Thursday, August 27, 2009

The shitford wives.

I seriously thought i wasn't going to have to deal with any more top level claremont carpark shennanigans after i totally stamped my authority down during the last outing but it would seem that this is not so. I've never been involved in any real carpark beef before but it seems that the residents of Claremont take this shit seriously. Seriously to the death.

As stated in the last episode, carparks in Claremont are somewhat of an oasis. You could drive around for hours and spot them left, right and center but nine times out of nine, when you get there, it wasn't meant to be. Little is known about Claremont's fascination with having no carparks but history would hint that the residents of this fine suburb believe that they are the only ones that need to park their car within the borders of their postcode. If you're an outsider, tough shit, go park in Fremantle and walk to Claremont and get charged eight dollars for a bottle of water at your nearest newsagency. Working in Claremont? You're getting buttfucked as well. In their eyes your just another sweaty mexican slaving away in their stinky department stores and therefore, you are undeserving of a place to rest your vehicle.

If it were legal, Claremont would replace the aboriginal tribesman, royal and political features that feature on our currency to pictures of empty parking bays. There would be magazines dedicated to the hottest new parking spots for a night on the town, a who's who of bays, a coming attractions section for all the hot new spaces and parallel parks of the month on the last page. Why doesn't Claremont just cut to the chase and erect a marble monument of a carpark in the middle of the shopping district? At least we'd be able to fucking park in it!

Anyway, i'm not going to get too infuriated just yet. For the most part, i've been able to fend for myself by illegally parking on the top floor in spaces reserved for important people who are so important that they don't even drive cars, hence their bays always being empty. Imagine if you were so rich you could just float everywhere? Need the definition of ironic? Well if you can afford to float everywhere and own an apartment or store in Claremont you're well on your way to owning one of these bays and then you won't even need it. Hence me parking in your bay.

Unfortunately, shitbreath has had enough. Whenever i finish work i always have a quick browse of the carpark to see if anyone has been double parked. It's become a tradition since it happened to me and it's always a nice little after work chuckle if someone has been blocked in. Today was far more than a chuckle though, look at where shitbreath has parked.

What do you do in a situation like this? It's so awesome that you can't handle it but at the same time you wish you could pick up cars and throw them. Luckily for awesomeness is pure like driven snow and is more than capable of washing out an emotion like fury. Here's how:


* Ooohh, you're so threatening and carpark warlord like in your morris minor. It's hard to rule with an iron fist when your car looks like it's doing a stand up routine wherever it's parked.

* Shitbreath is so self righteous and mighty that he just assumes by putting his name on his car people will know exactly where he works and possibly his phone number. Who needs a phone number when you have eggs and a plethora of security camera blindspots?

* There's at least 10,000 empty spots surrounding Mr. Shitbreath and his colourful note, yet he still felt it necessary to pick on someone that clearly stole 'his' spot and ruin their days as well. What a cunt!

* Imagine how angry red Getz and even redder Lancer are going to be when they see they've been double parked by a comedian on wheels!

* He left a note just like me! AND ESSENTIALLY MADE THE SAME ERROR!!

You could see how such things would instantly destroy any hurtful feelings i had towards Mr. Shitbreath. These notes were on every car on the top level! It was fucking hilarious! I even saw the asian lady from the bank take one off her car, look around, neatly fold it up and then samurai sword herself in the stomach because she was so angry. Then she got up and drove home like it was nothing, thus ending one of the more exciting chapters in this no doubt lengthy saga.

Hopefully next week samurai girl and morris man come to blows, that would be way too epic not to blog about.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


A week or so ago i heard rumours of a song featuring Kanye West, Lil Wayne, Eminem and everyone's favourite knee operation waiting to happen, Drake. I brushed it off knowing that even the premise of such a song is unrealistic, unfair and completely awesome. I thought if these guys were ever to jump on a track together, the studio in which it's recorded would have to be constructed from pure gold, the sound proof walls built from the ground up using the ears of the greatest deceased composers of the last 100 years and the computers that the files are recorded to would have to be made of pure, unadulterated teflon and cabling shipped in from Saturn's inner core.

Aka, impossible.

So this morning i wake up and while i'm doing my usual morning blog rounds (starting with mine and ending with....mine) i see that all of the above precautions have somehow been fulfilled and the song has come to fruition via nothing short of a God endorsed miracle. I listened to it on the way to work and almost crashed about 10,000 times because i was too busy jumping from seat to seat and texting my friends about how awesome life is and how this song makes me feel like i'm comandeering a roman chariot filled with rubys and emeralds and silk through run down villages and throwing the jewels out to the poor people when in reality i'm actually stuck in traffic on Stirling highway behind some asshole with one of those quirky spare tyre covers. How am i meant to 'BACK OFF' when there's cars behind me you fucking mongoloid?

Drake feat. Kanye West, Lil Wayne and Eminem - Forever (prod. by Boi-1da)

This isn't the final final version (close enough) and it should be available on itunes by the time you've retrieved your brain matter from whatever wall it is that you're sitting adjacent to.

Friday, August 21, 2009

wtf is a Luke Steele?

I can't remember the last time i didn't have background music. It's as essential to me as failure is to that new 7pm Project show on Channel 10. I mean, without failure that 7pm Project wouldn't have much else going for it, much like i'd probably cancel myself if i didn't have music. Fuck, i tried watching that show the other night and i could actually feel a capital F being singed into my forehead via telekinetic failure. I was like, what's that smell yo? And then i looked up and saw this smoke that smelt like burger rings caused by that guy with the curly hair asking questions about toe nails or something else that loses ratings.

I've got nothing to blog about at the moment. I feel like i can't even complain properly and seeing as 110% of my blog is filled with hatred towards particular trends, people and infants, business is slow. If i was sweet html hacker i'd hack up a 'back in 15' sign and let it swing about on the front door of my blog and not come back for a while, then i'd html up a front door to put it on. If i wanted to, I could dedicate entire posts to Gears of War 2, my new Jordans and a bunch of other rhinoshit that no one cares about but the problem there is that it's rhinoshit that no one cares about and i'm at a stage now where i feel i have a standard to live up to, considering my blog is generally overflowing with 110% pure texas tea at any given time.

So, as a gift to the four people including myself that read this blog at any given time, i give you the obligatory 'i have nothing else to blog about so here's some free music to tide you over until something gay happens' post. I only listen to rap music and the following is a culmination of the bandwith sucking mixtapes and albums that have been slowing my internet down for weeks on end but also providing me with background music for days on end. I get bored real quickly so i'll post up the stuff that has been entertaining me for the last month or so. You can click the pictures if you want to introduce yourself to the knowledge or even if you just want to download whatever music it is that is featured on the pictures. I don't condone you clicking the pictures though, illegally downloading music is illegal and a crime punishable by having free music, for free.

Now, does anyone want to fill me in on this Luke Steele guy that everyone is whining about? Why is he on Jay-z's new album if he's from Perth? You can see how such a thing would poison my otherwise holy mental stream.

PS. I can't find a link to the J Cole mixtape for the life of me. Figures because it's probably the music i am most psyched on at the moment. If you can find it, download the shit out of it.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Wins and Fails: Currency of a counter-culture.

I was thinking about some really deep shit the other day and just as i was finishing up, the terms 'win' and 'fail' swooped my mental landscape like two magpies wanting to pick from the vast fields of knowledge inside my head. I thought about how a few years ago the terms 'win' and 'fail' were only ever used in conjunction with someone's success or some jackass' way of claiming victory and how they've suddenly become this crazy internet phenomenon that has somehow breached real life and is way more entertaining than it should be.

It's concept is pretty simple, a win is when something awesome happens like finding a five dollar note and then finding a rare basketball card underneath it, whereas a fail would see you getting hit by a car whilst picking it up. If one of your friends has his timing sorted and shouts "fail" while you're getting hit by the car, the transaction was successful and many laughs will be shared whereas a similar effect will occur should somone announce "win" upon you retrieving the money and the card without any unpleasantries.

On the internet it's the same story, only the users of this currency are often far more malicious and consequently, far more hilarious. Any perfectly good moment captured by any form of media can be stripped of all merit with the simple application of the word 'FAIL' in large bold text. Moreso, a perfectly sombre image like a cancer patient or a sick puppy can instantly be revived with the addition of the word 'WIN' in a similar style of lettering. As these words slowly lose all meaning over the years and the viewer isn't 100% on what an actual win or fail looks like anymore, the only real winner is whoever the fuck made the picture, and god knows who that could be.

Anyway, with all of that bullshit out of the way, i'd like to let you in on my own little win/fail story that occurred just the other day. It's called 'Take your car and shove it up your ass and i know it would fit there'.

Nothing gets me more excited than the end of a working day. The anticipation of that final stroke of the clock coupled with the shaking off of your daily timetable is one of the most satisfying feelings of all time. I'd just clocked off for the day and things were looking good. I was going skateboarding after work, i was considering buying an alcoholic beverage and my drive home cigarette was gaining appeal faster than a locomotive with rockets attached to it, which, for those of you who aren't good at math, is really fucking fast. The only thing that stood in my way was a super annoying ascent of Claremont's famous three storey parking lot. Wow Claremont, you've really outdone yourself. Three storeys? Yeah, because i guess not everyone that visits your wealthy post code has a fucking helicopter, and may need an actual parking space every now and then.

So i've climbed the stairs and walked to the car and everything is terrific. Just as i open the front door an obstruction lodges itself in the corner of my vision. A small, black, four-wheeled manifestation that was no doubt purchased at the expense of a wealthy business man's bank account so his daughter wouldn't look awkward whilst lip synching the latest Bloc Party album at red lights and intersections. I'm of course referring to the latest incarnation of the Volkswagen Beetle. No, not the symbolic VW Beetle that poor people and seniors tend to drive, i'm talking about the U2 endorsed harbinger of all that is preppy and funky, the Beetle revised.

After some simple calculations and a whole lot of head scratching, i sat in the car wondering how the fuck i was ever going to get out of there. What if this Tafe graduate never returns? What if she's visiting her boyfriend and they're having tapas? Am i meant to just sit here and play with myself while she gets wined and dined to ambient Architecture in Helsinki and the scent of chorizo and olives? Am i experiencing a fail at the cost of her win?

I had to do something, fast. There was no way i was going to politely sit there and be raped for my time without some kind of tactical response. I remembered back to all the times i'd double parked people and it seems that a friendly 'fuck you' note is the order of business when dealing with such carelessness. I already had a pen, but finding a piece of paper when you need one is like finding a parking spot in Claremont, even when you do find one it's soaked in urine or wet cement. After scrounging about i managed to find a discarded cd cover and do you know what cd covers contain? That's right, the little bit of paper that you use to write the track listings on, also known as the track listings bit of paper. Having never written a track list in my entire life i was blessed with a blank canvas to articulate the ultimate win for display on this broad's vehicle.

As you could imagine, i was overwhelmed with the possibilities of my written assault. Do i approach her gently and with remorse? Or do i sarcastically attack her intelligence and write an entire paragraph about better things she could have been doing with her time instead of double parking me?

It was at that moment that i had a premonition. What if i used the track listing for it's desired purpose and composed an entire pretend album about how inconvenient her life was making my life? The win potential was through the roof and it was a completely victimless crime. Unless of course you are the victim in question.

Genius right? I mean, aside from the horrible handwriting and the rushed appearance of it all, my intentions were quite clear. For those of you that can't read wingdings, the note should read as follows.


Track 1 - Move your fucking car.

Track 2 - You're an idiot.

Track 3 - I assume you live in Claremont, buy your own parking lot.

Track 4 - Move your fucking car (remix).

Track 5 - I hate your car.

Track 6 - You fail at math (feat. You).

Track 7 - Black VW Beetles are for jerks.

Executive produced by YOU.

I stress the 'should' in the above paragraph due to the fact that i made several elementary mistakes, thus dampening the entire experience for me and whoever is on the receiving end of my latest LP. I mean, i had to write the note as quickly as possible before the owner got back. I had to do it in stealth as an all seeing security camera watched my every move, from the writing of the note, to the placement of the note, to me taking photos of it afterwards, EVERYTHING.

Seriously, whatever the fuck i was smoking when i wrote this, i want more of it so i can reach the same level of consciousness i was obviously at when i wrote it. The 'you're instead of your' error is something i have been doing my whole life and even though it's one of the basic forms of punctuation and belonging, i can't seem to get my head around it, especially when i'm writing track listings in the form of move your car notes at top speed. I mean, i only learnt how to spell 'definitely' properly after spelling it 'definately' my whole life and around a hundred times throughout my blog's lifespan. Not making excuses.

When i realised i'd written Track 6 twice like a fucking idiot, i was ready to turn around and drive all the way back to re-write it. Then i remembered the security footage and how ridiculous it would look if someone left a note on a car window only to return twenty minutes later to edit it and leave it there again. That's not to say that i wouldn't have done it if there wasn't a security camera present, because i probably would have.

As i look back on the whole scenario i can definitely conclude that 'wins' and 'fails' do not work well together. The epic win of my idea and the epic fail in it's execution created an apocolyptic mess of lost messages and perfectly good humour gone to waste. If i'd written the note properly, god knows how the owner of that vehicle would have felt. She probably would've driven her car off the top floor of the carpark and called it a day because she knew that after my note, life doesn't get much better. Had i not written the note at all, i never would have gone through the learning experience and what will hopefully be the last time i ever have to make an imaginary album to get a message through to some anonymous anon who i'll never actually meet in person.

At the end of the day i ended up doing an 80,000 point turn to get out of there, much to the amazement of the onlookers who managed to witness my display on the way out. I'm sure the footage of it is surreal.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

For anyone that ever said celebrities are people too.

While i sit here and impatiently wait for a match on Gears of War 2 only to inevitably end up facing a bunch of ignorant americans with shitty connections or super skilled koreans with amazing connections, i'd like to shed some light on Hollywood's latest nude photo scandal. It's not like i go out looking for this shit either, all i had to do was turn my computer on this morning and a lo and behold, a young Disney starlet's private parts were jumping all over my monitor, begging me to post a blog about it.

Her name is Vanessa Hudgens and i had no idea she even existed before i'd seen her in her birthday suit. Do you know how liberating it is to see an admired Disney actress in all her glory on the internet before you even know what the hell garbage television series it is that she features on?
Pretty fucking liberating if you don't mind me saying!

It's like when Jerry Seinfeld did this stand up routine talking about how people shouldn't accept compliments for their clothes because it's the clothes that are being complimented and not them. He ends the set talking about how when you're naked, that's it, you have nothing else to offer. Then he talks about how it would be awesome if you could just by some pockets or something to wear when you're naked so you don't look awkward just standing there with nothing to do. Maybe Vanessa could have used some pockets here? Fuck i love Seinfeld.

Anyway, compared to the Cassie and Rihanna scandals of yonder, i'd have to say that young Vanessa is definitely holding her own in this particular field. The poses, the sultry expression in her face, the on set wardrobe/hotel room setting. If there was ever a starving celebrity to pass the free publicity torch on to, Vanessa Hudgens definitely has her hand (and her vagina) out.

The best part about this whole thing is that it was supposedly her ex-boyfriend Zac Efron that leaked the pictures. You know, the Zac Efron who is adored worldwide and probably has Jesus Christ on speed dial? Well, if this is the case Zac, your human currency has just been promoted from chump change to douche dollars.


This post has been deemed SFW.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Deconstructing construction workers.

Over the last few weeks I've had the immense pleasure of working next a busy construction site. They're in the process of developing another shopping centre that will supposedly change the face of shopping as we know it and will probably evolve fashion as well. I don't see how a bunch of supermarkets and scented department stores will have any effect aside from bringing this particular suburb's collective noses closer to it's collective asses but i'm young and ignorant and probably don't understand city planning very well.

As a result of my position, i've been in close proximity to a particular breed of human known as the 'blue collar construction worker'. Over the course of three weeks i've gathered an insightful insight into this colourful sub-species and have even started to decipher their language to the point where i can understand some of the things they say. One of my findings pertains to nouns and how they can be replaced with the lesser and more versatile 'Fuck'. In turn, the word 'Fuck' can be used to describe any dead or living thing, place, person, or baby.

"Fuck, look at that fucking fuck in the fucking distance! For fuck's sake i'd fuck the fuck out of that fuck for fuck!"

"Hey peers, never in my line of work have i seen such an appealing female. I would welcome the prospect of courting and possibly mating with her. I am not seeking your approvals or opinions on this matter and it is not open for discussion".

The same objectivity relates to the words 'shit', 'cunt' and any other words that the general population would consider a crude expletive.

"Oi cunt, take that shit over to that cunt and fucking get back here shit hot quick you cunt. If he tells me otherwise, you're fucked."

"Good morning apprentice. Your first task of the day will be to carry these objects to the foreman over there as hastily as possible. I would appreciate it greatly if you applied a similar haste to your return. Should the foreman notify me of any shortcomings in your performance of this task, i will rape you (?)".

Aside from the language i have also noticed an interesting uniform formality that apparently determines the class of the worker. Namely, the length of their shorts. The higher the hem of the shorts on the worker, the higher his position on the site.

5cm above knee = Lowly apprentice. Possibly nervous about the lack of hair/muscle on the higher regions of his legs. Will receive endless flack and punishment for the seemingly ridiculous length of his shorts. You should note that if these shorts were worn outside of the construction site, he would receive endless flack and punishment for the same reason.

10cm above knee = Full timer, completed apprenticeship. Having developed a stellar thigh tan and considerable hair growth throughout the course of his apprenticeship, the full timer is confident of his appearance on the site and even implores other workers to check it out. The lowly apprentice is not allowed to gaze upon the full timers thigh without permission.

1 testicle revealed = Site manager. Fully fledged and unafraid, the site manager would like you all to know that it is possible to make a living out of labour and that one day you too can walk around with a single testicle flapping about in the wind. Should a lowly apprentice catch so much as a glance at the site managers lonely marble, the punishment ranges anywhere between a pay cut or night shift security on site for a week.

Both testicles revealed = The big boss. I've only seen the big boss out of the site office once but i can assure you that his presence was respected as much as it was feared. To walk around with both testicles revealed on a construction site is to know real power. All apprentices are re-located to the nearest ditch to avoid any possible encounters.

The eating habits of the construction worker are quite habitual and their diet consists mainly of sausage rolls and flavoured milk. Clouds of luminescent gas have been known to float above the site after their communal lunch ceremony for periods undetermined by the human nose. They don't leave any markings of their dining per se, but empty Winfield brand cigarette packets can be found in abundance once dining is finished.

Unfortunately, my research ends there. I could tell you all about the unexplainable combination of racist tendencies and unaparelled acceptance of all ethnicities working on site, but you aren't ready for that yet. For the time being, construction workers are reasonably safe to approach and even quite friendly for the most part. Be aware though, should you find yourselves between a group of them and a female of suburban upbringing, get the fuck out of there, otherwise you're fucked cunt.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

This makes me happy.

Nike gold plates an already excessive skateboarding commercial with a Kobe Bryant cameo.