Tuesday, June 30, 2009

90 Million Dreams

There is a pretty big lottery jackpot up for grabs at the moment. $90 Million to be exact. It's making news headlines. It seems that everyone I know has a ticket and are having imaginary spend-a-thons in their heads right now with what they will do with their money if they win. I am no better, I have my trusty ticket and am thinking up ideas for the worlds greatest refuge for displaced Burmese Cats.

The odds are though. That I won't win. Nobody Wins.

Plus the fact that we as a nation squandered all this money on lottery tickets, when we could have donated that money to a state of the art research facility to finding a cure for cancer or something worthwhile. Just seems wrong.

Besides - people who win the lottery end up junky recluses living in self devised panic rooms constructed out of cardboard boxes with rodent security guards. I bet these folks wish they'd never wandered into the newsagent on that fateful day:

William Post: won $16.2 Million
His girlfriend sued him for millions. His brother hired a hit man to kill him. Had a heart attack. Squandered his money. Declared Bankruptcy. Ended up living on social security.

Jeffrey Dampier: won $20 Million
Kidnapped and Killed by his sister in law who wanted the money.

Jack Whittaker: won $315 Million
Let's just say his life went to shit and ended up spending more time in court with litigation cases than one man needs to. Besieged by people wanting a handout. Lavished money on his grand-daughter who ended up being killed by drug dealers.

I guess what one can learn from their forays into the imagination dreamland of winning the lottery, is that you shouldn't tell people. Specially people you're related to (if they have a gun). Besides money can't buy taste.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Petty Garbage Grudge

I've been waiting for a news story to break on my front lawn, and finally! some crazy ass nigger (not really) has stepped up to the plate and delivered the big blow of crazy that my building needed.

Ever since my crazy schizophrenic neighbour was deported - which may or may not have had anything to do with my calls to the police, things have been quiet. I miss the mental guy, it's not the same sleeping all the way through the night, without being woken up to someone yodelling out the front of the building about tigers and leprechauns. Quiet Times.

Let's talk garbage shall we. Garbage is Garbage. My garbage is your garbage. Garbage just ends up in the bigger garbage later on, so whatever. You want to put your garbage with my garbage that's fine. You want to go through my garbage and keep my couch cushions prisoner for 2 years. I don't care. So I don't know why someone would get so bent out of shape by us putting one bag of garbage in their bin. It's not like we get billed per bag by the garbage men. Tomorrow is garbage day, surely the garbage man will take care of the problem?? What's the big deal about one more bag??

Why do we have to come home to see our garbage strewn all over the lawn?? Airing out the dirty laundry. I don't need people knowing what we're eating. Those potato peelings are private. And so is my magic ingredient for the worlds best potato bake.

Plus who really has the time to take out the bag of offending garbage and touch my garbage and throw it all over the place?? you so touched my half eaten fish. Gross.

Friday, June 26, 2009

The Golden Leotard

So. I wonder if in years to come people will ask "so where were you when Michael Jackson died??" personally, I was asleep.

However when I woke up and heard the news I can't say I was tooo phased at first. For one the word "paedophile. paedophile. paedophile" kept running around my head. And I'm not too fussed about dead paedophiles. I don't take kindly to their type roun ere.

BUT!

Then I went to the shops, and I was walking around Supre looking at some really hideous golden leotards and matching slashy gold tights (truly the 80's are back) and the store had MJ playing on the speakers, and wtf?! my eyeballs actually misted up.

Jeez. I was not expecting that. But then again, I have to admit that I do love Michael Jackson's music. I could not get enough of the 'Dangerous' album when I was 12. It is a truly 'fully sic' album, which I think still kicks ass to this day.

So I cried. A tiny bit in Supre in the hideous spandex-wear section. Luckily if anyone saw me they would have hopefully assumed that I was all teared up inside from the prospect of seeing someone actually walking around in one of these stupid creations. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that the full impact of the event didn't hit me until that moment in the leotard section - but if it's good enough for Michael Jackson, then it's good enough for me.

I propose that the Gold Leotard becomes the signature clothing of mourning for this musical legend.

Basically if you ever needed a reason to wear a gold leotard. Now is your opportunity.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Pet Peeve

It has been said before that I hate the phone. I can count on one hand the amount of people who I can tolerate speaking to on the phone. For one - conversations are halted, you have to repeat yourself, your wildly flailing arm gestures are of no use, and cell phone drop outs and dead zones are just the tip of the iceberg of my phone hatred.

That is why I prefer to see my friends in person, sure we might not see each other for 4 years, but you can't confuse anything when you are standing right in front of someone and looking into their eyes when you pour your heart out.

I would also like to give an award to whoever invented MSN Messenger, and the Email. Thank God for the written word. So basically if you don't write good or you cant get your shit together to hook up in person - then odds are our relationship won't last very long. (I count amusing status updates as forms of communication)

Boo You Phone.

People should have newsletters. I would love this. 1 x A4 page of what you've been doing for the past month, a photo of yourself, and distribute them to all your friends & family. It would be cute, nothing would be left out, and it would dispel the myth that 'print is dead'.

One of the things I hate most about the phone is the 'surprise conversation' when the person you are speaking to says "hey I'm just gonna put blah blah on the phone so you can say hi"

Can you not??

I don't want to speak to this person. If I did I would have called them myself. Then you have to do the tedious chit chat... the worst.

Actually - No this is the worst.

Imagine your dad calls you, and he is on holidays in Thailand, and then he calls you late at night, starts talking with some bizarre american hybrid accent, and then!!!! does the 'surprise conversation' trick and puts on some thai-random (and in my brain: hooker) for you to speak to!!

Gross. So disgusting I cant even describe. I think i'll have to throw my phone out now that it has violated my ear-hole in such a way.

Here's a tip!! NEVER phone someone and then put a thai-random (and possible hooker or ladyboy) on the phone to speak to them.

Screw you phone!! None of this would have happened in an email. For one, I don't think hookers like to spend their hard earned cash on internet access.

Erghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I need to go wash my ear. I'm in the market for a new cochlear if you see one.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Magic Trick.........

Here we have your typical australian $5 note....
but what would happen if I were to ... fold in in half...
and then fold it in half again....
and then if I fold that in half.. and rotate it to the side.. what??.. what is that I see???
Is that............... a penis entering a vagina!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The best part about this juvenile trick is that not only does the Queens neck double as vivid sexual penetration imagery, but the vagina itself is surrounded by a Pearl Necklace.. HA!
ahhh being immature is so much fun....is this even legal?? i'm sure it's illegal to burn legal tender, but I think it's a grey area to turn currency into pornographic images..
Now, where is some other currency to defile? Must have skinny neck.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

How about this one...

So, it turns out my scheme for making me an instant millionaire isn't as great as I thought it was. I will have to stop spending my imaginary money on a mansion with a pool with a glass deck on the top so we can dance on the water like Jesus...

My crap scheme was: utilise the power of effervescent tablets (Berocca/Aspirin) and change the dynamics from vitamins/medicine to the power of Coke/Fanta... and then we will give these magic tablets to povo africans or thirsty guys in the army... unfortunately people have pointed out to me that povo africans don't even have clean water to make fizzy drinks with, let alone have need of a Fanta Lake in the middle of their village (and I'm sure the zebra's don't want Fanta either)... well that's just great.. back to the Drawing Board.

My NEW idea is this:

A Taxi Simulator for Drug Addicts.
It's a well known fact that sitting in a car and being driven around is one of life's great pleasures, it's probably even better when you are really high on heroin and just want to be warm and listen to the radio, and have a nice hearty chat with a wise old taxi driver... so I suggest a taxi (that is stationary - like a ride) to be set up with wind machines, and people running past with tree-cut outs (to give the passenger the feel of momentum) I reckon drug addicts would love that. I suggest $200 for one hour, or you can barter your goods if you are too poor and spent all your money on drugs before realising you want a ride in my taxi simulator (1 x bag of potato's = 5 mins)

And this gem also came to me: how about we rally for PENSIONS FOR PAEDOPHILES! you could give them discount cards to shop at Toys R Us, and half price Disney Movie tickets. The recession is hitting everybody, the Pensioner Paedophiles don't want to be left under the rock.

Friday, June 19, 2009

What is wrong with this picture??

Today I left the house dressed like this:

I can't believe I willingly left the house dressed like 1990's Jerry Seinfeld.

That's not the worst part.

The worst part is that I knew I was dressed like 90's Seinfeld (blue jeans and white sneakers should never be seen) and I still left the house!

I walked to Crows Nest! I even had a meeting with my bank manager!! Maybe he thought I was a good investment based on my super-lame outfit

"no one dressed like 1990's Seinfeld is going to be a bad investment"

There are lots of other issues I have with this outfit, ie: the kinda high waisted jeans element (although I am sure these days they are considered 'normal' waisted jeans, yet compared to the jeans of my early 20's where my Mons Veneris would be on display, these are definitely 1960's pants)

Ergh. I went for comfort over style!!! What is happening?? Those white sneakers are the comfiest shit I have had my feet in years, yet I look like a major douche wearing them, but I don't care anymore... I hate being mature. It was much better being stylish and in constant painful circulation cutting off outfits and bone-crushing shoes when I was younger.. or was it???

Monday, June 15, 2009

Bejeweled Trance

Officially. I'm not one for video games. I hate hate hate with a passion 'call of duty' and any other stupid war mongering game where you run around and shoot things. That's lame. I am very particular about the games I like, and I am very particular about the ways I play them.

For instance, when I started playing Guitar Hero, I played for 18 consecutive hours and thought i'd have to go to hospital to have my claw hand operated on. And I have been known to play old school Sonic and Super Mario Bros for hours on end.

I have found my new video game crack.
It's probably considered the lamest game in the universe.

Bejeweled is the game, and its like taking video game heroin.

Last night I thought i'd get a quick half an hour in before bed, then I look at the clock and its almost 3am!!!!!!! where the hell did 3 hours go?? Did I fall into a time portal or something? I don't understand.

The game is so simple its ridiculous. Move blocks around and line up 3 colours. Plus it makes a satisfying chinging sound when you get a row. Much like a cash-register when you make an impulse buy. Yet it's dangerous. You can't just put the game on for a quick go, you'll end up glued to the couch whilst hours disappear around you, till unbeknownst to you - the sun is rising.

And that's how I plan to spend the rest of my days.

The Claw.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Leave a Light on for Me....

When I was about 20 I brought a couch. Light Blue. Good for Napping. It did the job. It was the 'number 1' couch for a few years there, even when mark moved in with me and we had a total of 4 couches between us in a 2 bedroom unit, my couch was the one that got primo position in the lounge room.

When we moved to our place we live in now we realised we only had enough room for one set of our couches, so we kept his which were in better condition, and threw out mine. We did however keep the couch cushions to build cubby houses out of when the mood inspired us.

So that's how we lived for a couple of years - with the blue couch cushions shoved under the good couch.

Then one day we brought a new couch. One that took up an entire wall. One that would put you to sleep if sat down on it for more than 5 minutes. I would say it's probably the most comfortable couch in the world.

Hence! we didn't need the stinkin old couches anymore or the povo blue cushions.. so we chucked em! Funnily enough they were gone by 6am the next morning, even though we had dragged them down 3 flights of stairs and left them on the street. Both couches AND the blue cushions. Gone..

Or so we thought.............

This week, I walk outside and look what's waiting for me!!!

they're baaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!!!!

Not only are they back, but they brought picnic blankets with them!! (they must know of my soft spot for picnics)

It's kinda sad isn't it?? it's like we kicked them out of home, they went on their way, probably got addicted to drugs and slept around, had to go to counselling, and finally decided to come home to make amends.........

Darling leave a light on for me
Ill be there before you close the door
To give you all the love that you need
Darling leave a light on for me
cause when the world takes me away
You are still the air that I breathe

Unfortunately the council clean up guys came to take the cushions to the big furniture store in the sky (the tip!) poor things. The tip is the couch cushion version of Auschwitz. Oh well.. if they escape and come back again i'll take em back and they can live out their days under the bed.

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

TV Pitch: Scab Stories

I don't know about you, but I realllly love scabs.

Granted, the injury part of the process stinks, but luckily you have the scab phase to enjoy, so it all evens out.

I love picking scabs, I love resisting picking scabs, I love picking up a corner and peering under the scab, I love the fresh pink skin under a scab, and I love holding my scab and inspecting it once its fallen off and done its duty.

It's a feeling of ... I created this!!!!!!

There could be a nuclear explosion right now, and years from now aliens could find my scab and clone me and I will live again.. goddam scabs are awesome.

But unfortunately I am confined only to enjoying my own scabs.. and I don't really injure myself that often to get many to fawn over.

So.. I would like to pitch to a Lifestyle Channel, a TV show called: SCAB STORIES

Scab Stories (which I would host) would follow the stories of various people of differing ages and injuries and the healing process of their scabs..

I would have children who have fallen over and constantly pick at their scabs.
I would follow teenagers around skate parks waiting for them to injure themselves so I could film the scab story from the very beginning.
I would find upper middle class snobs who have scabs and follow them around whilst they resist picking their scabs
I would get Celebrity Scabs
I would cut myself so I had scabs
I would go to vets and get animal scabs
I would go into a laboratory so we could all see Magnified Scabs

Man that sounds like an awesome show!!!!!!!!!!!!

Where's my TV deal??!?!!!

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Termy the Terminator

Today I saw Terminator Salvation and it was fucking Orcsome.. (to be explained) If you haven't seen Teminator and don't want to know stuff - stop reading!!!!!

Dah Dah Dah Dah Dah... Dah Dah Dah Dah....

I have always loved the Terminator Series. Terminator 2 came out when I was 12 and I fell instantly in love with Edward Furlong - and since then I have always had a soft spot in my heart for the survival of John Connor.

Terminator 3 - the one with the lady terminator and geriatric T-800 Arnold was shizen. Mega-Shizen. I like to pretend that this movie doesn't exist and Terminator Salvation is where the story picks up after Soft-Hearted Arnie goes for a never-ending swim in the molten metal at the factory at the end of Termy 2.

BEGIN TERMY 4
(duh duh duh duh duh... duh duh duh duh duh

Action Action Action and Special Effects. Sooooo Cool. I love seeing Terminators blows shit up and step on peoples skulls. I came for skull steppage and skull steppage I shall get.

Now - the Termy in this one is played by Australian actor Sam Worthington, who graduated from NIDA in 1998 - his fellow graduates included; Matthew Newton, actors who went onto roles in McLeods Daughters and Play School, and about 20 other rejects who never amounted to anything.. here we have a yardstick of success to judge by; Sam Worthinton = Terminator. Matt Newton = dicky drug dealer with a bad comb over. Go to the front of the class Sam.

(here is some insider information - Sam Worthington's Australian Agent Shanahans, didn't get any commission whatsoever off the Terminator paycheck..which would have been in the double digit millions.. ha ha! that's what you get for being a bunch of dicks - but seriously -if anyone who works there reads this, I would love to work there - peace bro)

Sam is Orcsome (ie: lord of the rings - ORC) when we first see Sam in his Terminator mode, he is wandering around in a haze covered in all sorts of mud and crap, completely disorientated and grunting - very Orc-ish.. perhaps Skynet gives birth to Terminators from a giant tree underground?? such a LOTR rip-off in that case... but this movie is all about rip-offs or homage - if you want to get all French on the subject.

First of all there is a bunch of dicks in a submarine - who represent the United Colours of Benetton - you got your Russian, your White guy, your old Korean Warlord, the Black Commander - they are a bunch of twats who won't listen to John Connor **swoon** so they die. Eat shit submarine hacks.

There is the Hot Asian Kung Fu Ninja - who is bad ass (as they are) but also has a heart of gold, unlike the Hot Asian Kung Fu Ninjas of Mission Impossible III and Die Hard 4.0.. I like that McG brought the ball breaking bitch a bit of depth this time around.

Then there is Kyle Reece (Johns Dad). The whole Terminator universe is a complete time paradox (mind-fuck). It's a never ending game of cat and mouse with the future - which apparently can be changed at anytime - by going into the past. However is this the past? right now? or is the future the past? either way all you need is a naked portal to change anything you want. Jokes on you skynet. But the whole Kyle Reece/Sarah Connor/John Connor sexual triangle really strains my eyebrows in it's suspension of disbelief.

Kyle Reece is played by the idiot pot-smoking kid who gets his ass murdered in Alpha Dog by Justin Timberlake, so it's hard to believe that this schmuck could be the glorious action superstar John Connors dad?? plus he's about 17. Damn You Time Paradox!!

Reece's Pieces also has this little black kid who doesn't speak and gets freaked out all the time.. ahh Newt anyone?? Aliens?? kid who lives in an air conditioning shaft and survives the aliens.. why do futuristic movies about killer anomalies need mute children?? her only super-power is sensing terminators by being even more quiet and still. Maybe we'll get lucky and she will either speak.. or die.. in the next one.

The good thing about Terminator Salvation, is that it kept with the timeline continuum of Terminator 2 - John Connors scratched up face, Reeces Pieces carrying a shotgun, and lots of cute little homages to T2 fans - including, superb use of Guns & Roses 'you could be mine' in a motorcycle chase, a truck chasing a motorcycle, molten lava (hot) and air (cold) being used to wreck terminators, and lots of industrial stair cases and metal framework to fight in.

McG even managed to get 1980's Arnold Schwarzenegger Terminator into the movie, god bless CGI.. and all the cool catchphrases like "i'll be back.." "i'll live" and "no fate but what we make" are all brought back.. ahhhhh its a like a really violent and metallic family reunion where everyone gets shot in the face. Heartwarming.

Now - haters aside, who will bitch and moan about plot holes and dippy dialogue and wooden acting.. who gives a %!$# its Terminator people!! Destruction!!! And learning that Terminators can cry.

The Hot Asian Kung Fu Ninja even tries to Dry-Spoon-Fuck Sam Worthington on a cold sandy mountain (see post below) seriously - this movie has everything.

However one thing that was bugging me - is that every time Christian Bale came on screen I couldn't get this out of my head... It's fucking distracting.. OOoooh Good.. No No Fuck No. What don't you fucking understand? I'm gonna fucking kick your fucking ass. You are trashing my scene!!

Regardless of people wandering in and trashing Christian Bales scene - he was good. 'Skullcrushingly' good I'd say. A very worthy John Connor. I'd see this movie again. .

I'd give it 5/5 skulls to crush on the skull crushing rating machine.

Thursday, June 04, 2009

Dry-Spoon-Fucking

So many men these days are homo-phobic... not so much in the 'not wanting to be around gays' per se, but definitely 'not wanting to do something that could be perceived as gay'

Example:

You and your mate are stranded on top of an icy mountain, there is no way rescue is going to reach you before morning, you have a some sleeping bags, a tent, but temperatures are going to plummet to super-freezing.. and the best chance of your survival, is to get naked, get into the sleeping bags and naked spoon-fuck each other like nothing else until morning.

Hey! It's not my fault that this is how nature engineered the human body! We radiate shit loads of heat off our naked bodies, if it's good enough for the Matrix to make batteries of us, then it should be good enough to be a last ditch effort survival plan to rub our naked bodies against each other till help arrives.

But No, my husband has expressed his clear intention - that he would rather freeze to death than naked spoon-fuck a man all night.

What a homo..phobe. I'd sooo be naked spooning ANY person if it would ensure my survival.

Even if I added the ingredients of a) wearing underpants - so no nut-brushing would occur (dry-spoon) and b) the person you would be trapped with is Andy (our joint man-best-friend) he would still rather die.

pfffffft. So that is why unfortunately I am going to have to insist on there being an attractive woman present at all future mountain climbs that he partakes in in the Andes Mountain Ranges. He might be a homophobe, but I still want him alive.

I'd Dry-Spoon-Fuck any of my friends on a mountain range. That's just the kind of friend I am.