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December 2003
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What's your favourite thing about christmas?
By Adam - 10:42 AM, Wednesday, December 24, 2003 - 6 Comments |
My favourite thing at christmas would have to be the carols, because I just can't get enough of them. I love hearing the same six songs over and over and over and over and over and over and over for months on end. And oh, when people make their ring tone a christmas carol, I just love hearing it ring, because it's not possible to be completely fucking fed up with carols from everywhere else.
Although it's a close call really, because I just adore all the tinsel everywhere, and all the red and green shit that gets put up all over the place. Oh, and all the television and radio ads, banging on about christmas. How I love it. It makes me feel warm and cozy inside. And all the christmas-themed shows on television. I just can't get enough of the Father Knows Best Christmas Reunion.
Oh, and there's all the brilliant, brilliant christmas cards you get from distant relatives. "Dear Adam, Merry Christmas! Here's wishing you all the best for the festive season. Much love, some dickhead bogan relative." I save them up and keep them all in a big shoe box, so I can read them again and again and again. |
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There's always someone angrier than you
By Adam - 10:38 AM, Tuesday, December 23, 2003 - 2 Comments
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I've had a really bad day. Really bad. Like, I-can't-be-bothered-making-the-effort-to-breathe-anymore bad. The tram's going through the city and someone pulls the cord. Instant voice on the PA:
DO NOT PULL THE CORD IN THE CITY. WE ARE REQUIRED... BY... LAW... TO STOP AT ALL STOPS IN THE CITY. REQUIRED... BY... LAW.
So I go up and stand at the front of the tram to get off, just as I do several times every day; just as hundreds of thousands* of commuters do every day. [tap tap tap], goes the driver. I look to see what he's tapping at: a sign that says "KEEP BEHIND THE RED LINE AT ALL TIMES".
You know those moments when you're coming off an incredibly shit morning, and you're already close to murdering some innocent person for existing and being roughly near you? This patronising fuck was an ideal candidate, for whining about totally inconsequential shit purely for the sake of whining, when I've got real problems that'd blow his into the next solar system. I'm already regretting not having grabbed the sooky little cunt's finger and ramming it up his arse.
Actually, that's probably where he keeps it at night, to secure the broomstick that's already up there.
* lakhs, for our Indian readers |
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7 days to Christmas? What the hell?
By Tim - 6:39 AM, Thursday, December 18, 2003 - 10 Comments
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 Ugh, why didn't anyone tell me how shit "the real world" is when it comes to holidays?
Seriously, I'd have spent the rest of my life "studying" if I'd known how crap life is without holidays.
How do people survive? What's life if you can't spend upto 5 months of the year just sitting on your arse at home watching TV? How do people not just keel over and die from exhaustion? It takes all my energy to be in at the office by 11am and drunk by 2pm.
Oh and stop all your whining you people who actually look at the front page. The damn forum has sucked any will to make updates to the front page, not that they were ever funny to begin with, so all our cathartic ramblings now take place on the forum. I suggest you go there. |
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Beating the Summer Heat
By Gamma - 10:58 AM, Sunday, December 14, 2003 - 14 Comments
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As the summer months roll on, your home is likely to become an uncomfortable furnace. Not all of us are lucky enough to have air conditioning, so here's an easy, cost effective solution that everyone can enjoy.
You'll need the following items:
- 2L of banana flavoured milk
- 750ml Bottle of Kahlua
- 4 medium sized ice cubes
- Bendy straw
- Cheeba
- Vacuum cleaner
- Hair dryer
- Beach towel
- Esky
- Garden hose with fittings
- Coconut bikini
- Mo' Horizons 'Remember Tomorrow' CD
- 87 packets of jelly crystals
- Inflatable swimming pool
The size of your inflatable swimming pool will largely be dictated by the size of the room you intend on putting it in. Since I chose the lounge room, I had a bit of space to play with. I picked up a pool from Go Lo for $39.95AU which measured 305 x 183 x 56cm. It's large enough to house four people very comfortably, or seventeen people if you're really close friends. The more the colour of the pool clashes with your furniture, the better. When selecting a pool, take note of its capacity; mine holds 999L. This is important for a couple of reasons.
First, all that water has to come from somewhere. Luckily I live in an apartment, and though the owners claim to be able to incur a charge if you use a ridiculous amount of water, I know for a fact that there's only one meter which measures the total water usage of all tenants so they're powerless to trace that missing metric tonne of H²0 back to me. If you're less fortunate, attach the garden hose to a neighbours tap in the middle of the night and steal all the water you need. If you're not on the ground floor but have a tap on your balcony, be sure to thoroughly hose down any girls that walk past on the street below wearing white tops. I accidentally sprayed some nearby power lines as well and nearly killed myself, but I stand by my decision.
Secondly, check that your building is capable of handling a metric tonne of extra weight in the middle of the room. As luck would have it I live with a structural engineer, and he assured me I had nothing to worry about.
Positioning of the pool is important. You always have to consider the worst case scenario, which of course is the pool exploding in the middle of the night and flooding your home. With that in mind, you're probably best to keep it a safe distance away from your entertainment cabinet and generally anything that has electricity running through it. Get that Xbox off the floor, the pool water's one thing you don't want to be Live. Try to orientate the pool to give as many patrons a clear view of the TV as possible. Also avoid direct sunlight, as cheaper pools will be made out of dodgier plastic which may weaken and burst (and they don't get much cheaper than forty bucks). Not to mention the fact that the whole point was to get out of the heat in the first place.
Once the location's sorted out and any furniture adjustments are made, it's time to inflate. I originally went down to the local service station to use their pressure pump, with the intention of carrying the pool home... but the fittings just didn't agree with each other. This is where you'll need that hair dryer, set to 'Cold'. Inflation should only take a few minutes. Leave a little play in it to compensate for drunk and stoned people falling onto the edge.
Now it's time to fill 'er up. This could take some time, so take a chance and leave the water running while you move on to the other tasks. Set up the vacuum cleaner a few metres away from one side of the pool, and run the hose so the end of it is roughly centred at the front. Lay the beach towel out on the floor adjacent to the opposite side; this is where people will get in and out. Put the milk and Kahlua in the Esky and place it up against the wall of the pool (on the outside, you dolt). If you've got a bar fridge you might want to bring that out instead, just keep in mind there'll now be electrical leads fairly close to the water. By this stage the pool won't be anywhere near full yet, but for the purposes of this article I'm going to pretend it is. That being the case, turn off and disconnect the hose, preferably hiding it away in an obscure cupboard where none of your friends will find it. Optionally, you can accessorise with inflatable furniture, pool toys and perhaps even some palm trees. Watch the first few minutes of Billy Madison if you're in need of inspiration.
Now all the work's done, it's time to enjoy the fruits of your labour. Put on the Mo' Horizons CD very loudly, strip down to your underwear and slip into the cool water (no diving). Mix some Kahlua into the banana flavoured milk, throw in the ice cubes and sip it through the bendy straw. Smoke the cheeba, being careful to exhale towards the vacuum cleaner hose so it'll suck away the smoke (you don't want it stinking up your nice curtains). If you're feeling adventurous, read a book or chuck on your favourite videogame (unless it's 'Eyetoy: Play'). Once you're sufficiently drunk and stoned, put on the coconut bikini and invite some friends around. Good times are to be had by all.
What do you do with the 87 packets of jelly crystals I hear you ask? At first I thought the pool would become redundant once summer was gone, but then I hit upon the idea of using it as a giant mold during winter. Obviously testing of my theory will have to wait.
I'll see you in the Pool Room. |
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When Life Goes In Slow Motion (aka. Abusing Paragraphs)
By Michael - 10:48 AM, Wednesday, December 10, 2003 - 8 Comments
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Hot damn. Today started off fantastic for me. First off, I leave my house carrying a monitor, get to my car, fumble around for my keys... keys... keys... shit. Keys are inside the house. Hmm. I'll have to call my mate and get him to drop the keys off. Shit. Mobile is inside as well. Hmm. At least I have my wallet. How much money do I have... oh good, a dollar. Enough money for two phone calls. At least, it would be two phone calls, if Telstra weren't complete butt plugs about giving change at phone booths. Ok, where can I put the monitor without anyone on the street seeing it? Hmm, around the back of the house sounds good. While I'm there I check for any open windows or doors, to no avail. Streuth. I leave the monitor somewhere shady, and trudge off down the street, looking for a phone booth. I call in to work and tell them I'm going to be late. I catch the train to work. I don't know how many of you know Boronia, but lets just say the only kind of girls that live around there are 16 and pushing prams and/or have boyfriends with names like Vinny or Bruce. Needless to say, by the time I got close to Boronia station I had a 17 year old kid with rotting teeth and a broken finger to my left, and another one with boxer shorts on and homie pants pulled down to his knees to my right. I thought all homie shorts were burned in the great MC Hammer bonfires of the mid-90s. Tragic loss of fashion. But I digress. I finally make it to work and can't get in touch with fucking anybody. A workmate tells me to check the Bureau of Meteorology, so I have a look. Oh good. Showers forecast for the afternoon. Hope the monitor will be okay. *nervous laugh*
In conclusion, I say to God: Bite me, you fuckface of omnipotence. It'll take more than that to keep ol' Michael from 4BG down. (But, hey, don't go and fuck any more shit up, 'cause I'm pretty sick of it. And no fucking lightning bolts either. Seriously.) |
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