Saturday, May 31, 2008

Fillet-O-Fish purchased

A McDonald's, Canberra; A Fillet-O-Fish was actually purchased today according to McDonald's staff, who said the sale was the first any had experienced in their time working for the store.

'I been here darn near thirty years,' said "Gummy", McDonald's Old Timer, pushing up the brim of his prospector hat. 'And I ain't never seen such an o-transaction in my time, if you excuse the pun.'

Left: Fillet-o-fish, actually sold.

The request for the item elicited a 'are you sure?' from the sales girl, whose pert boobs were accentuated by her tight shirt, who then fetched the manager to confirm the feasibility of the exchange.


The customer, one Derek Freely said of the request that he'd not had one before and he decided on the spur to get one, then reconfirmed his desire with the manager who then initiated proceedings.

Together with the crew chief, the manager approached the FOF freezer which contained the single product each store received against the fateful day anyone would actually order a Fillet-o-fish. They inserted their keys and turned them simultaneously to engage the release mechanism. Then, using dust covered tongs taken from a special scabbard affixed to the FOF freezer removed the Fillet-O-Fish and commenced microwaving the order.

Meanwhile a signal to McDonald's HQ, sent from the FOF freezer when the keys were turned, was received by central command who then alerted the marketing people to change the Fillet-o-fish sign '103', a record of the total sold in the 60 year history of the corporation, to '104'.

'Well we was so plum surprised I done gone and broke out in a jig,' added "Gummy" of the moment.

Unfortunately for "Gummy" his arthritic flailing struck a customer and the dance was issued a cease and desist order from dancing police 'Men without hats' who deemed "Gummy"'s gyrations as unsafe.

A sphincter says what...
















Unbelievably she's even stupider than her mentor, RHRR Pauline Hanson.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Fvck you Polyview

You are the worst computer company in the world. Your fucked in the head fucking monitors have no fucking ready driver download access so when I update my fucking computer it's next to fucking impossible to fucking find your fucking drivers.

I hope all children that spawn from you have small dicks. And that includes the girls.

Cvnts the lot of you.

EEEEeeeeeerrrrwwwwooooorrrrrraaaaaahhhhhh

(Sounds of me crawling out of cocoon)

We're back baby! Two weeks offline at home. Yes, a l-o-o-o-o-n-g two weeks. Holy crap that sucked. The computer's hard disk fried but our magic now plague free friends were able to recovery all the docs related data - including baby pics. Thank the computing gawds.

So now it's catch up time. I know there's like two people that read this now (hey Sarah and MB), so I'd like to apologise to my two regulars for my absence. I feel I let the team down.

Anyway, when I get a chance I will cruise the many blogs I know and love and read, read, read!

Missed you all (blows e-kisses from giant float of own head - which is also blowing kisses etc).

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Gunmen mass in ailing Kennedy’s hospital car park

Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston; Ailing Kennedy patriarch, Senator Ted Kennedy, who has revealed he is undergoing treatment for an aggressive brain tumour is now facing another threat to his health in the form of massing gunmen in the car park below his room.

The gunmen, who represent various nationalistic, ideological, or religious motivated non state actors, as well as a slew of lone gunmen suffering a variety of mental and physical conditions, are jockeying to terminate the Senator before his untimely death from natural causes.

‘Kennedy is mine!’ shouted Achmed Murjat, 28. ‘His death will bring to the world’s attention the plight of Palestine!’

‘That’s where you’re wrong boyo,’ said Paddy O’Toole. ‘Kennedy must die so the world knows the Good Friday agreement, in which he assisted, is nothing but a sham on the Irish people.’

‘Kennedy must be murdered because the tooth fairy ate my last biscuit,’ thundered Rhabbie Kool-Bassie. ‘Also he is the one world government personified. And the anti-Christ. Did I mention my biscuit?’


‘Killing Kennedy is the ultimate Assassination cachet,’ said Dr Bernard Cross of St Andrew’s University Scotland. ‘Lee Harvey Oswald is burned on the brain of the world consciousness. And JFK wasn’t even killed for ideological purposes. So naturally the armed and aggrieved will want to take Ted out before nature does so as to boost recognition of either their aspirations or their anger.’

Fortunately for Kennedy the car park quickly descended into an impromptu shoot out between the jockeying would be assassins over who would get to pop one in the bod of the last Kennedy brother, the air filling with the smell of cordite and the screams and sloganeering of the various combatants.

The battle continues at the time of reporting, with the Chechnyan Liberation Front, the Kill Baby Killer’s League, Mauve November, Aryan Resistance, and lone gunmen "Wobbles" Gently, Simon Virgin-Blaster, and Mr Angus Feebly, a recently laid off postal worker, excised from the competition due to premature death.

Nooooooooo!

Our computer at home has died. The hard disk went out and shot itself. So we have lost a month's worth of baby photos and so forth. Luckily word projects are backed up at work etc.

Will be off-line at home until the weekend 'cos the lovely friends who made it - and who have requisite skills etc to restore it, have the plague or some hideous infectious disease or something.

Allow me to paraphrase the great yellow one.

'There's an empty spot I've always had inside me. I tried to fill it with family, religion, community service, but those were dead ends. I think this chair is the answer. '

Replace chair with my computer and that's nearly spot on (except of course for the family bit).

My poor sweet beautiful computer (slash) internet access. I miss you so...

Monday, May 19, 2008

Area man nearly evacuated his floor

Today towards the tail end my colleague reported a strange chemical smell. It smelt like a combo of carpet cleaner and sick.

I went and had a sniff. Yep.

I tried calling the head Emergency Control person - no answer, ditto the deputy. In the end I rang some guy on his mobile who suggested I grab a guard and go for a smell.

So I grabbed one and we went tooling around the affected area bravely taking in this incredibly rank odour. Given no cleaners had been sighted by me I started asking knots of work stations if they had seen any - thinking it was something like that.

Then someone volunteered they had cleaned a white board.

Yep, that was it, white board cleaner. Holy fucking shit that must have been some industrial strength cleaner. The smell made it up to 20 metres away. I half expected to see some giant whiteboard with a hole slagged in the middle burning map Bonanza style.

I have a funny feeling he didn't spray a couple of squirts onto a rag and wipe gently. I'm thinking the buckets of paint Jackson Pollock way. Or maybe like Maude Lebowski from The Big Lebowski where she comes sliding in to shot along a ceiling mounted flying fox spraying paint from a brush in each hand.

However the manner it was clearly in excess and since it was just after COB I was about five minutes from evacuating the floor.

Fuck I hate being an emergency control officer. Why do I volunteer for these things? Why?!

Is it all pipes?

In an episode of the Sein, George is caught urinating in the shower at his local gym. Indeed he gains the appellation "the urinator" by a walk on character.

So I got to wondering? Does it all go to the same place? Is there something wrong with the urinating in the shower?

Sure there's the smell I suppose, especially if you like to chow down on Asparagus or something else equally urinatory bouquetish. Plus there's an ick factor because while the running water would carry it away there's always the suspicion that not all of it went - esp if it was a really heavy flow that blasted into the corner.

And girls I would think would have a problem in that running water wraps around the body and unless you squatted over the drain, to get it from A to B would require a pit stop of your leg to do so.

So ... who of you are willing to admit to some shower urination? Me, I think maybe once or twice in the privacy of my own home. But I felt dirty afterwards. Not in the hot way - the unpleasant way.

Blast from the past; Area princess fails to adhere to Wham philosophy

From the HarrangueMan Files, 1997


UK, England; Wham members George Michael and the other one have today announced they are deeply saddened at the recent revelation that the People's Princess threw herself down the stairs in a semi-suicidal manner, in direct contravention of Wham's core philosophy.

'Here at Wham we choose life,' said Michael, indicating the message on the oversized T-shirt worn at happy purely innocent concerts performed for 'the kids'.

'While I appreciate the Princess of Hearts is a fan of ours we humbly distance ourself from her 'Sad? Stairs' answer to her blues.'


Michael, who has had loads of girlfriends, said that Choosing Life was not just an answer but the only answer.


'Choosing Life is about embracing your circumstances, even if you're in a position where you have to pretend you're happy when you're not,' said the deeply hetrosexual singer in between kissing his latest girl-on-arm paramour.

'Life is fun, and butterflies and gay romps. Not mournful stair tossing because you're deeply unsatisfied with your lot. You're a princess for God's sake. Embrace it!'


The singer then ended the interview to assist buff assistant Trey remove a trapped eyelash in the nearby toilets.

Looking for a God fix?

Well look no more. Simply sit in the middle up the back of a non bendy action bus. Your position will feel like you dominate all those who sit before you. Plus you get a whole Christ on the right, Holy Spirit on the left thing happening.

Wait a sec? That whole 'seated at the right hand of the father' Jesus thing. Is that our right or God's?

That could be confusing. There's a recipe for a schism right there.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Spinal Tap - album reviews



Fuck me if this isn't one of the funniest movies of all time. Curses upon the house of those who have not worshipped at its altar.

Stone 'enge

Floyd goodness

Comedy riff by theWife

Following my returning with delish Chinese from a place that has panda in the title.

TheWife (referring to a dish): So, does it have any panda in it?

Me: Of course.

TheWife: Canned or fresh?

Me: Um ... canned.

TheWife: I suppose in these trying times we can't expect much more than canned panda.

Canned Panda. Gold.

Virtuousness ends at two hundred metres

This morning my bus driver turned off at the roundabout before my stop by mistake.

I said 'oh it's cool I can walk it if you want'. He said he was happy to go back but accepted the offer - since that way I guess he would keep to his schedule.

I thought he was going to pull over by the side of the road.


No. He instead he stopped about a mile away from my work.

Still I had the warm glow of 'I helped a stranger'. The whole 'I am truly great' Seinfeld thing.

Yeah, that glow ended after two hundreds metres. After that point I had the shits.

Dumb things to say at work

As a public servant of five+ years standing I can witness true copies. I know, the sheer raw surging power I possess is a groin tingler for the ladies.

Today I got stuck witnessing about 30 docs. It was fucking annoying. Finally I got to the driver's licence of this guy's wife.

As I was handing it back I dropped it. Since it was dropping between my legs I reflexively squeezed them together to catch it.

Where upon I then said 'Oh sorry, I didn't mean to crotch your wife.'

I live to give.

UPDATE: Oh I forgot, during an earlier witnessing for a different colleague said colleague apologised for the odd nature of his documentation.

His original Birth Cert was missing his first names.

It seems his parents hadn't worked out what to call him at the time he was born and it was only until he was in his mid thirties that they went to a magistrate to append it (and then tell him about their error).

Apparently officially while his first name was blank it defaulted to 'male child'.

That is so kewl. I think our next one should be called 'Male Child' - irrespective of gender.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Inner Sanctum eh?

The Opposition Budget continues

I don't get it. It's like they're pretending they're in government. As in 'if we were in we'd do this'. But the way Nelson is bleating on about it it's all about 'we're going to do X, Y, Z'.

Yep - more wanking about fucking performance pay for teachers. Sigh, and so it goes.

Nelson is now astoudingly being hypocritical about aged carer lump sum payments - wailing about how it's not included as a right in future budgets.

Not fucking once did they do that the fucking snake oil mo fos. They made it a lump sum extra payment EVERY SINGLE YEAR. As in a bonus. They could have simply raised payments but they didn't. Why? Because they could use it as a fucking vote lever.

Christ on a bike why do they fucking bother.

Fvck it

I gave up something for a few weeks then faltered. All the horrible mental backwash has come flooding back with it.

Fuck me I wish that blue pill existed. I'd take it in a second. I know you learn much about life through facing adversity or dealing with mentally tough issues. But sometimes it's just too much.

Brendan Nelson Budget Response

I should have live blogged this because she shit spewing forth and the forced jocularity is offending my logic centres.

What a pack of fuckwits. 'Kids will move on to other alcohol,' cries Dr B.

Alcopops retard the ability to determine volume consumed. They taste like fucking soft drinks for fucks sake. They are undertaxed for their alcohol volume. Therefore making them more expensive means they perhaps get consumed less. And less drunk girls turn up at casualty claiming their drink was spiked when in fact it was the 12 cruisers they drank in the last two hours.

God these people are idiots.

PS Nelson's idea was ... a committee on alcohol consumption. The very thing they attacked the ALP for. Unbelievable. Now he's claiming he'd do some sort of small business act without going to a committee - cue sycophantic applause.

Ram Man found to have contributed to injuries

Eternia, the Palace; In a startling finding Ram Man™ was found to have contributed fifty percent towards injuries caused to his body in the duration of his employment following a court case launched against King Randor.

Left: 'Ram Man™ - contributed.

'Ram Man™ admitted on the stand that his chosen power of ramming, which involved charging objects with his head lowered then striking them, was likely responsible for his chronic back damage,' said legal watcher Brieflook™.


Ram Man™ however said he had never been properly trained upon commencement of employment and that at no stage had management indicated his propensity 'to ram things' was in error.

'Me Ram Man™,' said Ram Man™ on the stand. 'Me ram!'

When asked why he chose to ram things instead of using tools and other equipment better suited to his employment of battering, such as say a battering ram, Ram Man™ simply responded. 'I ram and I am a man. Me no Battering Ram Ram Man™.'

Ram Man™ admitted that his attitude towards occupational health and safety was lacking and that he enjoyed the cachet he received in his employment as Ram Man ™, and as such this also contributed towards the many back related injuries he had received in the line of his duties.

'Me no Ram Man™ now,' said Ram Man™, claiming in addition to medical costs monies for mental anguish. 'Me Traction Man™, Misaligned Spine Man™ or Fused Vertebrae Man™. No child get action figure named for back injury.'

Ram Man™ said however no amount of money would be able to compensate for his inability to practice his chosen profession.

'I am what I ram,' added Ram Man™ sadly. 'Me no longer have fulfilling life.'

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Well it's his f-f-f-f-fuckin' move ...

Area man offends burly workers with girlish shriek of delight

We were walking through the local tavern beer garden (most Canberra suburbs have a tavern twinned with a shopping centre) when I noticed they had one of those pump action shottie arcade deer shooting games.

'Oooo look honey, that's the game Nathan and I played when we went and had boytime.'

Cue stares from grizzled fluoro vest clad worker types enjoying their meat+chips.

'Er ... what I meant to say was - ' (dips voice lower hows this baby Austin style) '-manfun.'

Somehow I don't think a deeper spakened 'manfun' de-gayed the earlier boytime reference.

Harvey Walters rises to the occasion

Last night we had a game of Cthulhu using home brewed rules. Because character generation is a little complex (still, dagnammit), I used pre-generated characters. One of them was Harvey Walters.

In roleplaying games it always helps to have an example character so as to guide people how to make up a character of their own. Rolling for attributes (Strength, Intelligence etc), selecting skills and advantages/disadvantages etc. The Call of Cthulhu had Harvey Walters.

The very first roll Harvey's character had was for Strength. He got a 4 out of a range of 3 to 18. Most players hate low stats. Low stats mean severe in game penalties to do things. But no, to their credit the makers of Cthulhu played it where they lay and left it in. They built the entire persona around low strength - a portly genial gent who couldn't tear open a wet paper bag.

The climax of last night's adventure featured a winged horror of nameless dread land on the bonnet of the characters' Model T ford as it was trundling along a road next to a ravine and about to turn on to a narrow bridge. A round of actions later and the creature had smashed it's clawed hand through the window, grabbed the steering wheel and reefed it around so the car would speed over the edge. The player characters still in the car elected to make a leap for it.

Harvey, whose motivation was to capture proof of the supernatural, elected to take a photograph first.

'Are you sure?' I asked. 'It will mean a penalty to your diving out of the car.'

'Yep,' said the player.

He succeeded at getting a photo ... then fumbled his Dodge to tumble out. The camera strap tight around the door handle leaving him stuck in the car as it went over the lip and into the ravine.

I was feeling generous - it was a cinematic Indiana Jones style game - so I gave Harvey's player the chance to drop out of the tumbling car and try and grab a protruding tree from the rock wall. A pretty hard Athletics task.

'Now if you take the camera you will get a penalty,' I added gravely.

'I'm taking it! It's proof!'

He made the roll. Harvey ended up hanging with both hands to a sapling, camera strap wound around his neck.

Harvey has a Strength of 4...

As another player character climbed down to get him Harvey's player had to succeed at a strength check.

By god he made that too.

Sometimes the dice can make for a great game.

Oh, a nice Hollywood style coda. He fucked his skill roll to develop the photo...

BTW ever wondered what playing a roleplaying game is like? It's basically seated theatre sports with a piece of paper saying what your persona can do. It's the most fun I have ever had.

Political Erectness

From yesterday's Crikey

Racism has become Liberal Party's bread and butter
Irfan Yusuf writes:

Having labelled Liberal Candidate Adam Held a "greedy f-cking Jew" for requesting extra campaign brochures, Victorian Liberal Party campaign director Susan Chandler defended herself by saying that she had "many Jewish friends". How Seinfeldian.

Regardless of the positive spin certain Jewish leaders might put on all this, the fact is that racist slurs are common parlance in certain sections of the Liberal Party.

In some Party circles, people have replaced political correctness with political erectness. As I've written in New Matilda, it's a kind of macho ideology in which people work themselves into an ideological frenzy. Most conservative politicians (and ideologues, editors and columnists) think that the only way to prove you are really conservative is to reach positions on all issues that are completely opposite to what the Left has come up with.

So if the Left oppose anti-Jewish slurring, the only way to prove your conservative colours is to not just oppose the Left but to actively use anti-Semitic slurs. Then there's what one might call the "Howard factor". Howard's Prime Ministership saw political erectness run rampant, allowing the likes of Pauline Hanson to get away with casting aspersions on Aussies of Asian, Indigenous, African and other backgrounds.

Back in 1998, one talented conservative Young Liberal from the Sydney marginal seat of Parramatta (then held by Liberal Ross Cameron) resigned from the Party after spitting the dummy after he noticed no conservative MPs prepared to call a spade a spade and describe Hanson as racist. The response from the factional chiefs? One told me: "Who cares? He was just a f-cking whinging Asian anyway". The chief at least had the good sense not to put it in writing.

Hanson played an even bigger influence in the 2001 election. At the time I thought I’d have a crack at a hard-luck seat. They don’t come much harder than Reid (Laurie Ferguson’s seat in Sydney’s geographical heart). Someone arranged for me to meet with an Afghan chap at a small Afghan mosque in Auburn. The poor chap had lost his young nieces in the SIEV-X disaster. After the meeting, I got onto the phone with campaign HQ. I told them about the conversation I'd had with the man, and how I wanted to make some statement about it.

"No way, Irfan," said the voice from HQ.

"You mustn't talk about this topic. I'm warning you that if you say anything about it, you might find yourself disendorsed and expelled from the Party. We are running hard on security and terrorism."

"But these are young kids," I objected.

The HQ officer responded: "Listen, I know how much you hate Pauline Hanson. You've got to understand that we have a deliberate strategy here. We want to destroy Hanson by sounding like her and attracting her voter base away from her. It's part of a deliberate strategy, and it's temporary."

I believed that HQ officer. I said and wrote nothing in English. I made sure it was all said in Urdu, Turkish, Farsi, Arabic and Vietnamese instead. What HQ didn't know wouldn't harm them or me.

Of course, we all know it wasn’t temporary. Just ask the mother of the Sudanese boy murdered last year. Just ask Dr Mohamed Haneef and his family. Fighting cultural wars is one thing. Using race as a weapon is something far more sinister and dangerous. It is politics’ answer to biological terrorism. Once the virus gets out, it can infect everyone.

Liberals must wake up to the fact that Howard’s use of race has infected their organisation. When campaign directors can send anti-Jewish e-mails and senior party officials distribute fake anti-Muslim leaflets, it means the infection has risen all the way to the top. Political erectness solves nothing in the long term. Liberals of all people should be the last to cast racial and ethno-religious aspersions on others. To do otherwise just isn't Liberal.

And as the Lindsay pamphlet and the notorious e-mail shows, prejudice can come back and bite you on the bum.

Heroism

Irena Sendler helped save 2500 Polish Jewish children of the Holocaust, but always felt she could have done more.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Disgraced former Disaster Relief chief pauses mid defecation to pep self up

Michael Brown's Toilet, Somewhere; Former Federal Emergency Management Agency head, Michael Brown, who ignominiously resigned following mismanagement of the agency during the Hurricane Katrina aftermath, today paused during a bowel motion in order to gather his strength for a final faecal push.

The turd, which was a real big one, had given the Bush political appointee significant pain during its attempted passing, and had been gophered in and out of his arse no less than three times to loosen the sphincter to a point where the big drop was possible.


‘Come on Brownie, you’re doing a heck of a jobbie,’ said Brown in the third person by way of self encouragement.

Left: Brown - pauses poo.

The former disaster relief head, whose pre-agency Disaster management experience had comprised of his being a college intern in the city manager's office, experienced relief of his own when the oversized leaving finally plopped free, the depth charging faecal missile bideting Brown’s anus with splash back.

The press sullied lawyer then checked to bowl, tears of relief smattering his handsome eyes, to sight the massive object but alas the brown bomb had made it through the S-bend from the sheer kinetic force of its delivery.

Dichotomy

I had a dichotomous meeting in the toilet doorway today. As punters know the toilet doorway at my work and I are not friends. Since that bastard doorway led to me toilet squishing the boss+++ in it.

Remember how Sesame Street would have those puppet skits where they’d do opposites? Near / Far, First / Last, Some / None etc? I loved them. Especially the Some / None one.

I tried to go through the doorway as another tried to go out.

He was a Boss++.

I am short. He is six and a half feet tall.

I am fat. He is rail thin.

I bounced off his pelvis as I tried to walk in.

So not only did we get a Short / Tall we got a Fat / Skinny opposite as well.

Fuck I hate that doorway. I think it may be my baby with the one eyebrow.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Starwars in four days

Droids land on the desert planet - picked up by Jawas then nightfall.

Next day sold to the Skywalkers. Various adventures. R2D2 nobs off. Nightfall.

Next day search for R2, meet Kenobi, stormtroopers blow away farmstead, wah! Nightfall.

Next day Mos Eisley, escape, captured, escape, final battle - 'let's blow this thing and go home' - KA-BOOM! Medals (none for the Wookie), the end.

Also why is it that travelling between systems seem to only take a few minutes? It's like it's just a big industrial park.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Hymns

I was in a church choir as a kid. I liked it. Mostly did it for the free sausage rolls at recess but still. Singing was kewl. Oh, I can't sing now. My voice is ... not good. But back then I could sort of hold a tune.

Unfortunately outside of choirs the music they back most Christian church services with sucks anal hair. It's boring dirge stuff. Some of it is okay but it all seems to have been written by characters called Reverend Potts back in 1836.

Yes, I am aware there are kewl churches now where they have rock bands and shit. Which is good. Because having Advance Australia Fair style hymnals where you boringly give thanks to the Lord for X really don't make you want to be there.

At the end of church services I used to get this kind of spiritual high. I wondered if it was god. Then I realised it was the maximum amount of time before church happened next week.

Sounds horrible I know.

There are however items of music that are religious that are simply wonderful. Jesu Joy of Mans Desiring, Jerusalem, Ave Maria, Handel's Messiah - all of that is toasty warm good. The former especially so.

In the uni church I went to as a kid the below song occasionally made it on to the list of the day. It's toe tapping fun. TheNoo especially liked it.

Channel Seven—their stupidity continues

Look I watch schlock. I admit it. I even watch it free to air on rare occasions.

I just watched Independence Day. What can I say? I'm a sucker for sci-fi. Even if it is visual pulp. I love it.

Anyway.

Not even half a fucking second after the movie finished—you know where you're supposed to be on am emotional high from the climax of the action—they launched into a super loud ad for some fucked-in-the-head movie on next week while they fast forwarded credits on underneath.

It reminded me of why I rarely watch free to air. Because of their twisted efforts to cram as many possible of seconds of ads into the hour even during the program itself and utterly ruining it as a result.

Like those fucking five seconds in the McCafe before they go to commercial in Sunrise. I'm considering going over to Nine. That's how bad it is.

How not to say good night to your baby

Okay mate it's been a long day so it's time for you to -
.
BUUUURRRRRWWWWAAARRRRPPPP


- oh dear, sorry mate. Daddy didn't mean to monster burp in your face, shhhh, it's okay don't cry...


.... and so on.

The perils of using Video Tapes

When you tape over the last ep of Underbelly because you didn't label the tape.

Cue Darth in Revenge of the Sith.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

No spoilers. I will get it out when it's out on DVD.

Friday, May 09, 2008

Thanks nooner

TheWife does almost all the housework (she took over what little I did when she went off work for the first few months of theBoy). Really the only thing I do now is my own laundry.

I came home tonight to find she'd done that too. A weekend free of having to wash clothes!

Hooray for theWife. She's such a little trooper.

And fvck you Michael Moorcock

Moorcock's books are weird. I had a friend in school - same BD no less - who loved his work. But weird they may be his books are shizzly. Is that a word yet lads? Good in other words.

Why do I hate him. Check this crap out.

I could write 15,000 words a day and gave myself three days a volume. That's how, for instance, the Hawkmoon books were written.

Fuck you Mr Prolific.

Fvck you Julie

I am a frustrated would be writer. No, not in the sense that I have written tons of stuff and have failed to get it published. Frustrated in the sense that in my literary wake I have half a dozen half hearted half started books that died between pages counts 28 and 100. Sometimes I open them up and dick around with them for a bit, but months will go by between attempts. I have successfully to date completed one project - a Pratchett esq effort - which is excrementitious. Best advice I got was 'stick it in a drawer and try again in a few months.'

When I finished uni the first time I didn't know what to do. I had written a few things for the student newspaper so I figured why not write? I came to Canberra, did a course for a year, dropped out due to illness, then went and joined the public service. Starting, still with an arse long pony tail, in a mail room.

I did go back and finish the grad dip on the government dime however.

Once when my computer died I called up my then ISP (suspecting they caused it) and when the girl asked what I did I said 'I'm a writer, so it's really important you fix it.'

That is the only time I think I have ever said I was a writer to someone. And I felt like a massive wanker for doing so.

Here's a few hints for success. Don't tell people you are writing a book. Because they will ask how it's going and make you feel shit for it not going well or at all. If you absolutely have to tell someone - because say your sig other wants to spend time with you but you really want to write - tell them it's a 'ongoing writing project'. You don't sound like a wanker, it sounds worky and they won't want to read it, and it doesn't have to have a time frame for completion because it's a 'ongoing project'.

Realise that it will be shit. That's an important thing. I doubt there's a single actual writer whose been published that hasn't at one point had a mantra in their head saying 'this is shit, this is shit, this is shit' etc. Embrace that is going to happen. The trick is making it less shit after a while and to keep going (unlike me). If you do finish something realise you're too close to it and resist the urge to edit/tinker . Stick it in a drawer and walk away. Come back months later and look. All the mistakes, plot holes, dropped words, crap characters etc will leap out at you.

I wish I had accepted that advice because I did tinker here and there. It's been a while since I looked at it now and maybe I will go back. I will give it a couple more months I think.

Know that you do not have to go to uni to learn to write. Oh it helps. The course coord I got didn't. She made you not want to write. She loaded the course with fucking essays on literature then gave us exercises about writing a colour (describe a colour without using the word) and, I shit you not, try and write a story without using the letter e. Helps how? Not. Hey - no e! ... Damn.

The best how to I found - and again I stress I am not an actual writer but a frustrated would be writer - was Stephen King's On Writing. I borrowed it off a friend. I returned it with a blood stain that to this day I don't know how it got there.

The only bummer about OW was King's exhortation of discipline. You have to read, read, read then write, write, write. Devote yourself fully to the craft. I have a life - though I admit slabs of time spent watching things or playing Warlords II could be devoted to both reading and the writing. I can write - sort of. I'm not great. King pointed out you can't be great - or succeed (as with most things) - without practice. And fuck me goldfish tank thick glasses isn't right.

Blogging I think counts as practice. I hope it does. Although my technorati rating is just 11 so I am still firmly not great. Ungreat? Sucky? Well I think so. If I wasn't I'd have more people reading. Sure I get hits, but, like a Venus fly trap, I have loaded posts that people came to via google or some such. Hot firemen and cock calendars I think caused the last big spikes of visitation.

So, down to business. A lot of bloggers are firmly in the would be writer camp. I am sure many of them, faintly, Cinderella like, dream of a publisher sending them a screaming email of gush stating 'DARHLINK I WOULD LOVE TO PUBLISH YOU?!' then a career of turtleneck skivvies and drinks at launches and appearances on Sunday afternoon arts shows comes forth.

Miss Fits you suck. That's you.

Here’s another one, Julie Powell. Julie wrote Julie and Julia: My year of Cooking Dangerously.

She started blogging back in 2002, back when blogging was funky and new, and wrote about her attempts to cook all the recipes out of Julia Child’s circa 60's French cookbook in a year. I haven’t read her blog. Lots of people did though and she got a book deal out of it. Her book is more about her life with references to the blog thrown in as opposed to the blog recreated in hard copy however.


It is so, so, so fucking good that I hate her for it. Much like I hate Max Barry who, like Julie, has succeeded at the craft. Barry is younger than me too. So I probably hate him more.

This is my ultimate box ticker or praise gusher. When I come across a writer that is so good they remind me I suck and make me want to both try again and give up all together. They are paradoxically good in other words.

If you haven’t read J&J then it’s totally worth a read. To those regular bloggers, like Sarah/Gam and MB, she is our kind of people.

You will love her. And, if you’re like me, hate her too.

Julie, fuck you for your talent and your getting a book deal.

Wide face has a boyf

A turn up for the bus books books today. Wide face has got herself a man. Good on her. WF's boyf was really good looking too. Coffee commercial good looking.

As you know I think unpleasant things - fuck I call her wide face and she seems to be a nice person. But I couldn't but help think 'would he have to position himself at an angle or further away to stare into her eyes?'

Yeah, I am not a nice person. I blame my low grade OCD. Apparently us LGOCD types frequently have bad thoughts.

Oh I've never been diagnosed in reality. I read an article about it and I decided I fit the symptoms.

Go me.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Channel Seven have bumped Lost to 10.30 to make way for this

Trinny & Susannah Undress the Nation
Back to TV guide
Time: Thursday, May 8, 9.30pm
Channel: Prime
Duration: 60 minutes
Rating: M
Type: Real Life
Format: Closed Captions
Country: UK

Trinny and Sussanah are on a mission to tackle some of Britain's biggest fashion problems. Starting at the most pressing task, a subject matter they literally hold close to their chests - boobs.

Fuck I hate commercial TV programmers.

When booners fall out

It's like a car crash. You can't help but rubber neck.

Mercedes Corby is suing one time friend over unpleasant tales told over at Today Tonight. The trial has been pretty amusing.

Today friend's mum took the stand and described how she'd been duped into being a mule for MC.

You can read about this tale of woe here.

Here's a snippet.

She had also dropped in on Mercedes Corby who lived on the Gold Coast and on one of those occasions in 2002 Mercedes had asked her to take a parcel with her.

The parcel was light and wrapped in brown paper but she had not known what was in it, Ms Campbell told the court.

When she arrived at Byron Bay Ms Campbell said that her daughter Jodie had unwrapped the parcel and she was "mortified" to find that it was marijuana.

Ms Campbell's response had been: "You f---ing little bitch."

She then called Mercedes Corby and told her: "Never do anything like that again or I will cut your balls out and hand them to you on a silver platter."

Area woman's threat fails on basic anatomical grounds.

Bus names

I have bus names for the regulars. Actually, the other regulars. For given I pretty much catch the same bus to and from work and have done for most of this year thus far I guess I am accorded regular status too.

There’s banana woman. She gets on two stops up. Her chin juts out like the curvy end of a banana. It’s a hateful name to give someone. She’s probably very nice. But it’s the name that popped in the second time I noticed her and thus it stays. A few weeks back she got the attention of the entire bus and announced how some old prick two suburbs over was complaining about the route because of extra idling. So she’s a community minded banana woman.

There’s wide face. Again, not a nice thing to say about someone. She looks like the head in a jar from the new Dr Who. Normal features, just as if someone clicked on the side of her face with a mouse and dragged it over another 20%.

There’s nice Asian girl. She’s good looking and Asian. Purely racially named. Again, not nice.

Enigmatic hot girl always sits up the back. She wears Jackie O sunnies and hunches in. Her sweet face is framed by black hair. She looks like someone I know in Sydney.

There’s Mr Chatalot. He likes to talk loudly, pontificate no less, on many topics. He’s now part of the regular clique that dominates the front end of the bus. They sit in the facing seats and have animated discussions.

PB occasionally gets on. Not named for the pencil type but her tits. She has perfect breasts. Being shorter if she sits in the facing seat opposite me my eyeline is pretty much at the start of her cleavage. She wears those tops that accentuate with the V pointing down but are not slutty. She reads the same sort of books as me.

Not Jim is so named because he looks like this guy whose name isn’t actually Jim but I use that as a place holder. Glasses, he always has a book and gets off mid way.

The scene girls are classic. They wear the latest fashion of tight pants, long hair with cut fringe, ugg boots, and kind of almost nightie tops but figure clinging. They rapid fire ‘like like like’ at each other. They get off the stop after mine. I typically stand and wait until they go and take their spot. I am sure they think I am a snedger, and sit there inhaling whatever girl-fume they’re leaked over the seat.

There’s vomit lady. But I’ve only noticed her once she got her name. I’ve only seen her in profile, Egyptian tomb style, hosing down Mr Vomited On, and from the back. I’ve looked the last few trips to see if I can recognise her but there’s a chance she’s changed routes. If I projectile vomited on someone then I’d change my route too. It’s the bus equivalent of the poor fucker in year nine who shat himself in science class.

I don’t have air drummer as my morning driver any more. I have some staid normal bus driver who for some reason likes to stop the bus a metre further from me (and I am usually the only pick up). Evening driver at the moment is the unfortunate sod who had to deal with Vomit lady. He seems nice enough. Always asks how you are and so forth.

I was telling someone about my bus name thing and she was faintly insulted. She easily is. She said ‘well, what do they think of you then?!’ when I started listing all the physical characteristic based names. I don’t know. Probably ‘looks like Moore’, or Piers Lite (god forbid I do look a littler Akermenish).

I’ve read stories about long term public transport people becoming friends, sharing their transport life of 20-40 mins home. Invited to social gatherings, debating issues of the day and so forth. I don’t think I could sustain so much small talk, even if it morphed into long talk. I’m content instead to read a book and watch the world limp by from my seat.

And of course make up hateful nicknames for people I don’t even know.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Howard demands no taking cheek at tribute

According to the SMH ...

"Be proud of what we've achieved - don't take any cheek from the other side."

That was John Howard's parting piece of advice for the Liberal Party faithful tonight, who gathered in Sydney for a party fundraiser to pay tribute to the former prime minister.


Here's some cheek parting from me. Take it or leave it.

Moronic

In any large organisation there will be a large scale fuck up now and then. The bigger the org, the bigger the fuck up in other words.

One such large org has a lot of staff work in the field. As in out bush, sleeping in tents, using 4WDs in the manner in which they are intended instead of backing over children in the city - that sort of thing.

Part of their OH&S is that they have satellite phones in the event of an emergency and where normal phones do not have coverage. Given this happens in our brown girted by sea land semi-frequently when one is out bush this is a distinct need. But the phones are not used except in emergency or coverage lacking situations, so months can go between useage.

The other day an org member checked their emergency satellite phone to make sure it was working. It said 'invalid user' - or to that effect. When they returned from the field they tried to find out why the phone had failed.

It turns out when the organisation arranged contracts to manage the phone they had not quite recorded which phone was being used by what area and therefore administering the financial side of it proved a headache. They needed to find out who had what phone.

Now a normal person would think 'oh, okay, let's send out an org wide email and ask all areas with these phones to send us their details.'

Even a sub normal person like Forrest Gump would likely have come up with it.

No, this is what they did. They cancelled all the contracts for the phones. Their theory was when a user tried to use the phone they would then have to contact the admin area responsible to restart the contracts and therefore the details could be locked in place.

Apparently they decided to do this nearly a year ago.

It was complete blind luck that the staffer checked the phone and discovered this master plan of sheer unmitigated blind incompetence of cancelling the emergency phone service in order to find out who had them before someone relied on those phones in an actual emergency.

I've been in the public service a long time now. And this is without a doubt the stupidest thing I have ever heard of.

Arse Sander

When I was a kid I had water on the knees. The end result was by year seven I couldn't do sport. Not that I cared, I hated it, but I maintained a none too healthy eating pattern and fattened up like some sort of lovingly pampered cannibal snack pack.

At the all boys private school I was then ensconced at I was the only person allowed to wear sneakers outside of the sporting ground (I know, ironic). I copped a lot of shit for this. Probably didn't help that I had a smart mouth but still being bullied because of medically assigned footwear is still pretty fucked.

Teachers back in the 80's were yet to be aware of self esteem as a basic human Maslow fucking requirement in life and as such likewise gave me shit.

Being year seven there were no optional classes. We all did the same. Which included 'Industrial Design'. Which is a fancy way of saying woodwork.

Because I wore sneakers I wasn't allowed to do woodwork. Because I could drop something on my foot. Apparently only those with robust leather school shoes had the necessary foot protection to perform useless busy work and cock around with drills et al.

I was set to work cleaning gunk off the sinks each lesson instead. I still can't believe I didn't move to the cheaper far better state system for one more year.

Anyway this is a roundabout way of saying I don't have many manual skills. Tools are a mystery to me. But I am aware of sanding and what it sounds like since my Dad spent a lot of time shed bound doing this sort of thing.

Today at work someone in the toilets was sanding their arse. Not that I saw it. It's just what it sounded like. Skrit-skrit-skrit-skrit (pause) skrit-skrit-skrit-skrit. Really smoothing that perinial area back by the sounds of things.

Just how bad were their shits that they had to sand back their crack?

Now he's having a go at the disabled

Well not really. A bit.

Here's how it went down.

I had to escort a colleague to a computer to show her how to log into it. Her co-worker said 'you'll have to walk slow, she's got a sore back.'

As punters might know I self-chiropodize my left foot. I shouldn't, it's a dumb habit. Now and then I will worry at the sole so much I end up limping for a couple of days. I need some sort of hand cone to stop myself.

Anyhoo, since I was going to be limping, and she was going to be franken-walking on account of the sore back I said that it would be 'a parade of the crippled' on account of my sore foot.

Turns out she doesn't just have a sore back - which implies it's going to get better by the way - she has a condition - sciatica. So basically I called another worker 'a cripple'.

Nice one HM.

Kerry O'Brien just called Lindsay Tanner a cvnt twice

Yes, that's right. He did. Not overtly. Subtly. O'Brien said 'I guess we'll have to see you next Tuesday' at least twice by my count.

Gold. I wonder if Red Kezzer knows he did it or if it was just a happy error?

Hanging out at Dr F's

NZ system on injuries

I was reading this article about two women who were accidentally served dishwashing liquid instead of wine when I came across this passage;

Under New Zealand's no-fault accident law, victims do not sue for damages. Instead, treatment costs and income loss are met by the nation's Accident Compensation scheme.

The company will be sentenced next month and faces a possible fine.

What a great sounding system! The law is effectively removed from the health/treatment side of the house, and the punters still benefit of having their interests looked after.

Go the Kiwis.

Web Find by MB

Check out MB's post on the most hated family in America on the Phelps church in the US. The doco MB links to is especially good. And in a way heart rending. It's bizarre to see this interplay of an extended loving family, relaxed at play and in each other's company, twinned with their picketing of funerals of deceased Service men and women and claiming the American conflicts in the Mid East are a direct result of God punishing them for allowing homosexuality.

Oh Fags in the WBC sense apparently means anything sexual outside of man+woman = marital bed.

Wow.

How these people are able to function in a modern society, clearly enjoying and using all the benefits a modern functioning tech savvy culture provides, yet have a warped cult mindset so alien to the vast majority is beyond me.

But humans are an easily led bunch. We've followed crackpots of all stripes and colours.

I'll end this with a snippet of Life of Brian.

Brian: I am NOT the Messiah!
Arthur: I say you are Lord, and I should know. I've followed a few.

Jesus...

Cyclone killed 10,000 in one town.

If this happened in a western country we'd be glued to the TV, S11 style. Ironic huh? Assume 30k are dead that's x10 S11's loss.

Why is the impact of natural disaster so much greater in the developing world? Is it because part of the reason they're still developing because their environment hampers it (ie storms, earthquakes etc). Is the infrastructure/construction of dwellings inferior to us in the west? Is it just shitty luck, a crappy roll of the dice that you're born into a country that gets so easily pasted by a raging mother nature.

Poor bastards. I know one thing though. Being a dictatorship (or oligarchy) means people are going to get less help because of the restrictions placed on aid relief.

Fuckers. If there's an afterlife I hope those kleptocratic cvnts that have a 500k+ army to control their people rather than for external defence get it in the pooper*

*Unless they're into that of course.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Attention Snedgers

Feeling blue because your peccidillo is unappreciated by the wider community? Struggle to resist delving into a seat when its occupant has left it alone for a moment? Want to maintain a normal life without the searing need for a sniff of a whiff of a former chair resident?

Well want no more. Try the Snedger 3000. Yes, the Snedger 3000 - a tiny chair permeated with the sexy smells of a seat sitting siren that you can easily affix across your schnoz. To get you through those long, long days where you're surrounded by come hither chairs and unable to get your nose into them like a pig grubbing for truffles



Monday, May 05, 2008

Aw I'm glad

Isn't it awsome that Australia's favourite snedger has managed to survive a leadership spill?

Just how bad is it in the Liberal party that they cannot find someone acceptable to replace a leader that will forever have the words 'Chair Sniffer' applied to him?

Great stuff. Keep it up Libs.

UPDATE: It just keeps getting better.

New stink kicked up over chair sniffer

May 6, 2008 - 1:43PM

The woman at the centre of the seat-sniffing scandal involving West Australian Opposition Leader Troy Buswell says he writhed in mock sexual pleasure during the incident.

The woman, who remains unnamed, told The West Australian newspaper that Mr Buswell sniffed her chair twice within 10 minutes, while groaning and making "sexually satisfying noises".

Mr Buswell has admitted sniffing the seat of the Liberal female staffer in an office at Perth's Parliament House in October 2005.

He yesterday survived a Liberal party room move to dump him in the wake of the scandal.

The woman was today reported by The West Australian as saying that Mr Buswell placed a chair on his head twice within 10 minutes, sniffing it before writhing in mock sexual ecstasy.

"We finished the meeting [with a constituent]. I walked the bloke downstairs and out of Parliament and when I got back I walked into the room to pick up my notepad from the desk and Buswell started grabbing the chairs going 'Aahww, which one did you sit in? I'll be able to tell,' " she said.

"And then he picked them up and started sniffing them and groaning and making sexually satisfying noises. I went: 'You're sick, knock it off', and grabbed my staff and walked out, but he didn't pay attention to a word I said."

The woman said she was standing with colleagues about 10 minutes later when one of them knocked on Mr Buswell's door to ask one of his staff to lunch.

"Buswell opened the door really wide, grabbed a chair and started sniffing it, lifted it above his head sniffing it and breathing in, going 'aaww yeah'," the woman said.

"It was awful. My colleagues, the four men I worked with, were just stunned into silence."

Mr Buswell, who is set to lead the Liberal Party to the next election after surviving yesterday's party room meeting, says he considered resigning over the incident and its aftermath.

"I have given that consideration," he told Fairfax Network radio.

"It's been a difficult week for me personally, but as I say that would shade into insignificance compared to the impact on the lady concerned.

"It would've been extremely difficult for her. It's been a difficult week for my family and my colleagues, and of course I gave that consideration."

The following people should be charged with crimes against humanity

Robert Mugabe
George W Bush
Dick Cheney

And all Fox executives involved in the cancellation of Angel, Firefly, and Arrested Development.

More kitchen antics

Turns out when you spoon hot liquid fat into a cold sink the puddles quickly solidify and turn into hardened fatty deposits.

Who would have thunk it?

That's just how lame I am

I couldn't work out how to turn the oven on. In the end I looked up how to do it on the web.

Yes ladies, I am that crap.

In my defence it's a rayburn gas cooker with lots of 'turn this knob to Y, and that knob to X. Then jog to the left and gently caress Z' etc.

I cannot believe that actually happened

I was enjoying the novelty of a bendy bus ride home - with lots of seats for all and no doubling up unless you're one of those chatter club cliques that tend to form in groups of same time caught bus users.

About a half a dozen seats ahead, thankfully past the bend, was sitting a woman by herself. An older lady judging from her head back.

Fifteen minutes before my stop came up I happened to be looking ahead when I saw her turn her head to the side and seemingly projectile vomit across the aisle. It wasn't as bad as Little Britain but she certainly caught the old mate on the opposite side (who was against the window no less) across his shoulder, his face, his back etc. Of course, like when you turn a hose stream off, once the vom stopped coming out it then slacked on to the floor in a great clotted mess of liquidy gloop.

I was shocked. Part of me was disbelieving that happened. I thought perhaps it was a drink bottle that she accidentally sprayed on him but I just didn't see the bottle because of the angle? The man behind her didn't move or react. Only the dude that was sprayed with projectile badness. Eventually once she got off one of those in the circle of smell shifted seats so my suspicions firmed.


As I got close when it came my time to leave I confirmed, yes indeed, it was vom. The passenger who caught most of it had his once nice bag splattered like it been blasted with two barrels of vomshot.

Far out.

I wasn't sure if the driver was aware so I told him on the way out. Oh yes, he was aware alright.

Errrrghhhhh. Gross.

Office email goodness

I entered the white collar workplace world on the cusp of email becoming the norm. It's hard to believe that once upon a time email did not exist. Instead signed correspondence via inter office envelope was the standard. Now such missives are rare and generally high level because the high level people entered the workforce when email was not the norm and have still to adapt.

Email has been a force multiplier for the office. You can do so, so much more with email than you can with phone calls, memos etc. You can track things, tasks things, attach things and so forth, Email is the biggest cog in the info revolution.

Anyway, email comes with its own code of conduct. THIS IS CONSIDERED SHOUTING AND RUDE for example. You get an email like that you instantly think 'what a prick' (or that they left the Capslock on).

Another code of conduct email use thing is the Reply All. If you get an organisation or building wide email, representing hundreds to thousands of users, you never, ever Reply All. It's just not done. It's like someone yelling in a lift or at the urinal. Or one of those mentally challenged people screaming at a bus driver that he is a cvnt because he's two minutes behind on schedule.

Recently at my work a building wide email went out from the building maintenance lads explaining there was something up with the environmental controls and that the temp was a little cold in spots. It recommended people consider jumpers etc.

Fair enough, nice of them to let us all know. Trouble was the email address for the entire building was a string of numbers and characters - not readily recognisable as an uber address.

So ... naturally about half a dozen people replied all to said message. They ranged from 'thanks for the info' through to 'how dare you tell me what to wear, I am insulted' (seriously). Then the 'please stop replying all' begging emails started.

The best one was a combo of SHOUTING and Reply All where it simply said 'STOP REPLYING TO ALL !!!!'

Yes, that's right. They were telling people not to Reply All whilst replying to all. To everyone in the building. Which includes the most senior members of the org.

I bet Mr Shouty in particular is thanking his lucky stars half of them still don't know how to use email.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

A weekend project

It's important to have a project on the weekend. That way when you complete it, or a chunk of it, you feel like you accomplished something other than watching all the TV you taped during the week.

Speaking of chunks I decided mine was to really clean my teeth. Like super well. Floss, two brushings, more floss, really sparkle my ivories up.

And I did! The beauty of it is that it only took 10 minutes.

Project completed!

Quote of the week - Desperate Housewives

'He's here, he's queer, and we're used to it.'

Fuck I love this show

Why repeat?

Why do you have to repeat a shampoo treatment? Why isn't one application enough? This smacks to me of a conspiracy by shampoo makers to increase the use of their product.

(HM was last seen being bundled into a really nice smelling hot pink stretch limo)

Andrew Bolt's ability to stay in denial land

Bolt on Insiders (paraphrased)

'Kevin Rudd has gotten popular over an apology to stolen generations that don't exist and for acting on Global Warming that stopped 10 years ago'.

Can we scare up some money amongst bloggers to send him a propellor beanie?

UPDATE: Does Andrew Bolt remind anyone else of a mentally damaged elder relative who gets drunk at family gatherings then has loud "whispered" conversations about 'TEH JEWS'?

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Thanks robots

I just had my comments spammed by fucking botware. I thought making it google account only would have done the trick but I guess not.

So alas word veri is back on lads. Sorry. I fucking hate word veri.

Loose lips

Canberra is a small town. Sure it's 300k people and the centre of Federal government but it's still basically a small town in the sense that those that move in the same circles tend to congregate at the same places. Portias in Kingston, the Holy Grail etc. Basically within five kays of parl house eateries will abound with pollies, journos, staffers and the like.

Check out this classic tale of Big Trouble in Giant Mouth.

Chris Pyne was noshing down some curry, drinking, and basically making a tit of himself in public. Unfortunately for Chris he forgot to practice Op Sec (which all us public servants have annual lessons on) and in earshot was none other than Mark Davis, Political Correspondent for the SMH.

This is my favourite bit.

It was impossible for anyone else in the crowded restaurant, including this reporter, not to overhear Mr Pyne's remarks, so loudly were they delivered.

By contrast, apart from chuckling at his colleague's performance, Senator Brandis kept his thoughts to himself.

After making a sizeable dent in a bottle of red wine, Mr Pyne moved on to cognac. He was not so much tired and emotional as perky and ebullient.

Gold. I wonder if Chris is going to get a house call ...

Toast Watch is back

I rarely eat toast since my stomach operation since it has a tendency to get stuck. I have to trim the crusts off and cut it into soldiers and carefully chew them one at a time or it's ERRGGHH ERRRGGGGHH (vomit).

Today I was one sliver off completing the consumption of two pieces. Reading my beloved SMH as I did so. The fork was descending for that last sliver when theWife decided to interrupt.

'Feel my guns,' she demanded, adopting a body builder pose.

Now that is toastus interruptus.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

More cousins!

TheBoy has doubled his cousin intake with the just birth of his twin cousins via theWife's sister. Six weeks early (C section but started off with natural labour). Placental twins (girls). Averaging bout 1.8 kg and I think around 45 cm (one's bigger than the other).

Awwwwwww, Cousins!

Four cousins, all girls, and he's in the middle. He's like Robin from Man about the House!


All he needs is the cup to scrape along the bars

This man is a golden gawd

Meet Adam Chodikoff. Adam is the chief researcher for 'The Daily Show'. His job is to trawl through thousands of hours of footage to find what a politician said back then as compared to now and thus point out what a lying toerag they are.

In times past the Jester was the one who could speak truth to power. He alone could skewer a king with wit and truth combined and keep his head intact for doing so.

With much of the mainstream media in the US unwilling to call Bush et al for their lies and distortion the job falls to the satirists. And satirists need fuel for their comedic engine. This man is joke fuel.

So Adam Chodikoff. You sir are my hero. If I was gay and hot I would fully bone you.

On a side note, many years ago the Bevester and I went and saw a movie together. Popcorn (a jumbo) was purchased and we got two empty medium tubs. In the nearly deserted theatre I then spent some moments tipping the tub between the mediums (to save money you see).

A couple of stoners up the back saw this in progress and decided we were a pair of gay dudes on account of my popcorn fussing about.

But, here's the kicker. They thought I was the husband.

I don't know why but I thought it was kewl.

In all seriousness I would be fully chuffed to be hit on by a gay dude considering that they just pip hetro chicks on the looks are important front. Having been a failure in the war to win casual sex, never having had an actual one night stand on account of A) my fear of rejection and B) my extreme unsexiness, I have to admit my inability on that front irked me in times past (cue self esteem loss). So if a gay dude wanted to nibble my nob I would indeed be most pleased with myself (since logically I could not be an extreme ugo). Take that women I lusted after. You could have had some of this tastiness.

Adios shower cap!

Well I decided I could risk stopping the SC badness a day early.

Fucking hell I hate shower caps. I love the shower experience. The soft warm flow of water cascading sexy woman in a shampoo commercial style down over your head. It's almost spiritual.

Shower caps do not enhance this experience. They detract from it. They suck in other words.

Anyway, a sans SC shower was wonderful. Best shower I have had in ages.

Shower caps. You suck.

Work follies

I had technicians coming into work to check some equipment today. They were due between 11 and 1130.

1245 rolled around and still no word. I emailed their supervisor and gave my mobile no and said I was stepping out for lunch at 1pm. That's of course when they called. I said I'd be back at 1.30.

At 1.20 as I was eating lunch the tech called to say he was here. So much for eating lunch. I signed him in. At that point his mate finished his job and he had to go get him. Another 15 minutes.

When I mentioned the whole 11-11.30 thing they laughed and said 'oh we don't stick to set times.'

Really? Then why the fuck didn't their supervisor say so? Why didn't he give a fucking three hour window or something? Why give a 30 minute range? Fuckheads.

Fucking technicians and their fucking rubbery fucking concept of fucking time and how fucking time works in the modern fucking world.

An hour later the power light was glaring red and I called them up to come fix it. Luckily they were still in the complex. Turns out they didn't plug the power cord back in properly (which I couldn't tell because you need special tools to open up the innards). Geez that was annoying.

Then to top it off I spent four attempts trying to print fucking labels and on attempt fucking four the fucking labels came off INSIDE the fucking printer. I mean seriously what the fuck?!

Fuck I hate that printer. I so want to Office Space it.

UPDATE: I know I've linked to this before but this is what I mean by "Office Space".