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November 2003
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The court transcript! Exclusive to 4BG!
By Adam - 5:05 AM, Thursday, November 20, 2003 - 3 Comments |
How many children do you have?
Three.
And what are their names?
Prince, Paris, and Prince.
Do you... I'm sorry?
Prince, Paris, Prince.
Did you say Prince twice?
Yes, but we call him 'Blanket'.
Which one?
Prince.
Riiiiiiiiiight. So do you recognise this boy?
Yes, he's my friend but I never touched him.
But you shared a bed, is that correct?
Yes.
Did anyone see you?
No, we we were under a blanket.
Blanket? You're admitting to sleeping with Blanket?
It was a cold night.
You mean... you... you made Prince...
Yes, but we washed them off the sheets.
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Hey you, stop giggling!
By Gamma - 11:03 AM, Thursday, November 13, 2003 - 9 Comments
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Contrary to popular belief, I'm quite a sensible person. I try not to cause anyone any undue distress. I take pride in my work and in my appearance. If it's somebodies birthday, I might even comb my hair. So why, given my penchant for the commonsensical, did I accept a challenge to go to work stoned?
Sure, I've gone to work on no sleep, I've gone hung-over, I've gone a little tipsy, I've gone the day after being stoned and am still a little light-headed... but to intentionally get stoned to go to work? It seemed absurd, and yet undeniably 'naughty'. Challenge accepted! And after all, we've all got to set little goals for ourselves. At this point I should probably make everyone aware that I'm not too fussed about this job. It's an activity I engage in to earn a little extra spending money. If they fired me tomorrow, I'd instantly put my newfound time to good use and not give it a second thought. With that in mind I valiantly attacked the cheeba, had a confusing shower and donned my attire for the morning, singing Time After Time as I floated to work. A briefcase probably would have made it funnier, but alas, I have no need for such a case (irrespective of its duration).
As I walked into the building, it was like walking into a marketplace in a dodgy sci-fi movie: Everywhere I looked there were strange looking people speaking foreign tongues, and really dodgy actors. After checking Mark Hamill hadn't come along for this crazy ride, I ventured up the stairs (an entire story in itself), armed myself with some pens and headed back down to face the onslaught.
Things went fine at first. I'm convinced peoples friendliness is intrinsically linked to what time of day it is; as it was still early, most people were quite nice and open to a chat. There were a lot of old people... ordinarily they irk me, but I was in quite a good mood (I'm not sure why). About an hour passed without anything particularly amazing happening. Suddenly, I was confronted by a man that looked remarkably like Colonel Sanders. He was poultry in motion. It was then that I realised our feathered friend looks a lot like The Architect, and all of a sudden that long winded speech made a whole lot of sense. I used as many big words as I could when I spoke to him, and even managed to slip in "Ergo" (cleverly disguised as "'ere ya go!") as I gave him his goods. Finger lickin' good.
As those of you who've had experience in retail before will know, many parallels can be drawn between your customers and Space Invaders. They tend to come in waves, and you want to shoot them all. This inevitably leads to periods of inactivity while you're waiting for the next level. So I stood there staring blankly into space, contemplating how R2D2 could simply be the end result of Richard Dean Anderson finding Felix the Cats bag of tricks. It was then that a rather peculiar customer meandered through the door. Immediately I realised he was breaking at least two of the fundamental conditions of entry; No animals are allowed, and you must not be barefoot. Seeming to sense impending conflict, he barked and ran off. Now, we all know the saying "When it rains it pours"... or is it if it rains? In any case, the one time I've gone to work stoned is the day all of the most bizarre circumstances ever come to fruition. While it may be argued that being stoned was the cause of the bizarre circumstances, I'd like to remind everyone that I'm a very sensible person.
A woman comes in and asks "Excuse me, I've run out of petrol, is it ok if I leave my car here overnight?". "I'll check for you, but it should be ok. Did you know there's a petrol station just up the road?". "Oh. No, I can't... I'm from Victoria". Read that last line again and let the idiocy sink in. Now just what is that all about? I'm sure I don't know. She didn't come back, and her car's still there. Next, a woman is rushing towards the door practically dragging her screaming daughter with her. Not only was the girl not wearing shoes (that's a paddlin'), she wasn't wearing pants. Good thing they were kicking themselves out so I didn't have to. I was later told that the girl was playing innocently in the provided playground area and went on a little adventure down the slide. It seems her excited exclamations of 'Weeeeeee!' weren't too far off, as a previous tenant had decided to poo at the base of the slide. Now, having the seat of your pants smeared in human feces is one thing, but I draw the line when it's someone else’s poo. It seems the girl’s mother did as well. I guess we won't be seeing her again any time soon.
All in all, I thoroughly recommend accommodating recreational drug use in your Monday to Friday routine. Especially you, Adam. My only regret is I forgot to sign on, and consequently won’t be paid. |
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50 Cent
By Adam - 5:23 AM, Monday, November 10, 2003 - 12 Comments
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When he comes to Australia, will GST force a name change to 55 Cent? Will his son, 25 Cent, have to round up to the nearest 5c, making him 30 Cent? Will departure tax make him 99 Dollar And 15 Cent In Debit?
I thought it was impossible to come up with a name as nerdy and weak and crap and weedy as 50 Cent, until I discovered his real name is Curtis.
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