The answer is 'I am a dipshit'
Current mood: jubilant
Category: Life

Back in the day, I was a Crusty Demon of the Dirt motocross rider in training. When I say training, I mean that if CR125s came with training wheels, I probably should have had them fitted. However, even that wouldn't have stopped me crashing my bike constantly over or down just about any obstacle I could find.

This is a quiz for people who know everything!


These are not trick questions. They are straight questions with straight
answers..

1. Name the one sport in which neither the spectators nor the participants know the score or the leader until the contest ends.

Rock paper scissors! I was going to say netball, but then I realised the question said 'know the score' not 'care about the score'

2. What famous North American landmark is constantly moving backwards?
Do moose run backwards? Hmm, not really a landmark though. Probably some glacier or something, but who knows which way is backwards?

3. Of all vegetables, only two can live to produce on their own for several growing seasons. All other vegetables must be replanted every year. What are the only two perennial vegetables?

Geez, I have enough trouble telling fruits and vegetables apart, let alone what the hell else they do. Up until about a month ago I thought a tomato was a vegetable (that would have probably been my answer too). Is potato a vegetable? I'm guessing radish and eggplant.

4. What fruit has its seeds on the outside?

Damn crackas! What kind of crazy-ass alien fruit is that. Whoa, just looked at the answer. The answer is 'I am a dipshit'.

5. In many liquor stores, you can buy pear brandy, with a real pear inside the bottle. The pear is whole and ripe, and the bottle is genuine; it hasn't been cut in any way. How did the pear get inside the bottle?
Holy fucking crap! These brandy punks have mastered teleportation and are keeping it a secret in an attempt to corner to fruit-in-alcohol market. Look out sangria! Imagine what kind of worm we'd have to eat if the tequila makers got a hold of it.

6:53 AM - 7 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

I’m just the devil with love to spare
Current mood: annoyed

Without a doubt, there is something about the rattle of dice, the sound of money turning over and the ostentatious, hedonistic style of the gambling scene that will see me take a double shot, yell like an 1800s prospector and start to get loose.

There are good times aplenty in this luxurious yet artificial wonderland, even if you do usually find yourself in debt, missing your pants and hungover somewhere dirtier than Paris Hilton's undies. Well, that's a lie – she doesn't wear undies.

Anyway, if there is one thing missing in Sydney, it's a decent casino. I think I just heard a squad of hired goons being dispatched, so I'll continue quickly.

A couple of years ago, I was in Tunica Mississippi, and it was awesome. The resorts were radical and best of all they gave you free drinks in the gaming area.

The first time I walked up to the bar, the guy gave me money back. I was like 'What an idiot, I just got this beer for free.' The second time I was like, 'Damn, I'm on fire tonight!' After the third time, well, let's just say if you ever ended the night getting escorted home by a 140kg African American female security guard, you know what I did.

I was in Vegas a few years ago too. Damn, there were a lot of… slots. Although, back then I was below 21 so I was a little underage for the States. It was weird after being allowed to drink over here for some time. Lucky they have pokie machines in the laundromats, so I still got a press.

However, nobody expects Vegas anywhere but Vegas, and I'll be happy with somewhere that at least confuses me while I'm getting raped for my cash. I was in Melbourne about six weeks ago, and Crown Casino was awesome. The beer was cheap, and even though I was far too drunk, I found a poker table straight away with cheap stakes. The last time I was in Star City, I waited about four hours for a seat, but by then I'd spent all my money and was, as usual, being escorted from the building.

That's another thing. At Crown, despite the fact I was dancing around the gaming floor (despite lack of music), throwing chips in drinks and telling people to skull and doing everything else that is better left at Melbourne, I didn't get hassled.

A couple of months ago now, I was on a buck's party. We headed to Star City, and I was singled out of the group and not let in. So, I walked all the way around the building as I was planning to use a different entrance. Unfortunately, I walked so far I ended up at the same entrance. This time, two security guards escorted me from the building (Okay, I really was too drunk).

Another time, after Australia Day, again myself and company were denied for having thongs – on Australia Day! However, that time we bought some shoes off some desperate gambler and got in.

So, in America you get free drinks, in Melbourne you get cheap drinks and fast, friendly service and in Sydney you get to wait and buy overpriced drinks while you stand in line for poker/blackjack? Why don't I just stay home, burn all the money in my wallet, shotgun a few tins of VB, punch myself in the balls and throw myself out of my apartment down the steps – at least I'll already be home.

Okay, so maybe it's not all that bad… But there's still much to be desired from Star City. Hold on, someone just knocked at the door – hired goons, right on cue.

Currently listening : Viva Las Vegas By Elvis Presley Release date: 20 November, 2003

7:10 AM - 6 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment

Five Time World Karate Champion
Current mood: grateful
Category: Parties and Nightlife

Let's pretend this happened a long time ago and I'm much more mature now… *nervous laughter*. Beer started this situation and a kebab ended it. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. As I said, I was drinking some beers, dancing and having a good time. Somehow, through the night, I lost all my friends and ended up hanging with some randoms.

In particular, I was dancing with two girls for some time. After a while, we needed another drink so we sat down outside for a breather. It was about then the girls started to panic. One of them said, "Uh… you're really nice, but you probably shouldn't be sitting with us." I was like, "What? Meeting your boyfriend or something?" Ding! Correct answer.

Well, it was partially correct. See, one girl was the manager of the bar, and the other had a "fiery Spaniard" boyfriend that worked as a bartender. Both were a little worried this guy was ready to 'knuck if you buck' any time in the next 60 seconds.

My first instinct was to walk over to the bar, pick the first Latin-looking dude, and say something like "Hey cockface, let's dance," followed by putting up my dukes and dancing around '30s boxing style. Then, I had a better idea.

I did the only thing a sane and sensible person would do. I laughed, waved a hand as a sign of dismissal and told them not to worry about it. Then I continued the conversation. I'm not the largest guy, so they were still quite concerned and again reminded me that he would no doubt come over soon.

This time I was like, "Serious, it's no problem". Pausing for effect, I then continued. "You girls don't know who I am, do you?" Wide eyed, they looked at each other. I leaned in and, with a completely straight face, I said, "I'm the five-time karate world champion."

I waited for them to call bullshit on me, but they just sat, mouths open, gasping. It took me a second to maintain my composure, but after that I ran with it. I told them I just got back from 'Asia' (the birthplace of all things ninja and martial art) after learning some new, rare fighting forms.

I told them not to worry about their friend. Because my hands are classed as lethal weapons, I said I would not hurt him, just give him a wedgie and throw him in the harbour.

At this point, the manager ran off and disappeared for some time. When she came back, she took me to the bar, introduced me to everyone and then told them all that drinks were free for me the rest of the night! Not one to complain, I took full advantage. To make things even funnier, the girl with the 'boyfriend' was like "Well, he's not really my boyfriend technically…"

"Hey sister, I don't dig on that," was my full-of-shit response. I admit it, the whole thing was full of shit. I had to go laugh in a cubicle in the bathroom several times (that got some looks too). I know, stupid, dangerous lies make baby jesus cry etc, but at the end of the day, I still have all my teeth.

Like the ninja I am, I got blind drunk and disappeared into the night. When I awoke, I was in the lounge room using the rug as a blanket with a half-eaten kebab on the coffee table. Then I finished the kebab.

Remember people, be careful out there. You just never know when you're going to run into the five-time world karate champion.

1:09 AM - 5 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Why I am MacGyver
Current mood: accomplished

Fuck me in the goat ass I am tired. It has been a rather large weekend of partying including the Smirnoff 'Experience' on Saturday night and the Lamb of God concert last night (Sunday). They are a metal band if you didn't know – check it out http://www.lamb-of-god.com/sacrament/info/bio.php.

There were many highlights, not the least of which was when my good mate was taken out at central station by a lamp pole. He was yelling about drinking a beer and the need to urinate in public, or something along those lines, and then... Smack! It was the look of shock in his eyes, followed moments later with realisation, as he hit the ground to the sound of the pole reverberating that had me keeling over for a good five minutes.

Then there was the dancing and free-vodka fuelled mayhem of Saturday night. I've never seen so many girls hit the deck at the one party. Good times.

However, that's not why I am tired, or why I am potentially the long-lost offspring of MacGyver. You see, I was also out on Friday night and what was dinner and some unexpected drinks saw me in festive spirits then as well.

Not wanting to taxi home, I called my mate to stay at his apartment in the city. This was about an hour before I was due to arrive, and in my favour was a comfortable spare bed. He had been at work drinks all night, so he was fairly toasted too. I remember being very specific about putting the phone somewhere it would wake him at my arrival.

As I said, by the time I finished up and walked, it was about an hour later when I called him from outside the security building. There was no answer, but someone came out of the front door, so that at least got me out of the cold.

I continued trying to call him from the lobby as you need an electronic tag for the elevator, and still I was getting no response. Ten minutes passed, and I was getting impatient. I pulled out a plastic card and jimmied the door open into the stairwell, and I left a useless cardboard card in the door jam so it wouldn't lock in case I needed to get back in.

I climbed to the seventh level up many flights of stairs and ran into my next problem. The door to this level was fitted with a special guard making the plastic card trick seem impossible. I persevered and decided to climb to the roof and see what I could find.

I found a room marked 'Electricals'. Disregarding the numerous types of trouble I could foresee (remembering that I'm fairly hammered too), I used my plastic card to enter.

Inside, I found a pile of operating manuals and walls covered in electrical gear. I had a quick flip through the manuals and found the elevator switchboard, and it was easy enough to manually send the elevator to a direct floor. I sent it to the ground floor, but the problem was getting all the way down in time before the door would shut. Basically, it was impossible.

I considered setting off the fire alarm in my friend's house, but decided that would wet the bed I was staying in. I was still calling him throughout this process and decided to walk back down to the seventh floor. A couple of hours had passed and I was getting tired. I took a second look at the door on the seventh floor and figured I could reach the mechanism with two cards at once – one from above and one below. It took about half hour, but I got the door open.

I banged at the front door for a while, but still no reaction. This door was fitted with dead bolts and there was no chance of plastic card intrusion, so I quickly gave up on that. Then, I knew I was really screwed after realising I had forgotten MacGyver's golden rule – always carry a paper clip.

I don't know how, but I'm sure if I had a paper clip (and a lower blood-alcohol level) I would have made it through that final door. However, unlike MacGyver, I would have definitely punched my friend in the nuts really hard to wake him up once inside.

Defeated, I slumped in the corridor and fell asleep. I guess that's why I'm not the real MacGyver. In hindsight, I was probably just lucky to avoid electrocution or imprisonment.

I woke at around 5:30am with cuts on my hands, mouth cotton-ball dry and every bone in my body aching. With renewed vigour, I attacked the door and began calling again. At no earlier than 6am, the door opened. My friend was standing, phone in hand, protecting his groin area in fear of a swift retribution, but I was too tired. I drank some water and fell into bed.

Where the hell is my Beef Stacker?
Current mood: hungry
Category: Food and Restaurants

'Looking for a stack of flavour?' The ad in my mailbox read. Well, yes, now that you mention it, I am. I look for a stack of flavour every Friday on our routine Hungry Jacks lunchtime run. It's a tradition that has continued for many years before my time and will continue for many after. Every time a new burger is created, my excitement only increases.

So, you can understand my jubilation when I find a coupon booklet for the local Hungry Jacks in my mailbox Thursday morning. A new burger is being advertised – The BBQ Beef Stacker. I hung the picture on my cubicle wall.

Friday lunchtime passes and no new promotions are apparent. Calming myself, I settled for my usual meal – large Bacon Deluxe & Grilled Chicken Burger meals, and a (shit) storm for desert. Ah, so satisfying.

Another week passes and day after day the picture on my wall taunts me. Several times I startled myself after slipping into a drooling, dream-like state without realising. Friday approaches again, and alas there is a new promotion, but no Beef Stacker.

I have coupons already cut and stored in my wallet, so I show the staff pictures. However, they've never seen it. They offer me the new sour loaf mushroom, which is delicious, but is surely no beef stacker. You can't compensate for three flame grilled beef patties, cheese, succulent bacon topped with rich BBQ sauce and a sesame seed bun. God damn sons of bitches! Where's my beef stacker!

Okay, I lost it a little. Then I calm down, have a shit storm and go finish off the week. Now, it's the third week since I first heard of the Beef Stacker. So, tomorrow, Friday, I will go in with a plan.

If there is no triple Beef Stacker waiting, I'm going to leave a triple stack of my own, and believe me, it will be a triple stack. I'm talking about a real pipe clogger. I'm dropping the Cosby kids off at the pool, but they're all grown up now and they're not going down the slide without a fight.

I can't boycott Hungry Jacks, just like (most) parents can't just abandon their kids. You can get angry though, and get even. Then, you can move on and continue the relationship, which is just what I intend to do. I just hope for their sake, Hungry Jacks delivers the goods.

I heard they have the Quad Stacker in the States. That truly is the land of the culinary gods if this is the case. Americans certainly know how deliver when it comes food, and I'll be back to sample more as soon as I…

Whoa, there goes that drool again. If anyone knows of a Hungry Jacks where I can find a Beef Stacker, or a place where a burger worthy of the name 'Beef Stacker' is sold, I'd be damn glad to hear it. Until then, I wait…

6:05 AM - 8 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The Cat Got Whacked
Current mood: energetic
Category: Life

I was sitting around drinking some beers over the long weekend, and a friend told me a story I have to share.

Back in the day, my friend's grandfather (we'll call him Old G) was a dentist. He ran a successful practice that serviced a broad area in Sydney, and lived fairly wholesomely with his wife and kids.

Now, it just so happened that one of Old G's patients was in the mafia, and was a long-time customer. They became fairly friendly with each other and had a good relationship.

One day, Old G was in a bad mood because his neighbour's cat kept breaking into his backyard and stealing goldfish and carp from the decorative pond he kept. By chance, Old G complained about it to his mafia friend as he worked and promptly forgot about it.

Two days later, Old G received a package in the mail – it was a silencer. A perfect fit for Old G's pistol. Apparently, Old G had a few guns he used for hunting, so it wasn't surprising that it fit something. The cat scaled the fence for its last supper and then with the dull zap of the silenced pistol the problem was solved. The cat got whacked.

I was shocked. Not only because of the shooting, but that the mafia would have a scope for these kind of problems. What's next – your neighbour's dog barks all night so you call down 'the hammer'? Come to think of it, I know of a dog that keeps crapping on my lawn…

Anyway, Old G's wife apparently spit chips and made him throw out all his guns *cue whipping noise*, and that was the end of it. Years later, they moved away without any troubles.

On another note, afterwards we went and watched 300, and I can say it totally kicks ass. Baddest mothufuckas of all time. None of this wishy washy, stone-faced 'well I suppose we have to go and die' crap that you might expect. They just walked up to these asshole Persians trying to move in on their homies, belted the living crap out them and had a laugh while doing it. Man that was cool. That's it, I'm moving to Sparta.

3:41 AM - 7 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Beer Baron Returns
Current mood: dorky
Category: Sports

Every Wednesday night, I play indoor soccer for our team known as the Beer Barons. I have a long history with beer barons in general, and I'm not just talking about the team.

The original beer baron that I knew was born out of circumstance at our local pubs in home-town Bathurst. If you look on my friends list, you'll see Josh and you may also notice he is a year younger than me. Of course, we were 18 before him and that meant sneaking in if he wanted to go to bars with us. In Bathurst at the time, this mostly involved jumping over a wall into a beer garden.

Getting in was not too hard, but getting a beer was much harder as the bar was a more-likely place to get carded. Then it begun. I would sit my beer down at a table while talking and then, bam! – my beer would be gone. I would look over and Josh would be drinking my half-full beer, smirking and giggling to himself.

It took a while before we cottoned on to this, and, damn it, we tried to stop him, but if someone is dedicated to stealing your beer it's hard to avoid. He would then get wasted, we would give him money for a cab home and he would come back with four more drinks.

This reached a high point when we were staying at Josh's house one night and lost him. We went home to his place thinking he would be there, but his worried mother informed us he wasn't. Another mate and I sprinted back down the street to find him, but, being blind, we just ended up falling and rolling down a steep hill.

We searched everywhere and couldn't find him, so we had a kebab and went back to his place. As a last-ditch effort, when we got there we checked his room. There he was, in bed, still giggling and smirking in his sleep. The worst part – he had been there all along. Hence, the original beer baron came to life.

Anyway, now we have a team of barons and we also play soccer. I hadn't played for about six weeks due to uh… 'commitments' and was making my triumphant return. The team hadn't been doing so well and I, of course, (jokingly) put that down to me not being there.

I arrived and I could tell everyone was happy to see me. I subbed on after we scored the first goal about five minutes in. Still half stretching and waving to people, I ran on as the other team took the kick off. I wasn't paying attention, but as I was striding the ball crossed my path and I kicked it. Straight in our goal. My first touch was an own goal, and in a matter of seconds people were no longer happy to see me.

That effort earned me a spot goalkeeping second half, but I only managed to face-butt the ball and bleed everywhere. We ended up losing 3-1. All bragging rights about being the winning link in our team are forever shot down in flames. The next week we won, but I think the damage is done.

Does anyone else know a beer baron, or perhaps you are one yourself? The beer barons are always on the lookout for new members...

2:38 AM - 5 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

A CONSPIRACY THEORY THAT WILL BLOW YOUR MIND
Current mood: scared
Category: News and Politics

This is something that I have been working on a long time now, and I give fair warning that you may not be the same after learning what I have to show you. I already have my room set up like Mel Gibson in that movie with Julia Roberts, I think it was called The Man Who Worried A Lot, or something like that. Still, if I was to go missing, you will know why.

So, what is this conspiracy you ask? I don't know any other way to say it, so I'll give it to you straight. The plot goes like this: America's Next Top Model is currently in its seventh season. Every season I watch the ten to fourteen episodes as pretty girl after hot girl after cute girl is kicked off the show. Every week ugly women advance closer to winning the competition. This week, at time of writing, Brooke was kicked off. Others less pretty remain.

However, why would they do this to "really, really good-looking" girls? The answer is as simple as it is diabolical – Tyra Banks. She is the queen that sits on the Next Model throne, and much like the one in Snow White, she uses her 'mirror' (the show) to find and destroy those potentially fairer than herself. Instead of a poison apple, she delivers them a poisoned career after 'pillars' of the industry shun them.

For all you nay-sayers that are thinking, 'but they try to pick the unusual ones', I say cast your weak heresies elsewhere! Elle Macpherson, Claudia Schiffer, Heidi Klum, are they 'unusual'? Only to the extent of their supreme beauty and exquisite hotness. Tyra wants to be the fairest forever, and so the hot ones are systematically destroyed with erroneous criticisms that nobody but the 'industry' could even justify.

Usually, at the end there is a mediocre girl, and a girl that would struggle to be good looking even in real life. In a watered-down attempt to parry our suspicions, the mediocre girl will win to be shown with varying degrees of success. Well, I've got some 'Tyra Mail' for you – I'm onto you!

If you haven't grasped the implications of this yet, let me spell them out for you. Much like Mugatu in Zoolander, the fashion industry's reach spreads far and wide. Our basis of aesthetics, of beauty, is built on the experiences and reality we see around us – including pop culture. Under Tyra's destructive reign, our whole basis of reasoning is thrown into disarray. What we wear, and who we choose to be attracted to will be twisted into an intangible mess where 'who knows what is cool, or gay, or good, or ugly'. Unfortunately, this is already happening. Observe the form of what has become the 'EMO'. God I hate EMOs.

So, no we are not safe here in Australia. In fact, many will have noticed an Australian copycat of the original American version has already aired here in Oz. Why can't I just turn it off? Because Kate won't let me. I'm forced to sit around with my wife-beater and can of VB, yelling things and shaking my fist at the TV.

I know Tyra's heavies from the Australian arm of her show are probably hunting me right now for what I've uncovered, but I'll be damned if I lose another nights sleep thinking about my future EMO grandchildren thinking 'why did I do nothing?' If we all band together, maybe we still have a chance. Let's get Tyra, before she ruins everything and there is nothing but a race of EMOs left in her wake.

11:25 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Brendan Enters Debate With Radio Announcer; Loses
Current mood: surprised
Category: News and Politics

Okay, here is a little story about what happened to my this Thursday, 2nd November 2006. This story always starts an argument and usually leaves me with at least three of four new enemies every time I tell it.

I was driving to work, as per usual, listening to Merrick and Rosso on Nova 96.9. They did a segment on global warming because of the march on Saturday and the Kyoto situation, and had primary school kids call in to tell us how bad global warming really is. Now, anyone that knows me also knows that I have a hippie/communist fight reflex that can kick in at any time on said related topics. This was one of those times.

Personally, I believe everyone just loves to jump on the hippie-greenie bandwagon. Do I disagree with the idea of human-induced global warming? No, but I don't think it's a certainty. At least, not enough to go back to pre-industrialisation like some people seem to want (e.g Al Gore). Surely, furthur advancing of technology is the answer.

If you look for real facts you see the ambiguity of this particular science - remember, the planet has been cooling and warming for millions of years. Basically, when people start pedaling extreme knee-jerk reactions to this problem I get a little annoyed.

If you're interested, type global warming into google and you will be inundated with a mountain of information on the subject. I even found two contradictory 'hard news' articles within three days of each other on The Age newspaper's website (which I think is typically one of the better sources of accurate info).

Anyway, I decided to send an email to the radio station voicing my opinions. Now, this email may have been a little harsh. I know the word 'hypocrit' was used. When you think about it, a radio station's livlihood more than most is dependant on cars. I also found out later that Merrick even drives a V8 Monaro - not exactly fuel efficient (though to be honest I don't know if he still does). However, I was a) trying to stir the pot, and b) never thought I would get a reaction.

I guess it was just after 11am when my phone buzzed. "Hi, this is Merrick Watts from Nova."

I had left my home number, he called and Colin, my flatmate, gave him my work number. Honestly, I would like to say I was mega cool, but I sat at my desk, mouth agape, like a freakin' rabbit in headlights. I mean, this guy talks for a living so I thought he was going to slam me, but he was actually pretty cool.

We ended up talking for about 30mins, and he made some good points. After the converstaion, I did some more research and if you wanted you could definitly go back and forth on the issue. The sceptics are mostly funded by oil companies, but the main bodies expressing catastrophe are funded by the UN, which obviously invokes political ramifications. Plus the list goes on and on...

However, there was a crucial point that Merrick made that stuck with me. If the sceptics on humans causing global warming are right nothing much happens at this point, but if they are wrong we could probably all die. Hmm, alright, good point. I still think furthur technology is the answer, and not simply placing restrictions or firing workers. However, it makes sense to ratify Kyoto and start being more responsible. Tail in between legs, I limp away.

Having said that, agreeing that something needs to be done is one thing, but all you water-cooler hippies that complain about driving cars etc saying we need to make a 'return to the simple life' can bite my ass. Everyone relies on burning oil everyday in one way or another and it would suck very quickly to be without it. If that's what you believe, practice what you preach, throw away your possesions and move to the jungles of Papua New Guinea or East Timor or something. See how you like that.

I have to take my hat off, though, the guy obviously does care about what he is doing and the reactions it may cause. My bad. That at least deserves respect. I'm still going to yell at hippies though...

5:06 AM - 4 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Do I know what rhetorical means?

Hello.

If anyone wants to email me my address is brendan_mays@yahoo.com.au. Watch out for the guns, they'll get you.

7:20 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos -