Bye Cycle

Yesterday someone stole my bike from the train station. It broke my heart. I was looking forward to listening to getting off the train and pedaling home with the wind in my eyes. Instead I had to walk. Like a sucker. I tried to find the album closest to the genre 'funeral doom' on my ipod and trudged home with a profound sadness. Like a 16 year old listening to Morrisey. I'm talking 'get lost Phil! Your'e not my real dad! Why won't you let me do anyfing fun! I want to watch the Dance show and kiss my new boyfriendsssssss! 'deep blue.

I felt sorry for my bike as it would now have to live out its days with some scummy person who steals bikes from train stations and eats catfood casserole. We had a great time together. Like the time I rode down a hill. And the time I went around a corner. And the time I pedaled straight for a few hundred metres. These were good times. Now the poor bugger was probably in some bushes or in the bedroom of some delinquent. I can only imagine the self love war crimes it will witness. I hope it meets a quick and painless death. Or some little kid gets it and feeds it apples and sugar cubes and gives it a new life on a farm.

When I was six my mum took me to a bike shop to pick a bike for my birthday. I knew exactly which one I wanted. It was by the raddest bike there. About six months later I found out it was a girls bike. I guess the pink handlebars and 'girls' frame were obvious giveaways. Why did my parents buy me this bike? I stopped riding it immediately. There was no way I was turning into a girl.

Once when I had just turned 18 my friend Chris and I rode our bikes to the pub. On the way back we tried peeing and riding at the same time. I feel this has something to do with my parents buying me a pink bike. They've truly stuffed me up.

No love BC

A million years ago when I went to University and did nothing but eat fried rice and try to read Russian novels.There was a mature age international student in my class. Unlike most mature aged students this guy didn't spout philosophical theories about genetics "Physically fit males, such as olympians, have female offspring. It's a scientific fact", try to fellate the lecturer at every given moment, or tell the kids how it really was out in the harsh cold world that they had mastered.

Once we were sitting around in a room waiting for a tutor to arrive. He announced to the class that he would like to practice his stand-up comedy routine. He smiled and said that it was 'the perfect opportunity!" The room was unresponsive. A guy with a scarf rolled his eyes. I could sense that this was going to be awesome. I hoped his jokes would be about wankers wearing scarves and how they smelt like meat.

And so he stood in front of the class and began his routine. He was eager. This would be the first step in a life long career.

"A robber broke into a house where three women lived. They were in the kitchen. They were doing some things.

The robber said "Give me your money!"

The three women said "Oh no! Please don't take our money!"

And so the robber said "Ok. I will not take your money as long as you do this one thing."

"Anything" they said.

"When you go to sleep tonight", the robber said, "you must lie like the letter 'i'"

And the comedian put his hands above his head so he became the human embodiment of the letter 'i'. He then smiled at the class expectantly. This was an excellent joke and he knew he had told it well.

They looked at him.

He stretched out his arms above his head and said "LIE LIKE THE LETTER 'I' !!"

He did a little laugh in the hope of kick start the surely imminent laughter explosion. No love.

The guy in the scarf rolled his eyes. A fat girl stared. The tutor walked in and the comedian sat down.

I'm not really sure what the joke was about but it rates as one of the greatest jokes I've ever heard.

Beagletron Demazin

You know how they say double denim is a crime? I was thinking that if you had a denim jacket this doesn't really leave many options. You can basically wear tracksuit pants (ala train track smack fan or Quokka fanatic), leather pants (ala suburban British swinger), corduroy (ala dog loving dog lover with dandruff) or shorts/skirt (ala a guy called Ron who marinates sausages and wears a medi-alert bracelet for gout and always asks if he can come over and have a shower but then just sits in your bathroom sans shower and leaves 15 mins later). That's the options. Apparently.

Ethan Fowler rocked double denim in Nervous Breakdown. Incredible.

I was thinking that if I fed my beagle a little bit of petrol each day for the next year, a calculator and some battery acid, he would probably turn into a transformer. Once we went away and my girlfriend's mum looked after him. Then she went away on a holiday (which we didn't know she was going to do) and palmed the dog off (palmed the dog off! ha! Masturbation jokes!) to a British family that lived next door. When we returned we found Louie being patted by a ruddy faced woman. She said "Oooh he's a great dog him. He loves a cup of tea! He drank one out of a mug I'd left on the ground! We've been making him a cup of tea everyday! He loves 'em sweet!"

Her intentions were pure but I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be giving dogs cups of tea. He's into coffee. Instant coffee straight from the tin. Loves the stuff.

Half man, Half icing

I drove past the dentists with a mouth full of Violet Crumble yesterday. This is the equivalent to driving by the tax office waving a hand of beautiful laundered money while in a tax avoiding taxi. You can feel the wind in your hair and have a fleeting feeling of knowing that your time has not yet come. These are our salad days (i think that's a reference to tossing when ever you feel like it).

I had an x-ray and an ultrasound today. My shoulder is fucked and has been fucked for the last 5 weeks. They probably won't find anything. I'm probably faking.

Once I had an ultrasound on my testicles. It was an awkward situation. The ultrasound operator was a girl who would have only been two years older than me. I had to lie on my back and pull my sack out through a gap in the sheets. Balls don't look great to start off with, like two baby brains (massive) in a deflated hairy skin balloon . They look even worse in isolation. When they're a pate' pink against the green of surgical sheets they appear more tumor than vital.

And then the ultrasound operator squirts goo all over them and tries to survey them with a hand held reader while they dodge and slide like slippery poached eggs. It's a bad situation.

Balls.