Welcome to television

http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/story/0,26278,24280513-10229,00.html

This one's a few weeks old now, but I saved the link for some reason and never got around to writing an entry on it. I've been busy again, so shut up and deal with hearing about "news" a bit late. Or pay me to write a blog, that'd help.

The story, for those who couldn't be arsed clicking the link, is about a new TV chat show, hosted by Georgie Parker, who has been dubbed as "sexy" in the headline. Ahem. I don't think Georgie Parker and "sexy" have been used together since about 1921, unless the headline was "Georgie Parker is NOT sexy". Yeah.

Anyway, it's going to be a Channel 9 ratings bonanza, apparently. Especially since they're going to pit it up against Deal or No Deal, which is the world's greatest game show ever. A chat show? Seriously? Fuck.

This is NOT news. It would be news if a new TV show was given to a new person to take charge of. Aussie TV has returned to the murky well of celebrities to try and launch a new TV show. If there's a new show coming out, an old celebrity will be involved. Got a spiffy new concept? Quick, get Bert Newton on it. Sure, he's killed every single show he's been on since The Graham Kennedy Show (which ended in 1975), including Family Feud (Moon Face couldn't compete with Rob Brough's permed mullet). Got a show we've stolen from another country? Shit, get Rove McManus on the line. I can imagine some young exec offering the idea, "Maybe we could give the hosting job to someone else?" followed by raucous laughter and the quick response, "Fuck off. What's Daryl Somers up to these days?"

What's Daryl Somers up to these days indeed - http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,24308524-5007132,00.html. He's coming back, people. He's. Coming. Back. After Hey Hey It's Saturday was thankfully euthanised, Dags disappeared for a while, then popped up on a few commercials, a couple of "Best Bits of Hey Hey It's Saturday" specials, a "Red Faces: Where Are They Now?" gig, before popping up on Dancing With The Stars. I don't understand this show. I couldn't give a flying fuck if Steven Jacobs can waltz. I don't care if Gary Sweet missed a step in his cha-cha. If I want to watch dancing, I'll watch people who can dance. I don't need to see some overpaid spastic who has been relegated to appearing on celebrity shows mince around and pretend they're not embarrassed by the fact that their acting/singing/personality has been proven to suck enough not to be able to remain on Australian television. Apparently Dancing With The Stars is rating badly. The "experts" say it's because they've changed the host to Daniel MacPherson (another albatross on our screens) - I say it's because people realise that the show sucks dog's balls.

Seriously. If you can't keep a gig on Aussie TV, you're fucked. The formula for an Aussie celebrity's death is plain:



Toni Pearon, watch out.

with great power comes great responsibility

Thwip!

Common question: If you could be an animal, which animal would you be?

I want to be a fly.

I watched Spiderman the other night. I love Spiderman, he's probably my favourite superhero ever. I dare say he'd even be able to take down a tyrannosaur if he needed to.

So I was watching Spiderman and loving it as usual and jumping around the lounge room as usual, while Spidey is getting his arse handed to him by the Green Goblin, and I’m wondering, "Holy moley, how's he gonna get out of this one?" and then Gobby mentions how he's gonna kill MJ, and Spidey gets a rush of blood and starts being all bad-ass and suddenly remembers how to fight. Seriously - bad guys of the world, listen to my advice: If you've got the only person who can defeat you on the ropes, don't mention his girlfriend, because he'll feel "the power of love" and come back and beat you.

Anyway, the final scene comes on where Pete Parker walks away from MJ to protect her (aaaw) and the credits roll. Normally by this stage I have actually become Spiderman simply through enthusiasm and I would have attempted to climb the curtains and crawl across the ceiling. But this time, I was a bit less enthused. Something wasn't right...

And then it hit me.

Peter Parker was bitten by a spider. He absorbed the spider's powers - strength and speed and jumping and webs and wall-climbing finger bits and stuff. Nice work, Pete.

What would have happened if that spider had caught a fly and bitten that, as spiders are want to do? Would that fly have wrapped that spider up in web and then crashed through a wall to freedom?

If I had the choice of coming back as something in the next life, I would like to be that fly.

hottest postcode ever

Ah television. Ah 90210. Sweet dreams are made of these.

So 90210 is back with a brand new adventure, new kids, new teachers, same old shit, right? Right. Except this 90210 is as cheesy as a cheese sandwich, and the bread on that sandwich is made out of cheese and has cheese spread instead of butter.

Here's a quick recap of the first two episodes which aired last night. Apologies if I fuck anything up; to be honest I really wasn't paying too much attention and will no doubt have missed some kind of plot twist.

First and foremost, everything is the same as the old Beverly Hills 90210, except the names. We are introduced to the new Walshes... I can't remember their surname (see, I told you I'd fuck stuff up). There's the dad, who is the new principal at West Beverly High; Lori Loughlin plays the mum (and still looks smokin hot) and is some kind of photographer; and the obligatory kids - Annie and Dixon. Dix is also the token black kid who was adopted a few years back. No doubt he will spend the entire run of the show feeling "not quite part of the family". He is also an awesome Lacrosse player, which incidentally, is the new hot sport in Beverly Hills. There are no football, soccer, baseball or basketball teams to be found. Everyone's got a mask and a stick with a net thing on it. Awesome. There's nothing like trying to boost the profile of a relatively obscure sport by including it in a TV show. Party of Five should have had Bailey doing pole vault or curling or bocce.

Anyway, Day 1 at the new school sees Annie running into Ethan, an old flame from a few summers ago. He's getting a quick blow job before school. Nice start to the day for everyone. Then Annie meets Ethan's girlfriend, who was not the one giving him head earlier. Shock horror. I wonder what's going to happen there?

Girlfriend is otherwise known as Naomi, a rich chick who looks at least 43. Apparently it's her 'sweet 16' on Friday (bullshit), and Annie is invited (obviously). Naomi is also in trouble in English, because she hasn't handed in her paper on "The Tale of Two Cities". Annie has one that she did at her old school (handy) which she 'lends' to Naomi for 'inspiration'. I wonder what's going to happen there?

Dixon gets into a fight at Lacrosse training and is kicked off the team. I think it's because he's black. The coach of Lacrosse is also the English teacher, who is so far, the only teacher we've met. I hope there are more teachers out there somewhere, because there seems to be a lot of kids. He also looks about the same age as them, although we know that he's meant to be older because he has stubble.

So there's the first day of school. Mine was less exciting, but then, I don't live in Beverly Hills.

Day 2:

Dixon is back in the Lacrosse team, after some guy tells the coach that it wasn't Dixon's fault that he got into a fight. Phew. Glad that's settled. I'm sure Dixon will now fly straight after that minor Lacrosse-related scare.

Annie is pissed cause Naomi cheated by handing in Annie's old essay. Eh. What did you think would happen? Annie's old man, el Principal, finds out (of course, he's surely not too busy that he can't read every single essay written by every single student and compare it to his children's work) and possibly grounds her. I can't remember. Naomi's mum and Annie's dad used to date in high school. She's still mad that he broke up with her. Twenty years ago. Right. I wonder what's going to happen there?

Dixon sends Naomi a text message telling her that Ethan is cheating on her. I have no idea how he got her number so quickly, so I'll just step over that plot-hole and keep on trucking. For being her bestie, Naomi buys Annie an $800 dress for her party. Eh, I'd cheat on essays if I could get those kinds of rewards as well. Seriously though, kids now have the internet with its wikipedia and googles and all kinds of awesomeness, so there's really no need to cheat off another student. That's just lazy, Naomi. Anyway, she gets another chance to prove herself by writing the essay again. Seriously, I'm sure even Charles Dickens doesn't care if she doesn't understand the book or not. It's not worth writing another fucking essay over. Let's move on, people.

Annie meets hot guy Ty, the richest kid at West Beverly. They're both trying out for the school musical. Sparks are flying, and we know this because they both look awkward and smile a lot.

It's party night (finally - I was kind of sick hearing Naomi say, "I am so stressed about my party") and Naomi and Ethan break up (sad) because she gets the text from Dixo about how Ethan's cheating on her. It wasn't even really emotional for the characters, so even less so for the viewers. The party is at "The Pit", which is "The Peach Pit" that the old 90210ers used to hang out at, only, you know, without the "Peach", and instead of serving hamburgers and chips, it's now a bar that willingly serves 15-year olds martinis and wine, which I'm sure is a government-sponsored move to cut down on obese children and turn them into hornbag alcoholics.

Annie and co leave the party, and wind up meeting Ethan at the beach. He's just come in from surfing. Apparently he brought his wetsuit and surfboard to the Pit, you know, just in case. I'm sure Dixon had his Lacrosse stick handy, too. Ethan and Annie hang out for a bit at her place and reminisce about the time they spent together. It's fairly obvious that he's a smidge in love with her. Aw. And then I remember that yesterday he was bagging Naomi and getting chops from every other slut at West Beverly, and realise that I don't care.

Some other Lacrosse team from rival school breaks into West Bev and trashes the place. They did a good job too; I guess security at this school is fairly slack. Somehow it is decided that the Lacrosse team has to clean it all up, and then Principal Dad warns the team, "Don't retaliate."
The Lacrosse team immediately set out to devise a plan on how to retaliate.
Dixon steals some pigs from the set of a porn film (seriously) and lets them loose in the other school. Principal Dad is not happy. He cuts the whole team until someone owns up. Dixon owns up. Everyone's back in the team except him now. Principal Dad says, "Ah fuck it, I got up to some shit at school too. You're back on the team." Phew. I was worried that he wouldn't be allowed to play for another 13 seconds there.

Day 3: Annie is in the school play. The school play is to be directed by Shannon Doherty, who is wearing her best, "Fuck, am I seriously back on this show as a parody of myself?" grin through the whole thing. After school, Ty flies Annie to San Francisco for dinner. It's a pretty good first date, apparently. I would have taken her to the movies or something, you know, because that's what 15-year olds do. It seems I was doing it all wrong.

Annie is obviously in trouble for going to another city for a date with a guy she met the day before, and was also somehow responsible for her alcoholic, oversexed grandmother to be involved in a car accident. By-the-by, I hated the granny character, but was also glad that they didn't cast the old duck from The Wedding Singer, because she's kind of been typecast as "awkward old duck". But she sneaks out anyway and has a snog with Ty - Annie, not the granny, or the woman from The Wedding Singer. Ethan has a present for her - a stuffed octopus that they won at a fair when they met three years ago - but he catches them in the snogging act and seems a bit upset. Aw. Wait, he was getting a lot of sex just two days ago. Not interested in your problems, Efan. Go fuck your octopus.

Principal Dad also got Naomi's mum preggers back in high school. He thought she got an abortion - she didn't, and now she hates him because he never supported the son he didn't know he had that she never told him about. Prick. He tells this to his hot wife, who strangely finds this arousing, and they go about making out and having the sex. I'm pretty sure that kind of come-on line wouldn't normally work, but good luck to anyone who wants to try it.

Quite an introduction to school life at West Beverly, really.

My summary:
This is less 90210 and more OC meets Dawson's Creek. It's not spectacular, and you won't punch yourself in the face with a stapler for missing an episode, but people may not punch you with a stapler for liking it either. My biggest problem is why anyone would care about these people - if you can take a girl you just met to San Francisco for dinner when you're 15, I'm pretty sure I won't give a shit if you fail Maths after studying all night, or if you get hit in the groin by a Lacrosse ball. And yes, I know the whole idea is that "behind their money, they all just want to find love and happiness and a sense of self-accomplishment blah blah blah," but I'm gonna put it out there and say that if you're buying an $800 dress for someone you've known for a day, making that 'special person' feel 'special' won't be too much of an issue.

I give 90210 a goat, two penguins and a stapler.

enjoy your stay!

This bus shelter offers sweeping views of the street

Welcome to Canberra! Come one, come all. But where will you stay while you are in this wonderful land of the nation's capital?

I don't often hire hotel rooms when I could just, you know, go home, but here are a few choices and some made up nonsense:

Waldorf Hotel:
I haven't actually stayed there, but I've had drinks in the hotel. It's pretty nice, and seems to be a bit la-de-dah. If you aren't worried about cost, this place is probably awesome. If you are worried, I'd try my best to escape the next day without paying. Use a false name and don a disguise. The Waldorf is handily located near a bakery which has fantastic sausage rolls.

Backpackers:
Right across the road from the Waldorf. Not sure who was there first, but I can't say that the elite patrons of the Wal would appreciate watching semi-nude drunken Europeans wandering around... but then again, they might. There's a pretty decent bar underneath the Backpackers which changes its name every other week. Also located near the same bakery with fantastic sausage rolls as the Waldorf. I have no idea what the facilities are like, but since it's a backpackers, I'd recommend showering with your thongs on.

My Place:
My place is pretty nice, but you'll have to sleep on the couch (it is a nice couch though) and I can't promise you any kind of food beyond cereal, and my milk is always past its expiration date. Entertainment includes a good range of DVDs and free-to-air television (some stations are a bit fuzzy though). Visitors at My Place are encouraged to bring beer.

Novotel:
I know nothing about the Novotel at all, but it looks quite nice. I think it has a green sign, but it might not... If it’s the one I’m thinking of, it’s near the Jolimont Centre, so is handy if you just hopped off a bus. If it’s not the one I’m thinking of, then it’s probably not relevant as to how close it is to anything, buses or otherwise.

Kambah Inn:
I know of one guy who stayed there for a while when he was posted to Canberra for work. He never really recovered. That said, the Kambah Pub is pretty nice if you ignore the locals, and the Chinese restaurant out the back is also worth a visit.

City Walk Hotel:
I stayed there once after my Year 12 formal. I hope they've cleaned up since then, but I can't promise anything. Standard budget accommodation, and even cheaper if you're sharing a room with about six of your mates. I think I lost a sock that night.

Rydges:
Again, never stayed there, but I've had a few drinks in the hotel bar during Happy Hour. Quite nice, truth be told. That's about all I can offer you. Like all Rydges around Australia (and possibly the world), I think it's pricey. So if you just HAVE to stay somewhere a bit glamorous, this could be your best bet. The rooms look quite nice (even when standing outside and peering through the windows with a pair of binoculars) and the balconies are always full of rich, good looking people. So if you're an ugly, poor person, better think about staying elsewhere.

Parliament House:
I'm pretty sure they don't actually offer any hotel services, like rooms or food, but if you can stay there overnight without being caught by security, I reckon it'd be a pretty good story. If you do get caught, you could always try and convince them that you're Kevin Rudd and you left your phone behind, and you're just going back to find it. If you get let off, that would be an even better story.

Todd Carney's Place:
Located just outside of Canberra, TCs place offers high-speed pick-up services from any bar in Canberra, although strangely, no return service. Visitors will be treated to a golden shower upon arrival, plus may be lucky enough to appear in The Canberra Times in both the "Out and About" section and also in "Legal". Bookings are non-essential, but can be arranged through text messaging if in doubt.

Enjoy your stay!

Canberradvertising

Television is called a medium because it is neither well done nor rare. - some bozo

Obviously the owner of the quote above hasn't ever seen Canberran television. Whether it's the superawesome State Focus show that deals with important stories, like the inspirational stories of a kid from the wrong side of the tracks who came good after battling drug addiction and male prositution or a Canberra-born band who are releasing their first CD (in Sydney). Why they choose to put this magic on at 1:00am on a Tuesday morning is beyond me.

And, like everywhere in the world, us Canberrans have locally made ads. The ones that are made with no budget, one camera, and are devised, shot and edited in one afternoon. The ads that run by the adage, "That'll do!" so the cameraman can hit the pub early on a Friday arvo.

Canberra's most well-known advertising personalities are the kids from the Blumers law firm commercials. The campaign began with a damsel in distress being tied to railway tracks or chased by giant bees or swallowed by a whale - you know, the typical sort of shit that women get in trouble with. Seriously, the amount of times I've been called up by chicks who say, "Hey Mister Evil Breakfast, you know how last week I got swallowed by a whale, and we joked about it and said how random that was, and that it was fairly unlikely that I'd be in that situation again? Well, guess what happened..." Anyway, there's a kid in the ad who puts his undies on the outside (thus becoming a superhero) and saves the chick by beating up the bees, untying the rope or grinding pepper onto the whale to make it sneeze, thus saving the day. Apparently that's what Blumers lawyers do - grind pepper.

But now there are more pieces of advertising awesomity to add to the Blumers walls. Allow me to delve into director mode.

Scene 1: We open on a kid reading a book. The book is entitled "Clumsy Charlie and the Rabid Goat." The kid doesn't move. Nothing moves. After 25 seconds, cue sound effects of a man being attacked by a rabid goat. The kid looks up from his book and says, "Call Blumers."

Brilliant. Brilliant.

Canberrans aren't afraid to recycle their ads either. Like the Local Liquor ones that come around every Olympics with the guy riding his exercise bike, some guy weightlifting (or something) and another guy in a shitty backyard pool. For the record, I know all three of those guys. I'm pretty fucking tops. Anyway, that ad is at least 8 years old.

But the greatest serving Canberran media mogul is Kingsleys Chicken. They have one of the greatest fast-food chains in all the world (fillet burger with gravy AND coleslaw will be my final meal if I'm ever on death row), and they spend exactly zero time and zero money to create their commercials. I think one of their ads had a Thunderbirds kind of submarine floating across the screen, with voices that said, "Come on Brains, we need to stop that nuclear bomb!" "Roger that. Fire depth chargers." BOOM. "A job well done, let's go and get a chicken burger." Their latest efforts have included the introduction of an American accent on the first syllable of the word "awesome" in their catchphrase, 'unbelievable chicken, awesome chips', and skating the copyright line by using Warner Bros. cartoon characters and the Loony Tunes logo. I guess if WB ever decides to sue them, they'll just team up with Blumers and grind some pepper on Daffy Duck. Case closed.

Canberra - The Olympic City

Olympic fever has certainly gripped the world, with conversations about sprints and marathons and weightlifters and Greco-Roman wrestling dominating the water cooler for the past few weeks. Beijing certainly has a range of impressive venues like the Bird's Nest and the Giant Mattress of Water. Nice work, Chinese peeps.

And Canberra, a leader in world sophistication and the envy of cities everywhere, sits back and watches.

In an attempt to bring the world "the greatest Olympic Games ever," Canberra is preparing a bid for the 2016 Games. And why not? We already have most of the facilities already set up - we're just waiting for the athletes to turn up.

With a capacity of around 35,000 (around 40-45,000 if you let the kids sit on the grass around the sidelines), Canberra Stadium (formerly Bruce Stadium) will be home of the Opening Ceremony, which will be all kinds of awesome. This intimate setting will allow drunken members of the crowd to yell abuse at the marching athletes, and also give the athletes able chance to physically assault them back without trouble. The Canberra Raiderettes will provide the entertainment with their intricate dancing and synchronised moves that tell the story of the "Macarena" and whatever shit Pink has released that year. The Olympic Flame* will be lit by 13-year old kids from the Belconnen Bus Interchange flicking cigarettes into a plastic wheelie bin.
*lighting of the flame may not happen due to extreme fire danger.

Canberra Stadium (formerly Bruce Stadium), home of the mighty, giant-killing Canberra Raiders and the over-paid, low-achieving ACT Brumbies will also be the centre of attention for the athletics leg of the Games. Spectators are warned to bring cash to the Stadium though, as there is only one ATM in the whole place. In terms of the track and field competition, I'm fairly sure there's enough space on the field for everything to be going on at the same time. If not, they can learn to share.

Anyone who's ever visited, lived in or flown over the city of Canberra will realise that each and every road has a bike-path that is predominantly bike-free, so the cycling street races have never been more awesome or scenic, as athletes will be treated to a city without the dangers of pollution or terrorist attacks, and be able to cycle up and around Telstra Tower, past Questacon and the National Library, through the "Orange Tunnel" and into the heart of the mess that they've made on Caswell Drive, before finishing on the marbled steps of Parliament House. Fucking sweet. I'd probably buy a bike if it meant I could take part. Cycling athletes are not permitted to take advantage of the buses that have the bike racks on the front of them. I'm still trying to work that shit out myself.

The cycling pursuit events can be held in the storm-water drains in various suburbs. I know there's a Velodrome already built in Fadden or something, but I'm buggered if I'm going there to watch it. I'll get stuck on Bugden Ave and won't be seen again.

Soccer - nup. Get rid of it.

Softball - already gotten rid of.

European handball - to be played at EPIC - preferably before they have Oktoberfest there, because otherwise the floors will be sticky with spilt "German" beer, vomit and possibly some blood. I love celebrating being so damn German. I would also like to introduce "schoolyard handball" into the Olympics, and have it played at any school ground in Canberra. Each match must be agreed as to whether there are "intoes" allowed, "spooks", "rolls-to-the-death" or "rolls-replay", "full played" or "full-played-forgotten", whether "waxing" is allowed, and if so, opens the game to "secret waxing". There must also be some Year 9 punks on hand to pick up tennis balls that go out of play, which they can then either peg at the fattest player on the handball court, or throw onto the roof of the main building. Athletes have the choice of dobbing the Year 9 kid to a nearby teacher, which will get the ball back, but result in being stuffed into a locker at a later date.

Equestrian - there are heaps of paddocks around, so take your pick. Equestrian must only be allowed into the Canberra Olympics if the horses get a medal as well. Note: The archery and shooting events will all be held at the same venue at the same time. Extra points to the horse who can maintain its stupid walking/dancing dressage pattern while being shot at.

Gymnastics can be held at my old school gym. Athletes must make sure they put all the mats away after they use them though, including the giant blue crash mat. And no fucking around while they do it, the teachers aren't in the mood to have to rescue some idiot gymnast from Mexico who's been buried in old, dusty mats by some Ukranian bully.

Swimming events can be held at Macquarie Pool (I refuse to call it Big Splash), but only in the three lanes they have open for laps. If you get hit by a stray tennis ball, it's your own fault. Athletes may also opt to compete whilst going down the waterslides, although causing a blockage in the slides (especially on the Family Slide) will result in penalties, and your Slide Pass wrist-band will be confiscated. Races will also be held going down the Hurricane Twins. Athletes attending the Macquarie Pool events are advised to wear sandals or thongs, as there are a lot of prickles on the grass.

The kayak and canoes and sailboats and whatnot events don't interest me, so if they still want to do them, they can head to Lake Burley Griffin or Kambah Pool or something. I don't see why they can't organise their own things - they should just sms each other and say, "'LOL man ill b @ LBG tomoz @ 10 4 a race. u in?' and the other guys can reply with, "yeh sounds gd. c u den!" or "cn we make it l8r? i hav 2 go 2 my cuzs wedding lol who gets married during olympix?" and then "howz 5?" "yeh i think dats ok. will txt u if not. LOL mite hav 2 make it da nxt day evn!" "LOL yeh".
I love rowers.

The Marathon will be run close to my street, so I can watch from my balcony. But I'm not watching the whole thing; that shit gets boring. The course will lead them to the IGA at the bottom of my hill, where they are required to do some shopping and bring me beer and ice-cream (I'll provide a full shopping list closer to the event), and they can drop it off on my doorstep. They may also wash my car in lieu of this (water restrictions permitting).

Beach volleyball - nup. Get rid of it. We've got volleyball, just enjoy that.

Fencing will be replaced by battles of Street Fighter 2 - which can still be played at Theo's Take Away for 60c a game ($1 for double play). Athletes must decide whether to have normal salt or chicken salt during the event, and eat at least two potato scollops whilst competing.

The Athlete's Village is to be located at the University of Canberra student residences. Food to be provided by Baker Bob and Bagel Bob, with assistance from the G-Spot food wagon, 24-hour Drive-Thru McDonalds in Belconnen and cheap steak night at the Lighthouse. They can also eat at the Olympic venues, and choose to feast on traditional Australian/Canberran fare such as pies and sauce, sausage rolls and sauce, hot dogs and sauce, chips and sauce and noodles left over from the Multicultural Festival, all of which are burning on the outside and frozen in the middle. Sauce is 20c extra.

The Closing Ceremony (at Canberra Stadium [formerly Bruce Stadium], naturally) will involve a final showdown between Victor the Viking, Brumbie Jack, the pig from Hog's Breath, and the dog and cockatoo from Bate's Pet Paradise in a cage match. My money is on Victor, due to experience in the suit, but the Bate's Pet Paradise mascots have been biffing for years, and could surprise everyone.

With the crowd of athletes looking on, the Olympic Flame will be extinguished by Todd Carney in his usual manner, who will then jump into a ute and fang it out of there, taking the baton to the next delegate (hopefully they're in Goulburn, cause that's where Carney will probably go). With the smell of burnt rubber still fresh in the air, the sky will erupt in a decidedly half-arsed fireworks display, and the crowd will leave early, to "avoid the rush in the carpark." And so, as the curtain falls on Canberra 2016, the cleaners around Canberra Stadium will be the only ones there to hurry the athletes out so everyone can get home in time to watch Rove.

what shall i wear today?

Wherever you go in this big ol’ bluey greeney grey white and occasionally red world of ours, you are guaranteed to be able to buy a t-shirt that tells anyone who looks at you where you’ve been. Whether it’s an "I love New York" shirt, a "Mind the Gap" logo, or a "My Brother Went T-shirt Shopping in T-shirtland and All He Brought Me Back was this T-shirt" shirt, there are a bazillion t-shirts out there with a city, country, region or province decorating the front.

MEBCAM continues with a range of Canberra-quality tees for you to proudly boast upon your torso...

If you want a bigger view of them, just click on each shirt. It's not rocket surgery.



Some call it a mole, I call it a beauty spot.


This basically sums up how I feel about my beloved Canberra. I also like the obligatory Parliament House picture.


Oooh political. This also keeps with the by-laws of Canberra, in that the acronym "A.C.T." must be used as often as possible, even when it doesn't really make sense.


You might have to explain this to people (tulips/two lips) and then punch them in the back of the head.


They should sell this shirt at the Flynn shops. I'd buy one. And yes, I know my Photoshop skills suck, but that's because I don't actually have Photoshop. It looks like eight kinds of awesome anyway.


I'm kind of a bit in love with this shirt. The best thing is, I wouldn't get beaten up for making fun of emos, because they lack the strength due to excessive blood loss.


Be awesome whilst visiting south of the Lake by wearing this shirt. Otherwise, you're just south, and not awesome at all.


This looked a lot better in my head.



Get it? Rocks. Ah fuck you.


Beep beep beep. God bless R2D2.


It took a lot of willpower not to make fun of Todd Carney, but I got there in the end. And I've already got one for next week to post anyway.


If you can't read this shirt, I'd recommend calling 1800655506 for the Reading and Writing Hotline. This also looked better in my head. I'd still wear this one though. Vroom.








Sorry it's been so long between posts for MEBCAM 08, but I've been busy. There'll be more updates next week. I'm excited already.

Mister Evil Breakfast's Canberra Appreciation Month 2008

HMAS Canberra - protecting Kambah Pool from invaders since 1846

August, where have you BEEN?! Welcome once again, to the greatest month in the history of the world... Mister Evil Breakfast's Canberra Appreciation Month! MEBCAM really gets me excited, as I get to lavish praise on the greatest city in the world for an entire month. I mean, I could do it all year, but then people might think I'm a bit sick in the head.


Onto the traditional MEBCAM welcome:

C heese is in abundance at Coles and Woolies, and also at smaller IGA stores and other supermarkets. No lack of cheese here.
A wesome is only one way to describe Canberra.
N ever go to the toilet with Todd Carney.
B arry Hall has been here as recently as yesterday.
E mos and goths are free to laugh at in Garema Place.
R odney Rude is always just one week away from doing another performance here.
R aaaah - dinosaurs are awesome.
A nd I didn't realise how hard these acrostic poems really are.


I don't want to ruin the surprise of MEBCAM, but look forward to some insights into locally-made tv commercials; probably something about pirates, penguins, goats and things from the 80s; where to go and where not to go when you're out and about and in varying states of sobriety; and some made up facts about Canberra's attractions.


Strap yourself in, tigers.

sonny days, chasing the rain away

So... Sonny Bill Williams has decided to turn his back on the National Rugby League (NRL), duck off to France and become a Ruby-Union-playing-cheese-eating-surrender-monkey eh?

Well... I can't say that I have ever been a fan of ol' SBW, but I'm probably less of one right now. And yes, I've been reading stories about him and his contracts and rumours and hearsay and blah blah fucking blah, and all these fucking idiots saying, "LOL SBW did a good thing what if you where offerred three times as much as u where geting at ur job at a nother job down the road LOL off course you wood take it LOL." Good point, illiterate blogger, and yeah, I'd probably take it. But I'd probably also let someone know about it. You know, my friends, workmates, my boss. Just in case, you know, it didn't quite work out. I like to call it "being a decent bloke." Also, if I told people, I might get a farewell afternoon tea, and I quite like cake.

"But MrBerakfast the nrl cant pay him as much LOL he should b fine to sing another contract LOL"

No mate. A contract is an agreement. You’re supposed to honour such agreements. Especially considering that he was earning $400,000 a year, it shouldn’t be too hard to struggle through this one. . He's 22. What the fuck does this kid do with his money that suddenly $400,000 a year (that's over $7,500 a week, excluding endorsements and sponsorship) just isn't quite enough? How much did you earn when you were 22? And you know what he does for a living? He plays football. So far this year, he's played 11 games (and we'd have to assume he's not going to add to that tally), which is around $36,000 a game. The poor lamb, he'd better fuck off out of the country that made him a superstar athlete and earn more money. I fucking hate people sometimes.

Best of luck, Sonny Bill, you fucking hack. Bien venue de la club de crowbar.

why so serious?

I fucking hate computers. I had written the greatest Batman review ever, but it got eaten by cybertronics and was lost. So I'll try again...

Ahem.

I went to see the new Batman film last night, The Dark Knight. And it was awesome. Supercalifreakinawesome, in fact. It was so awesome, that it inspired me to write a review for it. And I only do that to other movies that I find awesome. At this stage, only Rambo has met my awesomeness criteria.

The Dark Knight is the best movie I have seen this year, and as such is the recipient of the Mister Evil Breakfast Award For The Best Movie That I Have Seen This Year (MEBAFTBMTIHSTY). That's high praise, considering that I saw Kung Fu Panda a few weeks ago. That's just how good this movie is. And I know I shouldn't say that, because you're all going to go into the movie with massively unattainable expectation, and you could be disappointed and you'll come out and say, "Hey Mister Evil Breakfast, this movie wasn't all that good LOL!!" And you might want your money back and I couldn't do that, cause I'm a bit broke at the moment.

I'll do my very best not to give too much away in terms of plot, so if you haven't seen it, you might want to not read this until you have seen it. I can recommend reading everything else on my blog instead, cause it's fucking hilarious. Seriously. It is.

First off, everything you've heard about Heath Ledger being megatops is true - and then some. Remember in 1989s Batman movie when everyone was going nuts about Jack Nicholson being the Joker and he was the best thing since cheese on toast? Yeah. In hindsight, you realise that ol' Jacky boy was really just acting like Jack Nicholson in a purple suit and white make-up. No offence, Nicho, but Ledger is face-meltingly good. There is no Heath Ledger in his performance. The gay cowboy and King's Cross strip-club guys were nowhere to be seen here. It's a bit of a shame that we won't see Heath in anything else (except maybe Weekend at Bernie's 3), because I'd be very interested to see where he would have gone from here. It's brilliant, seriously. I have a little man crush. As for the Oscar nod... well, I'd be disappointed if he didn't at least get a nomination. The Joker is scary, man. I peed a little (apologies to the people in the row in front of me for the mess). He's the kind of guy who makes you want to (a) be a psycho killer guy with makeup, and (b) learn more magic tricks.

Christian Bale reprises his role as Batman/Bruce Wayne, and takes a bit of a back-seat in this one, despite it being, you know, a Batman movie. But he's always hanging around, being all Batman-like, a smidge angry, a little psychotic, pretty charismatic and fairly attractive. There's also a nice throwback to the super-camp 1960s Batman tv show where he proves he can pretty much do anything - a "Batman is the only person in the world with a hand steady enough to paint false fingerprints" kind of anything.

The transformation of character between Bruce and Bats is pretty amazing actually - he really is playing two roles. And with the Kevlar armour and cape and glove things apparently comes a larynx scraping with a rusty fork, followed by a gargling of petrol (and not the dodgy unleaded stuff, the really good go-juice that costs like $1.90 per litre), cause his voice is all gravely and he sounds like he's about to cough up a Siberian Husky or something. It's pretty cool actually, and I was turned on just a bit (again, apologies to the row in front).

Aaron Eckhart is also tops... I don't really have much else to say about him. Oh wait, he plays Harvey Dent, an all-round good American guy. Yeah, he goes alright.

The movie is basically a trillion storylines all flowing around like potatoes in a wind tunnel, that all come to a nice little conclusion at the end, and to try and describe them all would be like juggling cans of tinned fruit - impressive, but not entirely entertaining for a long period of time. And I'd probably fuck something up and ruin everything, and besides, I can't juggle for shit. There are also little hints as to another sequel (a trequel, perhaps?), which people will be speculating on for a while yet. My pick: It will be dark. Like, super dark. So dark that you'd need night-vision goggles to watch it. Maybe not, but it'll be dark. It'll make The Dark Knight seem like A Fluoroescent Light Bulb. I'm just hoping that the lads involved in this one (the Nolan brothers, who are officially my favourite brothers ever, beating The Hardy Boys and the Waugh twins) stay around to write and direct it, cause The Dark Knight was tight in all aspects. I almost feel sorry for whoever is the next villain, cause they're gonna need to literally jump out of the screen and grab my eyeballs out of my head to even consider being on par with the Joker and the awesomeness of this movie.

Other bits about this fillum:

· Maggie Gyllenhaal's name is hard to spell properly, even when you're reading it from a piece of paper. It just doesn't look right. Also, she has replaced Katie Holmes in this one, and I'm still not sure if she's hot or not. I think she's ok. I dunno.

· George Clooney is still embarrassed about 1997s Batman and Robin, and rightly so. Arnie is wondering why people didn't think of him for an Oscar for his portrayal of Mr Freeze.

· There are at least two moments where you audibly say, "Ooooh fuck."

· You'll stop yourself the next time you lick your lips.

· Upon leaving the cinema, you won't trust anybody that you're with, but that's ok, because you will have absorbed superhero fighting abilities and you can fight them in the carpark.

· The intro is the most awesome thing you'll ever see, unless you spend your whole life watching awesome things, then you might just be like, "Meh."

Just go see it.

whip hubley

Hollywood movie producers are looking at the little screen for their next big-screen success story, following the recent blockbuster Sex and the City. Based on four promiscuous, not entirely attractive old women, the show was a massive ratings winner for the networks lucky enough to have snagged the rights for it. The stories revolved around Carrie, Charlotte, the redhead chick and Samantha as they looked for love, romance and 'the perfect guy' in New York City, which proved to be quite difficult for the 'charmingly neurotic' women as they continued to find insignificant reasons to break up with decent men. In one episode that I may be making up, Carrie breaks up with her boyfriend after it is revealed that he only pretended to like cats while he was quite clearly more of a 'dog-person', or when Charlotte was urged to "hurry up and get changed" by her boyfriend who had arrived to pick her up for a date at an expensive restaurant that he had to pay for just to get a booking. Here's a newsflash for you, Charlotte: He doesn't care what you wear, just hurry the fuck up before they give the table away.

The series lasted around 90 years, which is also roughly how long the movie goes for. To date, it has grossed over $145,248,592 at the box-office. It is assumed that around $15 of that has come from people who have a set of testicles.

The interest in Sex and the City has also inspired the six main characters of Friends to rejoin for a movie-length episode of the highly-popular sitcom. Questions like: Will Ross and Rachel ever work it out? Will Chandler and Monica ever have a decent argument that's not resolved by one of them saying "I love you"? How do Phoebe and Joey manage to live in nice apartments and always have enough cash to hang around at a cafe all day, go out to dinner every night, see every movie that is released, have season tickets to the baseball, ice hockey and football, plus own designer clothes and throw lavish parties at will despite not having real jobs? are all set to be answered on the big screen.

An insider (i.e. someone with a blog) announced "David Schwimmer and Jennifer Aniston are the first to make positive noises regarding the film and it is thought once they are on board the others will follow suit."

That positive noise is often called ‘talking’, and it is assumed that the Friends actors are looking to add another page to their already impressive resume, which include The Pallbearer (David Schwimmer), Rock Star (Jennifer Aniston), The Whole Nine Yards (Matthew Perry) and Lost in Space (Matt le Blanc).

The TV-to-Movie phenomenon is not just exciting for fans of the original television series, but for the actors themselves, as they finally get more work after less than stellar performances in playing ‘other’ roles.

“Rachel is such a great character to play,” says Aniston. “I figure that since she was so great to play in Friends, it would be great to play her in Office Space and Along Came Polly, which were great movies as well. It was great to be able to show Rachel in a different setting, like, a different café from the one she normally works in.”

Other rumoured small screen adaptations include Family Matters, where Jaleel White will reprise the once-famous Urkel character for a new generation of nerds. “Nerds today aren’t about science projects and calculators,” he has stated in interviews. “Now it’s all about World of Warcraft, the internet and being socially awkward, not socially retarded. It’s a very new approach to Steve Urkel’s character; one that I think will be really fun to play.”

Patrick Duffy has re-signed to play Frank Lambert in a movie-length Step by Step and Dave Coulier is in negotiations to make a comeback as Uncle Joey in Full House, but things aren’t as clear-cut on the set of the Saved by the Bell motion picture, with Dustin ‘Screech’ Diamond the only actor to turn up. “I guess the other guys got new jobs,” he remarks with his head slightly bowed. “Or maybe they’re playing another prank and are hiding in Mr Belding’s office.” After a brief search that reveals nothing, he continues to wait on the set “just in case.”

Australia will also attempt to cash in on the latest Hollywood fad, with several shows rumoured to be getting the treatment, including Pugwall, which features the Orange Organics struggling with the price of fame, fortune and the worst band name ever; as well as a movie-length feature of Con the Fruiterer. “People still relate to Con, I think this will be another step forward for the Australian Film Industry,” actor Mark Mitchell says. “I’ve read a first draft of the script, and it is really, really funny. It’s even better than the stuff I used to do for The Comedy Company. Really.”

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!

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

MISTER EVIL BREAKFAST'S GUIDE TO SURVIVING WINTER (MEBGTSW)

HEATER
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.

CLOTHES
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.

CAR
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.

ALCOHOL
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).

WORK
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.

HEALTH
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 jalapeños.

BODY
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.

GARDEN
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.

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

PENGUINS
Will take over the world. Fucking watch them.

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.

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.

Love

Mister Evil Breakfast

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

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.

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.

i before e except after c but not all the time

http://education.guardian.co.uk/schools/story/0,,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.

LOL.

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.

leprosy

I think that if someone you know loses their arms, you shouldn't hug them. They can't hug you back and it would be kind of like rubbing it in.

Click click click

This guy lives inside your computer.


It's a technical world we live in, with interwebs and digital phones and electricity and the wheel and all that. From a survey that I just conducted in my work building, 100% of people will encounter a computer during their day-to-day lives, whether at work, at home or when they're playing Nintendo whilst driving. In fact, if you're reading this, the chances are quite high that you're on a computer now, unless you've just jacked into the Matrix or something, and Tank has put the "Mister Evil Breakfast" program on instead of teaching you how to fly a helicopter or teach you how to do karate. That would suck, although my blog does give you advanced crowbar and pirating skills, so they might come in useful against Hugo Weaving at some stage.

Anyway, with all of these computer screens and infobytes of gigamation floating around the cybertron, it's almost inevitable that at one stage you will encounter some technical problems. Lucky for you, I am here to help.

MISTER EVIL BREAKFAST'S GUIDE TO COMPUTER PROBLEMS AND FUCKUPS AND SHIT (MEBGTCPAFUAS)

Problem 1: My computer is running slowly.

If your computer program is loading slowly, and the hourglass icon thing is taking for-fucking-ever to do whatever it does, you should idly swirl your mouse around. Make a big circle, and increase the speed in concentric circles. This should help to keep the computer 'thinking' about loading it, as the average computer has the attention span of the entire Big Brother cast, and occasionally needs to be given some guidance. If your computer is being a real shit about it, and the swirl doesn't help anything, physically lift your mouse off the desk or mousepad and repeatedly bash it down, followed by rapid clicking of the left and right mouse buttons.

If that sounds too technical, try this scenario: Pretend that you're in a bad movie, like Transformers, for instance. What a complete fucking waste of time that was. Nice to look at for about six seconds until you realise that you're not entirely sure who or what you're looking at. But it did look pretty. Anyway... your best friend is dying. Pretend that your computer program is your best friend. Pretend that your best friend has just been shot. At first, you're trying to comfort them (mouse swirl) and you're trying to keep their mind off the burning hot piece of metal that has lodged in their chest. As their health quickly deteriorates, you begin to panic, pleading with them "not to give up, and keep fighting" (mouse bash). With a gurgle and a dramatic piece of music, they die. You mourn the loss with anger - life is pretty unfair, really. You shout and swear at the body of your dead friend, curse the situation, and punch a wall before accepting the loss (mouse click). Before you know it, you'll have got revenge on whoever did it, found love and by the time you've finished paying respects at the gravesite, your program will have loaded.

I know it sounds complicated, but this should get you back on your feet, and your best friend won't even be mentioned in the sequel.

Problem 2: My computer isn't responding

This is a common problem, and often follows Problem 1 if the right steps aren't taken. Here's what to do:

Press the Enter key.

Nothing will happen. Be patient. Press Enter again, twice in succession. Pause for a moment. Press Enter a few more times (up to ten is helpful). Sit and stare dejectedly at your computer screen. Possibly close your eyes in a dramatic fashion and exhale loudly. Perhaps you could even scrunch your eyes up tight and rub your forehead - these are all helpful to getting your computer back up and running. If you have done all of these things, get up from your seat, take a few (no more than four) steps away from the screen. Make it look like you're determined to go somewhere. All of a sudden, turn and take two long, quick strides back to your computer (don't sit down, just crouch over it) and hit Enter again. Hard; really smash that fucker. Hit it (hard) again a few more times, and verbalise how you feel about your computer, but make sure your teeth are clenched. If the document you're working on is very important, you should also try to have a few flecks of spittle escape your angry lips onto the screen. It should have a rainbow effect, and will calm both you and your computer.

If it doesn't work, repeat these actions until it does. Note: It could take a while; one Microsoft Word user claimed that he repeated these steps for 3 days straight, then had to take shifts with his friends and family. After six weeks, two days, eight hours and nine minutes, his document was recovered. Turns out he hadn't really done that much work on it anyway, and everyone was pretty annoyed with him.

Problem 3: My screen is displaying a strange message

Occasionally, your computer will just get sick of you asking it to do things, and will turn the tables and ask you a question. If you aren't sure of the answer, you can just turn off your monitor and pretend that nothing has happened. However, this is only a stop-gap solution and you might want to use your computer again later on. In most questions that your computer will ask, there will be a YES, NO and CANCEL option. If you have no idea what the question means, there are simple ways to get around performing tasks that could be dangerous to the health of your computer. Click things very slowly, or press keys lightly, and most importantly - hold your breath. Don't make any sudden movements, or your computer will be startled and erase things that you need. Don't ask anyone else around you what the question means or what the consequences of hitting YES or NO would be - your computer will feel threatened by the new person and will shut itself down and all of your data will be eaten in self-preservation. Computers are ancient, instinctive creatures. Treat them like you'd treat a nest of scorpions in your underpants.

Problem 4: My computer isn't reheating my coffee

Try the microwave. If you don't own a microwave, you should just make yourself a new coffee.

Problem 5: My Sim keeps killing himself when I get him to change the lightbulb

Make him/her read a book on mechanics. Any Sim with a level 1 or 2 skill should be able to perform this task safely. If you're really paranoid, call a handyman to fix it.

Problem 6: My computer displays the following message:
NTLDR is Missing.
What can I do?

Fuck it, buy a new computer. When acronyms go missing in your hard drive, you will NOT be able to bring them back. This is why no-one uses DOS anymore. It just caused problems when the D wouldn't turn up, and when the O and the S had a falling out and wouldn't be seen with the other. It was messy.

Happy cyberspacing, my little pwnies!

Egg Man #1

Click on it and it will become magically bigger.

Behold the wonders of the interwebs technology.

To infinity and beyond

If you were an astronaut, you know what would suck? If your astronaut buddies kept kinking your oxygen line and you couldn't breathe while you were in space. Talk about annoying!

My ANZAC Spirit

I am a crap Australian - I have never been to the dawn service on ANZAC Day. I haven't seen anyone march, except for the highlights on the evening news. I have barely spoken to anyone who served about what they did during wartime. I am one of those shit blokes who uses ANZAC Day for another piss-up and a day off from work. It's another excuse to drink too much, bet too much and wake up late on Saturday a little bit dusty with a pocket full of coins, a stolen schooner glass and a sign-in slip from the Belconnen Labour Club.

I missed another dawn service due to watching the stupid IPL cricket on Thursday night - I just wanted to see Warney bowl again, even if it was just in a shit game of Twenty20. That's how good a bloke I am. I fell asleep on the couch after his first couple of balls (he did get a wicket though) and woke up during the infomercials. I once again resisted the urge to buy an eliptical exercise machine. I just don't see how it's better than everything else on the market, despite their graphics of glowing muscle groups and before-and-after photos of Captain Flabby morphing into Emperor Ripped Pecs. Maybe it's the disclaimer of "Results not typical".

I had been a good little Aussie and bought a pin from the old ducks at Woden that afternoon. At 4am that day, I realised that it was now stabbing me in the chest, and I was in unbearable pain. Now I know how those diggers felt as they were being shot. Yep, I actually likened a bullet to lying on a small badge. I angrily took it off (which took a lot longer than it should have, but I had fallen asleep on my arm and couldn't move my hands quite as freely as I would have liked) and put it on the seat next to me. I think it fell down behind the cushion, no doubt I'll stab myself with it soon and be angry all over again.

Upon waking, I did my part to be as top an Aussie as I could be and ate some Vegemite toast to give me fuel for "going over the top", which was actually just me going to the pub with my mates. We must have walked about a kilometre, and complained the whole way. It was unseasonably warm, after all. Those diggers had it easy. At one stage I had to take my jumper off. War is hell? Pfft. Try walking with a jumper tied around your waist.

Arriving at the pub, I decided I'd been a battler long enough, and I deserved a few drinks. My seat at our table meant that I was facing the AFL game. I hate AFL. It was like watching your best mate getting gunned down next to you. Now I knew how the diggers felt.

"Deserving a few drinks" pretty much sums up the rest of my day, although at one stage I begrudgingly handed over a few lobsters ($20 notes) to a guy in a pink shirt after the old adage "tails never fails" let me down. Actually, it was more than one stage, as that old adage definitely did NOT prove to be very true at all. A pink-shirted, hair waxed (from the back) metro bloke with a studded belt took my cash. I felt like I'd been put in the front line for the next assault into No Man's Land.

I also stole a McDonalds cheeseburger from my mate after he had passed out ("Shoes are off! I was asleep!") on his couch. It was like taking the ration pack of a fallen soldier as he lay on the battle ground with a gunshot wound to his stomach.

Worst bloke ever.

Lest we forget.

it's time

As I was galavanting around the city the other day, skipping merrily through the traffic cones and windscreen-washers, I noticed something. I was the only fuckwit around. I checked my watch (I don't actually have a watch, but I do have a drawing of a compass on my wrist) and realised that it was THAT time again. I should have realised... The fat people on The Biggest Loser aren't as fat as they once were, the dancers on So You Think You Can Dance... well, they're still dancing, possibly moreso than they previously were... It's time for Big Brother to grace our screens once again.

It's time for 16 spastics to be plucked from the streets and thrown into a house on the Gold Coast where they can fondle each other, themselves and Kyle Sandilands.

It's time to wonder whether showering in speedos would actually get you clean. It's time to listen to the riveting conversations of 18-year old Meghaan and 22-year old Ryder discussing "life experiences" when one night Meghaan lost her mobile phone and was all like, you know, totally like freaking out. It's time when "yeah nah" becomes an acceptable phrase.

No wonder I drink more when Big Brother is on.

It's time to read a book.