Tuesday, March 28, 2006

No time to eat.sleep


Whoah! Gainfully employed- I didn’t see that happening. Yep, I gots me a job. I whish someone warned me before I even applied. How did I not know full-time work was worse than full-time unemployment?

I’m catching the bus every day. I’ve made a friend (see artist’s impression). He’s teaching me about life. He’s seen it all. I’m not actually sure what his name is. Anyway the dudes really wired into what’s really going on in Booragoon, scratch the middle class soapy exterior and you’ll find some super dark (think triple espresso) scandals, hoo yeah.

Firstly, our bus stop is across the road from a small set of apartments- you know the type: one up, one down, 1970’s ‘villa’, washed out dreams and ambi-pur air freshners. Well my friend and I are waiting for our bus and he’s teaching me about “what’s really going on”.
An ordinary woman walks from the apartments towards the bus stop.

“Don’t talk to this woman”, my friend says. “She’s a real like loser, real scum of the earth type of character.”
Hmmm, me thinks. She looks like an ordinary, every day, run of the mill, average, normal human female with aspirations and morals not unlike my own.
“Her boyfriend’s really bad news, a real measly character”, says my friend. “You get all types round here. They love it in there, rent is sixty dollars a week, yeah there’s a lot of measly characters around here. They’re making speed in there, you know what speed is?”
I nod. I know and I ain’t talking about the velocity encountered from riding down the biggest (well nearly the biggest) hill in Boora on the back of my girlfriend’s Malvern Star.
“Yeah, they’ve got a pump from a swimming pool. They pump chemicals over the fence into their friends house. Look there’s an undercover cop car, and look there’s another one.”
Ok, so first car is white sedan. It is possible that this could be an under cover poh lice vehicle but the other one is a blue Barina with dents. Either the police force is using Barinas for their low fuel consumption or the police are trying to pose as seventeen year old girls that work at Chicken Treat, drink Breezers, and go out with boiler maker apprentices called Fitzy.

“And look there’s a man hiding behind that tree.” The tree was about 1/2 a metre tall and skinny. Obviously the man was a shape shifter. There’s a lot of them. One of them pee’s on the floor at my house and makes my girlfriend yell at me.

My friend then told me that another woman at the bus stop used to be real fat but then she went to the fat fighters down the road. “I really need to lose some weight” he said. I’d agree. His belly hung over his belt and he seemed to sweat quite a bit. “You could do with losing a few kilo’s as well” he said to me. That’s when I worked out the guy was a liar.

On the trip he pointed to some pine trees and told me they were marijuana plants. Someone once put weed in his beer. He knows people that make some beautiful smelling soaps, he washes himself with them. He asked a girl to sniff him but she declined.
Last night I graduated. I wore the worst colour maroon you’ve ever seen. I looked like a pasty monk, spent the night before and that day chucking. I think I ate some dodgy chicken. Nice.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Has Pure Blonde taken the title of 'best beer for fascists' from Coopers Pale Ale?

death sentence for weasel words wicky wah wah

Has anyone else noticed that kids around the greasy age of 19 and younger are saying and writing ‘ass’. It’s a sad day when globalisation takes our swear words away. Oh yeah, I know all about globalisation, a completed a globalisation degree. “Globalisation is like this big thing that like makes everything American and stuff and it’s like McDonaldisation, but like it goes both ways, like America isn’t that bad because other cultures are everywhere as well, like a good example would be that I eat Chinese food and Domino’s Pizza while reading an Ikea catalogue, but yeah I can like totally agree that America is trying to control everyone and stuff because like they want all the money and George Bush is really stupid and things, I saw that on like South Park and stuff.”

‘Ass’ should always be spelt ‘Arse’. Phonetically the ‘r’ gives it so much more grunt. ‘Ass’ in comparison sounds like a limp wrist whine. In no way am I patriotic, but I really feel arse is a word we need to protect. Ass sounds disgusting, it goes in the pile of American words that I could never bring myself to say: panties, fanny, ketchup. If arse dies, becomes a fossil like ‘cobber’ and ‘democratic Australia’, then we can kiss all our favourite Australianisms away. Like drinking long necks and wearing footy shorts so high and tight than when you bend over to pick up 5 cents off the sidewalk one of your man eggs hangs out the leg or hanging upside down on the monkey bars at your local park until your nose starts bleeding and you puke up a tartan rug of ‘little boys’ and cask wine. When those traditions go, and they will unless we keep the ‘r’, then I won’t have anything to do on the weekends except throw rocks at cars and smell neighbours bins to work out who’s rich and might have a pool that I could practice freestyle in.

Some Australian traditions I reckon we could get rid of: Cricket, sunburn, the saying “I’m not racist BUT…”, polony sandwiches, and ‘icei beers. Yeah.

Man it’s been hot. But I can’t complain as Bruno the god-drunk German says “It may be hot but it’s a lot hotter in hell.” I gave him the finger but he just did some kind of Wu-Tang hand signal back.

Peace.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Tree Ollie

This Trolley story is hot!!! I opened a copy of the Melville City Herald to find a letter from a concerned resident titled 'Trolley Talk'. Ms. Neale warns all Melville residents that wayward trollies in the local shopping centre are dangerous. Trollies are known to be blown by the wind into automobiles causing damagae.

Garden city used to disallow trollies in the car park. Ms. Neale rues the day when K-mart was allowed to begin trading in the Garden City centre and actively pushed for customers to have the fancy American option of taking trollies to their cars. Disgusting! " Which to me really downgraded the centre not to mention the carpark and surrounding suburbs." Ms Neale I couldn't agree more. The moment shopping trollies move into a suburb you can bet that house prices will fall, oh yeah, they'll tell you change is good, that the trollies will make life easier, but the moment you turn your back they're taking all the good parking spots and pushing their foul smelling trolley aganda at council meetings. The next thing you know your only daughter will come home with one- how are you supposed to explain that to the Jones's? We need to make a stand.

Also, at the church down the road there was an abandoned trolley on the front lawn. I suspect the priest had stocked up on tins of soup for a bath and forgot to return it.

Moving on. The Melville Herald ran with a great front page "Bruno bears his billboard for God." A crazy German man stands in the median strip of South street with a billboard hoping to remind drivers that Jesus loves. But a billboard usually only elicits two responces. A)" I didn't actually know that people wore billboards. I thought they were just part of a hollywood cliche" or B) "I better remember to pee when i get home. Bladder is getting kinda full. I should have said no to that third cup of coffee."

Anyway Bruno wants his 'fellow drivers' to know that "Christians in Iraq are persecuted because their skin is a little bit lighter than the other locals.' Thanks Bruno. I've been waiting for someone to point out how to spot a Christian for a long time. I usually look for grey leather shoes or bowl cut hair styles. I've been wrong all along. Christians have lighter skin apparently. Although i'm not so sure how well his theory stacks up. I've got a very close friend with red hair. The kid sins. Almost as much as i do in the shower.

Anyway, Bruno's interview does have some gold. "Some people stop and congratulate me , and want to know more." (Yeah I could really see that happening."Excuse me sir, that's an interesting billboard. I have just stopped on this very busy street to find out more") "Others give me the sign of the finger. I don't know what that means... I give them the sign of the cross." If Bruno doesn't know what the 'sign of the finger' means, he should probably go have a proctology exam. All men his age should, and he'll definitely learn the true meaning of the signal.

* The settings have been changed to allow anyone to make a comment. Enlighten me

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Christmas in March



I met up with an old uni associate today. Unlike me, he decided to try his luck at honours. Which basically means avoiding looking for a job for at least another year. He told me his friend was getting married. Why would a twenty one year old get married?

The kid’s a Christian. Has to become an honest man. Turns out he’s been opening his presents before Christmas day. (ooh err)

Another local paper has run with shopping trolley theft. I feel pretty chuffed that I was able to ride the crest of this fast breaking story before my competitor the Fremantle Herald. The same paper that granted me an interview for a cadetship but cut the love before I was able to get a leg over ( the rungs of the ladder). Ha! I’ll bet they’re sorry now. I have a news barometer. Shopping trolleys= biggest bloody story of the year! And I managed to make comment before the Herald (or the too late to compete with eat.sleep paper) had even collected the views of pensioners and derelicts. Apparently trolley thieves will be facing fines. Joe Bloggs said he didn’t care because “he didn’t steal trolleys”. Jeez, nice work.

I would have suggested a little undercover reporting. You know a little field work. I would assume one of the two appearances of trolley thieves. A) Smacky. You know faded tracksuit pants, two litres of milk, thongs, Wrestling T shirt, thin straight hair. Or B) Forgetful pensioner. Two litres of long-life milk, dog food, trackies, cardi.

Then I’d go and talk to the smackies and forgetful pensioners.
Me: “Hey, you know of any hot trolleys. I’m talking the type that drive straight and would make an excellent mode of transport for my heavily pregnant girlfriend.”
Smacky/Pensioner: “I remember when you used to be able to buy a pack of smokes for 30 cents.”
Me: “Yes and we were allowed to use our sprinklers all day long. Now my garden is blasted deaded.”
Smack/Pensioner: “ Hey, your alright. Guys, he’s one of us”

I’d buy their trust with a knob of polony and some Fanta. Then I’d have the story. Simple. Journalism award? Make mine a double.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006



I'm broke. I'm wondering if I should use my shed as a meth lab or as a DIY tattoo studio. Which one would make more dough?
I don't know anything about manufacturing drugs but it can't be any harder than mixing crushed No Doze with some Napi San. Maybe i could make counterfeit sporting goods. Mad Magazine said home tattoos are only a matter of a sewing needle, steel guitar strings and some ink. I have all that. Does anyone want some flaming dice?

recycling

The recycling bin collection guy asked me for a band-aid today. His right hand was bleeding. I noticed that his other hand was missing a thumb. He’s probably had the job for two years, probably loses a digit annually. Why bother putting a band-aid on? Temporary solution to a permanent problem. I had a pair of secateurs on me. I could’ve got it over and done with there and then. I also have some whisky. I reckon he seemed to be the kinda guy who’d go for a little drinky drink cut cut.

Anyway I gave him the band-aid and he went and bled in the next door neighbours recycling bin. Maybe they make black pudding at the recycling depot. It’s funny, technically bins don’t belong to an individual, they belong to the council or the rubbish service provider. We just use them on loan basis. (note: this may not be true) But people get super pissed off when other people put crap in their bin. “That’s my fucking bin! Geez. It’s mine, I’m saving room for condom wrappers. I’m very sexually active, yeah I’m a real ladies man. Whoo the stories I could tell you.”

People have ownership issues. The white hairs that lived down the road from grandparents got extremely upset when people came and took the old chairs they put out for council collection. The old dude ran out and told collectors to bugger off. He then went and put his unwanted belongings in his shed. I couldn’t back this guy up more he was thinking globally acting locally. Old crap is meant to go in holes in the ground, we’d live in an extremely warped world if old gear was used again by poor people. How sick would it make you feel if you knew your old bike with no brakes or seat was being ridden around at all hours of the night by some sexually corrupt drama student. It’s enough to make a guy choke on his liver breakfast!

Bikes are pretty much 1989, everyone knows all the cool kids roll in shopping trolleys. Yeah, number one thing for care free teenagers with white shoes and a gut full of UDL’s is to get a lift home in a trolley. It’s totally awesome, and totally funny! “I’m gonna get a real spinny tattoo of like an alien smoking a joint on me chest.”

The local newspaper ran a amazing story on trolley theft. Did you know trolleys got stolen from supermarkets? It’s true, they find them in parks and swamps. I think the paper was onto something. I’m surprised a story that big got page three instead of the cover. No news sense!

The same paper had a story about residents signing a petition to try and close a local skate park down. Apparently there’s too much graffiti and skateboarding is too loud.
Rap music tells me ‘Graffiti won’t die.” Thrasher magazine tells me to “skate or die”.
No residents can come up against this. If you mix graff and skate your basically achieving immortality.