The Last Thing I Remember Was Counting Backwards From Ten
Has it really only been a month since my last major foray into blog postdom. No. It has been a couple-a days. But before that…long time…much. I apologise to those who have had that wonderful 90 seconds of their day stolen away from them. As pennance, behold, tidbits. Some good, mostly bad.
1. My favourite Christmas present was a lizard egg thing from Crazy Clark’s. You submerge said egg in water. After a day the egg hatches and a groovy lizard pops out. My lizard is called Max. He is still alive. I can tell because I had a dead Blue-tongue Lizard in my back yard. He friggin stunk like a Jon Stevens playing at Twin Towns. Actually, I amend my comment. My lizard, he dead. He was left out in the GC sun and now he is a lump of molten goo. He looks like a green cowpat (except less tasty of course).
2. I have only 1…count ‘em… 1 NY resolution for 2007. To make it to 2008 alive. This maybe more difficult than it suggested as the ‘Super Mega Particle Accelerator Machine Thing’ at Cern, Switzerland is due to open at the end of the year. Some scientists believe this machine may destroy the world, if not the universe. Fingers crossed huh!!!
3. I am the proud owner of … drum roll please… wait for it … a … brand … spanking … new … you guessed it … disused quarry. Oh! It’s not that new at all. It’s a disused quarry. Also, I am part owner since I have no i-friggin-dea how to operate a disused quarry. They left that bit out at school.
4. Bubble skirts are sooo friggin outta here. I read it/saw it/heard it all over the place. Get rid of them. Ebay them to the gypos. If not I may have to set them alight myself… with you still in it.
5. Warwick Capper, who I spotted leaving the wonderful Dracula’s Restaurant Booking Office/Shop/Place/Thingy has a nose like a proboscis monkey. Also, he has chicken legs and talks funny. Note: Not a bantam chicken. They have cool legs and scamper around like little squawkin MC Hammer’s.
6. My real estate agent, who hates me incidentally, for what reason I do not know why, phoned to say there was a noise complaint. I asked them how this could be. They began to try and explain in their random gibberish way that real estate agents speak in.
‘No, no, no’, I interupted. ‘How does one make a complaint about noise to you? Does my neighbour call the police? Because if so, the police would have told me to shush whereas in your tale, they complain to the police and the police chooses to be underhanded, look up the owner of the house through the council records, rates or some other way, then calls them in New South Wales and asks them who their agent is but because they can’t verify their identity over the phone, they have to fax them a letter with fancy ‘The Fuzz’ letterhead, and then they look up the number in the Yellow Pages and calls you to say that there has been a noise complaint but of course because you can’t possibly verify their identity you’d be able to show me the fax huh!!?!?!’. I still have no idea why he hates me.
7. The new Apple iPhone looks shit. Writing a text message with your fingers on a screen is the gayest idea in humanity. I have chubby chipolata fingers. Actually I don’t, but if I did was Andre The Giant, I would be mightily disappointed or all my friends would have to settle for poorly spelt txt msgs.
8. Between writing points 7 & 9 I cracked one out. Paper towel please.
9. Fuck MySpace in the ring. Niggaspace is hot. Sample quotes: ‘My celly is runnin hot and you can get widdit if you pay da bill fo me’ or ‘I got three fillins. All of dem gold’.
10. After cashed-up uber-ho Pazza Hilton did a jolly around Sydders for New Year, the Gold Coast attempted to trump this with a starlet of their own. Of course, the starlet must have cancelled because we copped sorry-looking Tara Reid. We can feel blessed that this appearance was ‘Post Corrective Surgery’. I looked at Flight Centre and couldn’t see Qantas or American Airlines running a ‘Superskank Shuttle Special’ from LAX to AUS. I dunno what’s going on. Maybe next year we might get Jenna Jameson. w00t!
11. New Years Eve is the only night I’ve had booze, drugs, sex in the last 30 days. Quick, check his muthafuckin pulse!! He may be possessed by aliens or sum shit!
12. Linerider = Retarded x infinity +1
13. Picked up a crossword while lulling about in a waiting room. Firstly, to the cruciverbalist who put together this abortion of darks and lights - 4 Down - ‘Lead singer of supergroup’. With 15 spaces I really had no idea. Answer = ‘Irish Singer Bono’. What a cunt! Secondly, to the clearly malnourished of the brain, or indeed, full-on mentalist that attempted the crossword before me. 12 Across - ‘Bird of Prey’ is ‘Hawk’ and not ‘Egal’. Cunt variant x 2.
14. Many thanks to the QLD Transport Officer who took my photo for my replacement drivers licence and chose to miss a quarter of my friggin face off the pic. For bouncers to let me into nightclubs I have to bring a canary coloured wall with me out and cover-up a quarter of my friggin face so they can see it is me.
15. Jemma from Varsity Lakes was featured in the Gold Coast Bulletin. Her ambition is to be a TV Weathergirl. Yes, that is her ambition. No, no, no darlin. Your ambition is to be on ‘Getaway’. The whole point of being a TV Weathergirl is to use that menial job as a springboard to bigger and better things like swanning around the world in exotic locales and not have to pay for it. So, when you leave your job as an ‘AIR HOSTESS’ to pursue TV Weather watching realise what the fuckin fuck you are doing.
16. I shared my birthday with the 122nd anniversary of the official patent date of the roller-coaster. Woo-hoo!
17. I have eaten at least one cake every day since I can remember probably last ‘cake-free’ day was mid December some time. I’ve got a sweet thing happening. I have ruled out pregnancy because I had my period last week. That explained the rotten moods.
18. I’m not saying that a swimming pool belonging to a friend of mine is gross or anything but I found watercress growing on the surface. The latin phrase for this is Cultivatus Mingus Meniscus.
19. In Vietnam I was 19.
15 Blows Delivered After The Bell. Refereee!!! »
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bubble skirts are out? fucking hell. But shoulder pads are still in, right?
Hit by mez — January 23, 2007 @ 10:00 am
#2 - It’s NEVER as easy as it looks.
#11 - Eh?? You mean ‘only time you’ve had booze, sex & drugs altogether’ right?
#13 - It’s the Gold Coast.
Hit by Giggles — January 23, 2007 @ 11:29 am
-shit I missed your birthday. For your birthday I will tell you Happy Birthday and I MISSED YOU. And I am older than you so I am allowed to shout it.
-I can’t believe someone younger than me owns a quarry. Are you gonna mine it you cappo? I have just joined the grown-up table, as evidenced that I went to some wineries the other week and bought some wine to store instead of just doing tastings for free and ignoring the $2 tasting fee like normal.
-I once had a noise complaint from my real estate agent, old bat next door had somehow found who they were. I think by snooping through our mail.
-Bubble skirts: I am so relieved as no matter how many times I try to convince myself that NOM*D bubble skirt/tunics will look good on me, I remain unconvinced, largely due to the hysterical laughter of those who see me in one.
Hit by sublime-ation — January 23, 2007 @ 12:00 pm
mez: For you, yes.
GG: Staying Alive you mean? Just ask John Travolta. On GC, sum peepl cn spll
Subby: I know you is older but I’ve never held that against a girl.
About the quarry. There is nothing in it to mine. The plan is this. Get corporates and government to dump crap in it at around $25 per tonne. Get them to dump around 100,000 tonnes per year. Then, when it is full, sell the new land back to developers so they can market it as ‘Shit Creek Waters’ or sumthin.
Hello Super Fund, Goodbye Ecologically Sound Generation Y Ethics.
And believe me, you looked shit in that bubble skirt. Fact! Old bat next door told me so it must be true.
Hit by Russell Allen — January 23, 2007 @ 12:17 pm
If I ever meet him, I will ask.
And yes, on the Gold Coast, some people CAN spell, but sooner or later, all tourists go home again.
Hit by Giggles — January 23, 2007 @ 2:42 pm
JT is always flying some Qantas plane and swanning around the country somewhere. You might bump into him in a KMart in Ullundulla or somewhere.
Hit by Russell Allen — January 23, 2007 @ 2:49 pm
I have an explosives license and used to operate large earthmoving equipment in mines. Seeing as your quarry is disused it probably has nothing of value left, but invite me around, give me a few grand and we can have one fuck-off new year party next year coutesy of some nitrogen based chemicals.
Hit by Tony — January 23, 2007 @ 7:47 pm
If you think real estate agents talk shit, you should hear the pretend ones.
Hit by hungbunny — January 23, 2007 @ 8:44 pm
Perhaps it was Tara that got to your crossword first. Also, Irish Singer Bono?!?!?! they should lose their license to, you know, print.
Hit by fluffy — January 24, 2007 @ 7:20 am
Even if I knew where Ullundulla was, I can assure you I wouldn’t be bumping into him in Kmart.
Hit by Giggles — January 24, 2007 @ 9:15 am
Ahh.
Andre the Giant. Legendary.
Could’ve singlehandedly won Vietnam you know.
Hit by Kieran — January 24, 2007 @ 7:58 pm
Tony: You had me at Nitrogen Chemicals.
HB: Can you get paid to be a pretend Real Estate agent. Much like being a crap Michael Jackson impersonator.
Fluffy: Admittedly, it wasn’t a high quality mag but all the same, a dyslexmalizk coulda dun betta.
GG: I think Ullundulla is an area behind the cervix. Look it up on Wikipedia.
Kieran: Andre The Giant coulda beat both General Adnan and Sgt Slaughter. Middle East issues easily resolved.
Hit by Russell Allen — January 24, 2007 @ 11:06 pm
*passes paper towel*
Hit by hippy — January 25, 2007 @ 8:09 am
Thanks hippy. I was due another one.
Hit by Russell Allen — January 25, 2007 @ 9:13 am
Oz always have a thing for funny names.
glad you made it back russ. will read the post later.
Hit by treespotter — January 26, 2007 @ 12:12 am