bosses' office.
'I'm off to ... bother X,' I said.
So what's with the ... ? Well for a moment, just for a moment, my brain replaced the word 'bother' with 'pleasure' and I had to remap my synapses to say the correct word.
Except of course about three seconds later I said 'Holy crap, I was about to say pleasure instead of bother' then ran over to another co-worker to tell him I was so delighted with the near Fox Po.
What is the matter with me?!
Monday, September 15, 2008
... like Bush, Palin does not appear to let her unfamiliarity with the material hold her back. She was at pains throughout the interview to demonstrate her decisiveness. This makes political sense: What better way to reassure people about her ability as a leader than to look decisive?
But by repeatedly asserting that she will "not blink," Palin was eerily Bush-like. She offered a black-and-white worldview of bold decisions made quickly and changed reluctantly for fear of showing weakness. Sound familiar?
Hold me, I'm scared. Seriously. McCain may have adopted the cloak of win-by-any-means that have so shamed the shameless GOP, including adopting a VP solely as a political choice as opposed to governance, but he's at least a smart man with extensive foreign policy experience. But he'll undo it it all if that one in three chance he goes in term one or two occurs and he puts this woman in the white house.
For some bizarre reason voters in the US like leaders that may make wrong decisions, but show their courage in sticking to them. Instead of someone that considers the options then acts accordingly.
Geopolitics is one of the hardest things to do right. Bush showed he could not do it right. Barely at all.
Now McCain is giving us Bush III. The irony is that her bush might get them both across the line - as both an icon to working white women of the evangelical faith and because conservative men the globe over consider Palin to be the Gilf of their dreams.
It was the subdued lit-by-LEDs lift. The woman in question was dressed in black and had coffee coloured skin.
'Oh sorry,' I said. And was about to say 'I didn't see you in there' when area man's warningwillrobinson alarm of possible misconstruement went off. So I trailed off to a halt instead.
Later I was at the bus stop and standing in lashing rain. I was using the memorial section umbrella, so named because it was left behind by an arsehole we were well rid off (she didn't die, just left our lives for good and good riddance). It's a piece of shit umbrella and already once on the walk to the bus stop it had F-Trooped along one side (so named for the style of hat worn but the idiot character from that Un-PC sitcom badness of the seventies).
Anyway, I was standing there with brolly up and I noticed this six foot and then some dude was standing next to me and being en-wettened. So I offered space under mine. He held it high and I held it low - like the Scottish song - and the double holding managed to keep the shit brolly from imploding or becoming well fucked.
I saw my bus coming, and it's a shit brolly, so I said - full of generosity - 'Hey mate, you can keep it. I work on floor -'
'No it's okay-' he began. I interrupted. 'Seriously, please take it. I insist.'
'Um,' said my brolly partner. 'This is my bus.'
Yep, he was on my bus.
In my defence he's not a regular.
I was feeling like Homer's PA from the when he gets hair episode and everything.
Depression is more like snakes and ladders. Except the snakes are very long and the ladders not so much.
I think part of the problem is if it's situational depression and you start to revisit the events that led to it you can quickly relive much of the raw emotional pain that caused you to be depressed in the first place. You can find yourself crying and ranting with little provocation. I think Post Traumatic Stress Disorder depressives suffer that - as cliched by the Hollywood treatment of ceiling fan = helicopter = nam = the shit = cradling your dying mate as he looks at the hollow place where his guts once were. Thanks Hollywood.
Rage spikes are also common. Well for me. It's easy to launch into blind fury and irrational hatred and loathing and it's hard to come down from it. And things can spark you off that have little to do with why you're depressed but simply serve as a catalytic trigger for these moments. I had one at the cat the other day. She didn't leave the room and next thing I knew I had her clutched - not painfully but uncomfortably in my hands - and I was screaming abuse at her for not listening to me. She's a fucking cat. What would she know?
The meds I think have helped. The feelings of utter worthlessness that can so quickly overwhelm you - especially if you re-live key unfun moments - still wash over you but they're robbed of their intensity. So if you can handle the meds, and you're not one of the fun 6 percenters where going on ADs makes it worse then get thee to meds I guess.
Walking has helped. I think I would have been far, far worse this time if I had not maintained an every day attempt at some form of non sedentary activity. Rain, sun, cold, hot, fucked leg, flu, non flu, headaches, acute muscle pain and shredded feet have not stopped me for 101 days thus far. Ha, I beat Piers Anthony's record (though in his defence, his record was for running a mile a day and he got up to 80+ days before illness robbed him).
Anyway, despite taking a massive fucking knock in the last couple of months I am still ticking along. Even if it feels like some days it's three steps back.
The important thing is I am still on the board playing.
Take that depression and the events that have caused it.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Mike Huckabee, who was a guest on one of the shows, said the cons were more about 'red meat for the faithful'. And that both parties would then move from gloating to the base to the centre in an effort to convince the rest of the US that they were kosher.
Wow. So the crap the Republicans spewed forth was just red meat for the faithful was it?
When Palin spoke, managing to read the speech written for her with flair and thus confirming apparently she's the right person for the job, she mentioned in her Grace from Ferris esq voice how the Republicans were against terrorists, and Obama wanted 'to read them their rights.'
As one person on the Wash Post forums noted. It was somewhat ironic that the Republicans spent SO much time and effort waxing lyrical about McCain's imprisonment and torture at the hands of people he dropped bombs on, then gloated about how they'd retarded suspects their freedoms.
Don't these people fucking get it? It's not about voting for someone you'd like to have a beer with or who is emblematic of your values. It's about the best team to ensure your country's future. And part of that is not having the rest of the world hate you.
Having a nut job who is 1 in three from the top job due to age and infirmity who has embraced the concept of an imminent rapture, and whose claim to foreign policy experience is that her state has Russia next to it, is moronic to say the least.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
A fair call.
When I noticed there was seven minutes left until the end of the world (ie until the CERN thingy went off) I shouted out 'Maybe I could tell Davo he smells nice now since it won't matter anymore.' This caused old mate on the other side of the partition to piss himself laughing.
In my defence he really does smell terrific.
Oh - I forgot. At one point I think I said something along the lines of 'Maybe I could enchant him with my own heady musk by rubbing a towel along my perinium?'
Yes, that's right. I said it. And I won't resile from it.
First up, Model Mansion. Pulease. What a wank.
Second, the clothes they wore for their 'Judgment'. One dude looked like the shower curtain had dropped around his neck. The other that his pubes had exploded up his back, presumably taking tendrils of arse fat with it since he has no arse to speak of.
Third, attention snooty Marie Claire editor woman. A) judging people for their looks when your axe like face looks like its sporting a hint of mo is somewhat ironic. B) French Champagne is tautology. All Champagne is French. I say this not to show my connoisseur skills but to mock deservedly someone whose life is centered around vapid wastes of space and their looking good who can't even get the fucking basics right.
What a pack of B ark chunts the lot of them.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
In the final climactic scene, two of the player characters (ie the personas played by players in the game, aka PCs), were frantically climbing up a ladder in a shaft sunk into the earth beneath a walk in closet while avoiding furniture being dropped on their heads. One of the PCs got to the top just as the matching other chest of drawers was about to be lobbed down. Gracefully the PC jumped up out of the shaft and swept his legs sideways to kick the evil non player character (NPC) mastermind (ie the main villain run by me the game master) in the chest, staggering him backward.
The NPC recovered, drew his knife, screamed and charged the PC. He fumbled his attack, and failed his Dex check. The PC successfully dodged the now falling prone NPC.
The NPC hit the chest of drawers, slid over the top, then dropped head first down the 60 foot shaft. ... where the other PC was still climbing.
This PC managed to successfully dodge the plummeting bod (a difficult task given the shaft was just three feet wide) and said villain dropped to the ground with a near life ending thud.
In character, as the body was sighted plunging down, the ladder locked PC screamed out ...
.... 'It's raining men!'
I guess you had to be there.
A new phrase was also coined this night. The lads in game encountered Chuds (aka Lovecraftian Ghouls), whose presence lingers in the form of a sickly sweet corpsey smell (so Perception checks will notice a Chud has been and gone).
In other words ... Chud Funk.
Today, whilst using the mirror in the bathroom at work, I noticed what looked like dimples in my cheeks - said face cheeks normally concealed beneath beard. So I did one of those stupidly large smiles in an effort to determine if dimples existed.
At that point I noticed the other bathroom user who as it turns out was standing behind me.
Monday, September 08, 2008
I'm impressed he made it past a year before he unleashed that anal fury.
I remember as a kid our parents would bathe us boys in a group of three - a nudie triptych if you will - since we were only two years apart and could fit in the bath.
During one of these sessions one of us, and it wasn't me, unleashed a brown bomber of such size that it resembled nothing less than a beef sausage.
Shits, like sausages and laws, should not be seen to be made.
Of course, movie history would not be complete without a passing nod to the greatest turd in a pool of water scene, even if it wasn't actually a turd, as seen in Caddyshack.
On a side note, when I saw this I thought the girl shrieked "Gary, Gary" as opposed to Doodie, Doodie. So from then on doodie became Gary. As in 'I have to lay some Gary down.'
Apologies to Gary's the world over.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Trouble is with fucked knees, flat feet, dodgy back, and a whole host of Four Yorkshiremen complaints, walking hurts me. The first twenty minutes or so is usually okay. I certainly don't get that endorphine high that fit fuckers tell me apparently exists. But I don't hate it. After another twenty minutes I am starting to hate it. Closing in on an hour I loathe it.
Thank gawd for the MP3 is all I can say. Because the music helps dampen the pain.
On Saturday I decided to combine the walk with the taking a DVD back. The shops are about a 20 minute walk away. I took the long way, taking 30 mins, and dropped it back.
Then, for some reason, and I don't know what part of my tortured fucked up sub-concious this came from, I decided to set a goal. I, Harrangueman, would circuit my suburb.
Two hours later I made it home.
I was in fucking agony. The last 30 minutes consisted of me trying to remain upright and keep one foot in front of the next. Pain was lancing through all parts of my muscular-skeletal system. I'm surprised I didn't drop in the last bit and crawl. Or pathetically call theWife to come find me and retrieve my aching more than sedentary body. I resembled the "IT'S" man from Monty Python's Flying Circus after X days in the desert with no water.
Dear lord that hurt. Still, turn up for the books, I made it. Even though even my hair fucking hurt after that exhertion.
It's hard being a potato for almost all your life - then ignoring all the crappy body fucked up shit you're riven with in an effort to do the bare minimum.
One small bonus is since moving to this side of town however is I have yet to experience the heady joy of a ute load of fucktards screaming 'fat cunt' at me as they roar past. Oh, I still am a portly vagina with legs, but maybe my grim faced determination and clear staggering nearly falling over-ness has dissuaded them. Or just maybe the suburb we live in now lacks the sort of fuckwits that think yelling 'fat cunt' from a speeding car is somehow a terribly witty thing to do? Who knows.
All I know is next time I try and set a lofty 'I shall accomplish this!' esq goal I am going to make it a tad more realistic.
HM, portly man, signing off.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
So I like the fact the DVD cover has on the front a warning to let me know that feelthy language abounds in this here movie I is abouts to hire.
However I am not sure what "M+ Course Language" means exactly...
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Are you Alaskan Trailer Trash? We don't wish to judge you, but these 20 Question will help you answer that for yourself::
1. Do you have a ridiculous bee hive hairdo?.
2. Do you wear tight fitting clothing from the 1970s?
3. Do you have bright red long, fake fingernails?
4. Do you have a pregnant unmarried teen in family?
5. Does the father of pregnant teen's baby likes to kick people's as*es?
6. Does the father of the pregnant teen's baby publish websites saying he is proud to be a rube?
7. Are there rumors of your illicit love affairs all over the small town?
9. Are you or your family members having trouble with the law?
10. Do your family members drink to excess?
11. Do you or your family members exhibit an almost pathological dishonesty?
12. Does you family has more than 5 filthy, diseased dogs?
13. Does your family own many guns and talk about them constantly?
14. Do you or your family members like to kill and cause pain to animals?
15. Do you have bitter family feuds where you try to get the enemy family members fired?
16. Do your kids have weird names like Leroy, Bristol, Ellie May, Jethro or Willow?
17. Do you believe Roman Soldiers rode dinosaurs?
18. Do you think the government should make everyone join your church?
19. Do you think premarital sex is wrong for everyone except Republicans?
20. Do you believe that Buddhists automatically go to Hell?
If you answered yes to at least five of these questions, you may be Alaskan Trailer Trash. If you answered yes to at least ten, you are definitely Alaskan Trailer Trash. If you answered yes to fifteen or more, then you are qualified to be President of the United States.
I often get red faced when I get angry. I'm still red faced now. Still filled with rage and hurt and feel incredibly pissed off and saddened.
I'm sure this will peak soon. God I hope so. Going through life being all shitted off is no way to live.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
I go walking most nights, often alongside the storm drain channels that ring the suburb.
They're mozzie bites! I can't believe I didn't realise that I've been bitten every single night. I've even been guzzling theNoo's anti-histamine meds and everything.
Area man is going to have to go the insect repellent before walkies. I am like an Aldi GIANT SANDWICH to those fuckers.
My mum often told me the tale of when she was being courted as a youth, she was taken by my dad for a stroll in some riverside gardens.
The next day she found she'd been bitten 76 times and had to get medical assistance.
Man, it's lucky he bounced back from that fox po or HM might not be here!
TheWife today bought into our lives the GIANT SANDWICH - which according to the wrapper is a wedge of vanilla ice cream sandwiched between two biscuits.
Oh. My. Gawd.
How fucking tasty was that!? Mind you it's like 40% sugar and 20% fat. But 100% delicious!
Aldi, you have indeed done it again.
Running them is a pain in the ahnus. So I can see why the ladies that ran mine, including Qubie (or QB - Quiz Bitch), decided to give it the heave ho - since buying 24 packs of coke cans in your home time then trekking them into work would have sucked.
Ours closed on Friday.
Today, blessed with a visit from the Crikey fairy in my in box, I wanted to get a cheap coke and not pay the $1.40 the machine was charging.
So I spent about 35 minutes, on the tax payer dime, searching our building for other social club fridges.
There were none. Only bastards selling lollies and chocs - no fridges of fun at all. I even asked the Boss++ who rumint was had sourced a Fridge locale (it turns out, like me, she prefers cans and simply walked up two flights to the first can machine to get them).
I miss the social club fridge so much. If I wasn't a bus man I like to think I would have taken it on. But alas there is no fucking way I am travelling on a bus with a hundred weight of coke.
Mind you I probably shouldn't have posted in the WANTED folder at work 'I am in serious need of some cheap coke - please help me out ...'