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October 2002
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Michael Is Alive! Michael Is Alive!
By Michael - 2:29 PM, Monday, October 28, 2002 - 18 Comments |
Yeah, I'm here. Still breathin'.
Explain to me why the hell I go to work and code games all day, then come home and code games all night? Am I not in the prime of my life? Should I not be sleeping with beautiful floozy from night to night? Relishing in my own masculinity while lifting weights in the mirror and throwing small cars across the street? Talking like Yoda, should I not be? I don't get it. I must be a nerd.
It must be weird e-mail month here at 4BG. Here's my contribution:
Do you have any downloads of people yawning. I want to put together a CD with various sounds of people yawning. Or do you know of a CD of just yawning, from which I could hear some samples before deciding to purchase.
Thanks, Monty Naturally, like most normal humans, I replied.
Dear Mr. Berke,
We are utterly disgusted at your frank and open attitude towards the indecent act of 'yawning', and are even more horrified that you would go to such lengths as asking strangers as to where you could find recordings of these lude acts. We at 4bitterguys.com do not affiliate ourselves in any manner or form with yawning or recordings of people yawning, and are ashamed to learn that our reading audience is of such crude upbringing.
We have reported your email address to the appropriate authorities in the hope that you will be brought to justice and prosecuted.
People like you make us sick. The world would be a happier place without you and your 'yawns'.
Appauled,
Michael
4 Bitter Guys |
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Wait! I tell a lie.
By Adam - 3:46 AM, Monday, October 28, 2002 - 0 Comments
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Something of interest did happen to me in the form of an email, and here it is:
Adam Wanna fuck your family member ?
We have incest of all kinds:
Daddy - Daughter,
Mommy - Son,
Mommy - Daughter,
Brother - Sister,
Sister - Sister,
Daddy - Son,
Brother - Brother...
Just take a private anonimous tour!
Our content is absolutely real, no doubt
(for 100%!!!): Shocking Family Photos, Black
and White Retro Photos Content, HOT incest
Movie Clips, Incest Family Stories and more.
My Daddy is a real sexual monster... He can
fuck me 5-6 times a day... And his crazy
brother always draw me and my daddy.
In the beginning I didn't like that, but then
I felt myself pleased.
I don't think I want to read emails anymore. |
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...daed si madA ...daed si madA
By Adam - 3:41 AM, Monday, October 28, 2002 - 3 Comments
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So I walked into work on Monday morning and my boss said, 'your visible resource is proactively assigned to leverage an internal self-improvement mechanism to add value to the team on an ongoing basis until close of business Friday going forward.' I ran this through my dickead interpreter and it translated to, 'you're on training all this week.' Whoo-hoo! I thought, no work for a whole week! So off I went to this training to discover that it was even more painfully boring than my actual job. This wasn't helped by the presence of a mad bloke who stopped the course every four minutes to ask the most inane questions you could imagine, and a mad woman who insisted on taking mobile calls in the classroom. Freaks.
Consequently, nothing of interest has happened to me. Nothing. I haven't even had time to be bitter about stuff. |
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I feel I should say something...
By Tim - 9:06 PM, Friday, October 25, 2002 - 6 Comments
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 ...since Michael and Adam just seemed to have died.
So E/N huh... well since I couldn't be arsed writing an article I'll tell you what's going on in my life.
Tinea's almost gone. Hurrah. Very mild case apparently, to the point where the doctor laughed when I showed it to her. "Haha, just use some Canestan." The problem now are the plantar warts I got on my feet from the damned showers too. Actually, no, the problem initially starts with me breaking my toe. uhh, no, I didn't do it just stubbing it on the couch. It was a, err, football injury. Yeah.
 Anyway so guess which foot my warts are on? So I decide to get these warts burnt off. "How much worse do you reckon they could make my limp?" How about almost impossible to walk? So now I'm back in Australia, minus a fiancee, with food poisoning, my feet need to be amputated, and I'm barely seen at the office between catching up on tutes/trying to get places on one foot/etc, and so the guys there are cranky at me too. Great.
Apart from that life is peachy. Well, it is actually. I'm still really really happy about my sheila, and the trip was fantastic and just thinking about it cheers me up immensely. Cheers for all the congratulations too everyone, much appreciated. Hope you enjoy finding out about my entire medical history. |
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It worked!
By Tim - 7:04 PM, Saturday, October 19, 2002 - 14 Comments
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 There are few things in this world that go to plan.
Thankfully, shelling out a fortune on a diamond ring and a trip to Europe to woo the girl of my dreams went without a hitch.
Yes indeedy, at the tender age of 22 I am now engaged (and yep it was my birthday while I was away too, thanks all you swine who didn't send me a birthday greeting)
So I managed to pick up a fiancee, tinea and a few souvenirs while I was away. In the meantime I lost a bag, my mind in Amsterdam, and a few kilos, which just doesn't make sense given all the beer/waffles/eclairs I had.
All up a great trip.
Except for the French.
 The motherfucking French. God I hate them. Every frenchie thought I was a goddamn yank (which in a vague sense I am) and would treat with me utter contempt. I mean, jesus, you dickheads could've at least defended Maginot line properly and then the yanks wouldn't have had to save your sorry arses in WWII, no need to get cranky at them just because you're a bunch of arrogant wankers who tried to fight ever war like the last. Just because you've been occupied by more foreign people than Woomera, it's no reason to be so snooty at people coming and spending good money at your poncy little shops with your exorbitant prices. Upyas.
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Pint glasses.
By Michael - 7:51 AM, Saturday, October 19, 2002 - 2 Comments
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A few months ago, Miles, Ches and myself were wandering through the maze that is IKEA on Nepean Hwy. After a much-hyped-up and (unsurprisingly) unsatisfactory hotdog and drink for $2, we were heading out of the store, mildly satisfied with the day's purchase of a couch for Ches, each one of us secretly fantasising about the possibility of jumping into the kid's plastic-ball pool before we left.
But as we came to the purchasing section, I couldn't help but spot some pint glasses for $1 each. "Bargain!" We grabbed about 12.
A fantastic idea at the time, because there's nothing I hate more than small glasses which have about two mouthfuls in them before you need to go and refill. Unfortunately we didn't think ahead and realise that the only time we really want huge glasses is for water when we're all hungover from the night before... who wants to drink out of a fucking pint glass when the last thing you want to think of is beer, horrible, horrible brain-killing beer.
*SLAP*
... oh my god, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. |
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Tom Hanks! Tom Hanks!
By Adam - 5:39 AM, Wednesday, October 16, 2002 - 15 Comments
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Road To Perdition is a major US film with Tom Hanks in the lead rôle. Ads are everywhere, prominently featuring a clear shot of Tom Hanks together with his name: TOM HANKS. The first acting credit to appear in the film's opening titles, on its own, in a large clear typeface, white on black, for several seconds: TOM HANKS. Tom Hanks is in the film for at least ten minutes, looking exactly like Tom Hanks and sounding exactly like Tom Hanks, before a woman in the row behind me says: 'Is that Tom Hanks?'
We've had a lot of requests to transcribe the lyrics to the theme from Victorian travel show Postcards. Here is the complete and unabridged version:
Postcards
Why don't you send me
Postcards
Ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh
Next week: The theme from Getaway.
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Arse Of Last Week: Sally Williams
By Adam - 4:08 PM, Monday, October 14, 2002 - 16 Comments
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You know how you're watching ads on the telly and suddenly this Brand Power logo comes up, and this woman comes on and 'wants to talk to you about Product X', and all these captions come up telling you why it's good for you and gentle on the stomach and up to seven times healthier and conveniently sized and whiter than white and Australian made and new and improved and 25% bigger and lubricated for her pleasure and packed full of vitamin C and containing liposomes and from the Ponds Institute and Academy® Award nominated and from the people who brought you Solvol and longer lasting and easily spreadable and gets into teeth like liquid gets into this chalk and cooks in the blink of an eye and strengthens your bones and is tastier than ever, and it's all done up like a serious information programme even though it's obviously just an ad, and all the grannies and AM talk radio listeners immediately rush out and buy everything she recommends because she's wearing a red suit so she must be trustworthy? The woman who does that, the vacant one with the dark hair, that's Sally Williams. She's an Arse. What's more, she's a Celebrity Arse. Apparently. |
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Where the hell is Adam?
By Michael - 10:15 AM, Monday, October 14, 2002 - 4 Comments
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According to my calculations, since his last post, he should have made 18,092,584 posts. And now, for a really lame joke:
A man is driving a pick-up truck down the road with a bunch of ducks standing in the back. A police officer pulls over the driver and informs him that he is speeding and then asks him where does he think he's going with all those ducks. The driver says that he just doesn't know what to do anymore. The officer says, "Look, there's a zoo not far from there and that's where you should be taking them. That will take care of your problem."
The man thanks the officer and drives off with his ducks. The next day the officer again sees the pick-up truck once again speeding down the road. This time, though, all the ducks in the back are standing there with sunglasses. The officer pulls over the driver over and says, "I thought I told you to take them to the zoo!"
"I did that," said the driver, "but now they want to go to the beach!" |
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XBox? *burp*
By Michael - 8:37 PM, Wednesday, October 9, 2002 - 2 Comments
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We've been reading over our site statistics lately, and let me tell you, it's great to see such a diverse range of people with genuine interests in the well-being, healthiness and education of others. We have discovered that over 60% of our members are fans of guys spending quality time with horses, teenage watersports, and interracial one-on-ones.
Michael's kitchen tip #24: If you're making cereal, and you're not sure if you have enough milk in the carton, the best thing to do is pour it in slower. That way more comes out.
If you're like everyone else with an XBox you've probably played Halo from start to end, and if you're really cool like me, you've probably played multiplayer and co-op Halo a fair bit. And if you're *really* *really* cool, you will have gotten pissed every time you played with friends. We've tried to clear things up a bit here with the Official Unofficial Halo Drinking Game. |
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The 80 kilometres-per-hour cake
By Michael - 9:45 AM, Tuesday, October 8, 2002 - 21 Comments
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I'm in my deliciously sexy 1980 Volvo on my way to work this morning. The sky is clear, the weather is good, everyone around me is singing along with the music in their cars. Traffic aint bad, and life is all good. A blue hatchback ahead and to the right has P-plates and a fluffy toy inside - definitely a girl. Being the male I am, it's time to check her out, so I drive a little faster and catch up with her.
As I'm getting closer, I notice something on the drivers side roof of her car. I can't quite make it out, but it looks like a container with something on it. I guess she forgot she put it on the roof when she was loading her car up and now she's in an 80 kilometres-per-hour zone. I should probably tell her. On closer inspection, I think it's a cake.
I drive a little faster, and right when I'm about to grab her attention, the package on top of the car declares its independence and attempts to achieve orbit around Earth. The girl has no idea what's going on, and only notices through her rear view mirror that a brown and white meteor has crashed onto the road, violently spinning itself into oblivion in much the same way the pod-racers fell apart in Star Wars Episode I.
She's far too distracted to notice me now and besides, my mission has been deprecated, so I just watch her expression. She looks confused. "What the fuck was that?" she's thinking. After a brief pause and a facial expression no actor could replicate, the penny drops. Her mouth widens, her hand raises up to it in horror. Her brain is flashing at a thousand miles per hour through loading up the car, putting her chocolate cake for little Timmy that she made last night on the roof of the drivers side, throwing in her backpack in, and now her clothes for the gym -- wait, she left them upstairs, she'll just go grab them. She's searching desperately for the familiar memory of taking the cake off the roof. Still searching. Still no memory. Oh god. Search failed. Shit. She's realised. I giggle to myself. "Oh, isn't it funny, the little things we do as humans?" I'm in a good mood. She's slowing down now, and I start to overtake. As I do, I catch her eye and give her a smile that says "Don't worry, it happens to the best of us." My timing couldn't be more atrocious. She doesn't speak 'Smile' very well when she's upset, and reads my grin as "Aaaaaaaaaahahahaahah, you fucking stupid bitch, you left your chocolate cake on top of the car. What an idiot! You just made my day. Do something else stupid!"
She starts to cry and calls her mum. Concluding my work here is done, I drive on. |
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The Magical Disappearing Weekend!
By Miles - 10:19 AM, Sunday, October 6, 2002 - 7 Comments
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 Don't you hate it when you look at your watch, and it's 1pm on a Sunday afternoon, and you have no idea what just happened to your weekend?
There seems to be one crucial element to achieving this effect: alcohol. And lots of it.
Spy Lounge sent me and my housemate an offer for some free drinks on Friday night - how could we say no? So we went, took advantage of happy hour, took advantage of the free drinks, and were pleasantly tanked up. Everything was very cordial and polite. We then decided to head off to the Elephant and Wheelbarrow. Big mistake.
Very rapidly, with seemingly no effort or control on our behalf, things turned ugly. In fact, we went from "wrestling with Ches at 2am" drunk to "kissing a fat lesbian" drunk in the space of about half an hour.
You see, the bastards at the Elephant and Wheelbarrow had Becks on special for Oktoberfest.. and.. get this... if you bought FOUR pints, you got a free "Becks" glass. Now, you put this in front of a bunch of beer-swilling drunks, and what are they going to do? Buy the four fucking pints of course.
So anyway, things sorta go hazy at the 1am mark, and I wake up on Saturday morning with the worst hangover of my LIFE. First thing I do (after having Berocca and aspirin) is check my wallet for the damage. Apparently I'd only spent $25 the whole night... score!!! Then I checked my bank account.
They should either put fucking breath testers on the ATMs in pubs, or just not have them there at all. I don't even remember going near an ATM, let alone managing to put my card in, type in my PIN, and get my money out. I was having difficulty even standing, let alone a mammoth chore like that.
On the plus side, I made many friends at EAW when I tried to go out on the dancefloor and knocked over a table full of drinks, fell into a few people, and finally put my cigarette out on someone's shirt.
 Anyway, it was a good time to do it - Uni's about to start again, and this is sort of my "final semester". I'll finish all my 4th year subjects and whatnot this year (and get my honours mark) but have another year to go to make up the points for my degree. Cinema Studies, here I come!! But yeah, I've got my 4th year project winding up in 2 weeks, another 50+ hour project from 255 I bet, and a 6 week long design project I haven't even started yet (with 3 and a bit weeks to go). Should be fun :) Only two exams this semester though, and only one that counts! Yeah!!!
I was having a browse through the 4BG archives yesterday, and I think it's time we brought back the thumbs up into news posts. So here you go.
And finally, if anyone from PlayNOW! is reading this, I hope you're all aware that we've recreated the forum here. It doesn't look like PlayNOW!'s coming back, so come get your fix here. The forum's going off at the moment! Awwwwww yeaaaah. |
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Speaking of Gameshows...
By Adam - 10:20 AM, Friday, October 4, 2002 - 5 Comments
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To be a contestant on Wheel Of Fortune you must have to get your brain removed or something, because not only do they mispronounce half the alphabet, they also use all the same crap alliterative words. 'I'll have an N for Nellie thanks Rob.' 'I'll have a Hhhhhhhhhhaitch for Harry thanks Rob.' And then you've got your smartarse bogans who use their children's names as alliterative words, even when there's no chance of the letter being in the word. 'I'll have a Q for Quhryshyn thanks Rob. That's me dorrrrrrrta's name.' What's wrong with the fricking NATO alphabet? It works. It's common. And then, when it's taken the panel a good 15 minutes to guess the phrase BUN IN THE OVEN, they get a choice between a 90cm colour television, an all expenses paid trip to western Europe for five weeks, or a set of steak knives, and they always pick the steak knives.
 As if that's not bad enough, now we have Catchphrase as well. Obviously being the stupidest idea for a game show ever isn't enough for these people, because it's easily the most cringeworthy, incredibly selfconscious piece of entertainment you'll find anywhere. The contestants get shown a picture of a door with FRONT written on it, and they have to guess that it means FRONT DOOR; or a picture of a bloke sawing a piece of wood and wearing a T-shirt with HACK across it, and they have to work out that it's a HACK SAW. So there's that, and then you add the fact that Baby John Burgess is the most embarrassingly awful host of anything anywhere ever. He's useless in front of a camera. When it's his turn to talk [as, you know, a show's host is wont to do], he grins to himself and stares into space for a bit, mumbles something incoherently, and the producer just whacks the next puzzle on the screen. No flow at all, and he has absolutely no rapport with the guests. At the end of the show they stick him in the centre of set with the winning contestant, and he just stares at them with his inane grinning face for about ten seconds, and then mumbles some meaningless crap that you can't even hear because he's mumbling, and the contestant just nods and grins nervously. It's just like when you have a conversation with one of those socially crippled people who comes up to you, stares at you, says one pointless thing that'd delivered as though it's the most important thing anyone has ever said, stares at you again for about thirty seconds and goes away. I work with a guy like that and everybody hates him. |
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"HEAVEN DOS'NT WANT ME AND HELL THINKS I'LL TAKE OVER"
By Michael - 3:26 PM, Thursday, October 3, 2002 - 4 Comments
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I'm driving home from work today and I'm stuck behind a Commodore. I'm assuming the driver was female, because on the left-hand side of the rear windshield was a bumper sticker which said "Zero to bitch in 1.5 seconds". On the right-hand side was another sticker, "Heaven dos'nt want me and hell thinks I'll take over" (sic).
Holy fucking shit.
Look bitch: Heaven doesn't want you because you're an illiterate fuckwit who thinks the alphabet is a gameshow, and the only thing you'll be taking over in hell is the "punishment for people who hate sharing Earth with retards" division. |
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Arse Of The Week: Super Mario
By Adam - 7:39 AM, Thursday, October 3, 2002 - 3 Comments
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 Why? Let me explain:
- He talks exclusively in Anglo-rooted Italian stereotypes from the '60s
- He's supposed to be protecting a princess but runs off and leaves her all the time
- Every time he defeats the big green Lego dinosaur that keeps kidnapping her, he leaves it alive to kidnap the bitch all over again
- He solves the world's problems by jumping over things (why he doesn't just get a gun is beyond me)
- He wears bright blue dungarees with bright yellow buttons and a bright red T-shirt, which everyone knows is fashion suicide
- He has one of them dumb handlebar moustaches that cricket players think is cool
- When he falls on his arse from thirty feet he goes 'okey-dokey!' and keeps running, with no consideration for the repeated damage inflicted upon his spine or coccyx
- He spends all his time repeatedly saving a dumb blonde chick from certain death, even though she never ever puts out
- He's supposed to be Italian but not once has he said 'GOOOOOOOOAL!!'
- Last week I was in a queue and Super Mario came up with a basket full of chocolate coins and completely failed to offer me one
- Despite all the exercise he gets he's still a fat bastard
Super Mario, you are an ugly fat shit. Get nicked.
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Ahhh.
By Adam - 1:00 PM, Wednesday, October 2, 2002 - 8 Comments
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My leave starts in exactly... 29 minutes. All the work's done. I'm so bored that I'm pondering the machinations of wasting thirty seconds of a person's time without them noticing, and writing a news post whinging because there are contributions from only two of the four bitter guys on the front page. *hint hint guys*
On the positive side, the 4BG forums are positively roaring with new material. We've had well over 10 new posts today. Cop that Gaming Age!
Today for lunch I had marmite sandwiches and a laksa cup-a-soup which tastes nothing like laksa or soup. Oh, and I've just wasted thirty seconds of your time. Thank you. Thank you. |
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