Like the deserts miss the rain.

Things i've done without my xbox since it broke.

• Turned it on and prayed that it will magically work again about 8000 times.
• Sat there and given it 'the eye'.
• Shaken it like a disgruntled boyfriend does his incompetent girlfriend.
• Slapped it around like a suspicious girlfriend does her slimy boyfriend.
• Accidentally judo chopped my front door open while the neighbours were watching. They already hate me so it doesn't matter. I don't know why they hate me either, if they can't say good morning loud enough for me not to ignore them that's their fault.
• Almost called Microsoft about having it repaired.
• Sparked numerous conversations with complete strangers about their core hardware failures and how they dealt with it.
• Attempted to watch commercial television. It isn't that bad once you switch the television off.
• Attempted to build a new xbox out of an empty drawer and the insides of an old mobile phone.
• Attacked people in the street for no reason, always ending the attack with "Ooohhh, sorry i don't have a working xbox 360 you fucking show off!"
• Held minute long conversations with friends and family without resorting to leaving halfway through and playing xbox.
• Borrowed a ps3. I refuse to play it until the xbox is out of the house through fear of electrical storms and domestic violence.
• Sat in my room and written completely pointless blog posts about what i've done since my xbox broke, secretly wishing that when i post it my xbox will realize how unfair it's being and start working again.

I'm going to go make myself a dang quasadilla.

Embarassed.

I'm not the most patriotic of souls i'll admit. That's not because i live in Australia though, if i lived anywhere on this Earth i still wouldn't be waving flags around on particular dates of painting or my face like an asshole. The only way you'd find me pumping national anthems out of my car and drinking copious amounts of alcohol to celebrate my country is if i lived in Antarctica because Antarctica is awesome. There's ice everywhere. There's no traffic. You get to go ice skating with polar bears and other mythical creatures and you get to wear Winter fashion all year round. It's just the best place in the world and the only continent worthy of ever having a documentary made in it's honour, unlike everywhere else.

Currently though, i live in Australia. Our national anthem is about droughts and the sun and working hard but it might as well be the Qantas theme song. We are known for being able to drink shitloads of alcohol, ride kangaroos, bash other countries and religiously watch a sport that requires it's participants to pick up balls, kick them and then do the same thing to the respective faces of the opposing team members. Complimentary crystal meth is supplied at the end of each game followed by parents pushing their kids to chase their own lost fantasies.
I'm sorry, no more football bashing. I actually watched a game the other day and it was very entertaining up until the point i realised that there were no hot cheerleaders or nurses and the halftime show involved an old man talking about war and saying sorry to aboriginals.

As of yesterday the inundation of absolutely ridiculous news articles concerning our country hit the point where i felt the need to complain about it on my blog. It seems as though Australia is going through some tough times at the moment and i'm not talking about the recession either. Actually, i am talking about a recession, but it's more of a mental recession where brain power is scarce and no one can find jobs because they're stupid.

Here's what's been going on in Australia lately.

- Google NRL, get group sex.
Another of our national sports that hardly anyone pays any attention to has found fame out of it's most recent controversy, group sex for team motivation. I actually don't have a problem with this. If a bunch of guys want to stand around waiting to smash some bimbo who was obviously after some local celebrity dick to motivate themselves then go for it. I do have a problem with the entire country condemning any form of sex-related team seminars out of one side of it's mouth and then promoting the crushing of skulls, the drinking of locally produced rum and prophylactics out of the other side.

- King's cross attention seeker makes up a recollection, says 'wog' about a thousand times and becomes a national hero.

Click the header if you haven't witnessed the shitness yet. It doesn't matter how she tries to twist it now. This girl is the product of one and a half pingers, an industrial sized can of spray tan and some good old A-grade Australian ignorance to racism. She's now arguing that 'wog' isn't as racist as it is affectionate. Bitch, there is no way that the word 'wog' has officially become a safe alternative to 'italian' or even 'guy'. It's pretty simple what happened. She saw the camera, realized that it was her least favorite nationality involved in the dispute and used it as a chance to generalize their entire race in a spout of lies and extremely poor gun impersonations. I can see the slogan t-shirts rolling out of the factory already, "we promote multiculturalism here in Australia, come over and see our wogz!"

On a side note, something good did come out of this bitch's fifteen seconds of anti-fame and that is more motivational posters. To me, motivational posters are the epitome of the perfect joke.





- Kyle Sandilands and Dave Hughes battle it out via Twitter.
Seriously. I read this morning that the radio shock-jock Kyle Sandilands and actual comedian Dave Hughes are beefing over the latest craze in social networking, Twitter.
How do these two even have a Twitter account? Firstly, Kyle Sandilands is the WORST. The guy just flops around the place saying shit that he thinks is going to be controversial and gain him some respect for having a left-of-field opinion when all he does is come off as a talentless portion of excrement. What's that Kyle? You say what everyone is thinking? No you don't. If you said what everyone was thinking then you would be dead because you would have killed yourself because everyone wishes you were dead and that's why you have to hire 24 hour security to protect your sweaty self.
Dave Hughes on the other hand thinks that his buddy Rove's show is better than Kyle's! Oh no! Who gives a flying fuck! Both radio shows are completely lame in their own respect with the same G-rated pokes at modern society followed by music that makes me want to harm myself. Both of these guys need to address their deep seeded inferiority issues and cease using twitter to hide the fact that they're too pussy to fight in real life or find another way to promote their stale humor.

Here is a picture of Kyle Sandilands twitter account with some commentary. Click for instant enlargement.


- W.A finally gets the swine flu, abolishes daylight savings.
Once again Western Australia is showing it's square side by receiving the swine flu a good month after everyone else. I'm quite sure that had it not been the Fremantle Dockers that were potentially infected, it would have been another couple of months before everyone gave a shit about it.
As for the whole daylight savings thing, i consider us lucky for even having it as long as we did. Look at it this way: W.A complaining about daylight savings is like the freak inbred kid that lives in a cage under the staircase complaining about the abundance of fish heads in his dinner, when in reality, he's lucky to be getting dinner at all.

I got served.

First of all, i'd like to let you all know how happy i am that it shitted down with rain this morning. There's only so much sun in your face 26º let's all be too warm to do anything strenuous but too cold to do anything to cancel out the warmth that a sane man can handle. At least when it's Winter i can get my James Pond license to chill on (made it up just then, don't steal my shit) and actually do what i was designed for, which is pretty much nothing and video games.

Anyway, i've been building up this totally sweet coin collection over the past few weeks. Not those amateur vintage/overseas coins that you're thinking of either. I'm talking Australian currency in the form of five and ten cent pieces aka the real shit. It was only when i was admiring my stirling collection the other day that i realized it could be used for a greater good, namely wealth beyond my wildest fantasies. All this time the Commonwealth Bank next to my work has been utilizing the most futuristic coin counting technology known to man and i was sitting there not utilizing it. I decided it was time to make some millions ($31.55).

Now you all know that i'm an absolute sucker for good customer service. Nothing makes me happier than walking into a store, getting whatever shit it is that i need to get, being served with a smile and maybe even some advice (not too much though, you'll ruin my day otherwise) and being allowed to leave at my own leisure without having to deal with some a-hole trying to upsell me some junk that i don't need or incompetence behind a till. The Commonwealth bank are a pretty good example of this mantra and i've never had any qualms with them or their respective employees. This morning however, was a very different experience. It was like they'd taken my mantra, pumped half a wheely bin full of steroids into it and let it roam free throughout their conveniently located branches.

I was the first customer there and witnessed my first ever ceremonial bank door unlocking without having to risk getting trampled by dole bludgers and senior citizens. The woman that opened the door expectedly made reference to the weather and i agreed with her because she was right, it was cold and rainy. Ten points for observational referencing. Everyone in the bank laughed like it was the most hilarious thing ever and i started to feel ultra awkward.
I slowly made my way to the coin counter and this lady comes out of nowhere and ambush serves me like i was trying to steal her eggs. It was the scariest approach to customer interaction i have ever experienced. I thought i was ready for it too. I've dealt with this before and just as i started getting back into my comfort zone she starts blasting me about how to use the coin counter, asking if i've ever used a coin counter, if i was a member of the commonwealth bank and then finished her onslaught with a comment on how awesome my coin tin was, which it is. I'm standing there like, how do i end this relationship? Do i tell her straight out to leave me alone or do i let her down softly and ask her to get me some home loan pamphlets? Will she notice if i just flat out ignore her?
At this point, i'm freaking out a little. The two girls at the tellers are looking at me like i should know what i'm doing and possibly laughing at my situation. I nervously poured my coins into the shaft (*) and focused so hard on the counter display that the super service girl got the message and walked off. I was free, for now.

The coin counter is awesome by the way. It's reasonably quiet and it counted about 700g of change in about 45 seconds. Even though it was the most intense 45 seconds of my life, the coin counter made the whole scenario a-lot more efficient and i recommend it to those that haven't used one yet.

I took my coin voucher to the counter and the tellers are both super smiling at me. It was like i'd just bought them both new coats, taken them out for dinner in said coats and then come to visit them the next morning to see how their new coats were going. That awkwardness that dissappeared earlier was slowly making it's way back up my spine. I was ready to leave now. The teller handed me my millions ($31.55) and then blankly stared at me and said "i hope our service has been 10/10 today".
I couldn't believe it. Commonwealth Bank were now requesting that their employess have the customers rate their experience on a 1-10 format with 1 being what i just went through and 10 being a gametraders transaction. I was so dumbfounded that i couldn't even respond. I looked like a jerk, but i didn't have time to be self-conscious. I pretty much ran out of the bank, dodging thank-you's, goodbye's and tea offers like it was the vietnam war of manners. I leapt out of the sliding door as it opened, fell down the stairs and ended up halfway between the soaking wet footpath and the road. Passers-by looked on as if i'd just been beaten by a gang of psychologists but the truth of the matter was, i just got served. I took a deep breath and turned around to the bank. They were all standing at the door staring at me, smiling but not really smiling. It was the most bullshit freakiest thing i have ever seen and was only punctuated by the fact that some of their eyes were glowing.
I had escaped though and was now free to spend my money on spinach and pastry. If any of you want to learn how to make amazing pie, let me know. I'm sure most of you are aware of my capabilities in the realm of online recipes.



*I can't even type the word 'shaft' anymore without feeling the need to disclaim it.


P.S. I may have fabricated some of that story.

R.I.P Wayman Tisdale.

Wayman was one of my favorite suns players back in the day. I used to make a conscious effort to horde his basketball cards because the Barkleys were always so hard to find. Below is a chronological collage in dedication of his memory.





R.I.P

COUGH: A mini series proposal featuring subject matter based on the title.

Episode 1.

It's a Thursday night and i'm fulfilling my contractual obligations by being at work. I've been drinking water all day to try and build up my immune system for the next onslaught of government produced super-viruses and i'm craving something that isn't water. My local newsagency has closed it's doors and the only alternative is Gelare across the road. I never go to Gelare, there's always this middle-aged italian guy perched out the front between 3-5pm on weekdays wearing shades and little else. Then, when the schoolgirls start piling out, he changes his seating position to a semi-relaxed slouch with his legs more open than what is considered socially acceptable. I call it the "how bout it?" slouch. It's obscene and the schoolgirls know better than to approach Gelare between 3-5pm on weekdays.

Anyway, he's not there after 7pm so it was moderately safe, or so i thought. I walk in there and some old lady is standing behind the counter not contributing to the workplace. I lean over the register to get her attention and she reluctantly asks what i want. I ask for a can of lemonade and clearly point it out in the fridge, just in case she thinks lemonade is some kind of charity concert for less fortunate lemons. She surprisingly acknowledges my request and heads towards the fridge.

Cue cough number one.

It wasn't anything life-threatening, but it let me know that her personal hygiene is the last on her list of things to take care of. It wasn't even the first cough that caught my attention. It was the lack of courtesy wipe afterward. No wipe, not even a pretend one.
This woman showed no remorse for my health or at least the protocol of the World Health Organization and I was so offended that i almost didn't notice her removing the bottle from the fridge with the same hand.
I was a little more alert now, keeping in mind that i'd have to wash the lid, my hands and my entire workspace when i got back to the shop. I watched her like a hawk as she fumbled around with the till and i began to wonder if incompetence is a mandatory trait required for employment in the half price waffle business.

Then, the second cough.

This made the first cough seem like normal human breathing. The sheer force of the second cough shook the entire building, several nearby establishments lost power and it became clear to me that this time she wasn't fucking around. It was a triple shot with hints of mucous, traces of after-steam and a total of zero apologies.
She offended senses that i didn't even know i had. She set our entire health care system back 100 years. She didn't want me alive anymore.

I thought back to my hazardous materials training in high school and realized that i didn't actually have any, so the panic really started to set in when she combined the second cough, with a lack of courtesy wipe and the exchange of moneys between her polluted hands and my virgin digits.
It was the most despicable act of ignorance i had witnessed in a few weeks and it hit really close to home. I'm normally able to watch this type of horror from the comfort of my own home via television set but the truth is, it could happen to anyone. Ignorance is everywhere and unfortunately, there are still some people out there who were taking a day off when the human decency manuscripts were being distributed.
All i can say is, be careful. I took the bottle and my change and carried it out like it was a sample of pure herpes, with the very tips of my least important fingers. I washed the lid of the bottle until it's ribbed surface area resembled that of an 8 ball, but i couldn't bring myself to drink from it. It may be $3 and my evening cigarrette down the drain, but at least i lived to bring this to your attention.

As for the change? I can only hope my $7 tip doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

Episode 2: Sporotrichosis at Subway.
Coming soon.

How to be awkward like a champion.

We encounter awkward situations every day. Whether it be at home, in the workplace, at school or in a public toilet, awkwardness is something that cannot be avoided. Personally, i enjoy it and will sometimes travel long distances just to see an unfortunate silence or somebody tripping over.

Here are some tips on how to be awkward.

- Own people at handshakes.

The first handshake can make or break a relationship. It is the first form of contact you will make with someone you haven't met and pretty much sets the standard for all future encounters. So, instead of going in for the open palm, grasp and single shake method you should definately break into a crazy routine incorporating snaps, clicks, elbow taps and the Macarena and/or Riverdance. If you really want to make an impression, drop a quote from 'How She Move' or 'Bring it On' and tell them how much you 'brought it' and how much they didn't. Make sure it's a special handshake that you do only with your friends to add to the embarassment of the other person. Once you've lost them in your deadly array of handshake trickery, ask them if they know what's up, knowing well and clear that they don't.
Congratulations, this person will never invite you to anything.

- Be a door to door salesperson.

Walk up to a complete strangers house, knock on their door and ask them if they want to buy mobile phones or make donations to the RSPCA/WWF. Have the stranger slam the door in your face or tell you to get a real job for maximum awkwardness.

-Be a loudmouthed faggot on the train.

Make sure the train is packed. Receive a mobile phone call from your mother or ex-boyfriend (i say ex-boyfriend because it is only girls that will openly talk on the train about their relationships or failures thereof) and proceed to argue with them at maximum volume, make sure that you are being so loud and obnoxious that not only everyone on the train can hear you, but also nearby cars speeding past on the freeway. If someone looks at you cockeyed, orally blast them for not understanding your problems or apologise to them for not having a perfect life like theirs.
Pass gas whilst on the phone for a higher percentage of red faces per carriage.

- Be old or lame whilst waiting in line.

When it comes to your turn at the counter (cafe, japanese food, subway), openly complain about the last purchase you made there. Complaints such as having to wait too long in the line, your last coffee being too hot or cold or your last japanese dish being too japanese will suffice. When offered a refund or some form of reimbursement, refuse it and tell them that you only wanted to let them know. Make sure the staff member you are talking too is a junior employee that has no idea what you are talking about and is literally shitting his pants because he was never taught to cope with anally retentive shitcocks like yourself, especially at peak hour lunchtime.
Make sure you don't get tripped up or spat on by the other people in the line who have been rolling their eyes for the last fifteen minutes.

For more tips on how to be awkward, or to feel awkward yourself, visit your local centrelink. Their staff are basically proffesionals in creating or inciting awkwardness.