We get up.

We get up. Oh how we zig. I'm the puff from a bee sting, all welts and rose. I'm the electric eel, all piss and sake. I ride my bike down the biggest hills and hold back on the brakes. I'm going to whir into your garden, push spokes through hydrangea. Smash myself into your roller door, topple your birdbath, let the petals fly.

Daylight savings. Referendum.

Col Barnetta and the Tombstone Grill. Nibble nose.

Shai Hulud. Hearts Once Nourished. The artwork for the new album (newer album) is horrendous. It pretty much fell apart after the first LP. I want to hear about hating the human race, hopelessness and doom, not dragons and deathglam misfires. It's like the rap game, knee deep in the crack game. I don't want to hear about bbqs and positivity. I need to hear about selling kilos of coke and letting clips drop, black steel, crybabies and the great ghostdieni. Scrubbing my wallabies down with my Illmatic toothbrush. Moesha, you a bag o'chips and all dat.

Thai Buddha

I waited at the bus stop for a bus that didn't come. I then caught it to the train station to a train that never came. Technical difficulties. So I had to catch a bus full to the brim of old people who smelled like they'd ingested Miss Maud's Custard Sloppers, milky tea and talcum powder sweat dust.

Thanks Colin Barnett. I now know what it's like to live in the Eastern Bloc. You have opened my eyes. Next time I'm drunk on homemade kirsch I'm coming to beat you a deep shade of communist red with a pickled herring. You will feel the unrepressed groin kicks of my rage deep in your Soviet beets. I will also crash my Lada Niva into your Toyota and yell out 'Cold war! Cold War! Milosevic!'

My girlfriend came home with a funny looking passport the other day. I laughed and she cried. I thought it was funny until I got one today.


I probably can't ever enter South East Asia with this photo. I look like I'm hunting Chong. I want to chop chop. I'm gonna chase the dragon and blow goats. It looks a million times worse in colour but you have to be wary of teh identity thieves on the netz so I've used my exceptional graphic design skills to produce the cover for 80's weed punk phenom Weed Life's first 12". featuring such songs as Bad Buzz (coke and aspro), Til Tuesday IOU, Go it alone/ loving tonight, and the infamous Pork Chop Cops.


Green room.

Super Emo Holiday Part Twenty Sux

I'VE GOT A WINNING LOTTO TICKET!! $14.10! THAT'S AUSTRALIAN DOLLARS BY THE WAY! EXCUSE ME IF I DON'T RECOGNISE YOU AS I'M SPEEDING PAST IN MY CAR WITH 14 BIG ONES WORTH OF PREMIUM FUEL! THEY SAY MONEY CHANGES PEOPLE AND I'D HAVE TO AGREE! COLIN BARNETT - YOU'VE GOT MY BACK BUDDY. MONEY NEEDS MONEY Y'HEAR!

Super Emo Holiday Part Colt 22.

Shopping centres can be the worst place on earth. At this time of year they're usually full of kids in new era caps and thongs trying to dry hump. I'm beginning to hate kids. Teenagers especially. Actually, kids in groups. Kids as individuals are actually people. Catch the train and you'll have to listen to some little dietary deficient bastard tell their b.f.f. how they saw a guy a the juice shop and he was asking how Alison was and i was like she's ok and he was like how was you're holiday and i was like i've just been getting smashed and like going to parties and he was like do you know where there are any parties and i told him that we were having one so now we've got to have one at like your place because Steven is a total dick and wouldn't let me go out on thursday night and i was like you're not my dad you can't tell me what to do and mum was getting pissed off at me so i just like spent the whole night on msn and ignored them and they were like... ENDS


I kicked the footy in the park yesterday. I realised that i was wearing shorts but no undies. I don't do this often. Only when I have job interviews. It helps me relax. I also like to drink some water from my dog's bowl to get some wolf bravery and punch a wall until my knuckles look like Colin Barnett's gums. I walk into that interview and tell those potential enemies that I've just damaged the letterbox of their enemy. It shows that I'm already loyal and that i'm prepared to take direct action like a fat 40 year old pensioner takes direct action at Miss Mauds. 'Escuze me! Escuze me! You seem to have run out of black forrest. I really love that and I came here all the way from Morley especially for a piece. I paid for all you can ate and this isn't all I can ate. You're going to make some more? There will be some more? Ok, ok, it's just that i love it. It's a special day for me. Going to have a haircut and buy a gold necklace. I will wait for the cakes. Lucky they're coming, lucky is right, I know a councilor in Morley and he would like to know about this situation if there wasn't any of the cakes but it's all ok because they're coming. Five minutes? Five minutes?'.

Direct mofk'n action. If it's a government department there isn't really a direct competitor so I usually tell them I kicked a robber in the nuts and that he bit my hand. And i demonstrate by swing a kick into the air and then biting my hand where the wound is "Arghhhhhh!" Then I tell them I took him to Mcdonalds and bought him lunch (after I subdued him with a headlock - cue grabbing an interviewer in a headlock and showing them how you can incapacitate an attacker by hooking a finger in each nostril) and that how all robbers just need a hand "You should have seen the little bugger eat! Two quarter pounders and a sundae - I think he still robbed me! Hahahahhahaha!!"

Jobs that's how you get them.

super Emo Holiday Part 13

I found an old stencil from ages ago and made some stickers. I got up. Mad shout outs to Ghostface killah, Vikki the Viking and the Kanagroo Creek gang. Dolarmites are toast.

Barnett - I'm coming for you.

Super Emo Holiday Part 12

I got a $60 parking fine at ten o'clock at night in Subiaco. Something's got to change Barnett, something's got to change!

Also, well done to the Tigers for being the only AFL club to have some balls. Demitriou - you're a fat womble. I hope you get done for stat rape! Ha!

Super Emo Holiday Part Nein

Social commentary. That's what's been lacking a shaq-a-lacking. So here, I lay down some observations.
Colin Barnett = Tombstone teeth. He's got these ratty broken fronts that have gaps big enough to fit a lego head replete in lego space headwear. He also has this curtain of jowl that seems to flop over the front of his collar and blocks the view of his half windsor. He seems to sweat, some form of right-wing vinegar substance, and goes pink like a lump of grainy silverside. His nose looks like it's had a bit of a nibble from a few rats drawn by his posthumous breath. Judging by his physical appearance I can safely say he is a chronic masturbator with a horrendously poor diet. Premier material? Yeah, he's pretty much what WA deserves. Man I hate West Australians.

Hospital drugs, the terrible two and the vaseline conjunctivitis

I've just got out of Hospital. I had my tonsils removed. I said to my boss 'I hope they take out my tonsils'. He said 'They'll pull out your tonsils and your balls will come out with them- they're connected.'

The Hospital I went to was small and old. I don't have private health insurance no more. In the waiting room, I leant on a table. The table had dried blood on it.

My operation went pretty well. I remember lying on the operating table waiting for the anethetist to shoot me high. like always he said ' a sharp scratch' and you feel a little pinch. But this time it was a little different, about five seconds after my shot of sleepmaker I felt the strongest pain in my left arm. It felt like my veins had been hit with electrified piss. It burnt bad, I said 'my arms really hurting' he said 'that's quite normal' and the dugite venom hit my heart and the oxygen took my mind.

I woke up in a parking lot of hospital beds with Vaseline all over my eyes.

It was in hospital, four days ago, that I became a drug addict. My throat hurt like I had a herring bone bridge where my tonsils used to be. The nurse or someone gave me a shot in my thigh. I was still feeling the anesthetic and it didn't really seem to make much difference. But hours later that night after having lame duck- no street cred-panadeine, I was hanging out for some good shit.

The bed next to me was taken by a fat troll from Rivervale. I listened as he got prepped for surge ( I have a phd). When asked if he had any problems he said ' yeah, I stop breathing.' He also said he had sleep apnea (spellink?). The nurse said that he was actually too overweight with the operation and was surprised that the doctor hadn't suggested he shed a few kilos of butter before he carved him up.

Anyway, this guy grunted, farted, sighed, mumbled, mouth farted, snored, and generally pissed me off all night. I kind of hoped he did stop breathing during his operation. (only for a short time, only for a short time.) He lied there all night in these little green undies with his bush escaping from all sides. I might seek compensation.

Anyway (x2) , i got my first real hit of peth. Man, as soon as the Samoan nurse shot that morpheate (spellink?) into my glutes I was ok. I sunk right down into that bed and let waves of darkness take my head. I was Hunter S., I was Hendrix and Cobain.

In the morning I wanted another but apparently the doctor only allocated me two hits. The fat man next to me got four, and he only had surgery on his foot, he had local anesthetic and he got four!

If I had private health insurance I could of got some to take home(probably not), Jim McGinty hates the working man. Shame Carps, shame.

I'm going to break into a hospital.