Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Slammed together with a layer of choc

It's always funny when there's a news report about some fat kid who gets stuck in a water pipe and had to be greased up and cut out. Said kid probably shouldn't have eaten a bucket of chicken while waiting for the emergency services to arrive with their hacksaws.

However, on friday I was a witness to the pain and suffering that goes hand in hand with a tragic wedging accident. Pat was playing around with his poster tube, taking it apart, sticking them on his arm as far as they would go (his shoulders) and pretending to be a robot. Man, the fun we had. However, when it was time for the fun to end (after about 45 minutes), it turned out that his right arm had swollen to such an extent that it was stuck in the poster tube!:

We had to cut the poster tube open with a stencil knife and scissors... there was blood and scratching and everthing. Traumatising.

By rule, every high school art teacher is a minion of satan. I challenge you to find me one high school art teacher who isn't hideous, embittered and possibly homocidal. Well, all of that was true of my year 8 art teacher anyway. However, mine was a tiny bit different... for a long time there was this rumour running around school that she had once starred in a porn film called Don's Party. Typical unfounded rumour right? WRONG. One night it came on SBS late at night, and the whole of year 8 sat blubbering in front of the screen with their eyes bleeding as their art teacher lounged sleazily naked in a pool onscreen.

I thought it was all in my past. But browsing through HUM the other day, I happened to see the special collector's 2 disc limited edition of Don's Party on DVD. Holy crap! And there she was, on the back of the cover, naked! THE TRAUMA!

It's not porn, it's art.

Non-humans* are weird sometimes. Take my fish, God, for example. He seems not to care while I use the convex reflection of his fishbowl to mime and pose gangsta style to hip hop. In fact, he just stares me down. Also, on my street, there is this particular area of telephone wires where every single pigeon in the world sits. There seems to be no apparent reason. They don't sit anywhere else. Just on that particular area of wires. Every day. Look:

Just think, if you make a landline telephone call, there's a pretty high chance there's a bird sitting on your conversation.

And just in case you don't believe that they are there every day, in exactly the same spot, take a look at the road directly beneath:

It was dangerous taking this photo.

*I was so broken whilst writing this post that I couldn't figure out if fish were animals. So I went to askjeeves, but he was broken too. I still don't know. Help me!

Friday, May 27, 2005

Breaking news!

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

You may be a king or a little street sweeper

There are some pretty cool ways to die. Suppose that your stomach explodes in a fountain of joy after 23 years as a professional porridge taster. Or, if you die of old age after a fruitless but nonetheless critically-aclaimed, privately-funded, publicly-admired and cosmically-rewarding search for the only actually funny Archie comic. Or better yet, if your famous last words are 'what're you gonna do, shoot me?'.

Those are all pretty cool ways to go. However, the other day I was walking up to King St on some sort of delicious bakery expedition when WHAM, I nearly met my end in the most unrewarding way: decapitation by a poorly placed 'no stopping' sign. Watch this moving picture for more:

When I said that I'd head off to King St, I didn't mean literally!

Giving other people your dollars is usually not the most fun thing to do. In fact, there are lots of people who would do anything to avoid paying their riches to the government, the loan shark, the children or anyone else. Given this, I'm very impressed with Fox Studios' attempts to turn paying for overpriced parking into some sort of fun game! We're all familiar with the playstation 2. But wait till you see the latest entertainment craze:

Coming soon, the Nintendo Game-Buoy: the latest wave of fun to tide over oil rig workers.

Saturday, May 14, 2005

the vice verser

How awesome was it back in the 1940s? Very. Back then, since every new invention was a crazy, unheard of step for humankind, they named each device after what it did, eg: the toaster, vacuum cleaner or suspenders. There was none of this 'iPod', 'wiFi', 'TV' crap that we have now. I mean, if you didn't know what it was, would the word 'TV' shed any light on the subject? No. That's why I maintain that we should go back to the oldschool way of naming stuff. Observe:

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

3 stories about men

I woke up tosmorning the way I always do: to the sound of my intercom buzzer being rung by the postman at 9am to deliver a vinyl that I foolishly bought on the internet and forgot about. Then it was back to bed to stare at my tree-filled window view. But this morning, there was something suspicious going down in my favourite tree...:

"I wood stop what you're doing and leave!" I yelled, but they knew I was all bark and no bite. Bastards took down my favourite (only) tree... leaving me with an unobstructed view of the RPA. Thanks guys!

So lately I've become a class 1337 apple nerd. I'm addicted to apple rumours/news sites, living only for the glorious moment at 3am when they all update. I've become so nerdy that I get excited when apple patents a new design... especially this particular tablet computer design, which was entered into the US patents database with the following image and caption:

"FIG. 9 is an exemplary diagram of the use of the electronic device thereof; [the] broken lines being shown [are] for illustrative [purposes] only, and form no part of the claimed design".
Imagine if they hadn't dotted the line... what's more of an ego trip then one-upping god and patenting man design?

Ah Seth, giver of all life and captain oats. I know, I know, my infatuation with a character from a trashy tv show is becoming dull. Ok! From now on, I promise I'll cut out my seth obsession... with a scalpel!:

Haha! The international clout rating of stenciling just went into deficit!

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Heroes, Part 2

Remember Heroes, Part 1? Probably not. In a post way back in September, I gushed about my alltime hero, DBM. However, since then, others have claimed that DBM is in fact not a hero, capable of transcending sexuality and transforming into a robotic sex otter. Rather, they say he is a pitiful character, whose terrible life and broken umbrellas nearly bring them to sympathetic tears.

This will just not do. I have decided to lay these lies to rest for good. I am now going to make DBM into a hero. A TRUE hero that you cannot dispute! A hero sandwich that is...

I present to you the DBM hero! Dough, bacon and mutant-ninja... all wrapped in a nutritious 4 layer breadpiece:

352% of your daily fibre intake.

And as for Cameron, DMB's so called rival at UTS... well after the jail term and brief stint as a bus cleaner, he reformed himself as failed rapper Cam'ron. He's currently hoping to kickstart his career as a ballpoint pen thief with his new album, 'Sucker emcee!!!!!!! (Is Wat Eye B!):

"Me rhymes be derrty cos I sleep in a portaloo, I got mo' soul cos for dinner I ate my shoe".

Monday, May 02, 2005

Gas power communist party

You know Degas right? He was a 19th century French artist who catered solely for the presumably booming 'ballerina' market niche. (By continously covering the same subject area, you could say he painted himself into a corner... or could you?). But I have discovered that his skills, contrary to popular belief, did not end at recreating girls* in funny looking shoes:

Sure he could flesh out dancers, but he could also flush out stomaches (I really tried hard to think up something smarter... I even used the "internet" to find out Degasfacts for puns... nothing").

Sure, a magician at a party is hotcakes. But that's nothing compared to having the world-famous Manpower Australia perform at your digs. I mean, if they aren't just the hottest act in town. But, like Degas, it would seem that the Manpower crew also have hidden talents. I present to you: the Manpower real estate company.

They absolutely guarantee you a special flexible lease price... babyoilbicepcowboyhatbootscootin.

Also, this coaster was bought at a garage sale on Church street a few weeks ago:

Finally, hardcore proof of Communist China's top secret 'flying kungfu tennis-shorts-squat-boy" hypnosis method.

And finally, the other morning I found that my towel had somehow magically rearranged itself in my box of vinyls to create this effect on Bloc Party:

It's indeed a housewarming party idea from the gods!

NEW: And just to gloat:

Pronounciation keys: Manet (pronounced like a South African saying "minute"), Monet (pronounced like some of monitor, ie: monet-or), Millet (pronounced like some of militant, ie: millet-nt), Courbet (pronounced like a South African beginning to say "corgi", but only managing "cor" before he gets hit in the head with a aerobie, ie: "cor-BTT!").

*I know that not all ballerinas are girls. Perhaps I know this more than anyone... not that mum made me do after-school ballet lessons when I was 8 or anything. And not that I was the only boy in the ballet class, thus causing major disruptions to the planned games of "princesses and fairies"...