Plight Of The Refugees

Over the last few years there has been a lot of news coverage about refugees who come to Australia, only to be put into detention centers. We repeatedly hear all about the appalling conditions, the cost to the taxpayer, how we appear to the rest of the world and the legality of it all. Is it all true or is it just the media ramping up a story to boost ratings ? I thought that I would go to one of these detention centers to see for myself and give my readers an unbiased opinion. There are none of these facilities for humans near me so I went to the mandatory detention center for foreign animals, known locally as the Perth zoo.

Firstly I can confirm that corruption is indeed rampant, as I had to give the guard a bribe just to get in. Not only that but if you want a drink on a hot day you will be forced to pay exorbitant prices. The facility is obviously making a lot of money from the plight of these poor creatures.

The housing conditions are horrendous. There is hardly any shelter considering the size of the facility. Rather than having proper bedding these poor creatures are forced to sleep on piles of dry grass, under rocks or in hollow logs and in extreme cases even hanging on for dear life in trees. I also managed to get a look at the solitary confinement section and I was outraged. It is kept in a state of constant darkness. The poor souls in this area have been nicknamed “nocturnal”. That is just not humane.

 Some of the residents are relentlessly mocked. I saw horses that had been painted with black and white stripes, much like the convicts of old. Another poor equine type creature that obviously had a physical disability had been marked with large brown spots all over its yellow body and extremely long neck. I felt most sorry for the bear though. It too had been painted black and white but this time to resemble a clown. I have a feeling that the black paint around the eyes was just there to disguise bruising.

 The government assures us that refugees are properly fed while in detention but I can assure you that is a lie. What is jokingly called food is just thrown on the ground or in troughs where inmates are forced to grovel for it. In some cases they were so hungry that they were eating grass. Feeling sorry for them I tried to give them some of my ham and salad sandwich only to be told by one of the prison guards that I would be forcibly removed if I tried it again.

 I am so disgusted that I am putting together a team of like minded souls to help free them all. We are going to call ourselves the army of the 12 monkeys. Leave a comment if you want to join the fight.

Impossible Coffee Table

Something amazing happened. I actually had an entire weekend off from work. Trust me that is truly incredible. It gave me the opportunity to finish a project I started months ago. I call it the impossible coffee table.

The basis of it was an old coffee table that was falling apart. I kept the glass top and scrapped the rest. My new base is made of four pine legs at a 45 degree angle. It looks like they should fall over. Each leg has cutouts that the other legs slot into. When together they all support each other. It looks impossible but it works.

Although the woodwork was finished ages ago, the weekend off gave me the time to give it a good sanding, stain and varnish. It has come up beautifully. I am going to give it a few weeks to dry out completely before putting the glass back on top.

Even in its raw wood state it got a lot of looks. It should get even more now. I enjoy messing with peoples minds, watching them try to figure out how it is standing.

2011 Bye Bye

As the year draws to a close all I can say is thank goodness for that. Bye bye 2011 and good riddance.

Sleeping With The Addict

What do you do when you realise that the person you are seeing is an addict ? That is exactly the question I am faced with right now. I could handle someone addicted to drugs or alcohol and a sex addict actually sounds like a dream come true. This is much, much worse. She is addicted to cooking shows. The type where some pompous idiot shows you how easy it is to whip up a fantastic meal in just 30 mins using ingredients you have never heard of and equipment you don’t own.

For someone like me that believes grilled cheese is high cuisine, a dish made from crocodile scales, pixie tears, grass clippings, crushed moon rock and toe jam just doesn’t sound appetising. In fact the only celebrity chef I ever liked was the Swedish one on the Muppets when I was a child.

Looking through her pantry there are enough jars of herbs and spices to sink a battleship. Sadly most of them have hardly been used. When I asked if the crushed cockroach legs were good on steak she got angry. I was told that they were expensive and not to be wasted, in fact they were bought specifically for one recipe. Trying to be supportive (and get myself out of trouble) I said that sounded delicious and suggested that we make it that so I could try it. She answered that when she tried it it didn’t work out properly so she wasn’t going to make it for me.

I just don’t know how to handle this situation. The wild mood swings, the bizarre smells, not able to go out because missing an episode would bring on the apocalypse. How many more males out there are suffering right now because their partners are cooking show addicts ? There are no support groups, no hotlines to call, no rehab centers.

The only thing to do is to break up with her.

A Future Mystery

With the current global financial crisis and threats from the Mayans about 2012 a lot of people are asking just what we are in for. Luckily there are psychic visionaries in this world that have already seen the future. One of these people tried telling us back in the seventies. Unfortunately no one would believe him. In a stroke of genius he put the information out there as a cartoon to ready our generation.

As children Scooby Doo started to show us what our future would be like. Mansions, castles, amusement parks, mines, mills and all manner of places that take money to run have been abandoned. No matter where you go everywhere is a bit spooky, like the whole world has turned into a bad neighbourhood. Not even your holiday destinations are safe.

No matter how good your skills are they will not guarantee you employment. In fact you better start practice making masks, costumes, elaborate pulley systems, sound and lighting tricks just to scare other people away from the basement you are squatting in. Yes you are going to be fighting for a roof over you head with lawyers, artists, shipwrights, doctors, magicians and all manner of professional people that already have some of these skills.

Food is going to be scarce. Really scarce. Any chance to steal food should be taken, even if it means fighting monsters, ghosts, zombies or vampires. Eat as much as you can while you have the chance.

So how do you survive this bleak future ? Well it seems that a nomadic existence is the way to go. Preferably in a group situation. There is always safety in numbers. Now you may think that a van would be the perfect vehicle to get around in our apocalyptic future, but I think motorbikes would be better. In fact I believe that we should band together in a similar manner to outlaw motorcycle clubs. Desperate people are much less likely to attack a group of unwashed bikers than some kids in a hippy Kombi.

If you are ready to accept your leather wearing, gun toting, Harley riding future let me know by giving my tshirt design a vote at qwertee. Just click on the picture to get there.



P.S. - Did you see what I did there - a whole post about Scooby Doo without a single drug joke.

Standoutlouds Cat

Once upon a time scientists made great discoveries and inventions. These are the people of history that we all look up to. Their names live on as true geniuses. Einstien, Curie, Newton, Tesla, Galileo, Darwin, Edison etc.

The scientists of today just give me the shits. It seems every week I hear about some new study that proves something we all already knew, usually at a cost of millions to us tax payers.

What exactly is the problem, has everything been discovered and invented already? What a load of pish. Now I am no scientific genius but even I can do better than that. I believe that my experiments deserve just as much funding as all those hacks out there. Take this brilliance of mine for example.

Firstly take a cat and tape magnets to its side. Then tape a buttered piece of toast to its back. Now push it off the table. We will see the effect of two scientific laws at work. Namely “cats always land on their feet” and “toast will always land butter side down”. These two scientific laws will act against each other forcing the cat/toast combo to spin continuously in mid air.

Just place a coils of copper wire wrapped around an iron core around this spinning mass. The spinning magnets and the wire will produce alternating current electricity, much like the alternator in your car. This will single handedly solve the worlds power and air pollution problems. No more reliance on fossil fuels.

Now I just need to create a breed of cats that don’t need feeding or suffer from nausea. I think 20 million dollars in government funding should cover it.

Forget Schrodingers cat, welcome to the world of Standoutlouds cat.

Welcome To The Jungle

I will be the first to admit that I am not a keen gardener. What makes it worse is living in suburban Australia. You see until fairly recently a standard block of land here was a quarter acre. When you have an average 3 bedroom house stuck in the middle of that you are left with a whole lot of garden to take care of. The truth is I don’t take care of it.

There are a few reasons for this. I have been working 6 days a week at my job plus trying to be a graphic artist / designer online. That really leaves little time for anything else. Also I am a world renowned, first class procrastinator. Any excuse is a good excuse. As a result over winter my garden went from unkempt (I like to refer to this look as shabby chic) to a meadow and finally a wilderness that could be hiding anything.

So I made a pact with myself that I would spend today gardening. So after waking up, having a shower, breakfast, checking my emails, facebook, online store and screwing around on twitter I pulled myself into action and approached the back door.

I have one of those glass slidey back doors that let you see just what you are in for. Looking at the backyard I was expecting to see Indiana Jones leap out while being chased by a family of tigers. It was not a good feeling. I braced myself and whoosh - the glass door slid aside for the first time in months. Unnaturally fresh air rushed into my man cave, dispelling the lingering funky smell. So far so good. I grabbed the flyscreen and ........... nothing. It seems the gazillion ants that live in my garden had excavated 10 tonnes of sand that the rains had then washed against the door. Grass had then grown in that sand rendering the door immobile.

After fighting with it for a while I had to go all MacGyver on it with a screwdriver. Lifting it up on its tracks and giving it a fantastic Chuck Norris kick it went sailing out onto the paving. It was alright though. All the weeds cushioned its fall. The door wasn’t damaged at all.

Grabbing a rubbish bag I attacked. Pulling out with weeds with great gusto unearthed the ecosystem at my back door. David Attenborough would have loved it. Angry ants, colourful caterpillars, milling millipedes, spiders and a frog. The frog just sat there staring at me. I named him Fernando and told him to hop along. He didn’t. I think he was trying to guilt trip me into stopping with his hypno stare, but it wasn’t going to work.

Like an archaeological dig the area of pavers came into sight. I should of been feeling pretty good but Fernando was still staring at me. I thought I would give him a piece of his own medicine and started a staring competition. Even though I cheated, he clearly won. He is that good. Stepping things up a notch I went and got my camera. Flash flash flash. He didn’t even blink. Not sure if I have a retarded frog or if he is a paparazzi whore. No wait, they are the same thing.

Eventually the bin was totally full so I took that as proof that I had done enough gardening for this week. (plus Fernando was freaking me out) Let me tell you, those 2 square meters of paving outside look great. At this frenetic pace I should have the whole garden done by 2247.

The Hair Conundrum

I have been thinking a lot about hair recently. That is a strange way to open my first blog post in some time I know, but bear with me.

As a whole, we love hair. It gets washed, primped and pampered every day. We run our fingers through it and love the smell of our partners hair. Vain people spend every minute looking into reflective surfaces to check that it is still in place. Balding men are secretly jealous of all those with a full head of it. Heck we even wrote a musical about it.

We spend billions of dollars every year on hair cuts and products to make our hair look the best it can be. We judge others by their hair and are equally judged in return.

There is a big but in all this though. As soon as that hair is no longer connected to a human body it instantly becomes the most reviled, disgusting thing in the entire known universe.

I cannot figure out how this happens. Does the strand of hair change at a molecular level to such an extent that it instantly renders food completely inedible upon contact? Will soap cause your skin to melt off once a stray hair has stuck on there?

We need a government funded study to figure all this out. I need to know what is happening and if I will implode if I try to unblock the drain in the bathroom.

It seems that our hair is the original love hate relationship.

Fear And Loathing In Art Class

This may come as a surprise considering what I am doing with my life these days but I hated art class at school. So much so that at age 14, when you get to choose your subjects, art was immediately crossed off the list. I spent my time doing woodwork, metalwork, mechanical workshops and various other classes instead.

Art at school, for me, completely missed the point. It should be about creativity, exploration and self expression. Instead it was do this and do it this way, exactly the same as everyone else is doing it. Days of boring history lectures about the lives of dead artists. Craft projects I had no interest in whatsoever. I just wanted to draw what I wanted to draw. Not carve a given pattern into a piece of lino or make a pot out of clay. The end result was a loathing for art teachers.

I bring this up because of a recent incident. My 12 year old nephew was talking about art at school the other day. They had been learning about Van Gogh. (Yep I remember nearly falling asleep during that) Nephew wasn’t too interested in him either. However the teacher had asked the students if there was an artist that they would like to talk about, so he came to me. After some discussion and looking at pictures online, Salvidor Dali’s surreal artworks got the nod.

In my mind this was a good choice. At worst the kids would have some thought provoking images to look at. Yet it should be so much more than that. There is so many things a teacher could do with that material, from discussions of meaning, creative writing, what do you find surreal, paint a surreal picture - the list goes on.

I was not expecting what actually happened though. When nephew brought up Dali, the art teacher had never heard of him. This is a person that went through 12 years of school, then another 4 of university, specialising in art. I was flabbergasted. In fact it was such a surreal experience that I thought it was a joke at first. Sadly it wasn't.

My loathing of art teachers has hit an all time high.

10 Fresh New Ways To Promote Your Business

As technology progresses people progress along with it. The same applies to forms of advertising. If you are struggling to promote your business, especially an online one, you know just how hard it is to get noticed and get yourself some customers.

There is a condition that I have termed advertising blindness. We are so constantly bombarded with ads that we subconsciously block them out. So the question is, just how do you get your advertising noticed ?

I have come up with 10 fresh new ways to advertise your business. These are all offline ideas and budget conscious.

* Flyer Dogging - This one involves some stealth. You sneak up on a blind person out walking with their guide dog. Tape a flyer to each side of the dog. They will walk around unaware that they are promoting your business. The best part is they tend to walk slowly so other pedestrians have a good chance to see your brilliant advertising. Don’t worry, the owner won’t know it is there.

*Boomgating - Getting the attention of motorists without causing an accident can be very tricky. That is where boomgating comes in. You tape a banner to a boomgate. The motorist is stuck there with your ad right in front of them. Works especially well at train crossings and other places where motorists are stuck for some time.

*The Running Man - So you have a tshirt with your company info on it, yet no one pays it any attention. Time to do the running man. Go into the city and walk into a shop, turn around and run. Thinking you have stolen something everyone will be looking at you, guaranteed. The more astute among them will memorise what is written on your tee.

*Fake Celebrity - For this one you or one of your friends need to resemble a celebrity. People will talk about it if they think the Mythbusters are at the local laundromat to see if (insert your product) explodes in a washing machine or Gail is buying a heap of boxes to hold all the (insert your product) Oprah is going to give away on her next show.

*Subliminal Religion - You need to be an atheist for this one. Approach your local churches and offer to print out the services for them. You then add some subliminal messages into the readings or hymns. “And God said unto Moses, Thou needest to stand out loud, Yay much like a good photo manipulation.”

*Paper Round - This one is great for more reason than one. It gets you away from your computer for awhile, some much needed exercise and you get paid for it. All you have to do is get a paper round. You insert one of your flyers into each paper before you deliver it. It is that simple.

*The Argument - Get one of your friends and head out to a cafe, pub or similar. Then start a heated debate about which is better - your brand or a well known brand. No one else around will have heard of your brand but they will have heard of the well known one. Make sure you mention that your brand is cheaper. They are bound to google it.

*Vantastic - We have all been stuck behind a caravan on a long trip. By hanging around the right service station you can tape a banner to the back of a lot of these monstrosities. Now all the lucky motorists will have something to look at as the traffic builds up. This tactic also works for long haul trucks.

*Photo Bombing - This is where you get yourself in the background of someones photo. Make sure that your promotional tshirt can be easily seen. The best places for this are weddings. Those shots will be around for ever, sitting on a mantlepiece and if you are really good they might even turn up on a photo bombing site. Double win.

*What The Doctor Ordered - For this one you need to print out some nice, glossy, full page ads. Now go steal your Nans month old Womens Weekly and New Idea magazines. Flick through each one and find an ad space opposite an engaging story in each one. Carefully glue your ad in on top of the original. Once the glue is dry you can drop them off at the waiting rooms of doctors, dentists etc. They will be there for years.

Zazzle Prostitution

Why zazzling is like prostitution

You tend to work mainly at night

You are rewarded for fulfilling a customers dreams

When people ask you about your job you have trouble explaining it

The customer pays a lot of money but the employer keeps most of it

Friendships fall apart and you end up only talking to people in the same profession

You have to do untastefull things to get customers

Solving Global Problems

I must apologise to my readers as it has been some time since my last blog post. The reason for this is that I have been thinking of ways to solve all the worlds problems. After careful deliberation I believe that it all begins with war.

It seems that all the wars these days are in hot, arid, desert countries. Not really surprising, I get cranky in the heat too. So the first thing we need to do is replace all the guns with water pistols. Everybody has fun in a water fight when it is hot.

Imagine all the soldiers running around squirting each other, throwing water balloon grenades. Planes and helicopters flying overhead waterbombing everyone like they do to forrest fires. We could have the best fun at World War Three. Everyone would want to go. Nobody gets killed and everyone goes home smiling.

However there are other advantages to this. All that water would turn what is now a desert into a water filled, muddy oasis. The poor people of that country would have lots of land to grow crops to feed themselves and boost their economy. A perfect solution for a struggling third world country.

The second world countries don’t miss out either. They are our number one producers of plastic toys. The demand for water weapons would boost their economy as well.

Now I know there are going to be some die hards that maintain that it just isn’t war without pain and suffering. Well just for you we can have wars at the arctic and antarctic. All the water would freeze replenishing the melting polar ice caps.

This is such a genius solution to a whole plethora of problems that I would not be surprised to be nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. (hint hint)

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!

Beer Me Up Scotty

Australians are renouned for a few things. Some of those include being tough as nails, a little bit crazy and drinking a lot. Most of it comes back to the weather. As I write this post it is 10 o'clock at night and 32 degrees. (90 fahrenheit)

I am drinking, have been for a while now. At this point I have just finished my 23rd Jack Daniels. You see being poor I don't have airconditioning. I am not drinking for pleasure or to drown sorrows. It is drinking so you can pass out and get some sleep before you have to get up and go to work.

I am not sure if you have ever tried to work after not sleeping, but it is not fun. You seem to be in a daze and the world slides past you. The longer you go without sleep the worse it is. Close to an out of body experience. Working with a hangover is not great but it is better than lack of sleep. When in that position you choose the lesser of two evils.

The problem with any drug is the more you have the more you need. At this point I hardly have a buzz. Passing out is a long way off yet. Heck I can even write coherent blog posts using large words like coherent.

According to world standards I am an alcoholic. All my friends are for that matter. By Australian standards we are all normal. It is just the way things are here. If you can't drink a bottle of scotch or carton of beer and still talk straight you are just not considered a true Aussie.

If you have ever wondered why we talk slowly and act bizarrely, the truth is we are generally spaced out to some degree.

Drinking stupid amounts is a tradition. It is also one that is slowly but surely disappearing as airconditioning becomes more prevalent in society. This leads me to wonder where we are heading as a nation. What will we become when we no longer consume vast amounts of booze and are no longer crazy ?

With the amount of American influence here, in music, tv, fast food and all the rest, are we doomed to become a USA clone ? No offence to my international readers but I sincerely hope not.