Friday, June 27, 2008

let's get ready to rumble

Sorry, I've been busy with my meth lab lately and haven't had time to rap whimsical this week. Or maybe I have, I can't remember. And my stupid poll thing isn't working. Stupid fucking blog shit. I hope you dozen people appreciate the shit I go through for you.

Tippy tippy tipparoos: I got a thousand right last week. I'm pretty awesome.

Panthers vs Broncos
Well, the Broncs will be missing all of their stars through Origin duties, and the Panthers have no stars to miss, so this will be a fairly even contest. The magic coins says heads. I didn't call it, and rather than flip again, I'll just say Panthers to win. I'm not picking scores this week, I embarrassed myself last time.

Roosters vs Dogs
While I'm expecting the Dogs to bounce back fairly solidly after last week's piss-poor performance against the Mighty Bloody Raiders, I still can't tip them. I also hate the Roosters. I don't care about this game, to be honest, but if some guy has your wife tied to a chair and is relying on you to pick a winner before he rips her arms off, I'd tip the Roosters. And if you are in that situation, you should probably re-think your life and try to work out where it all went wrong.

Titans vs Dragons
Hahahaha the Titans lost last week to the Bunnies. I fucking hate the Dragons. Titans to win.

Cowbs vs Rabbitohs
On paper, you'd tip the Cowboys, but since this game is being played for real, I'd have to go for the Bunnies. Craig Wing is back, and some other guy they have is looking tops too. Meanwhile, the Cowboys seem to have been watching Brokeback Mountain instead of Tombstone, and have become... well... gay cowboys. No offence to any gay cowboys out there.

Manly vs Knights
I really have no idea about this one. I have a funny feeling the Knights will get up, but I'm tipping Manly. Life is hard for me sometimes.

Tiggers vs Warriors
I honestly couldn't care less about either of these teams. It's not that I hate either of them, I just don't care for them. Tigers to win, but if that same guy has your wife tied up for this game, I'd probably start thinking about designing some robot arms, cause I'm not confident in either of these teams. Your poor wife.

Eels vs Storm
The Storm have absolutely no-one left to fill the gaps when their players are away. As a result, the Eels should have no problem in smashing the Mexicans. Parra are starting to come good, too.
Raiders vs Sharkies
This should be a pretty good clash. I'm tipping the Raiders, but that's just because I feel bad for not tipping them last week. Also I found my old Raiders jumper, so that's pretty exciting; like an omen or something. Turns out that it was in the spot in my cupboard where I keep my shoes, which is a bit weird. Why would it be in there? Oh the mysteries of life.

For all other sports, tip the home team. Except for the union, my money's on France. I think union is the only sport I like to see Australia lose in. If you go fishing this weekend, don't forget your worms, and check the small boat warning on the news.

Happy Friday!

Monday, June 23, 2008

a winter wonderland

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Winter has begun. Actually, it's about three weeks old now. Brr. Winter is a Czech word meaning "it's a bit cold outside, so take a jacket or you'll catch a chill." Those Czechs have a word for everything. Except for 'sausage roll'. You can't get a sausage roll in Czechoslovakia. True story.

So with Winter upon us, it's high time for


First and foremost, pop on the heater. Don't worry about the hippies who will be sitting outside your house claiming that you're poisoning the earth with your carbon footprint - they're cold and you're warm. Cutting your toes off and buying smaller shoes will NOT reduce your carbon footprint, by the way. I fucked up there, big time. Also, the more people who bring forth this global warming phenomenon, the better it will be for everyone; we'll need less heaters. If you don't own a heater, try lighting a fire. Fire is man's greatest discovery (well, it's up there with cricket, beer and fire engines), and they're really pretty to watch.

Let your jumpers and jackets become your best friends over Winter. Little known fact: If a jumper is special to you, it must be called a 'jumpie'. If it gets really cold, keep adding layers of clothing. Eventually, you will find yourself looking like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, and you can wander around your house pretending to be him. If you have people over, tell them what you're doing beforehand, cause the chances of them picking it are slim to none.

Upon waking, you will find your windscreen has frozen over, and you are unable to see through it whilst driving. This is easily remedied - guesstimate where the road is and drive with your hand on the horn until you think you've arrived at your destination. People WILL get out of your way.

You may find yourself with more 'Winter-ish' drinks in your hand as your consumption of spirits increases during the cold months. Also, don't be surprised when you look down and see that you've ordered a Baileys Irish Cream. Just don't forget about your beer, and things will be ok. Everyone gets a limit of 3 "It's Too Cold For Beer" cards (not redeemable for cash, void after 31st August).

A lot of jobs become optional during the harsh Winter months. Chucking sickies is awesome, and no-one will blame you or ask questions. If people start to get suspicious, make sure you leave a packet of Limsip or Cold n Flu tablets in plain view on your desk.

Sometimes, you may even find yourself chucking a legitimate sickie. The best form of treatment is to lie on the couch with a doona, a pack of Tim Tams and some coffee. Oh, and chicken soup. But don't be afraid to order the occasional pizza or head out to Subway - you still need your jalapeƱos.

Your body will react naturally to a change in temperature. If you grow extra body hair, don't be alarmed. It's quite normal - for werewolves. I'd avoid silver bullets and Hugh Jackman. On the plus side, you will become good at basketball (and to a lesser degree, boxing). More likely, you will just get hard nipples more often; no-one really knows why. You can't really do much about it (don't try and protect them with band-aids, you'll rip your tits off), so I say embrace them. Hang things from your erect nipples; earrings and tassels are always fun. Or you could liven up a party by attaching some Roman Candles and Catherine Wheels to them. Be the popular guy at work and use them to carry doughnuts around. Or volunteer in Beijing and have Olympic gymnasts swinging around on them. If you've never had someone 'skin the cat' on your nips, you haven't lived.

For those with a green thumb, it's time for the natural skin colour to return. Winter will kill everything, and your garden is now officially fucked.

Aaah Winter - a time for warm embraces and Dutch ovens.

Will take over the world. Fucking watch them.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

round 15 tips - NRL

There's been a bit of talk in the rugby league circles this week. Not so much talk in the squares, and the triangles have been deathly silent.

Hello? Is this thing on?

So this is my first blog about footy this year - sorry for everyone who's been relying on my infinite wisdom, but I was waiting until I was officially not last in my tipping comp before I started getting cocky and predicting the future.

Without any further Christine Anu, here are my tips for this weekend...

Treat him right

Bris vs Tiges
Both of these teams got done pretty convincingly last week, but my money is on the Broncs to pick up a lot better than the Tiges. Also, Benji Marshall looks brittle at the moment. If I was massive and a rugby player, I'd run at him. Bris by 12.

Dragons vs Panthers
I have no idea how either of these teams are travelling, to be honest, but I'm pretty sure they both kind of suck. Heads for Dragons, tails for Penrith. Heads it is.

Dogs vs Raiders
This one isn't as clean-cut as it should be - everyone in the world and their pot-belly pigs will tip the Bulldogs, but if I was a man with a plan and $5, I'd pop it on the Raiders to get up. Of course, I'd put $20 on the Dogs, who should have no trouble overpowering the Green Machine.

Storm vs Cowbs
The Cowboys are shit, the Storm are quite good. Tipping is easy. Melbourne by a thOUsand.

Warriors vs Manly
It would be unAustralian to tip Manly. It would be even more unAustralian to tip New Zealand... so Manly to win, despite the fact that it's in NZ. I don't rate 'home ground advantage' at all any more - every fucking player in the comp has a new 'home ground' every year, and when it's pissing down rain and there's a snow-capped breeze coming in, I'm pretty sure the players give less than two shits whether 3,000 spectators brought their flags to the game.

Knights vs Rooters
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... Roosters. For no reason, I just think they'll win. It's like one of those premonition things, like Alison Dubois, or that psychic guy who speaks to dead people. Fuck, what's his name? John someone. Crossing Over. You know who I mean.

Sharks vs John Eales
Even though Parra got up nicely last week (and fucked my tips), I'm going to put it out there and say that they can't do it again. Might head down to Centrebet and pop a lobster on them though, just in case. Official tip: Sharkies by 16. Unofficially: Parra by 8.

Rabbits vs Titans
I love the Bunnies. But they won't win. Titans by 20.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

mmmm... guava

Letter to Kevin Rudd, Prime Minister of Australia:

Dear Mr Rudd,

Thank you for adding a tax onto alcopops. It really has made a great difference to the 'binge drinking' epidemic that has claimed trillions of young Australians.

At a recent nightclub visit, I purchased a bottle of 'Lemon-Lime Breezer', and did not receive any money back from a twenty-dollar note. Whilst slightly shocked at the price, I felt good to know that this drink was helping to fund... I do apologise, I seem to have lost the information on where this tax money is going. Anyway, I noticed that no-one in the nightclub appeared to be overdosing on guava-flavoured alcohol. Thank god, and it's about time. Your higher-priced alcopops has successfully beaten alcoholism and binge-drinking.

Later in the evening, I was due to 'do a shout', as my friends began calling me a 'stingy fuckwit', which someone later told me is Spanish for 'snappy dresser'. This is true, as my white slacks and mission brown skivvy did match my boat shoes quite well. At the bar, I saw a young chap also purchasing drinks. He must have had quite a few friends, as he was struggling to carry at least eight glasses. 'What drinks have you purchased there, young man?'
'Rum and Coke,' the spirited youth replied over the din of the music.
'You would have been better off to purchase pre-mixed bottles,' I advised. 'That way, you would be able to carry them, or pop them into your pocket and not risk spilling any of them. As it is, you would not be able to put those glasses into your trousers, they might stain your excellent Levis. Plus, you would be helping to provide funds for a better tomorrow for all Australians!'
'Yeah but that would've cost me fucking... I dunno... fucking... like... fucking eighty-thousand bucks!'
'You poor man, you have Tourette's Syndrome, and by the look of it, a lazy eye and one leg shorter than the other. You can barely stand up!'
'Fuck off, you fucking homo,' he said as he bade me good night. I was quite impressed by his knowledge of Latin as he called me a 'modern human'.
'Right back at you... homo!' I replied cheerfully, adding a wink to my remark.

Upon closer inspection of the nightclub, I also noticed that not one person in the establishment was under the age of eighteen (to verify my thoughts, I conducted a poll via the disc-jockey's microphone). Well done, Mr Rudd, you've officially beaten those young'uns. If they weren't in the nightclub, they must obviously have been either in church or sitting at home watching Gilmore Girls with their families.

Or, as I found out, they were happily doing a public service - how delighted I was to find a group of youths near this discotheque sitting on the kerb making sure that no-one was vandalising the cars parked there. They must have been in for the long haul, too, as they were quite intent on drinking a two-litre bottle of Coca-Cola (you might have heard of it, it contains caffeine and sugar) as quickly as they could. 'I am a little sleepy,' I thought. 'Perhaps a quick drink of Coke will refresh me enough to drive home safely.' I asked one of the youths if I may have a tiny taste of his beverage. 'Yes sir,' he said (although his exact words were 'Sure tiger' oh the language of youth!) What a good samaritan he was, looking after my well-being like that. So I took the bottle and had a mouthful.
'I do believe your cola has gone off,' I said to the group. 'This tastes like bourbon.'
The group snickered and walked away; I am assuming they went back to the vendor who sold them the drink to exchange it for a fresher bottle.

Back in the 'old days' (i.e. two weeks ago), I am sure these young people would have been up to their eyeballs in cranberry Archer. Mr Rudd, you are doing a fine job of helping young people better themselves.

Hip hooray to you, good sir.


Mister Evil Breakfast

PS. Please do check my blog - I would like to know if you prefer Lion Voltron or Car Voltron.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

i think i know you

You know how when you're walking through the supermarket and you see someone at the end of the aisle, and you think it's your friend, but you're not sure, so you walk slowly closer to them and you keep staring and staring but trying to look casual and they're looking at you and you still can't work it out and then you get close to them and you realise that it's not your friend at all and doesn't even look anything like them and you're worried that you looked weird cause you were staring at them for a long time?
That happened to me today.

But it turns out it was my friend after all.

Friday, June 13, 2008

the things you hear when you have ears...

I just overheard the most fucking stupid conversation ever.
Two ladies walked past me, one wearing a faux fur coat, and the other commenting on it. "I am so against the slaughter of animals," says Comment Lady.
"Me too. The very thought of it just makes me sick," replies Faux Fur. "I couldn't even imagine killing a seal."

No word of a lie. This actually happened.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

i before e except after c but not all the time,,2284503,00.html

If you're too lazy to click that link, don't worry, I'll be a good kid and summarise it for you. Some arse-hat in the UK has decided that words are too hard to spell for the tykes that live there.

Yep. The English language. Too hard for English kids.

This particular arse-hat is an ex-English teacher and the author of a book entitled "Understanding English Spelling". Kind of defeats the purpose of the book if you have the opinion that it's just too hard, doesn't it? A better title would be "Shit That's Too Hard, Volume I: The English Language". Oh how I would have loved to have been in Ms Arse-hat's English class.
"Ok, let's open our books to page... oh fuck it, who cares what happens to Ishmael? Let's go dance around the Maypole and eat kippers!"
"But Miss, I'd like to read..."
"Poppycock, here's a lighter, make sure you burn all the pages. Let's get drunk and watch Eastenders!"

And yeah, people will be all like, "But Mister Evil Breakfast, words change all the time! People in England used to talk all weird like!!!!"

This is true. But the English language of yore evolved due to peeps becoming more educated, not the other way round. Welcome to the wonderful world of schools, internet, books and cheese, which were relatively rare back in the 1600s. Shakespeare didn't even have broadband. Can you imagine that? The mind boggles as to how Romeo and Juliet would have gone if Romeo's ISP didn't keep fucking out.

Julietgrrl> Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?
Julietgrrl> Romeo?
Julietgrrl> i cnt beliv u. get a real fckin connection lol
Romeo16> soz my cuz is dling tf n its fuckin wit my ping lol.
Julietgrrl> lol yeh tf man dat flik wuz da bets
Julietgrrl> lol best
Romeo16> yeh lol

Arse-hat UK teacher and failed author claims that English is 'just too hard'. You know what else is hard? Maths. Maths is fucking hard. Farming is hard. That farm work has a close fucking resemblance to hard work. Eating a hot meat pie that's still frozen in the middle is hard. Patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time? Hard work. My crowbar? Pretty fucking hard too, which you'll come to realise all too late. But you'll find that with a bit of time, practice and patience, you can become good at maths, realise that farming is important, eating pies is awesome, patting your head and rubbing your stomach is satisfying and my crowbar might not find your face.

If people stopped doing shit that was too hard, the English cricket team wouldn't exist, there'd be no Sydney Harbour Bridge, no-one would know how to defeat M.Bison in Street Fighter 2 and Harry Potter wouldn't have married Ginny Weasley. If you haven't read the last Harry Potter book yet, don't read that sentence.

For those who couldn't quite make it through this rant because of all the big words, I've translated it for you:

if ur 2 lzy 2 click da lnk dont wry ill b a gd kid n summrise it 4 u. sum arse-hat in da uk hs dcided dat wrds r 2 hrd 2 spel 4 da tykes dat liv their.

yup. da eng lang. 2 hrd 4 eng kids.

dis particlr arse-hat iz a x-eng teech n da authr of a book calld 'understnding eng speling'. kind of dfeets purpse of book if u hav a opinion dat its jst 2 hrd, dusnt it? a btr title wud b 'shit dats 2 hrd, vol1: da eng lang". o how i wud hav luvd 2 b in ms arse-hats eng class.
'k lets open books 2 pg... o fuck it, who cares wot hppns 2 sum guy? lets go dance round da maypole n eat kipprs lol.'
'bt ms, id like 2 read...'
'nah heres a liter, mk sure u burn al da pages. lets get drnk n watch eastenders lol.'

n yeh peeps wil b al like 'Bt Mista Evl Brekfst, wrds chng al da time! Ppl in eng usd 2 tlk al wird lk!! LOL!!!!'

dis is tru bt da eng lang of ur evlvd dew 2 ppl bcumng mo eductd nt da otha wy round wlcm 2 da wundaful wrld of schls net bks n chese wich wr rl8ivly rar bak in da 1600s. shakes dint hav bband cn u imagin dat da mnd boggls as 2 how romz n julz wud hav gon if romz isp dint kp fking out.

Julietgrrl> Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?
Julietgrrl> Romeo?
Julietgrrl> Oh dear, this is terrible. Your internet connection appears to be in Struggletown.
Romeo16> I do apologise, but my cousin is downloading Transformers which is causing my computer to run at a slower rate than is usual.
Julietgrrl> Transformers? I quite enjoyed that movie.
Romeo16> I thought it sucked.

arsehat uk teech n fald auth sez dat eng iz 'jus 2 hrd lol.' u no wot els is hrd?
maths. maths is fckin hrd. farm is hrd. dat farm wrk hs a close resblance 2 hrd wrk. eating ht meet pie dats still frzn in da mid is hrd. pat ur hed n rub yr tum at da same time? hrd wrk. my cro br? prity fckin hrd 2 witch ull cum 2 realis al 2 l8. bt ull fnd dat wiv a bit mo time prac n patients u cn bcum gd @ mths realis dat frming is imp eatn pis is awsum pat ur hed n rub ur tum is satsfng n my cro br mite nt find ur face.

if peeps stop doin shit dat wuz 2 hrd da eng crick teem wudnt exist theird b no syd brdge no1 wud no how to beat bison in sf2 n harry potter wudnt hav marry gin weasly. if u havnt red da lst harry dnt red da sentence.


Friday, June 06, 2008

You can find the perfect blend

The Neighbours bus and a mysterious floating head

Neighbours has been a mixed bag of emotions lately. I keep missing episodes, so I'm just going to fill in any gaps with random musings about the time I fed my antelope some guarana.

So... Carmella is all depressed because Marco is working too much to support her and her ex-boyfriend's baby. Poor Carmella. Did anyone else notice that when Carms was nominated for a Logie, her character disappeared from the show? Yeah. I found that weird too. She's also stealing money. From her boyfriend. Carmella is awesome. She's also afraid to give a direct profile to the camera, and will always tilt her head away from whoever she's talking to so the viewers don't see it. It's kind of off-putting, to be honest.

Bridgette, or "Didge" as she is known around the Erinsborough universe, has had a rough time of late. She was in some kind of horribly filmed car accident and couldn't walk properly for a few weeks. Then she could walk properly, and is fine and dandy. Maybe Ramsay Street is like the island on "Lost" and people recover from things really quickly. Hope so, cause she'll probably need it if she stays in the show. She's quite accident prone. See, she went to her school formal with some guy who's about 90 years old (evil guy Chris) and he tried to get jiggy with her and have the secks but she was all like "nuh uh" and did a runner. Because he was displaying Natural Man Talent, he caught up with her. Didge gave him a mighty shove (also displaying signs of NMT) and evil guy Chris fell over (Didge may have absorbed his NMT through osmosis or something) and died. I've fallen over a lot, and am still here to tell the tale. Well, the tales that I can remember, usually I'm a bit pissy when I fall over. But that's just me. Anyway, evil guy Chris lacks the ability to break falls and smacks his noggin on a rock and dies. Turns out that killing people is against the law, and the piggies come around and harass Didge about it, and her dad Steve (Steve Bastoni, who has obviously been munching pies non-stop since Police Rescue finished in 1993) is all like, "Forget about him trying to rape you, I'll just say I killed him." "Sure thing dad, you're tops." "Seriously? You're going to let me do this?" "Yeah, thanks dad. Hey, you mind if I go to the General Store and hang out with my friends?" "Um.. I'm going to jail." "Yeah. Anyway, catch you later."

Meanwhile, Didge's bruz Riley and their aunt (Imogen Bailey, who is NOT HOT AT ALL) are getting all friendly in a car. Gross. Making out with your aunt is not cool, and even less so if she's ugly. Next thing we know, Riley pisses off to Iraq to cover the war there. Turns out that the local newspaper that he works for is expanding from its circulation of fifteen and is now interested in international stories. Well, they'd better send their best journalist, cadet Riley, who has been there on and off for about two months. Sweet gig, man.

Paul Robinson, who looks a little bit like Robbie Williams will in about 30 years, is still doing the dirty on his wife, girlfriend, mistress and fiancee all at once. Turns out that's a bit naughty, and Paulie gets into a spot of trouble with the entire world. In a rare piece of acting, Paul props himself up on a bar and proceeds to knock his arse off with scotch. Enter wife Rebecca. Paulie, who's had enough booze to sober up my guarana-drenched antelopes, is off his trolley and can't quite get proper words out, but the emotions were there. Rebecca, also in a rare display of acting, fights her instincts to take him back and gives him the heave-ho. Poor Paulie.

Toadie is awesome. He's decided to adopt a child. As soon as he fills out the application form, it's accepted and the adoption agency pops a Portugese kid in an express envelope and posts him. It's that easy. No police checks, no inspections of the house, no questions as to whether Toadie will ever get rid of the goatee, nothing. The Toadster then heads out to Toys R Us and spends a trillion dollars on toys and clothes and games and some Tonka trucks. I wish Toadie adopted me. The fact that Toad is so keen about this kid probably means that trouble is brewing, and Miguel will never arrive. Poor Toadie. Anyway, that's my prediction, I might be wrong.

Then there's Toadie's housemates, married couple Dan and Chick Whose Name I Can't Remember, but is played by Simone Buchanan, from Hey, Dad! fame. Apparently the done thing in Erinsborough is to get a house, get housemates, get married, get more housemates, and then have kids. Whatever you do, don't get rid of your housemates. In fact, when your housemates get married, they should stay with you in the house. And their kids. And their kids' friends.

Anyway, Dan and Chick Whose Name I Can't Remember are trying for a baby. Well, Chick Whose Name I Can't Remember is, in any case. Trouble is, she’s on medication for bi-polar disease, no doubt in a feeble ploy to create some interest in mental health issues. So, in order to get pregnant, she gets off the meds, and then lies her tits off and tells the world and their antelopes and goats that she’s preggers. Well, everyone except her husband. I can see this ending badly for those two.

Libby, on the other hand, is trying not to be attracted to Dan, and FAILING. He’s not helping by being all mopey about his wife though. Meanwhile, Libby’s housemate, Dean Geyer of Aussie Idol fame (the South African bloke), is trying his metrosexual little balls off to get into Libby’s pants. I hate it when Neighbours brings in shithouse 'celebrities' from reality tv shows, cause they always have to skew the already shithouse storylines to incorporate the new shithouse talent. With that other bloke, Ned, he formed a band with Carl. WHAT THE FUCK? This Dean bloke, he's trying to get Rachel to join his band. Surely there are some actual actors out there that can be brought in? Anyway... Rachel, Susan and Carl’s adopted daughter, is trying to catch Dean’s eye as well, but pretending that she’s not. Rachel has just been caught doing the dirty with her Maths teacher, so Dean should probably watch out for himself. Maths is important. Stay in school, kids.

Susan and Carl continue to be the fine, upstanding citizens that they are. Kind of annoying, really. Carl especially. Fuck I hate that guy.

And now you’re as up to date as I am. You can thank me later.