Bioshock 2 Hype!!!!2222!!!!

For serious, when this game comes out i'm going to piss all over the inside of my jeans.

No.......you're a towel.

If waiting was a spectator sport, watching me would be like watching the Orlando Magic in the 2009 NBA finals. Heart at the start, holding tight, maintaining little battler status against all odds, back to the wall and then by the end, a bumbling fucking mess. Failure in the face of overwhelming odds dictated by myself and a passion for being impatient. It's like war, there are no winners in waiting, only waiters, and you know what a waiter does? He stands there and waits until he is useful and when the time comes, he hates you for making him wait so long even though it's not only the title of his position, but also the definition of his occupation.

I could never be a waiter but right now i may as well be doing work experience for a spot at that turbo lame 360 revolving restaurant in the city. Who goes to a restaurant to revolve anyway? If i go to a restaurant, i eat. I don't want to pay extra so i can spin around and see how barren my hometown is.

It's been almost two weeks now since i sent my xbox 360 to god knows where it goes to get fixed and i am at the end of wit lane in patience town. I've learned a-lot in that almost two weeks and it's gotten to the point where it's not even about the xbox anymore. It's deeper than that. I feel like i've grown spiritually and i've learned something that i secretly knew i always knew all along.

I absolutely HATE waiting.

I am impatient. I want everything now and i will complain from a proposal's inception to it's conclusion because A) it keeps me occupied in between and B) i seriously don't know any better. This is a problem because it seems that waiting is going to be a part of my life forever. Here are some examples of times where i've had to wait and have nearly doored myself to deal with it.

* Waiting for someone to get out of the car when i'm already out of it.

* Waiting for a McDonald's order to be processed. Specifically the time between the announcement of the last item to the employees announcement of the cost so i can drive to the window. I feel impolite if i drive through before the price has been announced which sucks because i'd choose being polite and waiting that excrutiating extra second over being impolite and being at the first window quicker.

* Waiting for people at the ATM. Adults especially. This morning for example, I had a girl turn around to me twice whilst i waited for her to make a withdrawl because she couldn't figure out the difference between a cash transaction and the resulting balance display on screen or in paper form. The first time i was ok with it because she looked like an idiot but the second time i just looked away until she stopped talking. Had she done it a third time, i probably would have jammed one of her fingers into the cash dispenser and read her balance without permission.

* Lifts. I would donate half my weekly wage every week if it meant i didn't have to deal with Mr. stinky breath and Ms. Congeinality inside that metal cube for more than one second at a time. I once tried to say something on a lift to break the ice and everyone sshhh'd me and pointed to a sign that said "Don't talk on the lift, it's meant to be awkward".

* Old people making decisions on the road. If you've been alive for five times as long as i have you have two options. Be five times better than me at driving and any decision making required as a result of said driving or don't even look at a car unless it's on a television screen from the safety of that chair you always like to sit on.

* My xbox 360. Don't get me started. Actually, aside from the whole increase in social productivity, something good has come from not having an xbox. Health? Nah. Less headaches? Not even close. Increased efficiency at everything? Yeah, but that's a given at any given point in my life.
No. I'm talking about something so mindblowing that i almost banned myself from enjoying it because i didn't enjoy it when it was first introduced to me. Namely, Dragon Quest 8.
When i tell people that i'm playing a game called Dragon Quest 8 their initial reaction is to never hang out with me again. However, while i'm chasing them down the street and telling them all about the game and how much of a shame it is that it signalled the death of the Playstation 2, they want to be friends with me again. It's seriously that good.
Here's a picture:

"But, guy who writes this blog, how can you handle such an awesome looking game and all the quests that lay within it?" i hear you collectively enquire.

It's simple, i just can.

I mean, sometimes it gets difficult coming to terms with the quality of the fully orchestrated soundtrack and the gentle but challenging learning curve and the absolutely gorgeous cel-shaded graphics all at the same time but when you've become an expert at waiting for your xbox 360 and your laptop to be fixed and returned to you, anything's possible. I've totally forgotten the point i was trying to make in this post as well. It was going to eventuate to the systematic break down of a huge conspiracy theory and something about waiting but i don't even care about that anymore. I'm going to play Dragon Quest 8 and virtually wait for some virtual monsters to battle because it's marginally more exciting than waiting for anything in real life.

I'm just going to the ladies room for a photoshoot.

We're all guilty of a little location advertisement for the betterment of our internet profiles, i'll be the first to admit that. Taking photos of you and your friends to post on the internet is certainly not a crime and a nice way of showing your friends and family what you've been up to, who you associate yourself with and the location at which you were associating with them at.

Having lost a slight interest the two only social networking sites in the whole universe (Facebook and Myspace, there aren't any others) my interest in location updating and friend management followed to the point where i only use either sites to inform people of blog updates as opposed to what i did every single day of this year and who i did it with and who was checking my page and who wasn't commenting me back and who was on the friend request pending list and how my top 8 friend ladder reflected my relationships with those people in real life and who had the hottest profile pics and layout and who was quitting and who was coming back and who could we diss for saying they were going to delete their account and then totally fold and start a new one and then it would confuse everyone and you'd have to spend like, a whole hour sending out all the friend requests when in the back of your mind you knew you shouldn't have deleted your account in the first place. It was only inevitable that i got bored of it all and the trend of not giving a shit about your online life slowly spread to all corners of the internet.

Sleep easy though, for as of last night i witnessed first hand that cam-whoring is still alive and kicking and is even facing a possible resurgence thanks to dedicated groups of girls and their cheap digital/phone cameras. I'm talking about girls whose sole purpose of a night out is not to drink, dance or mate but instead to come home with a full wallet, an empty memory card and a fucking brand spanking new album to slap up on facebook the next day in complete chronological order with dates and everything. You'd seriously think they were receiving some form of facebook income the way their shit is organized.

And it's not even the albums that upset me. If you want to archive your photo albums in alphabetical order with all the correct tags and dates then so be it, there's only so many empty comments from lurkers and potential rapists that you'll receive before you realise there's more to life and you decide to move on to bigger and better things. What does upset me is when i'm walking through the club contracting epilepsy from your little couch photoshoots when all i want to do is stumble around and talk shit to people that i only see whenever i go out. Who buys a row of $20 cocktails only to take twenty thousand photos with them and then leave them at the bar?

Then there's the frustration i get from the witnessing the whole "that one was no good, let's try again" scenario. Fair enough, if someone fucks up a photo by looking uncomfortable when the flash goes off by all means take another one. I swear last night I saw two girls sitting in the same spot for half an hour taking photos of themselves, pouring over them, deleting them, adjusting their hair and pouts, re-taking the photos and repeating the process at least eight times over, all whilst about twenty dudes and no chicks rubbed up against eachother on the dancefloor. And for what? Your facebook update the next day? You know, if you spent less time taking photos of yourself at the bar and more time interacting with people of the opposite sex you could possibly end up with a boyfriend? Heck! You might even one day be able to tick the fabled 'in a relationship' box on your facebook status and be the envy of all your girlfriends! Then you wouldn't have to worry about taking photos at the bar anymore because the guys you were trying to impress on your facebook account suddenly don't matter so much because you met a guy at the bar through not taking photos at the bar for your facebook account! I'm a motherfucking genius!

You gals are really hurting the small bar industry as well as many others as well. You see, bars thrive on drink sales. If you don't drink and spend your evening in the bathrooms taking photos of yourselves pretending to shit (which isn't a good look by the way), the bar doesn't make any money. If you don't get drunk and drift around the venue tripping over your heels and yawning, guys won't think they can get with you and they'll stop going to that venue because they think it's the venue's fault that they can't score. If you don't drink, you're putting the entire birth control industry on hold as well as human evolution as a whole. Why are you doing that? Stop it.

So ladies, put the cameras away, have a drink, unwind, socialise with males and quit living your saturday night through a viewfinder. After all, you don't want to roll up to your school reunions in five years time surrounded by hot and successful pregnant women with nothing to show but a weathered Sony Cybershot and a Photobucket address.

The results are in and i'm not surprised.

The battle continues.
Here's my latest correspondence with George Weston foods.

Dear ####,

Thanks for the response in regards to Reference #2775770. I conducted a poll on my blog to solidify the importance of this matter.

The results were as follows:

35 people voted in total.

29 people said that Tip-Top are well behind the times with their un-sliced rolls.

1 person said they prefer slicing their own rolls.

5 people said that hotdogs are for degenerates and that they prefer tapas and other fancy arrangements.

These results are the product of a 6 day poll conducted with no bias whatsoever. As you can see, there's an overwhelming demand for sliced rolls that you guys could be providing for.

Regards,
#######


To the 29 people that picked the correct answer, you all win! What do you win exactly? How about being one step closer to winning the fight against manual labour? You like that don't you?
Way to win, winner!

To the smartass that voted against sliced rolls, i know why you did it. You were faced with devastating odds and you panicked. Don't worry, you didn't make a difference and i forgive you for your negligence.

To the 5 of you that don't like hotdogs and live on a steady diet of tapas and undeserved self worth, thankyou. Without fancy citizens like you, us lower class hotdog eating motherfuckers wouldn't have something to strive for. Oh how i can't wait for the day when i can eat some fingernail size portions of cured ham and rotten cheese by candlelight whilst discussing the ups and downs of topics i know little about so i appear more worldy to my tapas eating compatriots.

Just kidding, tapas owns. Sometimes it seems to me that people just eat tapas because they like saying it or because they think it's this new hip thing.
"Ooohhh, it's like a meal only miniature! That's so kitsch!"

More to come.

Gordon Ramsay's recipe for a good time.

Being an avid follower of all things just and awesome, i was delighted to hear of Gordon Ramsay's recent tour of Australia and resulting coverage of said tours. I've been a fan of Gordon since the original Hell's Kitchen series and his brand of ruining people's lives and swearing like a sailor with tourettes was the only reason i associated myself with commercial television between 2008 and 2009, ever. He is dashing, classy, heroic, the spearhead of the reality kitchen series movement and above all else, he will kill you.

Everything was going super good for Gordon up until recently. He was charming everyone he came into contact with and then telling them to fuck off, his numerous appearances were met with hysteria and acclaim and he was just running shit as per usual.

Enter Tracy Grimshaw.

Fact: Tracy Grimshaw is a well-known and well respected Australian television presenter who sometimes appears to have a little bit of sand in her vagina when it comes to particular matters.

Fact: Gordon Ramsay is famous not only for his cooking and swearing, but also because of the way he treats women. He straight doesn't give a fuck and everyone eats it up and complains about it at the same time because everyone is stupid.

Fact: If you were to put Tracy Grimshaw and Gordon Ramsay in a room together it would be the mathematical equivalent of letting Clark Gable loose on a Women's rights representative. There would be no survivors, no prisoners and no remorse.

Fact: Channel 9 knew this.

The second Gordon Ramsay entered the Channel 9 studios it was a one way ticket to owned town for everyone that worked there. No one was safe from his scrutiny but at the same time they all knew better than to try and step to him, therefore any resulting hurt feelings were at Channel 9's invitation. Gordon Ramsay was the victim and channel 9 knows it.

Don't believe me? Below is a picture of the exact moment Nick Coe says that Gordon Ramsay is a victim.
If that isn't a face displaying sheer sincerity and appreciation for man's sometimes unappreciative view on women then i don't know what is.

Oh wait, yes i do.
BANG!

So after expectedly attacking make-up and wardrobe for being fat and ugly, Gordon proceeded into Channel 9's interrogation chamber and was grilled by Tracy Grimshaw for a few minutes. Gordon was extremely polite and well behaved aside from a couple of cracks at her appearance.

Enter the Australian media.

Fact: The Australian media likes to blow things out of proportion and stretch scenarios out well beyond their death to postpone the workload of looking for 'actual' news.

Fact: The Australian media protects it's own, especially out of complete ignorance to the tradition of whoever it chooses to document.

Fact: The Australian media was so bored that it followed Gordon Ramsay around like a 5th grader trying to instigate a fight that has nothing to do with him. The Australian media then acts shocked when he reacts in a negative manner to being badgered.

His strength in holding back from unleashing on Channel 9's favourite daughter is something that should be applauded. Channel 9 knew he was going to come in and wreck shop, that's what he does and that's why he's famous and loved as much as he is hated. To mass badger an apology out of him for doing what he does best is no better.
Thank god the only reason he apologized is because his mum told him to. That, in my books, makes him even more fantastic than he was when he single-handedly destroyed channel 9.

Below is footage of what none of his followers ever thought they would see:



And even in the apology, Gordon manages to make a fool out of Tony Jones' intimidation techniques. His reaction when Tony requests that Gordon apologizes to the camera because Tracy is watching it is absolutely hilarious and goes to show that there is no outsmarting someone that is insulting you in his mind while you talk to him.

So here's to Gordon Ramsay and his trip to Australia. No-one learnt anything, Perth missed out on a celebrity visit for the millionth time (which is also hilarious) and Tracy Grimshaw can sleep at night knowing she isn't a lesbian.

*Update: New Poll! The previous Tip-Top poll has been sent to the necessary parties, expect a response and nothing to be done about it in a couple of weeks.

Change has come.

Last week i was hungry as shit so i did what any sane person would do, i went and got the necessary ingredients for some good old American Dogs.

Cheese.
Onion.
Franks.
Sauce.
Mustard.
Coke.
Rolls.

No fancy dressings or queer preparation techniques, i keep it old world around here. Chop onion, unwrap cheese, heat sausages..............slice rolls? I'm sorry, what? I have to slice my own rolls now? When did this start happening?

I thought back over the last 23 years (i had my first hot dog at birth) and discovered that i've been a complete sucker for a good portion of my whole life. It seems as though Tip-Top® brand Hot Dog rolls don't and never have come pre-sliced. How i've been dealing with it up until this point is a miracle that should have been made into an emotionally charged mini series and i realize now that i only put up with it out of absolute necessity and pure unadulterated laziness. On this particular occassion though, i didn't feel like cutting any fucking rolls. I'd already done everything else and i'd had enough. I mean, i just drove to the shops, picked all these ingredients up, diced a whole onion, pre-heated a grill, unwrapped a couple of slices of cheese and now i have to individually separate each roll that i should choose to use? What if i cut one open and decide that i don't want it? THEN WHAT!?

I stopped what i was doing, put my hunger aside and used my last ounce of strength to compose the following email:

Hi Tip-top,

Just wondering why your hotdog rolls don't come pre-sliced? I was making some hotdogs for lunch today and came to realize that i've been slicing my own rolls for beyond a decade now and to be honest, i'm at breaking point. Why you would tarnish an otherwise perfect product with such a minor flaw? I put some numbers together to help you guys get back on top of your game and re-claim bread roll supremacy.

On average, a housewife will make hotdogs once a fortnight for about four people each time. An average serving of hotdogs is two per meal, which equates to eight rolls. A roll takes around 6 seconds to slice. That's 48 seconds every two weeks spent slicing rolls which in turn ends up at around 20 minutes a year and almost 7 hours of a child's life! It doesn't seem like much but imagine if that extra 20 minutes wasn't spent on your product and was instead being put towards teaching their kids about the benefits of wheat products, getting 20 of the recommended 30 minutes of required exercise a day or even taking some time out to watch their favorite television show or listen to their prized Celine Dion greatest hits cd, imagine how much more productive we would all be?

Exactly, 100 times more productive is the correct answer. Please start slicing your rolls or i will be forced to take my business elsewhere, namely sliced bread, which you also produce.

Regards, Me

Reading back over that letter i'm shocked i was even able to compute simple mathematics with the hunger i was experiencing. I crawled back into the kitchen, put the rolls away and proceeded with my hot dogs sans rolls to construct them with.

A week later, when i didn't even care about it anymore and had since eaten a vast range of Tip Top® branded products, i received this letter.

Dear Ben,

I am writing to thank you for your suggestion that George Weston Foods consider the introduction of sliced hot dog rolls.

We appreciate your valuable feedback and your suggestion has been forwarded to our Marketing Manager.

We are glad that you enjoy our product and your suggestion is valuable to us. We are always looking for new ideas and innovations.

Kind Regards,
**** ******.
Pretty much the owner of Tip Top.

See what they did there? Instead of sending my complaint to headquarters or research and development, they sent it to the Manager of Marketing. What's some big wig marketing manager hot shot going to do about getting my rolls sliced?

"Wow, this guy really did a-lot of pointless research on our product. I wonder how i can market this? Oh that's right i can't, lucky i'm the manager of all things marketing and i can just delete this email and no-one will do anything about it".

Not so fast Mr. hot shot big wig extra cheese marketing manager. I have solid (II) proof that you are now in control of the destiny of your rolls and i've posted it up on the internet for about two people to see at any given time. Either send my request through to the necessary departments (research and development prefferably, i want lab coats involved with my revelation) or suffer the wrath of the almighty and forever unforgiving poll that i'll be posting in a matter of moments.

Readers, vote on the right of my page if you're sick of slicing.

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.

Music reviews with chocolate comparisons.

DJ Green Lantern presents: Lights Out.

Following on from my Wu-Tang rant a couple of weeks back, i recently acquired Method and Red's prelude to the Blackout 2, titled 'Lights Out'. I'll be honest, i still haven't gone back through their catalogue so i can recite lyrics in peoples faces or whatever, but this new shit only adds to the inspiration for me to do so.
UGK make an appearance on 'city lights' and Meth and Red act accordingly on some southern swang music all about, well, city lights. 'A yo' is my other favorite track on this tape and reminds me of the Ghostface/Nate Dogg assisted 'ooh wee' from a while back. Play it at a party and watch everyone start subconsciously pouring moet everywhere and dancing like they know how to.

Chocalate Bar rating: Snickers snack size. Grimey, short and sweet.


Eminem: Relapse.
Ahh, yes, the great white hope. Having listened to this album a couple of times through, it's become evident that Eminem could actually rap someone to death. Sure his subject matter might be questionable at times and his prolonged hiatus had everyone doubting his ability and dedication to the game but this album is complete and utter genius from beginning to end. Dr. Dre supplies a-lot of the beats and Em sounds just as comfortable rapping about incest, molestation and Mariah Carey as he did back in the early 2000's. On a side note, he disses Nick Cannon and Mariah Carey in the same verse and now Nick Cannon is getting all hot-headed and acting like Mariah isn't the hallway that Em claims her to be.

Chocolate Bar rating: Full size Boost Bar. Complete, a little hard to swallow sometimes and guaranteed to leave you feeling shaky yet satisfied.


Cam'ron: Crime Pays.


Some girls say i'm the cutest,
i'ma say that i'm the rudest,
meditate, like a buddhist,
expose em' like a nudist,
i'm jesus, they judas,
my diamonds, the bluest,
got the answers, they clueless,
Ashanti, foolish,
i'm with a stewardess, mommy say a flight attendant,
called her a stupid bitch, sorry, nah i might of meant it,
see i'm type to mention, phone bill i might of spent it,
but i got it back right back, yeah yeah my life is splendid.

This is the most entertaining album to ever grace my itunes library, aside from any other Cam'ron album. The only reason i am constantly in awe of Cam's lyrics is because he follows the exact same rhyme pattern on every song and then throws in a completely unassociated actor or celebrity to add clout to his claims. Sometimes he even makes up words in the middle of his verses just so he can string another twenty lines together! It's hilarious, especially when coupled with the obnoxious beats he raps over that normally contain trace elements of Opera and playschool theme songs.

Chocolate Bar rating: Butterfinger. A largely obnoxious, over-produced, guilty pleasure.

Interview with a vagina.

I like to keep it pretty family oriented here at TrulyHeinous but unfortunately it would be ignorant to think that there isn't a 7-15 year old that hasn't seen the above picture (minus the super witty Agro censor badge).
Yes, i'm talking about the whole 'Cassie shows where she multiplies to get publicised' scenario and if you weren't aware of it, be sure to say hello to everyone in your retirement village for me because you're clearly old or ignorant. Here's the 411 for the underground heads.

A few days ago some naughty photos of the ever-aspiring r&b songstress, Cassie Ventura, were 'leaked' on the internet as a form of revenge (publicity) from a yet to be named ex-boyfriend (publicist). The photos spread like any other photo of a naked celebrity in career-compromising positions and now everyone in the world can claim that they've been to third base with a semi-famous r&b diva. They can also claim that they've had P-Diddy's seconds, which is a feat that every male will aspire to at one or more stages of his life.
Not only is Cassie aware of the humiliation, but she responded to it via her twitter page saying "someone has hacked my computer blah blah blah foul and indecent blah blah blah don't act like you ain't seen a titty before". This was possibly before she realized the above photo was also being circulated, minus the witty Agro censor badge.

Amongst all the madness TrulyHeinous wasn't able to catch Cassie for an interview but instead, i was able to correspond via email with the star of the show, her vagina. For protection, the vagina can't be named and will therefore be referred to under the alias 'Delilah'.

First of all Delilah, i can't say that i'm a huge fan due to being unaware of any previous work of yours, but i can definitely say that you have an ever-growing male fan base where i live and probably everywhere else by this stage.
Thanks! I've never been down under before, i've met a few people from Australia and they were awesome!

Indeed. So let's run through the past week. How does it feel to go from local notoriety to superstardom in a matter of hours?
Well, it's a little crazy to be honest. Cassie and I have always been on the cusp of that particular level of fame, but we've only just recently sat back and thought "wow, we're actually here!". Obviously the circumstances weren't ideal but now that i'm out there, i'm loving every minute of it.

So it wasn't a publicity stunt by Cassie? Everyone knows Cassie's album is coming out soon. You don't feel like you're being used at all?
How am i being used if i'm enjoying the fame as much as she is?

So it was leaked in pursuit of publicity?
Look, let's keep it real here. If you'd been a work in progress for the last five years and were slowly becoming more known for the celebrities you'd slept with than the music you'd made, what would you do?

Good question. I'd probably do some vocal training and not sleep with celebrities.
Yeah, well, we don't have time for that. My time to shine is now.

What about Rhianna's delilah? Do you feel that she's riding your coat tails, or was it out of pure coincidence that you both popped up at the same time.
Coincidence? I love Rhianna's work, i really do. But if she's thinking of comparing herself to me and Cassie. Well, let's just say that i have a beatdown sandwich on the kitchen table just waiting to be served.

You're obviously very passionate about what you do. What exactly is it that you do?
Well, a normal day entails just sitting around being hidden away by Cassie. Occasionally i'll interview prospective managers and other staff and pose for some photos, but aside from that i'm very behind the scenes.

Not so much now though.
That's right. We're in talks about me doing an album cover.

Wow.
I mean, why not right?

Yeah, why not put a vagina on the cover of a debut album? Everyone's seen it already, right?
Exactly. The way i see it. Cassie needs to capitalize on this situation. I'm out there right now, doing the rounds on an international mainframe. I'm the most recognizable reproductive organ in the game at the moment. I'm craving some utilization.

And have you met any other celebrity organs as a result?
I don't kiss and tell. Me and Sean's diddy have been hanging out a bit.

Alright, we should probably rap it up about now, my girlfriend doesn't really like the idea of me interviewing a vagina.
Any last words? Can you sum the situation up for us?
Gladly. People have to understand that after all the publicity and ex-boyfriend rumours and whatnot, it's all pretty innocent. I mean, it's all been done before. Salma Hayek, Angelina Jolie, Mark Wahlberg, Janet Jackson. Where would these names be without getting their Delilah's out? At the end of the day, i'm the most wonderful thing on God's green earth. I'm the reason men go out and get jobs, buy nice clothes, cars, dinner, houses, toothbrushes and furniture. I'm the reason women expect men to do all these things. In fact, you could safely say that i'm the centre of the universe right now, but i'm never going to let the fame get to my head (?), you have to stay humble in this business.

Wise words.

Small things amuse monolithic minds.

I was playing my favorite game of all time this year just now when at the end of one of my hard fought battles the above score was awarded to me.
To the malinformed and misnutritioned, the highlighted number above reads one thousand three hundred and thirty seven.

To those in the know, it means that for about 8 seconds, i was the champion of the universe and the winner of all things competitive.

I have to stop doing these posts.

The headline for this ninemsn article reads 'Invisible Art turns heads' and is all about realizing your dreams and making invisible cars and whatnot. I'll admit that it was a pretty touching story as well.

Look at the size of those glasses though. I haven't even enhanced them on Microsoft Paint.

The headline should actually read: Girl completely overshadows near impossible achievement by wearing sunglasses that could shade an entire Somalian village and even some animals as well, given the somalians haven't killed all the animals for shade already.

Is Somalia even hot? I don't know anything about the world. If you asked me what an equator was i'd probably change the subject.

Video Game Characters Best Forgotten Part 6 or 7, i'm not sure how many i've done.

Master Onion: Parappa The Rapper

Hang on! You're an onion! WTF are you doing here? You can't rap you stupid onion! Look at you! ONIONS CAN'T RAP!
Get the fuck outta here onion! Go be in some pasta or something!

The entire Master Onion verse for proof that onions have no concept of rhyme or reason:

Hayatatatacha!

Kick! Punch! It’s all in the mind
If you wanna test me, I’m sure you’ll find
The things I’ll teach ya is sure to beat ya
But nevertheless you’ll get a lesson from teacher

Don’t get cocky, it’s gonna get rocky
We gonna move down to the next ya jockey now

Hm, yeah I see you’re gettin’ better
Kick to the limit in order to get her now

Kick, punch – Chop, block – Chop, kick – Punch, block
It’s gonna get harder now
Duck and jump – Turn and pose – Duck and turn – Jump and punch

Come on now, why don’tcha follow my words
Because we’re almost done, I’ll make it easy at first
I wanna see if you wanna see what it takes
To be the man with the master plan
Are you the man now?

Hatatatacha! That’s it for today.
Good job, Parappa, you can go on to the next stage.

....
......
........
............YOU'RE A FUCKING ONION! FUCK OFF ONION YOU CAN'T RAP FOR SHIT! YOU CAN'T EVEN STAND UP STRAIGHT SO FUCK OFF!
GO AND BE IN FOOD BECAUSE THAT'S ALL YOUR GOOD FOR AKA NOT RAPPING!!

I am a simple man, who is simply entertained.

They say small things amuse small minds, but that is not the case here, suckers.

Standing only 6" tall and weighing a solid half a kilo, my limited edition Bioshock collector's figurine has produced endless amounts of glee for my huge brain and wealth of knowledge.
So much glee in fact, that i took him down to the river for an impromptu photo shoot surrounded by his favorite chemical composition, H20. Having come straight out of the plastic, he wasn't really ready for the camera but if you'll take a look at the shots below, you definitely can't tell!

I've also attached a clip (ok, one of the greatest game intros ever conceived) displaying the sheer amazingness of this game, and the figurine in question. Watch it, then staple all of your fingers together for not owning it yet.

STM China Confidential

Where: A ditch in China.

When: Towards the end of the Qing Dinasty

Jacket: Standard Qing Dinasty issue, borrowed from a friend.

Pants: Flea Market!

Describe your style in three words: Dead, decomposed, vintage, sophisticated.

Actual Dream.

The setting is a barbecue in Brooklyn, New York during the 1980's crack epidemic. I'm the ONLY white person there. For some reason though, i'm chilling real hard and no-one seems to mind that i'm not meant to be there, some of the guests were even thoroughly entertained by my anecdotes and understanding of their culture.

I see a couple of suits roll in amongst the guests but i take no notice. I walk into a small room inside the house and Biggie Smalls is counting cash and just balling out by himself. I've never seen him like this, he is smiling. I say what up and he shakes my hand, passing me a feasible amount of marijuana in the process. I tell him that when he dies i want to keep his ashes in a crystal ball on my bedside table so i know everything is going to be alright. He responds not with gunshots, but with a solid "yeeeah". I exit the room in slow motion.

As i'm making my way to the back door of the house, i can see a guest arguing with one of the suits i saw earlier through the broken screen door. As the argument gets louder and more heated, i see one of the suits produce a 9mm. I've never turned around faster in my entire life. It was so fast that if there were any police officers around aside from the one outside in the suit, i'd be booked for speeding. I hear gunshots now, it was time to get the fuck up out of there. Where's my bike? I have a bike? Fuck my bike, my bike wouldn't come and get me if it was being shot at.

I can hear music now, it's like that really sickening machinery music where they make it sound all gross and heart wrenching, like a cardboard press going backwards or something. Everything is in slow motion, i haven't even gotten out of the house yet and the gunshots are drawing near. One, two, three, four. Number four strikes my hip. I hit the deck, in slow motion again. I'm blacking out now, my last ounce of reality dedicated to revealing the assailant. Everything is blurry, i see a thin figure approaching, the click of her heels replacing the faint tick of my heartbeat. She's in focus now.
No way, this isn't possible.

It's Trinity from the Matrix! I got shot by Trinity from the Matrix!

Then, as quickly as shit turned bad, everyone wakes up and the party resumes as per normal. I have no idea what is going on but i like what i'm seeing, it's a shame i have to wake up in about five seconds...

THE END, ACTUAL DREAM.

Met her last night, she shot me.

Met him last night also, he gave me weed.

Fuck Lobbers!

Yeah. You think you're the life of the party don't you bitch? Everything is great, even everything that sucks. It's a pity that you are what is sucking right now. Those lights you're flipping out on right now, they're actually just normal strobe lights. No-one else thinks they are as good as you do, but you don't care do you? As far as you're concerned, everyone loves you and you aren't chewing the inside of your mouth and eating your own teeth. You love everyone and the feeling is not mutual. All the guys think you're really cute as well. All unaware of your surroundings with your top undone and your skirt with a mind of it's own. Rape is cute, right?
You're having a great time and it doesn't even matter that by tomorrow morning, you'll have forgotten how to walk and will probably want to harm yourself.
Back to work on Monday then?



Meanwhile, i've eaten a bag of these fuckers and i'm ruling so hard, i can only see in centimetres.

Ever raced a Kenyan?

Ever given them advice on how to shake the really-good-at-running-and-not-much-else stereotype as you lap them? Me neither, but that's how i'm feeling right now.

Game Review: Street Fighter IV

Graphics: Err, look at that picture. 10/10 demolished eyeballs.

Sound: Again, look at the picture and imagine the sound this situation would produce. It's similar to a jet engine having sex with a martial arts grandmaster. 9/10 bleeding earlobes

Gameplay: I move joystick, character does superhuman feats and damages opponent, i just sit there. 10/10 chiropractic liasons.

Skill of opponents challenging me online every time i try and complete single player mode: Miniscule. So pathetic and puny that i can crush them every time with the tip of my pinky finger. 3/10 crying children from America, Japan, Sweden and Australia.

Overall: Somehow 10/10. This game is so hardcore amazing that it takes your washing out for you but refuses to use fabric softener on your favourite items.

Video Game Characters Best Forgotten (remembered) Pt. 3

Extremely sexual but somehow still G-rated dancing girl from the first level of Super Parodius for the SNES console.

Between the ages of eight and eight and a half, this was what i thought all girls looked like when they took their clothes off. I had no time to consider things like weight, age and skin imperfections; all i had to worry about was perfect legs, high heels and a vagina. This was easily the closest thing to porn i had at that age and the best part was, i could look at it for as long as i liked without having to quickly shove it underneath my mattress and pretend i was reading about basketball cards.
I had a-lot of trouble finishing this game as well. It's kind of hard (!) to make progress when you keep killing yourself purposely on the first level just to pop a boner again.

Buy it for me HERE.

My new favourite pastime.

When you are killed in a round of Gears of War multiplayer, you are given the convenient option of ghosting around the place and taking killersweet action shots of your teammates and the scenery. You can then upload them to your windows live account and if you are especially smart, you can caption them with your own witty retorts.

These are their stories.

The week that was...

Chris Brown goes to put his hands in his pocket, but accidentally beats the shit out of his girlfriend.

So unless you've been living under a rock surrounded by soundproof foam, underwater in the bermuda triangle wearing nothing but a blindfold, you probably heard about this. My stance on the matter is irrelevant and unless you were in the car with them at the point of impact, yours is as well. With that said, my stance on the matter is completely relevant because A). I met them and B). I took photos of them and wrote a now famous piece of literature on the experience. Was it their chance encounter with me that started a series of events that lead to Chris' unusual massage techniques on that fateful evening? Am i responsible?

No i'm not you morons! Regardless though, i've gone to the trouble of building a timeline that could help the case along so we can put this whole situation behind us.

November 11 2008. 2.30pm
I meet Rihanna and Chris Brown at my workplace because the place i work is cooler than everywhere else according to people that are considered cool by the majority of the world's population. Me and Chris discuss the pros and cons of being amazing people, Rihanna browses the store.

November 11 2008. 2.35pm
Having thrown down mighty with Chris five minutes prior, i approach him for a photo while he is buying lots of sunglasses. He declines with "not right now". All previous throwdowns are forgotten and i go back to being bitter about celebrities.

November 11 2008. 2.45pm
Having bought everything in the store (or thereabouts) Rihanna approaches the till and i request that i take photos of her holding the bags that display the name of our shop on either side for promotional and personal use only. She becomes overwhelmed with excitement at my invitation and i tell her to calm down because she's scaring the customers. Did happen.

November 11 2008. 2.50pm
Chris gets in on the photo because Rihanna looked like she really enjoyed having her picture taken by me, which she was. I post it on the internet and write a short story about it and every Chris Brown and Rihanna fansite forum member gets on my nuts for around 30 hours. My web traffic goes through the roof and i realise why it was all meant to happen.

February 8 2009.
Chris Brown offers Rihanna the hand of god. Possibly due to an argument over who looked better in the photo that i took. Chris claims the steroids made him do it and now they're getting married/are already married. The world actually stops for a solid minute and for the three weeks following the incident, news reporters, gossip columnists, fail bloggers and a bunch of other shit-kickers are all made to sign contracts. These contracts state that no news article shall be given airtime unless they include the words Chris Brown, Rihanna and 'Beat'. Michael Jackson announces a comeback tour, a 5000 year old iceman is uncovered (not related to Michael Jackson's comeback tour) and a man murders his girlfriend because he became embarassed after she rejected his proposal for marriage on live television.
None of that matters though, Chris Brown beat Rihanna in a car, so that is what we will talk about and that is what is important.

And i STILL haven't heard any of their music.