Monday, March 31, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Easter Shopping or Fall-Out Shelter Filling?
I have to wonder, when I see the absolute shit-mad lunacy that shops being closed for one day induces in people, what would the shops be like if a killer asteroid where racing towards Earth? I say, probably not as chaotic as Easter Saturday.
It really does seem like people are racing to fill their fall-out shelters in order to survive some nuclear war happening later today that they have heard of before me.
And it's not just last minute Easter Egg dashes, people are lined up 10 deep with trolleys stacked as high as Amy Winehouse on any given night (day, morning or anytime actually). The shops are closed for one day!
Is it just me, or are these people as nutty as squirrel shit?
Friday, March 21, 2008
Cydonian Nights
As requested by Mish...my 2003 poem for my Creative Writing class.
Warning...cheddar alert.
Cydonian Nights
I see the face at night
It appears by the advent of moonlight
Penetrating my unconscious hours
This vision of Cydonia flowers
More than a vision, I feel I am there
The eyes of the structure just sit and stare
Astral visions of the ancient monument
Juxtaposed with daylight discontent
At night I soar through space and time in astral flight
Destined for the martian site
Consciousness concludes this expedition
And thus this confession
But at times during daylight hysteria
There are times where I wish I were back at Cydonia
Warning...cheddar alert.
Cydonian Nights
I see the face at night
It appears by the advent of moonlight
Penetrating my unconscious hours
This vision of Cydonia flowers
More than a vision, I feel I am there
The eyes of the structure just sit and stare
Astral visions of the ancient monument
Juxtaposed with daylight discontent
At night I soar through space and time in astral flight
Destined for the martian site
Consciousness concludes this expedition
And thus this confession
But at times during daylight hysteria
There are times where I wish I were back at Cydonia
In the direction of and eventually in the bin goes livejournal
In the direction of and eventually in the bin goes livejournal
livejournal sucks. I have moved all my posts from my livejournal to my new home of self-righteous ranting.
Word on the title of my blog - I love Muse, but that is not a reference to their song 'Knights of Cydonia'. I wrote a poem way back in 2003 called 'Cydonian Nights' for the subject 'Creative Writing 2' at Macquarie Uni, so there.
livejournal sucks. I have moved all my posts from my livejournal to my new home of self-righteous ranting.
Word on the title of my blog - I love Muse, but that is not a reference to their song 'Knights of Cydonia'. I wrote a poem way back in 2003 called 'Cydonian Nights' for the subject 'Creative Writing 2' at Macquarie Uni, so there.
Bring on Beijing 2008!
18/3/08
Bring on Beijing 2008!
I don’t know about you, but I am well-hyped for the forthcoming Beijing Olympics. Maybe in the past maybe, just maybe, I may of referred to the Olympics as “shit boring”, “a waste of time and oxygen” or “fucking shithouse crap”, but thank Mao that the world’s biggest producer of everything is staging this year’s event!
Quite frankly, I cannot wait for what will surely be a truly unique Olympic experience.
Where else can you get that distinctly St Patrick’s Day feel on rivers all year round? And can’t you just picture the glowing atmospheric radiance that a Beijing haze cloud will add to the various track and field events?
But I hear you bleeding hearts criticising the choice of venue for this sporting extravaganza.
Well you wet blankets make me sick, honestly. For heaven’s sake, at least 10 people have died to bring you this event!
I say get into the spirit of things. Just like the England National Football Team did at the 1936 Berlin Olympics.
Instead of complaining about breathing in the fumes of the dog shit milkshake that is Beijing’s atmosphere or lecturing about “human rights”, get some Olympic spirit and experience all that the Chinese capital has to offer! Beat a pesky Tibetan, get in the spirit of the shooting events by using the same weapons being sold to the Sudanese Government (hence Janjaweed) to unload live rounds on troublesome hippy students (and those pesky Tibetans again if there are any left) or take a morning jog equivalent across the afternoon haze fog of Tiananmen Square. And if all this makes you a little camera shy, never fear, a media blackout can be arranged to cover all your health and general pillaging needs.
I say this year’s event has it all, so forget those wowsers trying to place a..umm..black cloud over the event. Luckily the IOC clearly agrees, stating that politics and sport don’t mix. Damn straight, politics have never found their way into sport in the past!
So let’s clear those slums, students, homeless, Tibetans, journalists or any other nuisance that’s blocking the Olympic torch and let’s celebrate Beijing style!
Bring on Beijing 2008!
I don’t know about you, but I am well-hyped for the forthcoming Beijing Olympics. Maybe in the past maybe, just maybe, I may of referred to the Olympics as “shit boring”, “a waste of time and oxygen” or “fucking shithouse crap”, but thank Mao that the world’s biggest producer of everything is staging this year’s event!
Quite frankly, I cannot wait for what will surely be a truly unique Olympic experience.
Where else can you get that distinctly St Patrick’s Day feel on rivers all year round? And can’t you just picture the glowing atmospheric radiance that a Beijing haze cloud will add to the various track and field events?
But I hear you bleeding hearts criticising the choice of venue for this sporting extravaganza.
Well you wet blankets make me sick, honestly. For heaven’s sake, at least 10 people have died to bring you this event!
I say get into the spirit of things. Just like the England National Football Team did at the 1936 Berlin Olympics.
Instead of complaining about breathing in the fumes of the dog shit milkshake that is Beijing’s atmosphere or lecturing about “human rights”, get some Olympic spirit and experience all that the Chinese capital has to offer! Beat a pesky Tibetan, get in the spirit of the shooting events by using the same weapons being sold to the Sudanese Government (hence Janjaweed) to unload live rounds on troublesome hippy students (and those pesky Tibetans again if there are any left) or take a morning jog equivalent across the afternoon haze fog of Tiananmen Square. And if all this makes you a little camera shy, never fear, a media blackout can be arranged to cover all your health and general pillaging needs.
I say this year’s event has it all, so forget those wowsers trying to place a..umm..black cloud over the event. Luckily the IOC clearly agrees, stating that politics and sport don’t mix. Damn straight, politics have never found their way into sport in the past!
So let’s clear those slums, students, homeless, Tibetans, journalists or any other nuisance that’s blocking the Olympic torch and let’s celebrate Beijing style!
Soundwave 2008
25/2/08
Soundwave 2008
24-2-08, Sydney Park.
I will get the nasty business out of the way before I concentrate on the music of the sold-out Soundwave 2008. This festival was without a doubt, the most poorly organised I can remember, possibly ever. An absolutely pathetic entry system, which saw people pushed out into the bush had tempers flaring before they were even inside. Hour-long queues for food from outlets that didn’t even sell drinks – no soft drink was being sold anywhere for that matter. Bands starting early due to no-shows, leading to many punters missing their favourite acts. Stages not clearly marked. No timetables available unless you cut out the one from Drum Media. I could keep going, but I have a word limit.
Of the early bands, Divine Heresy appeared to be causing serious carnage over on the metal stage. While, on the main stage, the emo rock by numbers of Boys Like Girls and Plain White T’s was quite painful for this reviewer, but certainly elicited many (high pitched unsurprisingly) cheers from their audience. Metalcore act Still Remains no-showed, throwing the timetable out on the metal stage for the rest of the day/night. Why not just leave an interval for an hour in order to keep the times up to date? There were plenty of other bands to keep the punters occupied.
Back on the main stage, and let’s be honest – Arizona post hardcore act Scary Kids Scaring Kids are not even close to being original or innovative. However, they do what they do very well. Impressive tracks such as ‘The Deep End’ and ‘Voices’ had the crowd moving in appreciation.
Let’s be honest again, many of the bands at Soundwave sounded remarkably similar. This is not the case with New York’s Mindless Self Indulgence. Trying to describe their twisted style of electro punk is not easy, but this is what elevated MSI from the pack. And vocalist Jimmy Urine telling the blonde haired masses they were poor excuses for Goths easily rated as a highlight of the day.
As Thursday exploded onto the main stage with ‘For the Workforce, Drowning’, it became clearly evident why so many bands try and fail to imitate the New Jersey post hardcore pioneers. While so many other bands seemed to lift the dust only with their hit singles so far today, Thursday had the crowd right where they wanted them as they graced us with a wide selection of tracks spanning their career. Brilliant.
Motion City Soundtrack followed. They may be pop punk, commercial and at times, sugar sweet, but MCS are almost impossible to dislike. Tracks such as ‘Fell in Love Without You’ and ‘This Is For Real’ had their very excited audience in rapture. These guys are simply loads of fun and catchy as hell.
There are some places one dare not venture unless you are male, under 22, and pumped full of too many Red Bulls (that is contradictory actually, as that would imply that soft drinks were actually being sold). Shadows Fall’s mosh pit is such a place. As the Massachusetts metalcore kings pounded out their set, they elicited the most savage mosh this reviewer has seen in a long time. Ouch.
American emo rockers Saosin sounded very off colour over on stage 3. They were completely out of tune and I was completely out of there.
Unfortunately, about 5 songs into Californian metallers As I Lay Dying’s set, a Neanderthal in the crowd threw a glass bottle, knocking out guitarist Nick Hipa. This resulted in the band, quite rightfully walking off. Thanks idiot, way to let the world think we are all bottle throwing bogans in Sydney. Let’s hope Nick is alright.
Over on the main stage, Incubus were going down a treat with the huge crowd, many quite clearly came to see them. Throwing up plenty of crowd pleasers and plenty of style, Incubus proved one of the highlights of the festival.
Headlining the metal stage were American giants Killswitch Engage. While so many metal bands fall into the bonehead stereotype, or just simply lack any form of originality or talent these days, KE prove there is still life left in the genre. KE are tight, intelligent and professional. “Nobody else gets hurt today, nobody out there and nobody up here, respect us and respect yourselves” said vocalist Howard Jones, to the roar of the 98% of the crowd who were well-behaved today. Seamlessly rolling out massive sounding tracks from their back catalogue to the cheers of the hypnotised masses, KE simply stole the show with tight riffs and epic choruses. Stunning.
Bottle-throwing aside, considering how frustrating everything was at Soundwave 2008, the crowd were remarkably well-behaved. If the promoters of this festival want another sell-out next year, they need to rectify the problems that plagued this year’s event. Because despite the excellent performances by many of the bands on the line-up, the day as a whole caused many headaches for many people, who may just choose to see their favourite band’s side show next year instead of attending the main event.
Soundwave 2008
24-2-08, Sydney Park.
I will get the nasty business out of the way before I concentrate on the music of the sold-out Soundwave 2008. This festival was without a doubt, the most poorly organised I can remember, possibly ever. An absolutely pathetic entry system, which saw people pushed out into the bush had tempers flaring before they were even inside. Hour-long queues for food from outlets that didn’t even sell drinks – no soft drink was being sold anywhere for that matter. Bands starting early due to no-shows, leading to many punters missing their favourite acts. Stages not clearly marked. No timetables available unless you cut out the one from Drum Media. I could keep going, but I have a word limit.
Of the early bands, Divine Heresy appeared to be causing serious carnage over on the metal stage. While, on the main stage, the emo rock by numbers of Boys Like Girls and Plain White T’s was quite painful for this reviewer, but certainly elicited many (high pitched unsurprisingly) cheers from their audience. Metalcore act Still Remains no-showed, throwing the timetable out on the metal stage for the rest of the day/night. Why not just leave an interval for an hour in order to keep the times up to date? There were plenty of other bands to keep the punters occupied.
Back on the main stage, and let’s be honest – Arizona post hardcore act Scary Kids Scaring Kids are not even close to being original or innovative. However, they do what they do very well. Impressive tracks such as ‘The Deep End’ and ‘Voices’ had the crowd moving in appreciation.
Let’s be honest again, many of the bands at Soundwave sounded remarkably similar. This is not the case with New York’s Mindless Self Indulgence. Trying to describe their twisted style of electro punk is not easy, but this is what elevated MSI from the pack. And vocalist Jimmy Urine telling the blonde haired masses they were poor excuses for Goths easily rated as a highlight of the day.
As Thursday exploded onto the main stage with ‘For the Workforce, Drowning’, it became clearly evident why so many bands try and fail to imitate the New Jersey post hardcore pioneers. While so many other bands seemed to lift the dust only with their hit singles so far today, Thursday had the crowd right where they wanted them as they graced us with a wide selection of tracks spanning their career. Brilliant.
Motion City Soundtrack followed. They may be pop punk, commercial and at times, sugar sweet, but MCS are almost impossible to dislike. Tracks such as ‘Fell in Love Without You’ and ‘This Is For Real’ had their very excited audience in rapture. These guys are simply loads of fun and catchy as hell.
There are some places one dare not venture unless you are male, under 22, and pumped full of too many Red Bulls (that is contradictory actually, as that would imply that soft drinks were actually being sold). Shadows Fall’s mosh pit is such a place. As the Massachusetts metalcore kings pounded out their set, they elicited the most savage mosh this reviewer has seen in a long time. Ouch.
American emo rockers Saosin sounded very off colour over on stage 3. They were completely out of tune and I was completely out of there.
Unfortunately, about 5 songs into Californian metallers As I Lay Dying’s set, a Neanderthal in the crowd threw a glass bottle, knocking out guitarist Nick Hipa. This resulted in the band, quite rightfully walking off. Thanks idiot, way to let the world think we are all bottle throwing bogans in Sydney. Let’s hope Nick is alright.
Over on the main stage, Incubus were going down a treat with the huge crowd, many quite clearly came to see them. Throwing up plenty of crowd pleasers and plenty of style, Incubus proved one of the highlights of the festival.
Headlining the metal stage were American giants Killswitch Engage. While so many metal bands fall into the bonehead stereotype, or just simply lack any form of originality or talent these days, KE prove there is still life left in the genre. KE are tight, intelligent and professional. “Nobody else gets hurt today, nobody out there and nobody up here, respect us and respect yourselves” said vocalist Howard Jones, to the roar of the 98% of the crowd who were well-behaved today. Seamlessly rolling out massive sounding tracks from their back catalogue to the cheers of the hypnotised masses, KE simply stole the show with tight riffs and epic choruses. Stunning.
Bottle-throwing aside, considering how frustrating everything was at Soundwave 2008, the crowd were remarkably well-behaved. If the promoters of this festival want another sell-out next year, they need to rectify the problems that plagued this year’s event. Because despite the excellent performances by many of the bands on the line-up, the day as a whole caused many headaches for many people, who may just choose to see their favourite band’s side show next year instead of attending the main event.
Best Albums of 2007
21/12/07
Best Albums of 2007
I like music, so here are my fave albums released in 2007.
1. M.I.A – Kala
2. Interpol – Our Love to Admire
3. Editors – An End Has a Start
4. Bloc Party – A Weekend in the City
5. Thrice - The Alchemy Index Volumes 1 & 2
Honourable Mentions:
Ben Lee – Ripe
Aiden – Conviction
Kaiser Chiefs – Yours Truly, Angry Mob
Poison the Well – Versions
Modern Life Is War – Midnight in America
Ash – Twilight of the Innocents
The Hives – The Black and White Album
Best Albums of 2007
I like music, so here are my fave albums released in 2007.
1. M.I.A – Kala
2. Interpol – Our Love to Admire
3. Editors – An End Has a Start
4. Bloc Party – A Weekend in the City
5. Thrice - The Alchemy Index Volumes 1 & 2
Honourable Mentions:
Ben Lee – Ripe
Aiden – Conviction
Kaiser Chiefs – Yours Truly, Angry Mob
Poison the Well – Versions
Modern Life Is War – Midnight in America
Ash – Twilight of the Innocents
The Hives – The Black and White Album
Me + Demon Child = Bus Ride from Hell
18/10/07
Me + Demon Child = Bus Ride from Hell
It was on my usual 393 from UNSW to Railway Square bus route that this encounter with evil itself occurred. I feel obliged to warn you, if you find creatures from the flaming pits of most blasphemous hell horrifying, then I implore you – read no further.
I sat innocuously, ipod on ear, glancing out into the surrounding Kensington landscape.
The bus halted to allow more aboard on Cleveland St. 'Spaces Between Us' by Expatriate filled my ears.
I felt the flat, sonic boom like sensation of another passenger sitting down next to me.
Initially I didn't realise, it was 2 passengers taking up temporary residence next to me.
I turned, slowly, even hesitantly. It was then I saw it, in all its mephisto-esque bestial fury, it was my first true encounter with evil. It must have been born last year on June 6 at 6am for this was surely the antichrist that was being nursed by its seemingly unsuspecting mother. I dropped my ipod headphones from my ears in amazement at the sinister creature before me.
But I hear you say, this guy has no kids! He just doesn't understand them!
Well, read on if you dare.
It's head, a tomato-like oval of withering white hairs turned to me, green snot funnelling from its nose, creating a collage of South Sydney Rabbitohs club colours when contrasted with its' hell-red facial complexion. It opened its' jaws and screamed what was surely..
"FUCK!!!"
Yes. It said "FUCK". The passengers of the bus looked as stunned as I did. Only they did not find Lucifer's earthly representation next to them as I unfortunately did.
And what of the mother I hear you ask? Well, instead of reprimanding her demon spawn,
she patted it on its' head, blowing it kisses, while I tried to covertly eye the inevitable '666' mark that was surely somewhere brandished upon its' scalp.
I sat stoically. While the demon growled, grunted and I'm pretty sure, farted, next to me. I prayed, hoping that the fact that I have neglected the religion I was born into would not go against me in a final showdown with the Jackal-spawned son of Satan. Railway Square could not arrive fast enough.
Just as the demon let loose a particularly evil tirade unholy blasphemies, 393 reached Central Station. It was here that my encounter with the beast came to an end.
Its' mother, surely some demonic entity in human disguise, cradled the beast in her arms and left the bus. The beast all the while growling and surely taunting us all.
It was over…or was it.
I returned my ipod headphones to my ears, only to be greeted by what was surely an omen…
'Evil' by Interpol.
Me + Demon Child = Bus Ride from Hell
It was on my usual 393 from UNSW to Railway Square bus route that this encounter with evil itself occurred. I feel obliged to warn you, if you find creatures from the flaming pits of most blasphemous hell horrifying, then I implore you – read no further.
I sat innocuously, ipod on ear, glancing out into the surrounding Kensington landscape.
The bus halted to allow more aboard on Cleveland St. 'Spaces Between Us' by Expatriate filled my ears.
I felt the flat, sonic boom like sensation of another passenger sitting down next to me.
Initially I didn't realise, it was 2 passengers taking up temporary residence next to me.
I turned, slowly, even hesitantly. It was then I saw it, in all its mephisto-esque bestial fury, it was my first true encounter with evil. It must have been born last year on June 6 at 6am for this was surely the antichrist that was being nursed by its seemingly unsuspecting mother. I dropped my ipod headphones from my ears in amazement at the sinister creature before me.
But I hear you say, this guy has no kids! He just doesn't understand them!
Well, read on if you dare.
It's head, a tomato-like oval of withering white hairs turned to me, green snot funnelling from its nose, creating a collage of South Sydney Rabbitohs club colours when contrasted with its' hell-red facial complexion. It opened its' jaws and screamed what was surely..
"FUCK!!!"
Yes. It said "FUCK". The passengers of the bus looked as stunned as I did. Only they did not find Lucifer's earthly representation next to them as I unfortunately did.
And what of the mother I hear you ask? Well, instead of reprimanding her demon spawn,
she patted it on its' head, blowing it kisses, while I tried to covertly eye the inevitable '666' mark that was surely somewhere brandished upon its' scalp.
I sat stoically. While the demon growled, grunted and I'm pretty sure, farted, next to me. I prayed, hoping that the fact that I have neglected the religion I was born into would not go against me in a final showdown with the Jackal-spawned son of Satan. Railway Square could not arrive fast enough.
Just as the demon let loose a particularly evil tirade unholy blasphemies, 393 reached Central Station. It was here that my encounter with the beast came to an end.
Its' mother, surely some demonic entity in human disguise, cradled the beast in her arms and left the bus. The beast all the while growling and surely taunting us all.
It was over…or was it.
I returned my ipod headphones to my ears, only to be greeted by what was surely an omen…
'Evil' by Interpol.
Heckler that didn’t make it
26/9/2007
Heckler that didn’t make it
I wrote this for the Sydney Morning Herald's Heckler (in other words rant) section. It would seem they didn't think it was worth publishing, so here it is!
HECKLER THAT DIDN'T MAKE IT - I HATE PRE-PAID BUSES
Well I am going to take all my money and get a nice bonfire rocking tonight. Why not?
It would appear that legal tender is essentially useless these days unless it is electronically transferred onto a card, sticker or ticket of some sort.
Take this scenario that I was confronted with yesterday. I was attempting to catch a bus to uni from Anzac Parade to Central. Usually this is no sweat, other than fighting with UNSW students for a seat. Well how quickly things change in 2007. As the bus approached I and a few others noticed a big yellow sign adorning the front of the bus.
"PRE PAID ONLY – NO TICKETS SOLD ON THIS BUS" it read.
Surely not? Surely this was just a guideline that the drivers don't stick to we commented.
Well we were wrong.
"No tickets, wait for the next bus!" shouted the bus driver. So at least a dozen of us apparent dinosaurs who still use "money" were denied entry to a half-empty bus.
So we waited.
Then appeared another bus – same story, yes you guessed it "PRE PAID ONLY – NO TICKETS SOLD ON THIS BUS". Same story from the driver too "Wait for the next bus!"
The line of rejects brandishing legal tender had now swelled to at least 20. A few people starting hailing cabs while complaining to smiling cab drivers about the bus situation.
One pack of lucky pack of SOBs jammed into a passing mate's car, looking back at us stranded donkeys with a mixture of sympathy and scorn.
Patience was rapidly declining and once the fourth prepaid only bus appeared, my patience ran out completely – as did my time to get to uni. I hailed down the next cab.
The cab driver was attempting to be sympathetic, while I could see the dollar signs subconsciously ticking over in his head at the thought of more fares on the Eastern Suburbs route from now on. Who could blame him, in fact I was glad he got my money yesterday instead of 'Sydney Buses'.
Maybe I am a little behind the times, but I thought in these times of global warming we were being encouraged to catch public transport? Am I wrong? Did I get it the wrong way around? Surely I must be confused, because it would appear that 'Sydney Buses' are attempting to make it more complicated for your average person to catch public transport.
Well if you are interested in joining my currency bonfire, feel free to rock up. Just bring your useless collection of notes and let those babies burn. Bring those pesky coins along too, we can work an adequate melting procedure for them, because as I found out yesterday – they are definitely useless. Should be a good night, oh I should mention there is an entry fee to my place for this special event and I would like to make it absolutely clear before you rock up at my door:
PRE-PAID ONLY, NO TICKETS SOLD TONIGHT.
Heckler that didn’t make it
I wrote this for the Sydney Morning Herald's Heckler (in other words rant) section. It would seem they didn't think it was worth publishing, so here it is!
HECKLER THAT DIDN'T MAKE IT - I HATE PRE-PAID BUSES
Well I am going to take all my money and get a nice bonfire rocking tonight. Why not?
It would appear that legal tender is essentially useless these days unless it is electronically transferred onto a card, sticker or ticket of some sort.
Take this scenario that I was confronted with yesterday. I was attempting to catch a bus to uni from Anzac Parade to Central. Usually this is no sweat, other than fighting with UNSW students for a seat. Well how quickly things change in 2007. As the bus approached I and a few others noticed a big yellow sign adorning the front of the bus.
"PRE PAID ONLY – NO TICKETS SOLD ON THIS BUS" it read.
Surely not? Surely this was just a guideline that the drivers don't stick to we commented.
Well we were wrong.
"No tickets, wait for the next bus!" shouted the bus driver. So at least a dozen of us apparent dinosaurs who still use "money" were denied entry to a half-empty bus.
So we waited.
Then appeared another bus – same story, yes you guessed it "PRE PAID ONLY – NO TICKETS SOLD ON THIS BUS". Same story from the driver too "Wait for the next bus!"
The line of rejects brandishing legal tender had now swelled to at least 20. A few people starting hailing cabs while complaining to smiling cab drivers about the bus situation.
One pack of lucky pack of SOBs jammed into a passing mate's car, looking back at us stranded donkeys with a mixture of sympathy and scorn.
Patience was rapidly declining and once the fourth prepaid only bus appeared, my patience ran out completely – as did my time to get to uni. I hailed down the next cab.
The cab driver was attempting to be sympathetic, while I could see the dollar signs subconsciously ticking over in his head at the thought of more fares on the Eastern Suburbs route from now on. Who could blame him, in fact I was glad he got my money yesterday instead of 'Sydney Buses'.
Maybe I am a little behind the times, but I thought in these times of global warming we were being encouraged to catch public transport? Am I wrong? Did I get it the wrong way around? Surely I must be confused, because it would appear that 'Sydney Buses' are attempting to make it more complicated for your average person to catch public transport.
Well if you are interested in joining my currency bonfire, feel free to rock up. Just bring your useless collection of notes and let those babies burn. Bring those pesky coins along too, we can work an adequate melting procedure for them, because as I found out yesterday – they are definitely useless. Should be a good night, oh I should mention there is an entry fee to my place for this special event and I would like to make it absolutely clear before you rock up at my door:
PRE-PAID ONLY, NO TICKETS SOLD TONIGHT.
Tale of a Dumbarse
18/6/2007
Tale of a Dumbarse
Don't you just hate it when your search for a mansion is hindered by a constant array of garish, gold infused, Versace-inspired shacks? Well if you can relate to this, you will understand the plight of Posh and Becks and their stoic search for a Beverly Hills mansion.
But if you think this type of dilemma is prevalent only in the slums of Beverly Hills, think again. As we speak, here in Sydney homegrown mansion-seekers are engaged in their own valiant searches for the 16 bedroom home of their dreams. And I can verify that they are struggling.
And how can I verify this troubling news you ask?
Well, I can tell you that I received this heart-wrenching tale first-hand. That's right, from the mouth of a true blue, struggling mansionite, fruitlessly wearing out the tires of her 4WD in search of the Aussie dream.
The tale unfolds at a party I attended last night. A friend of mine hosted a gathering at her apartment and it was from this gathering that our tragic heroine emerged. Hamlet-esque in her melancholy, her first words resonated throughout my mind:
"You think there would be some bloody Chardonnay somewhere in this dump."
From this point, I knew I would encounter tales of woe that would wrench at my heartstrings if I committed to a conversation with the tragic heroine. But the humanitarian in me simply couldn't turn away.
"I wouldn't live in this dump if they paid me," she whispered.
Surely Brando's famous "The Horror, the Horror!" quote from Apocalypse Now has just been explained. He was obviously being taken away and forced to live in $600 per week apartment on Sydney's Lower North Shore.
Now I must warn you, the following passages may catapult the easily teary into a state they haven't experienced since the end of Titanic. You've been warned.
"You wouldn't believe how hard it's been for me and my partner to find a house, everywhere we look we can't find anything decent for $3 mill plus".
I was captivated by her plight, and yes a little teary-eyed myself. But this tale of hardship doesn't end there.
"I mean, at one stage we were even willing to go out as far as Pymble."
Pymble! My God! That's miles from civilisation!
"Some people don't understand, it's easy to find a house for $500,000, those people, you know nurses and teachers and stuff, they will buy the first thing that comes along."
Yes, the average Australian has it too bloody easy. And those damn teachers and nurses flaunting their exuberant lifestyles, they should be forced to go house-hunting in Bellevue Hill in their spare time!
"I guess we'll just have to keep searching," she said, her sullen eyes filled with the stress of being without a mansion.
So next time you struggle to make your monthly mortgage repayments, spare a thought for the true Aussie battlers. Such as the mansionless, tragic heroine who spent this Saturday night deprived of Chardonnay.
Tale of a Dumbarse
Don't you just hate it when your search for a mansion is hindered by a constant array of garish, gold infused, Versace-inspired shacks? Well if you can relate to this, you will understand the plight of Posh and Becks and their stoic search for a Beverly Hills mansion.
But if you think this type of dilemma is prevalent only in the slums of Beverly Hills, think again. As we speak, here in Sydney homegrown mansion-seekers are engaged in their own valiant searches for the 16 bedroom home of their dreams. And I can verify that they are struggling.
And how can I verify this troubling news you ask?
Well, I can tell you that I received this heart-wrenching tale first-hand. That's right, from the mouth of a true blue, struggling mansionite, fruitlessly wearing out the tires of her 4WD in search of the Aussie dream.
The tale unfolds at a party I attended last night. A friend of mine hosted a gathering at her apartment and it was from this gathering that our tragic heroine emerged. Hamlet-esque in her melancholy, her first words resonated throughout my mind:
"You think there would be some bloody Chardonnay somewhere in this dump."
From this point, I knew I would encounter tales of woe that would wrench at my heartstrings if I committed to a conversation with the tragic heroine. But the humanitarian in me simply couldn't turn away.
"I wouldn't live in this dump if they paid me," she whispered.
Surely Brando's famous "The Horror, the Horror!" quote from Apocalypse Now has just been explained. He was obviously being taken away and forced to live in $600 per week apartment on Sydney's Lower North Shore.
Now I must warn you, the following passages may catapult the easily teary into a state they haven't experienced since the end of Titanic. You've been warned.
"You wouldn't believe how hard it's been for me and my partner to find a house, everywhere we look we can't find anything decent for $3 mill plus".
I was captivated by her plight, and yes a little teary-eyed myself. But this tale of hardship doesn't end there.
"I mean, at one stage we were even willing to go out as far as Pymble."
Pymble! My God! That's miles from civilisation!
"Some people don't understand, it's easy to find a house for $500,000, those people, you know nurses and teachers and stuff, they will buy the first thing that comes along."
Yes, the average Australian has it too bloody easy. And those damn teachers and nurses flaunting their exuberant lifestyles, they should be forced to go house-hunting in Bellevue Hill in their spare time!
"I guess we'll just have to keep searching," she said, her sullen eyes filled with the stress of being without a mansion.
So next time you struggle to make your monthly mortgage repayments, spare a thought for the true Aussie battlers. Such as the mansionless, tragic heroine who spent this Saturday night deprived of Chardonnay.
Truck Drivers - The bane of human existence
20/12/2006
Truck Drivers - The bane of human existence
I fucking hate truck drivers.
Thats right, I am blaming an entire industry for the actions of a few, or actually many. I am sorry if you are a decent truck driver and yes I am aware that the food I eat and the coke I am currently consuming was transported by one of your brethren, but I am sick to the arse of being cut off, edged out, raced and then driven slow in front of, tailgated and just generally fucked around by arseholic truck drivers - more often than not wearing some sort of singlet with chest pubes protruding.
So if you are a decent truck driver who has just arrived home from 52 hour trip and read this attack upon your trade and has not inflicted any of the above atrocities upon me - i apologise. If however, you are the stereotypical arse crumb who thinks he owns the road, busy sitting your truck seat indented arse after a day of plunder and pillage on our roads - go and accept the Sirloin A Lot challenge and follow in the footsteps of Red Barclay please.
Truck Drivers - The bane of human existence
I fucking hate truck drivers.
Thats right, I am blaming an entire industry for the actions of a few, or actually many. I am sorry if you are a decent truck driver and yes I am aware that the food I eat and the coke I am currently consuming was transported by one of your brethren, but I am sick to the arse of being cut off, edged out, raced and then driven slow in front of, tailgated and just generally fucked around by arseholic truck drivers - more often than not wearing some sort of singlet with chest pubes protruding.
So if you are a decent truck driver who has just arrived home from 52 hour trip and read this attack upon your trade and has not inflicted any of the above atrocities upon me - i apologise. If however, you are the stereotypical arse crumb who thinks he owns the road, busy sitting your truck seat indented arse after a day of plunder and pillage on our roads - go and accept the Sirloin A Lot challenge and follow in the footsteps of Red Barclay please.
Post-haircut hair
6/12/2006
Post-haircut hair
I had a haircut this afternoon and for the record, it was a standard haircut - no horrible failures to blend-in adequately or hideous chunks missing, so therefore I shall not be donning a baseball cup to conceal any poor hairdressing scars.
However, when I left the hairdressers, my hair looked reminiscent of Yahoo Serious in Young Enstein. Why is this? Why is it that even the most spectacular or merely adequate haircut leaves you resembling the love-child of Marge Simpson and the guitarist from Rancid upon initially leaving the hairdresser?
Now I am pretty sure that this is not a localised phenomenon that has attached itself to the hairdressers I have frequented over the years. I would place good, or lets says decent, no average money that Jonathan Antin is currently cutting away on the hair of Paris Hilton or whoever felt the urge for a $500 haircut in his hairdressing business on Rodeo Drive and subsequently sending them into the Hollywood wilderness with an initially vertically spectacular head of hair, unless that is...he has the secret about how make your hair look the same when the hairdresser finishes the cut as it will when you step out of your post-haircut shower.
Maybe there is a special hairdressers secret that is highly treasured within the trade, like KFC's secret herbs and spices or male porn stars' somewhat spectacular aiming abilties. Maybe it is the "bit of gel?" they always offer I hear you ask..no, I refused my customary blob of horse/rat muscle this time and still left the hairdressers with the customary Eiffel Tower look.
Then again, maybe my over-analytical brain is being overly analytical.
End rant.
Post-haircut hair
I had a haircut this afternoon and for the record, it was a standard haircut - no horrible failures to blend-in adequately or hideous chunks missing, so therefore I shall not be donning a baseball cup to conceal any poor hairdressing scars.
However, when I left the hairdressers, my hair looked reminiscent of Yahoo Serious in Young Enstein. Why is this? Why is it that even the most spectacular or merely adequate haircut leaves you resembling the love-child of Marge Simpson and the guitarist from Rancid upon initially leaving the hairdresser?
Now I am pretty sure that this is not a localised phenomenon that has attached itself to the hairdressers I have frequented over the years. I would place good, or lets says decent, no average money that Jonathan Antin is currently cutting away on the hair of Paris Hilton or whoever felt the urge for a $500 haircut in his hairdressing business on Rodeo Drive and subsequently sending them into the Hollywood wilderness with an initially vertically spectacular head of hair, unless that is...he has the secret about how make your hair look the same when the hairdresser finishes the cut as it will when you step out of your post-haircut shower.
Maybe there is a special hairdressers secret that is highly treasured within the trade, like KFC's secret herbs and spices or male porn stars' somewhat spectacular aiming abilties. Maybe it is the "bit of gel?" they always offer I hear you ask..no, I refused my customary blob of horse/rat muscle this time and still left the hairdressers with the customary Eiffel Tower look.
Then again, maybe my over-analytical brain is being overly analytical.
End rant.
Rise Against @ UNSW Roundhouse 30/11/06
1/12/2006
Rise Against @ UNSW Roundhouse 30/11/06
Judging by the enthusiasm of the gathering horde engulfing all sections of the Roundhouse, it was quite clear that anticipation level for Rise Against's return to Sydney was high. As those of us clever enough to come early ,and to be positioned in the makeshift beer garden, watched the que stretch out presumably onto Anzac Parade, it was obvious that Tim McIIrath and co.'s sold out show tonight was set to be a big 'un.
One thing that many love about Rise Against is their substitution of gimmicks and flashy bullshit stage tricks for the pure, energetic melodic hardcore that has become synonomous with their name. Appearing on stage to the chants of the anxious crowd, Rise Against roared into a ferocious rendition of 'Survive', followed by equally pit-swelling versions of 'Injection' and 'Blood to Bleed', Rise Against had the crowd under their spell from the start.The set list read primarily like a best of The Sufferer and the Witness and Siren Song of the Counter Culture, but there was still room for some older gems - 'Like The Angel' and the "circle-pit song" according to McIIrath 'Blood Red, White and Blue' from 2003's Revolutions Per Minute album were particuarly popular with the adoring masses.
Rise Against are a unit, lets not lose sight of that, but the incredible stage-prescence of frontman McIIrath is impossible to deny. As literally every word to every song was shouted back at him by the crowd, McIIrath almost appeared to channel that energy through himself, creating an undeniably charasmatic stage persona. This was most evident when the frontman appeared for the encore sans bandmates, performing only with an acoustic guitar for a version of a song from "our parents generation" titled 'Ohio', dedicated to university students from Kent State University who were killed and a beautiful version of 'Swing Life Away', before the rest of the group returned for the finale of 'Ready To Fall'.
Rise Against owned us all tonight. They are one of few bands today that actually manage to captivate the audience without the help of stage antics (masks anyone..). Tonight, Rise Against left a crowd of people who you, if you were fond of a bet, could put a reasonable wager on them returning next time the lads grace our shores with their prescence.
Rise Against @ UNSW Roundhouse 30/11/06
Judging by the enthusiasm of the gathering horde engulfing all sections of the Roundhouse, it was quite clear that anticipation level for Rise Against's return to Sydney was high. As those of us clever enough to come early ,and to be positioned in the makeshift beer garden, watched the que stretch out presumably onto Anzac Parade, it was obvious that Tim McIIrath and co.'s sold out show tonight was set to be a big 'un.
One thing that many love about Rise Against is their substitution of gimmicks and flashy bullshit stage tricks for the pure, energetic melodic hardcore that has become synonomous with their name. Appearing on stage to the chants of the anxious crowd, Rise Against roared into a ferocious rendition of 'Survive', followed by equally pit-swelling versions of 'Injection' and 'Blood to Bleed', Rise Against had the crowd under their spell from the start.The set list read primarily like a best of The Sufferer and the Witness and Siren Song of the Counter Culture, but there was still room for some older gems - 'Like The Angel' and the "circle-pit song" according to McIIrath 'Blood Red, White and Blue' from 2003's Revolutions Per Minute album were particuarly popular with the adoring masses.
Rise Against are a unit, lets not lose sight of that, but the incredible stage-prescence of frontman McIIrath is impossible to deny. As literally every word to every song was shouted back at him by the crowd, McIIrath almost appeared to channel that energy through himself, creating an undeniably charasmatic stage persona. This was most evident when the frontman appeared for the encore sans bandmates, performing only with an acoustic guitar for a version of a song from "our parents generation" titled 'Ohio', dedicated to university students from Kent State University who were killed and a beautiful version of 'Swing Life Away', before the rest of the group returned for the finale of 'Ready To Fall'.
Rise Against owned us all tonight. They are one of few bands today that actually manage to captivate the audience without the help of stage antics (masks anyone..). Tonight, Rise Against left a crowd of people who you, if you were fond of a bet, could put a reasonable wager on them returning next time the lads grace our shores with their prescence.
I Heart M.I.A
6/11/2006
I Heart M.I.A
It is official .. I am in love with, and would marry Maya Arulpragasam, AKA: M.I.A., within seconds if given the unlikely opportunity.
Therefore you would presume that I would be outraged that my homegirl was denied a Work Visa by the lovable American government, based on the fact that her father was a Tamil Tiger, thus preventing her from working with the likes of Timbaland?
Yeah and I would happily allow a crazed pyromaniac to take a blowtorch to my arse too.
You see, M.I.A is a visionary, one of very few in today..s world and one of even fewer in today..s musical climate. She offers a genuine alternative to the overly mass-produced,cack-rapping, shit-hop brigade currently gripping popular culture by its balls. And before some smartarse thinks or publishes it on some blog .. yes I am aware of the irony of claiming M.I.A is a force against polished, mass-production when she has recently sold her music to a Honda commercial. Bottom line is, most of these deadshits accusing her of selling out over that commercial probably drive fucking Honda..s. Create your own line of completely un-commercial, one-per-year-produced, Kyoto Protocol-respecting cars .. and then, and only then can you criticise M.I.A about the Honda commercial. But anyway, back on track.
The fact is, that as a result of her American Visa rejection, M.I.A will now record her follow-up to Arular in India, Trinidad, Brazil and just about anywhere else where she can record in a mountainous region in a small hut with a $25 keyboard and a bottle of vodka.
Thank fuck for that, as another Timbaland collaboration would be as useful to the current musical landscape as the nutsack of a sterilised cat.
And if you doubt that there be method in my madness, check her 50 second teaser of her new track that is doing the blog-rounds and tell me she would still be making the same funky, electro-hop whatever, if Timbaland was watching over her.
I Heart M.I.A
It is official .. I am in love with, and would marry Maya Arulpragasam, AKA: M.I.A., within seconds if given the unlikely opportunity.
Therefore you would presume that I would be outraged that my homegirl was denied a Work Visa by the lovable American government, based on the fact that her father was a Tamil Tiger, thus preventing her from working with the likes of Timbaland?
Yeah and I would happily allow a crazed pyromaniac to take a blowtorch to my arse too.
You see, M.I.A is a visionary, one of very few in today..s world and one of even fewer in today..s musical climate. She offers a genuine alternative to the overly mass-produced,cack-rapping, shit-hop brigade currently gripping popular culture by its balls. And before some smartarse thinks or publishes it on some blog .. yes I am aware of the irony of claiming M.I.A is a force against polished, mass-production when she has recently sold her music to a Honda commercial. Bottom line is, most of these deadshits accusing her of selling out over that commercial probably drive fucking Honda..s. Create your own line of completely un-commercial, one-per-year-produced, Kyoto Protocol-respecting cars .. and then, and only then can you criticise M.I.A about the Honda commercial. But anyway, back on track.
The fact is, that as a result of her American Visa rejection, M.I.A will now record her follow-up to Arular in India, Trinidad, Brazil and just about anywhere else where she can record in a mountainous region in a small hut with a $25 keyboard and a bottle of vodka.
Thank fuck for that, as another Timbaland collaboration would be as useful to the current musical landscape as the nutsack of a sterilised cat.
And if you doubt that there be method in my madness, check her 50 second teaser of her new track that is doing the blog-rounds and tell me she would still be making the same funky, electro-hop whatever, if Timbaland was watching over her.
Life, the Universe and P.J Harvey
3/11/2006
Life, the Universe and P.J Harvey
It came to my attention tonight that just about every issue that emerges in my life can be attended to by listening to 'Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea' by P.J Harvey. Is there really some sort of universal sense of meaning at work on this album, or am I merely doing what i do well - that is thinking to much into stuff?
I may never know. What I do know is that i am very pissed off that Pluto has been relegated from planet to 'dwarf planet' - what the fuck? Pluto has always been my favourite planet, it has all the right things happening - it is distant, we dont really have any decent pics of it therefore there could be all sorts of funky shit going on there that we dont know about, it is nice and cool - no fucking sunstroke happening on its iced-up surface and when i was bored shitless during maths classes at school it was always my brain's choice of holiday destinations.
So this is my message to the International Astronomical Union (those responsible for down-grading my planet)- reinstate Pluto now! Now goddamnit! The future of daydreaming kids who are shit at and uninterested in maths depends on it!
Hmm..i think i should go to bed now.
Life, the Universe and P.J Harvey
It came to my attention tonight that just about every issue that emerges in my life can be attended to by listening to 'Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea' by P.J Harvey. Is there really some sort of universal sense of meaning at work on this album, or am I merely doing what i do well - that is thinking to much into stuff?
I may never know. What I do know is that i am very pissed off that Pluto has been relegated from planet to 'dwarf planet' - what the fuck? Pluto has always been my favourite planet, it has all the right things happening - it is distant, we dont really have any decent pics of it therefore there could be all sorts of funky shit going on there that we dont know about, it is nice and cool - no fucking sunstroke happening on its iced-up surface and when i was bored shitless during maths classes at school it was always my brain's choice of holiday destinations.
So this is my message to the International Astronomical Union (those responsible for down-grading my planet)- reinstate Pluto now! Now goddamnit! The future of daydreaming kids who are shit at and uninterested in maths depends on it!
Hmm..i think i should go to bed now.
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