Gasp!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.