The Lying Leper

Gasp!

2006-02-19T05:50:00.000+10:30

Righto, i'm at the city east uni computer pools, its 5am, and ive got 3 hours to brutally murder untill the first morning bus trundles along. The whole uni is empty of people, except for this one asian chick dressed in goth chains, who is busy sliding her forehead up and down her desk. This... is the kind of company i keep. I thoughtthe uni would be a nice place to take refuge untill morn, but things arent quite as they should/could be.

I've got my lovely headphones providing noise that is like music to my ears. Trouble is that only one headphone is working. Imagine what life'd be like if I could have both going. There would be squrriels and flowers and birds chirping and rays of gentle sunlight dancing across my fresh, young face. Sure, i'd be doomed to hours of uni squatting, but i'd have music to my ears! Just one side working, it aint nothing like what it should be. The music is half broken, not half working. Pessimism! Whinge! Cry! Sob... sob... sob....

Also, i bought food from the generous, friendly food machine. In stark contrast, the cold, heartless drink machine claimed to be sold out! This claim despite the rows of fluid i can clearly see in the glass pane in the drink dispenser. GIVE ME DRINK! These doritos are making me even thirstier! Damn you generous food machine! If only there was a watermelon dispenser. Watermelons are 95% water you know (and 5% melon i'd guess, but im just assuming that and assumptions ARE THE MOTHER OF ALL FUCK UPS) so some watermelon would for sure quench the fuck out of my thirst- and quench my appetitte.

Oh just great, now the music is skipping somehow, despite the fact i am listening to an ipod which cannot and WILL NOT skip. Hear that, ipod? You WILL REFRAIN FROM SKIPPING.

Thats right, i said it, refrain.

Oh no!

This is very bad. I wiggled the headphone wire to try and make the broken headphone work, and now they've both stopped. Silence. Holy mother of mary, i have no music at all, and still houra left to squat... life would be so wonderful if only i had just one speaker working. Birds would be chirping, children skipping, love would be in the air...

Angry Optometry

2006-01-31T15:15:00.000+10:30

Yep, it's that time of month again. Us men don't get to experience the natural wonder that is menstration (really, shouldn't it be called ladystration?), so I compensate by remembering to write in my blog. Yep, it's been exactly a month since my last post, but have an excuse- we've had no internet at my house. Didn't pay the bill and all that.

Anyway, I suppose I better say something exciting... er, I got contact lenses? Actually that was a strange experience. You see, I had a completely and utterly insane optometrist. She was this stumpy little woman with big hair, a wonky eye and buck teeth. And you know those people that treat you like a four year old who just wet his pants? Well, she was one of em. It took me about an hour to actually jam the contacts in my eyes and rip them out again, and the whole time she was gently murmuring "oh yes, nice try maxy, oooh, that was close, you're getting better!" The actual process of sticking that thin slice of plastic in my eyeball was the most frustrating thing I'd attempted since learning to read, and her playschool host blubbering didn't help one bit.

About half an hour into this eyepoke torture, she suggested using both hands to hold my eye open, and I lightheartedly joked that then I wouldn't have any hands left to put the contact in. And suddenly, she just snapped.
"DON'T ARGUE WITH ME! OH WHAT WOULD I KNOW, I'M JUST AN OPTOMETRIST! YOU JUST GO AHEAD AND DO IT YOUR WAY..."
"sorry i was just..."
"NO YOU DO IT THE WAY YOU THINK IS RIGHT, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY AN EXPERT!"

She seriously just lost the plot. I sat there, bewildered, wondering where all this had boiled up from. And, to my horror, after this outburst ended she upped the ante with the babytalk, she became even nicer. I really think that people that talk like that just repress their anger untill it spurts out in a volcano of rage. It's not healthy. Also, never trust an optometrist with a wonky eye. That's like trusting a dentist with false teeth, or getting sex ed lessons from a nun. They clearly have no idea what they're talking about.

After getting my contacts in and out and in again, I left the optometrist store as red eyed as a stoner suffering hay fever. I knew, however, that stepping outside I would be greeted with a spectacular high definition, properly focused view of Adelaide city sprawling in front of me. So I eagerly turn to look at where my view should be, and don't you know it, the whole place is shrouded in smoke from the bushfires on kangaroo island. I've got these wizzbang new eyes and can't see a damn thing.

Oh, the eyerony!

*cringes at the awfulness of the pun*

Sweaty, Sweaty, Sweaty

2005-12-31T02:35:00.001+10:30

It sure is sweaty.

Some kind of icy death would be nice right now. Crisp, cool, icy death. Boy would that be a relief! To not have to go on for another minute in this 3am sauna. Imagine, dying in a wonderfully frozen wasteland...

Death to sweat!

Sorry about all this- heat induced. So hot, a man just can't make sense. Idea! Let's all just pretend the above is extremely poor poetry. Otherwise the authorities, well, crazies shouldnt be blogging, now should they? Could be dangerous. Maybe I ought to Haiku my post...

So very sweaty,
Appetising cold death,
Die heat.

Laughter is NOT the best medicine

2005-12-21T01:43:00.000+10:30

If there be such a thing as hilarious agony, then i'm writhing in it.

I have severe pain in my belly button. My belly button! How are people going to take this seriously? Even I'm laughing about it, and laughter makes the pain WORSE. Other things that make the pain increase are standing up straight (so i walk around with my back bent so far forward my head faces my feet) and urinating (my whole family think i'm having wild orgasms every time i go to the bathroom, such are the hoarse screams of agony).

I figure this pain is one of three things-

1- an abdominal muscle strain. I actually did do some physical activity today.

2- A delayed reaction to the pain of having my umbellical cord slashed in half and cruelly tied in a knot by some doctor when I was born.

3- An alien hatchling preparing to burst out of my stomach. I don't recall having eggs laid into my face, but i do sleep alot- perhaps the alien jumped me then. Geez, thats fairly violating, orally raped by an alien lifeform in my sleep. Actually, make that 'VERY violating'.

Race of the Races

2005-12-12T00:00:00.000+10:30

It's on. The race to see who can destroy Sydney first- White Australia or Arabic Australia.

The riots going on over in NSW as we speak disgust me to the core of my soul. Or brain, or whatever it is that makes us tick. To see this kind of thing happening in our own country is disturbing, and i think it is a serious threat to society and even our very lives. For those that don't know what I'm over-reacting to, I'll elaborate.

Today thousands and thousands of white australians, brandishing aussie flags and singing our anthem, decided to 'take back Sydney's beaches'. They drunkenly chanted stuff like 'no more lebs' and strutted about in t shirts declaring "we're full, fuck off". Worse still, they viciously assaulted any people of middle eastern descent they came across. There was some particularly disturbing TV footage of a pack of white people piling onto two arabic looking australian women walking past.

This 'rally' was organised by sms after some kind of incident involving a bloke/gang of middle eastern descent attacking a lifeguard. From the video footage most the people in the riot looked to be around my age, all young people. And they seemed to be acting on behalf of australia, and the media appears to dig this 'us VS them' approach to the issue.

So in response to the racist riot, in neighbouring suburbs 'ethnic' gangs started tearing shit to pieces, destroying cars and assaulting people. This is all developing stuff as I type this so i don't know what the situation is.

So it's as a bunch of white dickheads taking it out on the innocent, while a bunch of arabic dickheads do likewise.

Out of all this, I just see an ever increasing cycle of hate that has been building up for a while now. Every time some people of middle eastern descent do something awful, like the pack rape saga or terrorist attacks or race riots, much of white australia is more convinced that arabic people in general are just BAD (of course when white australians do something messed up, we shrug and blame the media, the education system or the alignment of the stars). So 'ethnic' australians are persecuted to a greater extent every time one of them goes haywire, and this persecution spawns even more trouble. The racial divisions deepen and deepen, and boom, we have additional riots, or even terrorism.

So yeah, i think thanks to all this shit we're going to get blown up. That is, if the white supremists and arabic gangs don't destroy everything first.

Here's one link about it all-
http://au.news.yahoo.com/051130/2/x0r0.html

A Tear for the Scrawny

2005-12-08T19:49:00.000+10:30

It seems i've let a month go past without 'blogging'. Well, shit.

Today i will talk of a hidden minority, those who bear the burdens of the underweight. The western world's obesity epidemic has created this underclass of thinness. These poor souls cope day by day with wider types staring at them like circus freaks, and the burden bears down on their skinny bone-protruding spines rather heavily. Well, the days where they suffer in silence are over. No, not they. We, for I am one of them.

Thats right, this whole time you have been reading the thoughts of one of these rake-people. I am a fairly tall person, yet am only 60 kilograms in the weight. Think belimic beanpole suffering a famine of African proportions and you got me. Oh we who are high on metabolism may seem gifted, but the bare skin-and-bones truth is that we are cursed.

And yet, society does nothing to help! If i ever venture to one of these 'super' markets that are so popular, everywhere i look are products rabidly proclaiming their low-fat/no-fat promises. Dairy, meat, soup; it's all been robbed of fatty goodness. Even fast-food chains are selling out! McDonalds of all places has gone lite- leaving us thin folk in the dark. And god help the slender people who actually like healthy food- such as myself. I enjoy a bit of yogurt, but try finding some goddamn full-fat yogurt these days!

So, you ask, whats so bad about being thin? I'll tell you. Fat people- they get attention. You can't miss the bastards, bloating up in your field of vision. Thinnies, well people are as likely to try and hang their coats on us as acknowledge our presence. Also, ever played on the see-saw with someone half your weight? No, its not much fun. And its always easier to ostricise poor skinny timmy, rather than losing a few pounds yourself to let the kid in on the up-and-down action. And speaking of up and down action, its not easy for adult male skinnies to maintain missionary position when their scrawny arms can barely hold their own weight.

And try arguing with thick-necked bouncers when you've got shoulders the size of their ankles! Oh and sure, as a tall guy its easy for me to reach the top shelf, but can i support the weight of the object desired?

Enough is enough people, its time to make a stand and save the twigs!

Chunks of Whipped Swan

2005-11-09T00:12:00.000+10:30

What are the two best things in the world?

Thats right. Pancakes and Poker.

Well tonight, the two best things were combined to create the most ultimate thing that ever was. Its called pancake-poker! The sport of fat lazy kings...

basically, it was a poker night at the pancake parlour on all you can eat tuesdays. So we had the tension of high stakes poker (we bet like 5 bucks each!) combined with the gluttony of endless butter soaked pancakes. I ended up eating 10 i think.

After i came second in controversial circumstances, we played another card game, which i lost. The punishment was interesting. You see, we figured out that the pancake parlour was covering our pancakes in whipped butter to make them more filling, so that customers couldnt abuse the all you can eat policy. To counter this evil plan we decided to scrape the butter off into a bowl all night, and thus collected a shiteload of it. The loser of this second card game got to either eat a whole bunch of the butter or mould a swan out of it. I chose the swan option, and as i was massaging my hands through the clumps of butter my phone rang. I quickly cleaned my hands and tried to answer it. It stopped ringing. So i put my hands back in the butter. It starts ringing again. JESUS!

Anyway, i got the swan done, and then the other guys held up a scorecard to show what they thought of it. The asses gave me about 47 out of 100. It was a good fucking swan, considering i was moulding it out of slimy old whipped butter! SERIOUSLY, SHOW SOME CONSIDERATION! They thought it was so crap that i should have to eat the butter as punishment.

Had i actually done so, i may not have lived to tell the tale.

The tiny man amongst giant machines

2005-10-28T01:37:00.000+09:30

This may well sound a little paranoid, but I think the world is slowly but surely being taken over by evil souless machines hell-bent on our destruction.

Its just that when i make my daily midday walk to the bus stop to get to university, I never see any people. ANY people. At all. Granted, most are at work being productive at this hour of a weekday. However there are definately a lot of cars zooming past, the roads are packed full of them. I am the only person I ever see outside, yet am surrounded by vehicles rushing by.

I just get this odd feeling during the walk that I'm the only person left on the planet, a tiny little man living in this giant society of machines. You know, that they just havent noticed me yet.

But what happens when they do?

When I actually get on the bus, well the people in there....might as well be machines really. Its so wierd, the way people act like there is no one else on the bus. Everyone sits around ignoring everybody else, not even that eye contact, you know, that basic acknowlegment that you exist. Now I'm not advocating awkward bus chatter- like sex talk with the scruffy twitching guy with his hand down his pants. No, not even supporting innane weather-centred conversations. Just a bit of interaction would be healthy methinks. If everyone (including me) could pull their headphones off, drag their eyes up from their feet and have a laugh with someone they've never met and probably won't bump into ever again.

War on Cat

2005-10-17T01:47:00.000+09:30

Whenever the family goes anywhere and leaves me with the house for a while, me and my cat have some interesting times. Topsy, her name is. A cute name. A rather innocent name really, especially for the FUCKING DEVIL.

When the family isnt around, we don't interact much. But when they go, suddenly she has to come to me for food. I can see it in her eyes when she realises everyone else has left. Its very much a look of 'oh fuck.'

It can be argued that maybe sometimes just a little bit i forget to feed her for days on end. But she gets her own back. If i leave anything on the ground, or the door to my room open, its pissed on. She doesnt pee on anyone elses stuff, just mine. And if there was ever a guy that left stuff on the ground, its me. Wallets, bags, clothes, assignments, it has all fallen victim to the Urine Assasin.

So getting my stuff covered in urine really bugs me, so i refuse to feed her, you know, to teach her a lesson. For her own good! So shes starts meowing and meowing and meowing AND MEOWING AND MEOWING AND MEOWING! Seriously, she carries on like she couldnt live without this goddamn catfood of hers.

I realise i could just make peace and feed her, but that would be letting the cat win! The War on Cat is a war that cannot be won, but it is a war that must be fought nonetheless.

Play your part in the War Against Cat...

And God bless Dogma!

In Bed with Junk Mail

2005-10-09T16:54:00.000+09:30

If there is one thing I truly despise, its junk mail. The invasion of my letterbox, the bright colours, the demands that I buy loads upon loads of just plain crap. The sheer inhumanity of it, I would be much happier to have a door to door salesman drop by. There's no fun in firing the shotgun at a glossy bunch of paper now is there? Oh the glossiness, thats what really gets me. So shiny, so fake, spruking their lies.

Which is why it is strange that for the last couple of weeks ive been sleeping with it. No, nothing sexual... I swear! There has simply been a pile of junk mail taking up one half of my bed. I don't know how it got there, and I have no idea why I havent just thrown it out. It stays on it's side, I stay on mine, curled up as far from it as possible, glaring at it. Why have i left it there so long?

Could it be that i secretly like it? Maybe there is a part of me that loves the pretty colours and consumable wares. The bargains... ooh the bargains... I could be a closet capitalist.

Or maybe its along the lines of 'i keep my friends close, and my enemies closer'. Thats right junk mail, i'm keeping my eye on you. A constant reminder of what I'm up against here.

Or perhaps its because i'm simply a lazy pig that never gets around to cleaning anything up, and its never occured to me to just pick it up and throw it away.

Yeah, thats it.

God's diet and Dad the murderer

2005-10-08T01:39:00.000+09:30

Ahhhh, today. I had a 9-5 shift at my cinema job, and thanks to my 'fight the automobile' revolution (i dont have a licence) I have to walk to work. And it is raining in a very serious way. Normally my dad would give me a lift in these circumstances, but he had a court thing to go to involving getting a alchohol licence for a cafe he's building.

So i'm stuck walking in the freezing rain. God is not just pissing down on me, He has slit His bladder open and tipped it's contents onto my poor umbrella-less self. (speaking of which, God has very clear-coloured urine, maybe He should get that checked out? I was always told that if it was clear you didnt have enough iron in your diet. Yellow= healthy fellow. Although I guess Him being immortal means He probably doesnt have to worry about his diet. Still, we want to keep Him in shape, who wants a fat God? Not me thats for sure!)

Anyway, I get to work soaked beyond belief, deciding i need to invest in one of those noisy car things or an umbrella. My co-workers reveal that apparently today is something called 'walk-to-work day'. So everyone at work thinks im REALLY dedicated to this special day, and all look at me a bit funny. I reassure them that i didnt know about this cause, and that it was just that dad couldnt give me a lift. Everyone then looks at me like im neglected and have a bad father, so i reassure them further by saying 'dont worry, he would have given me a lift if he didnt have to show up at COURT.'

Ok good, so now they all think my dear father is some mass-murdering nutcase who dumps his victim's bodies in a sea of their own torture-induced tears. Thats just dandy. I move on to an exhausting day of work at the cinema, its school holidays which means lots of screaming children. Unfortunately they arent screaming in pain, but in some kind of...its hard to explain... you know, that look kids have? This disgustingly free, innocent joy. That joy that requires tipping over popcorn and making inhumane amounts of noise.

After work i went to the pub for a bite to eat, then another bar for a sip to drink (lemonade of course) and got home and typed in my online journal the end.

Deflowering of a Blogger

2005-10-06T22:44:00.000+09:30

This is it, my first 'blog'. So many questions leading up to my big first time. Will it hurt? What if I don't do it right? What if, after I've stripped myself bare, they don't like what they see?

I know what you're thinking: 19 and never done it before! Especially in this modern climate, where most have whored their thoughts online at every blogspot in town, it is strange to think of such a matured blog virgin. Well call me a late bloomer I guess.

So why now, instead of my angsty teens? You see, for a long time I've considered myself a 'writer', yet lately just havent been putting pen to page. Instead, when I get some spare time around the house, it gets pissed away doing some innane crap on the computer. So why not hone my scrawling skills while I'm at it?

My real-life journal is collecting dust, it's time to modernise dammit, it's time to blog!

I just better not get fucking pregnant.