Money For Nothing

I was in a band once. On a cold winters day Ben, Anthony, Hughie and myself formed Chocolate Sneeze. (named after an unfortunate incident involving a block of Cadbury Dairy Milk and a dose of the flu)

Our studio was Bens games room, because it had space we could use undisturbed and a record player. Hughie played a cricket bat, Anthony had an assortment of empty plant pots and chopsticks for drums, I ripped it up on lead tennis racket and Ben (being the oldest at 11 and it was his house) had the other tennis racket and lead vocals.

With our favourite records turned up to the point were the speakers distorted we thrashed it out in a cacophony of high pitched childish voices and plant pot banging. We were rock n roll gods. This was in the days when Mtv actually played music videos. We were going to be mega stars. We were going to get our money for nothing and our chicks for free.

Like most bands things didn’t work out. After 4 hours of music stardom we ended up splitting due to artistic differences. We argued over Def Leppard vs Motley Crue as an opener for at least 10 minutes. Also it was time to go home for dinner.

It may be a long way to the top if you wanna rock n roll but it is a quick ride back down the hill on your bmx. I flew down at breakneck speed as the last of the suns glow faded from the sky. The cold air pierced my flesh and whipped my hair as my tyres fountained up rooster tails of cold water behind me. I had an idiotic grin on my face and something else I can never have again - The innocence of youth.

Psychotic Bunny

Gunny Bunny Pink by standoutloud

It is that time of the year when all the neighbourhood kids are climbing the walls late at night, unable to sleep because of a chocolate induced sugar buzz. Yes Easter is here. A time to get together to celebrate a guy that died over 2000 years ago by eating the sweet, foil wrapped droppings of a giant rabbit.

I have been spending some time trying to figure out just what all this Easter Bunny stuff is about. I now have a theory.

Firstly lets compare this rabbit to his nearest contemporary - Santa Claus. Santa is married and surrounds himself with little slaves called elves. He keeps himself busy most of the year making toys, checking lists, caring for reindeer and such. He is jolly and will always speak to everyone when he is in town.

The Easter Bunny by comparison could be best described as a quiet loner. The kind of person the neighbours claim never made any trouble until he tortured and killed 63 postmen.

I can only assume this rabbit spends most of his time raping kidnapped chickens in his basement to get all those eggs. He then hides these eggs everywhere to lure children away from their parents. He won’t take the children though. Oh no, he is much too cunning for that. He just likes too watch from the bushes.

I believe the master plan is to kill off the human race via cholesterol overdoses and diabetes. Then and only then will the rabbits truly own the Earth.

Weight Loss The Mad Aussie Way

In the last few years my six pack has slowly faded away and I now have the makings of a gut. For ages I couldn’t figure out what was causing it. I eat a balanced diet of all the major junk food groups. Consume plenty of liquids, most of it on the rocks. I even exercise regulary, those snacks won’t get themselves out of the pantry you know.

Then today while in the shower I realised what is causing it. My shampoo. Reading the back of the label it promises a ‘natural beauty and full body’. When I shampoo my hair I rub the excess on my belly! A natural beauty and full body might be fine for Buddah but I don’t want to look like that.

All is not lost however. I found the solution in my kitchen. The dishwashing liquid states that it will 'blast away fat and grease fast’. Perfect, I just have to slather my stomach with this and my washboard stomach will be back.

Time to go get another scotch and a plate of nachos.

The End Is Nigh

I am sitting here writing this blog post with black paint under my fingernails and bright after images floating across my vision. It is all the Mayans fault. Thousands of years ago these mathematical geniuses calculated when the world would end. They made a mistake though. We have been sitting around thinking that it wouldn’t happen until next year then BAM. Earthquakes, floods, hurricanes, tsunamis, wars and that is just the big stuff. We have only just started the fourth month of this year.

To make matters worse, on tv late the other night an evangelist told me that not only was the end nigh, but I had to make sure my house was in order. I am not actually sure why, maybe you need a clean house to get into Heaven or something. So I spent the weekend tidying, polishing and washing.

Of course cleaning isn’t the whole story. I had to make sure everything actually worked. That meant I had to buy light globes. This is something that I have been putting off for quite some time. There are so many blown in my house that you need to wear armor at night to move around for fear of broken bones. The new light globes scare me. However God had told me I must fix it so I went to the hardware store.

Sweat started pouring from my pores when confronted by a wall of globes the size of Charlie Sheens ego. There are so many types. Strange swirly shapes, circles, long loops, the list is endless. What happened to plain ordinary light globes ? Why protect the world when it is about to end ?

Not being able to decide on a style I concluded that a variety would be a good idea. Next problem, I had 40 to 75 watt globes before. There are 2 and 5 watt ones now. What the heck does that mean ? I needed 8 globes. I purchased 157.

Americans have gazillions of movies concerning the end of the world that you can use as handy how to guides. Looking through my dvd’s it seems Australia has 3. Mad Max, one, two and three. (note for my American readers, Mad Max 2 was called The Road Warrior there) Yes these movies are quite dated now but it is all I had to work with. So while I was at the hardware store I also purchased flat black paint to cover up the bright blue on my Mitsubishi Lancer. I tried to find some black leather pants and jacket as well. They didn't have any so I got a pallet of chamois and a drum of black dye and will make my own.

Figuring the lamp next to my couch would be the easiest globe to replace I bravely tackled that one first. No matter which new globe I tried part of it protruded above the shade, looking quite obscene. Now according to the packaging the globe I finally settled on emits a ‘Cool Sunshine’ glow. Flicking the switch revealed something more akin to a lightsaber. Blinded I staggered away into the comforting darkness. Not having donned my armor first I soon managed to stub all my toes and bark both shins before falling over the pallet of chamois and knocking myself temporarily unconscious.

So now you know why I am writing this with black paint under my fingernails as well as being partly blinded. Damn Mayans. My car does look pretty cool though.

Little Green Men Day

Usually if you admitted to anyone that you had seen little green men you would become an object of ridicule, if not institutionalized. There is one day each year where that is not the case though. Yes it is St Patricks day yet again. The only day of the year where admitting that you have seen them will be met with joyous, drunken shouts of ‘Leprechaun’.

The whole point of this holiday, as far as I can figure out, is to get so wasted that you do see little green men. You go out to a pub and drink as much beer (that seems to have the consistancy of mud and a taste to match) as you possibly can.

Each venue will have a dodgy band murdering well know songs. This is known as shamrock. Everybody dances the uncoordinated drunken dance, with arms around each other defying the law of gravity and holding each other up.

By the time you roll out of the pub you are hungry, and throwing reason out the door you get yourself a St Patricks kebab. That is the one with the fuzzy green meat. Following that you will find a nice piece of green grass to pass out on. For some reason the grass is now the same color as your face.

The one thing you need for tonight is a good Irish joke. Memorise this one if you don’t already have one.

A passer-by watched two Irishmen in a park. One was digging holes and the other was immediately filling them in again.

'Tell me, 'said the passer-by, 'What on earth are you doing?'

'Well, 'said the digger, 'Usually there are three of us. I dig, Fergal plants the tree and Sean fills in the hole.

Today Fergal is away unwell, but that doesn't mean Sean and I have to take the day off, does it?'

Happy St Patricks day everyone - You will see little green men tonight - to be sure, to be sure.

Love Is Rocky Road

Forrest Gump said life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get. That is doubly true for love. You reach in hoping for a gooey center, yet usually end up with rocky road.

As children we are brought up with fairy tales of love at first sight and happily ever after. Being a bachelor at the age of 33, let me tell you those delusions are just not true.

There are so many stories I could tell you about my doomed love life, but I think this one will illustrate my point the best. The names in the following story have been changed to protect the guilty.

I met Olivia at the pub one night and we sort of hit it off. After a few weeks we got to know each other fairly well. One night, being Mr Suave, I convinced her to come back to my house. In reality it didn’t take much convincing.

To cut a long story short a while later we were in my bedroom, trying to get undressed with hands all over each other. Just before commencing the deed, I blindly reached behind me to get a condom out of the drawer.

A few seconds into it she asked me “Is it centered ?” To which I replied “what ?”

“Centered. Is it centered ?” This is not something any male wants to hear at a time like that. I stared dumbly down at where our crotches met, wondering how she could not even feel it. She started tapping her nose and repeating “Centered. Centered”

Just as I realised that she was saying scented, not centered, she started flailing around and yelling at me to get off. It turns out that, unkown to me, Olivia had an alergy to citrus. Unknown to us both I had grabbed a orange flavoured condom.

There was blood on the bed. By the time I worked out it was from a split lip Olivia had given me trying to get me off, she had curled in the foetal position moaning “it burns, it burns.” From the look on her face I would not have been surprised to see flames shoot out from between her legs.

I got her into the shower to try and wash it away and pulled out the few creams I had that might help. I then went into the laundry to clean up my lip.

After a long time she came out of the bathroom and shot me a look part pain, part anger and part stupefication. She looked so much like Mr Bean at that moment I got the giggles. I couldn’t help it. Luckily laughter is contagious or I would not have any testicles now.

Apparently I looked funny also, sitting there holding a pack frozen chicken breasts to my face.

Needless to say that relationship did not last very long. The only way I can describe it is skittish, even when she bought her own condoms along.

So yes, I am 33 and still single. I am not waiting for my soul mate or any such rubbish. I just have not had a lot of luck when it comes to love. I have had a lot of fun though, and have a collection of stories to match.

How The Internet Started

I had this emailed to me and had to share. This is better than the DaVinci Code. Not sure who the original author is.

This is a true story. Would I tell a you lie?
Well, you might have thought that you knew how the Internet started, but here's the TRUE story ...

In ancient Israel , it came to pass that a trader by the name of Abraham Com did take unto himself a young wife by the name of Dot. And Dot Com was a comely woman, broad of shoulder and long of leg. Indeed, she had often been called Amazon Dot Com.

And she said unto Abraham, her husband:
"Why dost thou travel so far from town to town with thy goods when thou canst trade without ever leaving thy tent?"

And Abraham did look at her as though she were several saddle bags short of a camel load, but simply said: "How, dear?" And Dot replied: "I will place drums in all the towns and drums in between to send messages saying what you have for sale and they will reply telling you which hath the best price.

And the sale can be made on the drums and delivery made by Uriah's Pony Stable (UPS)."

Abraham thought long and decided he would let Dot have her way with the drums. And the drums rang out and were an immediate success. Abraham sold all the goods he had at the top price, without ever moving from his tent.

But this success did arouse envy. A man named Maccabia did secrete himself inside Abraham's drum and began to siphon off some of Abrahams business. But he was discovered, arrested and prosecuted for insider trading.

And the young men did take to Dot Com's trading as doth the greedy horsefly take to camel dung.
They were called Nomadic Ecclesiastical Rich Dominican Siderites, or NERDS. And lo, the land was so feverish with joy at the new riches and the deafening sound of drums that no one noticed that the real riches were going to the drum maker, Brother William of Gates, who bought up every drum maker in the land.

And indeed did insist on making drums that would work only with Brother Gates' drumheads and drumsticks. And Dot did say: "Oh, Abraham, what we have started is being taken over by others."

And Abraham looked out over the Bay of Ezekiel , or eBay as it came to be known.
He said: "We need a name that reflects what we are."
And Dot replied: "Young Ambitious Hebrew Owner Operators." "YAHOO," said Abraham.

And because it was Dots idea, they named it YAHOO Dot Com.

And that is how it all began.
Truuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuly!