Thursday, December 22, 2005

Wednesday, December 14, 2005


For Braecrest Darcy Sebastian, who has left us for the big, dogs-only RSL club in the sky.

May your whiskey glass always be full.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005


A list of things you notice when you’re off work sick and lounging around at home:

1. You can fill the entire day watching news on free to air TV these days. This kind of repetition is a good way to make everything important seem mundane.

2. The devil has made himself into human form and is going under the name of ‘Dr Phil’.

3. All the women in Oprah’s audience are made of plastic (either that, or they spend 5 hours in make-up before the show – get a life, bints!)

4. Judging by the frequency with which the kids that go to the school across the road from my place are out in the playground, it is fair to say that school kids are lazy and don’t work hard enough.

5. The school across the road obviously knew I was going to be at home sick yesterday. Why else would they have decided to schedule a visit from the fire brigade and police? Those pesky emergency services were in on the whole scam and so proceeded to demonstrate their sirens to all the kids over and over again, negating any chance of me falling into a medication-induced slumber. Jerks.

6. Dial-up sucks.

7. Monty Python’s The Life of Brian has dated badly and is the antithesis of funny.

8. Despite rumours to the contrary, you can still buy some really really strong painkillers without a prescription. Not such a good idea to try and drive the oven after taking some.

9. I would go insane as a housewife. Either that, or I would turn into a Stepford wife (by which I mean I would have to get my brain removed in order to survive).

Friday, December 09, 2005

Cheap visual gag #27

I have to say, that any news about Mel Gibson always gives me a funny feeling. A bad funny feeling. One might even describe it as a homicidal feeling. But I don’t know if he’s worth it – I normally save those special feelings for jerk-colleagues.

But news he is developing a movie set during the holocaust is particularly worrying (because you just know it will be an entirely tasteful, subtle and restrained treatment of the subject matter that won't in anyway offend holocaust survivors or jews).

But anyway, the whole point of this post is to display the following picture of Mel, after being reunited with his long lost twin brother (nice segue, huh!):

Enjoy your Friday!

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Step, turn, pivot, turn, pivot, step, pause!

There’s a flyer in the kitchen here at my workplace the Temple of Doom TM for the local community education program.

The program includes courses such as:

- Touch Typing
- Medieval and Renaissance Cooking (I hope the participants aren’t allowed to use electricity, clean water or food stuffs that aren’t contaminated with bubonic plague); and
- Picture Framing For All (which I guess is way more inclusive than those other framing courses, such as Picture Framing for CEOs and Picture Framing for the Danish Royal Family )

Of interest to me though, is Introduction to Street Funk Dancing :

Hip-hop your way to a funky, high-energy hour of fun, fun, fun! Come learn basic street funk moves taught to pop and hip-hop music.


I don’t know whether it is a suppressed ambition to be a back-up dancer in video clips (and therefore be involved in those funky ‘dance-off’ type situations), or a sign I am turning into a total and complete social outcast (“what do you mean, ‘turning’?!?!”), but I’m really thinking about getting some leg warmers, a couple of sweat bands, and a Fame-style cut-off sweat shirt and signing up for this course.

I've never done any dancing before (I don't think bush-dancing in 3rd grade, or drunken dancing at Caesar's counts). So this would all be totally new to me.

What do you think?

Is this:

a) Likely to turn me into one of those tragic ‘dance group’ type of people so famously parodied in the video clip to Fatboy Slim’s Praise You?

b) Likely to turn me into one of those hot, muscly dancers you see in various video clips?
c) Likely to get me divorced? Or
d) Likely to turn me into a cult hero like Napoleon Dynamite after his on-stage funk-dance explosion?

Any Stink Town locals who want to join me in this artistic endeavour are more than welcome! Although I understand that the more likely outcome here is complete ostracism.

Fine! Laugh! See if I care!

I guess we all have to suffer for our art

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Last night I dreamt I turned up to my interview and had forgotten to wear pants...

Don’t ya hate it when, during a job interview:

• You get half way through a really long, rambling incoherent answer and you realise you’ve pretty much forgotten what the question was…

• You get half way through a really long, rambling incoherent answer and you look up to see the interviewers furrowing their brow in a quizzical, ‘wtf?!?!’ kind of way…

• You get half way through a really long, rambling incoherent answer and you break out in a fit of spoonerisms“in soing do, I have skooved my prills in various oral communitashion tenkniques….”

• You have worked before with the interviewers so you really can’t make a single thing up in any of your answers (so annoying!)…

• In one of your long, rambling incoherent answers, you choose to talk about a task you worked on in partnership with one of the interviewers, and you look up to see them with one eye-brow raised, and a look on their face that says “there’s no way you had that much responsibility/showed that much initiative/were that successful”….

• You see said interviewer writing a note and passing it to the other interviewers during the above, possible inaccurate representation of a joint work task…

• They ask the one question you knew you would stuff up so decided not to prepare for it in the blind hope they wouldn’t ask it… then you stuff up that answer…

Don’t ya hate it when, after a job interview:

• People ask you how you went and, holding back the tears of stress/fear/embarrassment, you say “oh, not so great actually, I was a little disappointed with my answers” – then they say “I’m sure you did fine”…. What are you basing that on!?!? You weren’t there to hear me talk about government when they asked about industry! You weren’t there when I just froze in the middle of a question and they had to ask if I needed a drink and some fresh air!!! Stop trying to be so nice! I’m cranky!

• You have to leave the interview and go straight into a scary meeting with the people who were interviewing you and the big scary chief-general-executive-managing-director of your work area…

• You go to the big scary meeting and the big scary chief-general-executive-managing-director mistakes your sullen demeanour and blood-shot eyes for a critical reaction to his proposals and demands you justify yourself "right this instant"….

• You really feel like at least 43 Bacardis but it is still too soon since the recent memory-loss inducing ‘night on the town’ to be able to stomach alcohol…

Only 68.5 working hours until my Christmas holidays.

Pass the Bacardi.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

When good TV Networks go bad

It must take a certain amount of pluck to write media releases.

I’ve been reading this one from Network Ten, and after getting about half way through it, I’d run out of tea to spit out in disgust and bemusement!

Now, I really quite like Network Ten as a whole (mainly because they have taken no part in the resuscitation of Daryl Somers), and I am quite partial to their programming, as my previous Australian Idol posts may attest. Same goes for my Simpsons addiction.

But I really can’t stop myself from wondering about what they have chosen to highlight in their 2006 line up.

I know they have to try and make their latest collection of cut-price filler look new and original, but c’mon! I’m probably going to watch it anyway, they don’t hafta insult my intelligence at the same time.

Case in point:

TEN’s new Australian programs for 2006 include:
The Wedge – sketch comedy set in a fictitious Australian suburb, from Cornerbox Productions and comedian Ian McFadyen, the genius behind The Comedy Company

I wish there was an emoticon to symbolize me doing a massive double take and spitting tea everywhere. I mean, the way they casually throw ‘genius’ and ‘Comedy Company’ together. Geeeeeeeee. Speechless.

But anyway, the fun don’t stop there folks.

Thank God You’re Here – Working Dog’s latest project, where well-known personalities are dropped into a scene in which they have no idea who they are or why they are there and must improvise their way through

What is a ‘well known personality’ anyway?

Have they deliberately stopped short of promising us celebrities? ‘Celebrities’ are spreading themselves a bit thin lately on account of the number of “I’m a fat Celebrity, get me out of here and help me lose weight by becoming a circus performer on a quiz show” type programs and may no longer be available. At all. For anything. Ever.

And from the squeezing every last drop of programming from a half successful concept until it’s dry school of programming, behold!

Friday Night Games – this adaptation of Big Brother Friday Night Live sees members of the public and celebrities put through hilarious challenges

Australia’s Brainiest specials – eight hilarious episodes, including TV Star, Radio Star, Musician, Cricketer, Footballer, Olympian, Neighbours and Big Brother Housemate.

Guffaw. Guffaw. Guffaw. That last one should be a ripper!

And Friday Night Games sounds a leedle bit like It’s a Knockout to me. Oh well, I guess if there is any prospect of slapstick and prat falls, it will be a winner in our household.

I keep scanning the release for any news as to whether UpLate with Hotdogs will return. But there’s no mention of it! The suspense is killing me!

I know, I know. Its very easy to be critical. So what are my ideas?

Sedition live: Real time broadcasts of ASIO officers interrogating Piers Ackerman and Janet Albrechtsen for dispensing bile and opinion in a manner contrary to the national interest. Could also be called 'This is the real Big Brother, fools!'.

The 'Where are they now?' Australian Idol special: where we get to catch up with all those stinky performers from previous series' auditions who absolutely tanked and then marched out of the audition room chucking a hissy fit to the camera along the lines of "I'm gonna be so big, y'all gonna regret this, I'm gonna show you" etc etc. Expected to include on-location filming at a number of call centres and retail outlets as we truly find out 'where are they now?'...

Australia's Brainiest Maverick Queensland MPs: A 'to-the-death' battle of half-wits, pitching established champion Ms Pauline Hanson against the new kid on the block Barnaby "I am too independently minded! I just happen to vote for every Government legislation that comes across my desk" Joyce. Not expected to last for more than one episode.

Dancing queen

OMG!!! Last night I was dancing with Madonna! On stage! During one of her concerts!

I was bit nervous at first, but Madonna was really encouraging and after a while I totally went off.

And this was after I’d spent the day at a picnic with all the Australian Idol finalists. It was a pretty good picnic, but I did lose my shit at once stage when lots of people were letting their dogs crap all over the place without picking it up.

Emily was pretty impressed with the ferocity of my social conscience. And I was pretty impressed I wasn’t putting the dog crap in Lee Harding’s sandwiches!

So yeah, what a evening! I can’t believe how much I did in a single night!

Without even leaving my bed...

Yes, of course, this was all ‘in my dreams'.

So this morning I came to the conclusion that I may have been listening to the new Madonna album too much. And I'm a little worried that Australian Idol has made it into my sub-conscious (to be fair, I did see the new Kate Deraugo film clip on the news last night).

But pfff! Whatever!

It was still like, the most exciting thing that has happened to me this year!

Well, I mean, except for my illegal wedding, n’ that (note to Lovely Wife – I’m deliberately downplaying the significance of that event for humorous effect! Work with me here).

So anyway, what struck me most was that Madonna was really nice! She totally didn’t even get mad at me when I couldn’t dance and just kind of hid behind a stack of big speakers.

And I’ve heard Madonna can be a real bitch! Well, its not true, she is a real sweet heart, and is totally supportive of people who are out of their depth – take it from me, I’ve danced with her!

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

An evening of backward women

The Lovely Wife and I were joined by Stack and a few others on Friday night at Lesbian Idol Icon (Grundy Television are threatening to sue, party poopers).

According to the photos I took with the new, whizz-bang, Star Trek-esque portable, wireless mobile telephony device, it looks like it was quite an evening.

Thank goodness for the phone.

Otherwise I would only be left with the selected highlights that have somehow stuck in my memory.

If by 'highlights' I mean propping myself up against a wall in the Oporto car-park watching fooly sik burn-outs whilst wondering why I wasn't getting beaten up...

And you just know that is what I mean by 'highlights'...

This is what I've pieced together so far.

And no, it is not supposed to make any sense.

Looks good, huh!

I guess the Lovely Wife and I could start up a Canberra StinkTownTM version of Lesbian Idol Icon , but I'm not sure we'd get many takers. It would probably just end up being her and I sitting around in our lounge room singing Shania Twain (Man, I feel like a woman...)

Tickets are selling fast.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Observational humour - Australian Idol styley

Kate's gotta wonder what is the point of winning Australian Idol and having a publicist when photos such as these make it into the paper:

Spot the difference:

Sorry. That was mean. I'm going straight to hell.

So anyway, did youse see the final Australian Princess last night?

Hooray! Abby tanked and did not win!

Although, I wish I'd formulated a drinking game before the show involving a big chug-a-lug every time one of the girls said 'journey' or ' oh my gaaawwwwwd'. I woulda been wasted before the first ad break. Stomach pumps on the ready!

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Negative nelly

Oh the internet is so cool!

Oh the internet brings people together!

Oh the internet is like democracy in action MAN!

Geographical distance is a forgotten concept!

Where do you want to go today?

The world on your computer!

The computer is your world!

Life without boundaries!

Travel the world without leaving your desk (or putting any pants on)!

And so on.

Random paradox – this Newtown photo pool is so good, when I look at the photos of Camperdown Rest Park, King Street and random beer gardens I am there. The sense of place is so strong in these brilliant photos. But all it does is remind me of how far away it all is and how barren (Sharon) StinkTown TM is.

The cliches need retooling. The internet is nothing but a mean, rotten tease. It takes me there in pictures, but then refuses to be some kind of awesomely advanced matter transporter that can zap me to and from this place and that without the need for a shitty 3 hour freeway trip.

Here is StinkTown TM right now. Grey ‘n’ dull enough for ya?

And here, thanks to Stack, is something random from Newtown that you might see just wandering around on your way between good pubs and functioning public transport:

Hell, it even looks good when it rains in Newtown:

Compare and contrast. Contrast and compare. God knows there’s nothing else to do ‘round here.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Model takes drugs. People shocked. People stupid. Me not shocked.

I’ve heard Michelle Leslie called a few things lately…

…fake Muslim…

…convicted drug user…

…former model…

Frankly, I would be WTF OMG horrified if someone called me a ‘former model’. Defamatory to the max times a million, mang.

But what is ‘fake Muslim’ anyway?

Something sold down at Paddy’s markets by greasy middle-aged men wearing bum bags and patch-leather jackets? I guess you might be able to find it amongst the billions of fake real-honest-genuine-even-though-it-costs-only-$20-OMG-bargain-Von Dutch rip offs.

“You see how girlfriend’s ‘Louis Vuitton’ handbag has single stitching around the zipper and the pattern print doesn’t line up over the seams? That is so fake. Fakey fake fake fake. Faker than the fake tan on a fake Kyle Sandilands. Faker than an Ian Thorpe girlfriend. FAKE!”

“Yeah, and she also has an intermittent and seemingly non-genuine commitment to a politically topical religion solely for the purposes of establishing mitigating circumstances in an upcoming drugs trial in a foreign country. I hate that.”

“Word. That is so uncool.”

Wow. The imaginary teenage conversations that go on in my head are so articulate these days.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Whiny, weedy, pastey bloke responsible for World Cup glory

Never used to really like John Safran. Particularly not in the Race Around the World days. Maybe it was to do with that show, I don’t know (I mean, David Caesar is pretty much the most annoying jerk I can think of right now, and he makes bad movies, and then the show just turned into one of those shows where once it became obvious that it had some appeal, the ABC went all overkill and shit – like Good News Week *shudder*).

But anyway, we’re all going to have to consider liking John since it seems he is responsible for the mega-World-Cup-qualifying-win-of-glory-extravaganza that you may have noticed lately.

In his recent series, John Safran v God (notable for the extended montage of John being spanked by a Buddhist monk – saucy!), one particular episode centered on a curse placed on the Socceroos in Mozambique in the late 1970s. Since that time, the Socceroos had failed to qualify for the World Cup.

Rather than this being due to a series of superior opponents, poor defending, an inability to shoot on target and Frank Farina, the idea was that the curse was the problem.

I recall the process for reversing the curse involved some kind of humourous and nauseating combination of John Safran and animal blood.

But, whaddya know? One year, John Safran travels to Mozambique to lift the curse, the next year, the Socceroos qualify!

So you know what this means, don’t you. African sorcery is the real religion everybody!

Save yourselves while you still can!

Friday, November 18, 2005

High-steppin', leotard-lovin' lady...

So has anyone seen the new Madonna film clip?

:HUf ihqdqcUHDIQCHD;&yr*#hIAFlLPSs ..d”jofirj

Sorry, I just kinda went all weak and fell onto the keyboard. That’s not to mention the dribbling.

If you haven’t seen it, its pretty much Madonna getting about in a tiny little leotard, throwing her impossibly small bottom around in a hypnotically jiggly kind of way.

And she keeps looking at the camera in a very h0tt, sultry “I’m so hot and unobtainable, so fuck you, right now, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck” kind of way.

Brbrbabbbleh *dribble* *dribble*

Don’t look at me like that! It is seriously mesmerising.

The clip was on Video Shits on the weekend and kinda led to the following:

Lovely wife (from the next room): come on, let’s go out to breakfast.
Me: ……
Lovely wife: Hel-lo!?!
Me: ….. um, just a minute...
Lovely wife (coming into the room and seeing the TV): Oh. I see.
Me: ….
Lovely wife: Ok, you can stop dribbling now. And you can also stop moving your head up and down in time with Madonna’s high-kicking dance moves, thank you very much. And I’m a bit concerned that you haven’t blinked in about 2 minutes and 36 seconds.
Me: I’m powerless!
Lovely wife: Gee, she really has an impossibly small bottom, doesn’t she.

I think she just might mount a challenge to Beyonce (in Austin Powers: Gold Member, and also when she is in the giant cocktail glass in the Naughty Girl film clip) and hot, wet, cage-dancing Portia De Rossi in Arrested Development, on my list of lovely lady celebrities of the hour.

Really really important disclaimer: All of these women are NOTHING in comparison to my lovely lovely wife...

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Professionally speaking

Some annoying workplace practices (that really ought to be addressed in the current debate on industrial relations reform):

1. People who get a new mobile phone and then decide to test all the different ring-tones at their desk. Really loudly. And then go through them all again. Just to be sure.

2. Overhearing someone tell the same boring story about buying a new mattress for their 8-year old son, or having some kind of invasive exploratory medical procedure, to 6 different people over the course of a morning.

3. Attempting to exit a lift only to find some pushy jerk pushing his way in from the outside first like a jerk (rude!) – I guess this could happen anywhere, but it happens to me a lot a work.

4. Completely forgetting about that really-important-task-that-people’s-lives-depend-on-judging-by-the-reaction-of-the-managers and missing the deadline and feeling like an idiot (I guess this could be my fault).

5. Going into the toilets and overhearing other people in other cubicles let loose in an really unnecessarily uninhibited fashion (vom. it).

6. Going to the toilets and casually chatting or saying ‘hi’ to someone you know, and then they keep talking as you enter the cubicle, and then, even after you both started taking care of your business, they keep talking still! (so creepy!) I don't want to talk and whizz, thanks. I can do that at home.

7. Paper cuts. Sneaky bastards.

8. Any adult with Winnie the Pooh merchandise on their desks. Cretin. You don’t deserve employment.

9. People who go jogging/cycling/hang-gliding/snow-boarding at lunch time and then deliberately make a detour via their desks on the way to showers just to show off that they are in exercise gear and brag about how fit and enthusiastic they are. It is particularly bad if they are wearing lycra. I sat at my desk and ate bad food, but you don’t hear me bragging about that, do ya?!


10. If it happens to rain, the way at least 50 zillion ker-jillion people say, at least 50 zillion ker-jillion times in the day "its good for the garden". Stop making me feel banal by saying such banal things!

And to think I was worried that working full-time in an office environment would degrade my intelligence, sap my will to live and reduce me to obsessing over really trivial things...

Happy to be wrong

Way to leave it until the last possible minute fellas!

PS Note how the goalie saved the day? Goalies rule.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

So did I mention that I hate Tony Vidmar?

Question: What do the 1993, 1997, 2001 and 2005 Socceroo World Cup qualifying campaigns have in common?

Answer: Losing. And Tony Vidmar.

Its not a coincidence.

Are you crying because you suck, Tony Vidmar?

And here he is with his considerably more talented brother.

Imagine this: 80 minutes gone on Wednesday night at Telstra Stadium.

U-R-Gay corner kick.

Tony Vidmar on the far post.

Recoba fires in a gorgeous, flat, strong cross.

What happens next?

a) Tony Vidmar handballs it, Dario Silva converts from the spot.

b) Tony Vidmar goes to clear the ball off the line but it goes through his legs and into the back of the net (my personal favourite)

c) I run onto the field and shoot Tony Vidmar.

Vote now!

Also, I'd like to see some kind of soccer version of the recent cricket tests between Australia and the World XI.

Except the 'World' team would be made up of players from the Argentine, Iranian and Uruguayan squads of the past 10-12 years.

They could come out and totally kick the socceroos' arses. And the socceroos could kick own goals.




Monday, November 14, 2005

Now that Daniel Spillane is gone, I've had to find someone new to hate on Idol...

So I've chosen this idiot.*

One trick pony.

Its been pretty much the same shtick since you sang Footloose at the group auditions, hasn’t it? Just speed up the tempo of some random pop song.

Oh, that’s right, you totally ‘pushed your boundaries’ when you sang that Michael Jackson ballad (vomit). Those boundaries ended up being a lot narrower than you thought, huh.

And what’s with the miming? You have to mime each lyric you sing?

Maybe it helps you understand what you are singing about, but I promise you, we can all understand “before you throw my heart back on the floor” without you grabbing at your chest and pretending to throw something on the floor.... You tool.

Here he is, telling us what "drive into the heart of me" (thanks to TSSH) looks like:

Yes, he is pretending to operate a steering wheel.

Sheesh. So annoying.

*Its totally hilarious, that when you go to the Australian Idol website looking for the contestants, they are listed under a menu title 'Talent'. Makes me feel wrong just clicking on it...

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Loving the prosperity doctrine.

Sorry to get all serious on yo asses, but I never can resist an anti-Hillsong rant opportunity (always inspired by Darp, of course).

Who knew the prosperity doctrine extended to ripping off community grants programs!

“Labor MP Ian West told parliament on Tuesday night Hillsong Emerge had "misused the Riverstone Aboriginal community to get taxpayers' money for its own purposes.

Mr West said Hillsong Emerge had submitted a joint application with the Riverstone Aboriginal Community Association for $490,000 in funds from the National Community Crime Prevention Program, run by the department of Attorney-General Philip Ruddock.

That application failed, but a second application for $415,000 succeeded, without the knowledge of the Riverstone community, based around Blacktown in Sydney's west.”


Got to get me one of these t-shirts from Sweatshop Productions in time for my next trip home to the Hillsong homeland:

Wednesday, November 09, 2005 a Rhinestone Cowboy

November is a bad month in Canberra StinkTownTM.

Firstly, bogong moths. Apparently, it is well known that StinkTownTM, being on the migratory path for these flying pieces of sh*t, is a major attraction for bogong moths. The lights of Parliament House act as a beacon, drawing in hundreds of thousands of the little disease bags.

What is less well known, I suspect, is that within the 'major attraction' that is StinkTownTM, there is an even stronger beacon. Specifcally, my head.

Or even more specifically, my head, at night, when I'm in bed.

Sneaky little f*ckers.

Of course, this leads to me jumping around the room in my undies pyjamas with a shoe in one hand and a can of Baygon in the other getting madder and madder at the squeals of laughter coming from the Good Wife as I attempt to spray and swat moths at the same time.


Apparently I adopt some kind of comical martial arts-style attack pose. So what.

And November is the peak month for this.

At least I know I'm not alone!

Also pissing me off is stupid bloody November afternoon thunderstorms. Its like what Gareth says of jelly: I just don't trust the way they move.

And they come every single day with the black clouds and the scary thunder and unfunny hailstones, threatening to damage my car's body panels and inflict much pain and bruising if I happened to be out on the motorcycle.


So anyway, on another note, occaisionally of a morning I am treated to the glorious sounds of MandyFM.

MandyFM is named after the GoodWife who now and then wakes up with a stunning array of classic music tracks in her head and has the decency to share them with me (bless her heart).

So this morning's treats were:

1. She Bangs - Ricky Martin
2. Erotica - Madonna
3. Rhinestone Cowboy - doesn't matter who sang it first
4. Chained to the Wheel - Black Sorrows

With gems such as these, who needs real radio?

Friday, November 04, 2005

Post Melbourne Cup madness! (Well, not quite madness, just a little bit of office narkiness)

I was perusing the office sweep results on the kitchen noticeboard on Tuesday afternoon when some-jerk-colleague asked me if I had won anything in the race what stops a nation's brains.

When I said that I didn't even enter, she said "oh, I guess it must be against your religion, or something" in an annoying and sarcastic hoity-toity voice.

"Shut up, bitch!" is what I said... in my head.

I actually just noted that by not entering, I ensured 100% odds (ok, I know a percentage isn't actually 'odds', but, whatever) of keeping my money.

They took it the wrong way.

People can be so sensitive when they've lost a sh*tload of money and had too much champagne.


Thursday, November 03, 2005

Choices - but not for you! For someone else.


Sounds a bit like McDonalds' “Deli Choices” to me. And probably just about as appetising.

So does that mean we’ll all line up and tell some poor shmo in an apron and plastic gloves what ‘choices’ we want with our working conditions?

Me: I’ll take some unfair dismissal and non-compulsory superannuation thanks! No meal breaks though, I’m on a diet. But I will have pickles. Ta.

On an only slightly related note, have you ever watched those gubmint Workchoices advertisements with the sound down?

You know, the ones where everything’s ‘protected by law’?

And you know that those things most definitely will be protected by law because they use that graphic effect that looks like a rubber stamp slamming down onto the screen saying 'protected by law' – because apparently that’s how they make laws these days (and don’t they know you can get way better stamps than that these days? Ones that aren’t all scratchy looking and crude?)

Well anyway, if you watch it with the sound down, and they play the version where they talk about maternity leave, it totally looks as if they are saying that being pregnant is ‘protected by law’ (as the stamp slams down on the torso and belly of an anonymous pregnant fraulein).

Yeah, thanks for clearing that up.

Well, it is kinda funny. I guess you had to be there.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

5-1 odds I'm going to punch someone in the back of the head today...

Dear Melbourne Cup Day,

Why don’t you just go away? Every year your stinkiness creeps up with all the subtlety of something that really isn’t very subtle at all.

Suddenly, everyone knows all about horses. And track weight (or whatever).

Breakfast TV tells me this morning that people also love the ‘glamour’ of the day.

Oh yeah?

What’s so glamorous about cramming yourself onto an over-crowded train, sweating until you almost pass out then handing over all your money to a fat, balding middle aged man (I think they’re called ‘bookies’), and then drinking so much over-priced champagne that you throw-up half a dozen mini-quiches and sausage rolls into the nearest portaloo or wheelie-bin?

Yeah, woo. Go glamour. Hey glamour – you’re so fine. You're so fine you blow my mind. Hey glamour.

Thank feck I don’t live in Melbourne.

Although it has recently been brought to my attention that if you are in Melbourne, at least you get the day off and thereby avoid being exposed to office-related Melbourne Cup Day mania.

Hence, one could avoid the following:

Random jerk: Quick! Quick! You’re missing the race! It’s about to start! Right now!

Me [suddenly grabbing the phone to my ear]: Sorry! Important work call!


Although I must say, there is potential for random, horse-related come-uppance to be handed out.

In my previous place of employ, I was seated across from the world’s-biggest-and-most-annoying-jerk, in similar proximity as Tim sat from Gareth in The Office. That year, I shamefully succumbed to bullying peer pressure and bought a ticket in the $0.02 sweep.

World’s-biggest-and-most-annoying-jerk: Pfff, that horse you've drawn will never win because [insert regurgitated form-guide run-down of said horse here]... You're going to lose. I'm going to win. Again.

And then, 5 minutes later:

Me: So, who won?
World’s-biggest-and-most-annoying-jerk: I dunno. Your horse, or something.

And that’s the only good thing ever to come out of Melbourne Cup Day.

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Someone gave me the bird

So I think I’m coming down with something...

I haven’t been to the doctor or anything, but on the basis of what I’ve seen on TV and read on the Internet, I’m pretty sure it’s bird flu.

I used to think that self-diagnosis was for fools and New Idea readers. But it seems like everyone is doing it, so it must be ok. Well, everyone at my office (the Temple of DoomTM) anyway:

Most hated of colleagues: “Well, the doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with me, but I looked on the Internet and I’m pretty sure I have got [whatever illness was on All Saints last night]”

Oh, really? Yeah, because those doctors - they know nothing...


Most hated of colleagues: “I’ve pretty much had all the tests they can run and unfortunately they couldn’t find anything wrong with me”


But yeah, basically I’m feeling a little fluey and I’m feeling a sense of over-reaction and panic coming on, so in the spirit of self-diagnosis, why don't I just assume that it must be bird flu.

As I said, I haven’t been to the doctor, but I’m pretty sure its been brought on by some highly contagious scaremongering. I should be right though, I’ve still got the ‘survival’ kit I put together for Y2K, the SARS virus and the inevitable terrorist-attacks-that-haven’t-happened-yet-but-sure-are-going-to-especially-if-we-don’t-get-those-new-laws-through...

Emily Roxs!


I totally heart Emily!

Stuff youse all, especially Daniel Spillane! Foreigner??? Double-u tee eff?

If there was some kind of phrase book, with illustrations, and you looked up "waste of skin", you would so totally find a picture of Daniel Spillane (but someone would probably have defaced it or somethin', with little horns coming out of his head, and a hitler-moustache and cross-eyes - oh wait, he already has those...)

Yeah, so anyway. Everyone else sux0rs compared to Emily.


Saturday, October 29, 2005

22623772 spells...

The intuitive text setting on my mobile phone is one of the wonders of the modern world.

It saves me a lot of time, notwithstanding that it often takes longer to text someone than just call them. Especially when you're like me and insist on sentences, punctuation and coherency.

But is also really intuitive.

When I press the keys that would spell "Canberra", just before I get to the last letter, the result is "Cancers". Or, if I continue and complete the key-pressing, it says "Cancersa".

Which is like, totally my phone saying to me "Canberra is like cancers, eh?"

How does it know how I feel about Stinktown (TM - patent pending)?

Now that's intuition.

Thursday, October 27, 2005