Tuesday, March 31, 2009

If I were a bum

I went to some art gallery opening thing tonight, which as with most art gallery opening things was a wee bit shit. I did however get to surreptitiously place some army men and enjoy the odd accidental arse touch. I also got the opportunity to have as much chardonnay as I wanted. This got me thinking – why don’t bums attend gallery openings?

Obviously the key concern when you are a bum is obtaining alcohol. That’s why when I have my mental breakdown I plan on going to a gallery opening every night to suck the place dry. Sure, I’ll be poorly dressed, a bit on the stinky side and quite deranged but that’s fairly acceptable for an artistic type.

Gallery people are generally soft lefties who wouldn’t kick me out anyway. If they do I plan on causing a ridiculous seen by waving my penis around and threatening to wee on the artworks. You can do that when you are a bum.

Sunday, March 29, 2009


Bullshitting about real estate just isn’t paying that well now that the recession has hit so I’ve developed a grand plan to do something all together different. It started off as a simple plan to go around Australia in a Mr Whippy van with Katy selling ice cream as we went. Then I started thinking about how I can pimp my ride…

Presentation is obviously critical in the mobile ice cream business and I plan on having a van that looks frickin awesome. The theme is Coneasauras - a new dinosaur that’s not a herbivore or a carnivore but an incecreamvore. I believe this will appeal to the two target markets of kids and stoners.

Ideally, I’d like to get the van made into the shape of Coneasauras but this may be expensive and cause my van to be deemed unroadworthy. I am willing to scale down to a more 2d representation however I would like the following incorporated:

- a moving arm and jaw so it looks like Coneasauras is eating an ice cream.
- Something which shoots a plume of dry ice frost out Coneassauras’ nostrils.
- Flashing, spinning or glow in the dark eyes for Coneasauras
- A speaker system that breaks up Green Sleaves with a few dinosaur roars.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Kinder Surprise Line Extensions

Kinder Surprise is a great idea but sadly for the manufacturers kids stop buying them when they hit their teenage years. To reach this market I think they should launch Emo Surprise. There are so many things you could have inside - eyeliner, sad poetry, razor blades etc. You could probably have a golden ticket thing too where if you find it you get to go to a Cure concert or one of those more recent Emo bands.

They could have Middle Age Surprise as well. Normally they wouldn’t have any surprises in them, then one day you’d buy one and it would have a note telling you that your partner of 15 years is gay and has been having it off with the hairdresser.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009


Books are dead. No one has the time to read them because they normally go for about 500 pages, not 140 characters. They needn't be that long. Authors just blag on describing some scene in minute detail, denying the reader any opportunity to use their own imagination.

I've considered writing a book but I don't have the attention span to concentrate on just one idea. I've got better things to do than churn out pages for some novel that has a 1% chance of getting published.

I don't want to waste my time and I don't want to waste yours. That's why I'm developing twitterature. If you haven't worked it out that's literature for the Twitter generation. (I'm really hoping no one else has used this before and I get cited as the originator of some buzzword.)

My theory is that one sentence can say just as much as 3000 jammed up against each other. It's far more interactive too, as readers can use the scant available information to build the rest of the story in their minds.

Here are a few examples:

With a crimson cummerbund, a half-empty hip flask and a face full of freshly popped pimples, I made my entrance.

The joy of heaving the TV out the window was soon replaced with the shocking realisation that I had parked my car below.

His last act was to goad his son about how weakly he swung the axe.

I was like a paraplegic, stuck at the top of the stairs, not even having the bladder control to piss on the flames.

The teacher told me I could be whatever I wanted to be. I decided to be bad.

He would have turned Cupid from a heart wielding archer into a subway suicide bomber.

It was clear from her dietary choices that she hated herself.

While I considered confessing, a rational explanation would have destroyed the magic of the misdeed.

I tried to read her mind but it was all in Polish.

Monday, March 23, 2009

If I were a wrestler

I was thinking that if I were to become a wrestler I'd call myself the Credible Hulk. I wouldn't turn green and I wouldn't have some bullshit back story about radiation. I wouldn't even be that big and when I flexed my clothes wouldn't rip. I'd get a bit angry but I wouldn't go over the top. The crowd probably wouldn't support me that enthusiastically.

Hooray for Stop and Go Chicks

It used to be that people with stop and go signs at roadwork sites had beer guts, beards and a penis but lately things have changed. Now they tend to be slim, fresh of face and in possession of a vagina. It’s a change I welcome.

When you are sitting in the car waiting for a bunch of council workers to actually do something it can be frustrating. If you have a stop and go girl to check out during this down time it becomes a tad more interesting. Intriguingly, most of the stop and go girls are Albury-Wodonga types i.e. they are borderline. Thus you get to spend those wasted minutes considering whether they are more Albury or Wodonga.

I think for some of the uglier ones they should allow them to forgo the standard issue reflective work wear and encourage them to put on a nice frock and some make-up. With a little bit of cleavage revealed many could achieve a more northerly status.

Ultimately I think they should aim to mirror the look of the girls at the boxing who walk around with the sign saying what round it is. They are pretty much the peak of the profession. We’d all be happy about roadwork then.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Priests who love too much

I'm just watching something on World Movies about a young girl who is seduced by a priest. It got me wondering on a few fronts.

If you are a priest can you absolve yourself? It would be handy - just like a doctor who self prescribes.

Do priests call God boss? "Sorry boss, I stuffed up again. Are you going to yell at me this time or are you going to continue on with this silent treatment." It would be pretty awesome having a boss that never yelled at you but having to rely on some 2000 year old instruction manual could get frustrating. The robes look pretty comfy though.

There were no signs that the proest used a condom. Would the Pope at least be proud of him for that? (update - the girl is pregnant and she's getting a backyard abortion. Pope is double sad)

The girl had a bra that opened at the front. I've never come across one in real life though. Why aren't they way more popular? I'm not particularly dexterous at the best of times and being able to see what I'm doing would make life far easier for me.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Why you should watch out for vegetarians

I was watching a documentary last night and came to discover that Hitler was a strict vegetarian. For someone so keen to embrace all Germanic this aversion to wurst and pork knuckle seems downright bizarre.

I've always believed that meat eaters are far happier people. Butchers are always jolly but on the rare occassion I go to a health food store the people serving have all looked grey-faced and depressed. If I couldn't eat as much as a slice of salami I reckon I'd be depressed too and probably a wee bit angry.

Could the Holocaust have been prevented by a sausage? It's a big call but all this desire to kill must have stemmed from some kind of misplaced anger. Perhaps the bombers of the twin towers didn't really hate America, they were just angry at not being able to enjoy barbecue pork.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Libraries could be way better

Books can be good but let's face it, libraries suck arse.

I went to North Sydney Library today and when I walked in I immediately felt the stench of failure. It was coming primarily from the librarians. One had a bowl cut sprinkled with dandruff while the other had big wrist supports like she was taking part in the ten pin bowling world championships.

As I wandered around the sheleves there were old people everywhere. Bathed in a weak flourescent light, most looked like re-animated corpses. I became really scared that the septuagenarian man with the meaty cough was going to give me the plague or that his hunched over wife was going to take out her false teeth to reveal a set of fangs and go all vampire on me.

As much as they suck, the people however aren't the biggest problem. There's just way too many books. I have enough trouble at the shops deciding what types of biscuits I'm going to buy and that's from a choice of about 50.

I think they just get rid of libraries and put in big vending machines. Instead of having to choose a book you just swipe your library card and based on your previous borrowings it spits out soemthing you will like. When you return the book you will be made to rate it and those that score poorly will be instantly shredded so no other person will have to endure them. Best of all, the screen of the vending machine will feature a hot librarian (instead of a pudgy ten bin bowling one). When you borrow your first book she undoes her hair from its bun. For the next book she takes off her glasses. She then starts undoing buttons on her blouse... That'd keep me reading.

Friday, March 6, 2009

The Missing Link

For a while I've been concerned about Australia's bowling prospects. Are Peter Siddle and Bryce McGain really going to win us the Ashes?

My theory is that we need to look to the past - somewhere about 400,000 years ago. The chimps who we evolved from are incredibly strong and have really long arms. They would be perfect for bowling were it not for their ungamely run up. Homo erectus however was good at moving on his back legs yet still had the long, strong arms that would make him a bowling star. His arms would probably be really flexible as well, making him able to spin it like Murali.

Despite Andrew Symonds being called a monkey I just don't think he was monkey enough. Gladstone Small could well have been the missing link but he played for England so he was bound to be not much good.
Wow. That was really racist. Maybe I should join the Klan.

My readership just increased. Yay!

The last blog entry got put on the back page of the SMH. At least I believe it did - I didn't actually buy the paper. My theory is that in the 80's we were living in a material world but now everything is digital and I'm just not a material girl. Also I'm cheap and lazy and walking up to the newsagent with my $1.50 just didn't appeal.

Anyway it got on the website. If you want to read it with better punctuation and a fancy heading that some sub-editor put there, go for your life. I plan on doing few blog entries suitable for widespread publication so if you want to read me crapping on you'll have to come back here.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

I just want normal beer

Beer drinking used to be a simple pleasure. It tasted good, it made conversations more interesting and it made those around me appear considerably better looking. When I went to the grog shop my buying choices centred on whether to opt for the regular cheap domestic brew or stump up for some fancy imported stuff. Now I have to decide whether I want my beer low carb, carbon neutral or with a twist of lime.

Clearly adding some weird citrus flavouring to a beer is wrong and deeply unAustralian. If anyone feels like having fruit in their drink, they should get a cocktail waiter to fetch them a daiquiri.

Skinny beer is similarly pathetic. The truth is that if you want to get rid of a beer gut it takes hundreds of hours or vigorous exercise. Sitting on a bar stool drinking some reformulated low carb concoction isn’t going to do the trick, no matter how much it tastes like medicine.

Perhaps the most shameful new addition to the bottle-o cool room is however the carbon neutral beer. Niche marketing at its worst, the eco-beer is targeted at naive people who believe that by displaying their profound environmental concern in alcohol form they will be able to win the affection of some other clueless modern day hippy.

Next time you go to a barbie you can expect to find one of these guileless consumers proudly sipping on their trendy eco-beer. As they turn their tofu sausages they will no doubt blather on about carbon footprints and sustainability, all the while making you feel like an environmental vandal, just because you chose to bring a beer that was created without the use of solar panels. Stay away from them. Who needs a guilt chaser ruining the taste?

It’s difficult for anyone to enjoy a beer any more. Turn on the news and government sponsored boffins warn that if you imbibe more than about four teaspoons full of beer you will suffer severe health damage. Then during the break you will likely be confronted by an ad showing how partaking of the demon drink will lead inexorably to a bar fight, vomit soaked shoes and a DUI conviction.

Apparently I can’t be trusted with my beer any more. When I go to the Cricket Ground and need to quench my thirst, I’ll be offered a foamy mid-strength beer, served in a plastic cup. Obviously they believe I’m going to become unruly and glass someone. Were that my nature I would have joined a rugby league team.